Dealing with our closest neighbour

Now that Shavuot has passed and, with it, the first cycle of summer readings of lessons from Pirkei Avot, we return to Perek 1.

There’s a curious mishnah near the beginning of Avot, at 1:7, which has something to say about the company we keep. Taught by Nittai HaArbeli, it opens like this:

הַרְחֵק מִשָּׁכֵן רָע, וְאַל תִּתְחַבֵּר לָרָשָׁע

Distance yourself from an evil neighbour, and don’t be a friend to a wicked person…

Most commentators not unreasonably take this advice literally, for there is much to discuss on that basis. Issues regularly pondered include how to tell whether a neighbour is bad or not, what’s the difference between “bad neighbour” and “wicked person”, how far to distance or disassociate oneself, and how in practice does one achieve these ends, particularly if one is expected to judge all people favourably unless it is impossible to do so (Avot 1:6). Additionally, in contemporary Jewish society, despite its affluence, the costs associated with moving home are seen as a deterrent—and, even when one moves away from an evil neighbour, there is no guarantee that one’s new neighbours will be any better.

There is an approach to this teaching which not resolve these issues but seeks to divert it from interpersonal relationships to the zone of introspection. In the writings of the Kozhnitzer Maggid and R’ Ovadyah Hedayah we are encouraged to view the “bad neighbour” as our own yetzer hara (“evil inclination”) which competes for our attention with our yetzer tov (“good inclination”).

According to the Vilna Gaon (on Ruth 1:18) the yetzer hara is compared to a fly which sits between the two openings of the heart, buzzing between them. The yetzer hara’s task is to entice us sin. If it fails to achieve this task by direct means, it tries another way: by encouraging us to perform mitzvot that are really only a disguise for an underlying sin—for example short-changing a customer in a shop in order to donate the “profit” to charity.

If the yetzer tov and yetzer hara are both locked inside us, there are plainly limits as to how far we might distance ourselves from our own worse selves. Here there are no easy answers. Keeping away from obvious temptations (bars, fashionable clothing shops, gambling dens, nightclubs, confectionery stores or whatever else takes one’s fancy)—these practical steps can help up to a point. Our sages, quoting God’s own words as it were, go further: barati yetzer hara, barati Torah tavlin (“I created the evil inclination, and I created Torah as its antidote”: Kiddushin 30b). But ultimately we still have to take the antidote. In other words we have no choice other than to cultivate and build up enough self-discipline so that we can effectively put our yetzer hara into a sort of internal exile.

The Radiance of Divine Favor: Unpacking the Priestly Blessing

 Our member Rabbi Paul Bloom, being a Kohen, takes a particular interest in penetrating the depths of the Birkat Kohanim, which those of us who daven at Hanassi are privileged to hear every day.  He recently wrote about the Priestly Blessing in his devar Torah for parashat Shemini ("A Hidden Gem", here) but he has plenty more to say on this crucial link between God and Man, as you will discover for yourself below.

One of the most cherished and frequently recited blessings in the Jewish tradition is the Priestly Blessing, known in Hebrew as Birkat Kohanim. Found in our Parsha, at Bamidbar 6:24-26, it reads:

יְבָרֶכְךָ ה׳ וְיִשְׁמְרֶך ("May Hashem bless you and safeguard you”)
 יָאֵר ה׳ פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ וִיחֻנֶּך (ָּ"May Hashem shine His face toward you and be gracious to  you).
 יִשָּׂא ה׳ פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ וְיָשֵׂם לְךָ שָׁלוֹםvM (!May Hashem lift His face toward you and grant you peace”)

At first glance, these verses appear to be a simple three-part benediction. However, upon deeper examination—drawing from Torah commentators, Midrashim, and timeless insights—we uncover a profound spiritual roadmap for personal and national blessing, perception, and unity.

1. Material Blessing as a Foundation for Spiritual Insight

The verse "יְבָרֶכְךָ ה׳ וְיִשְׁמְרֶךָ" is often understood as a blessing for physical well-being and material abundance. But what purpose does material comfort serve in our spiritual journey? The Netziv of Volozhin (Rav Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin) suggests a two-tiered approach to Divine blessing. First, Hashem ensures our material needs—health, sustenance, safety—are provided. Only then are we free, both in time and mental space, to access a deeper level of blessing: the enlightenment of Torah.

“After I bless you with health and wealth,” Hashem seems to say, “you will finally have the capacity to receive the true light—the light of Torah.”

Torah is often referred to as light:

כִּי נֵר מִצְוָה וְתוֹרָה אוֹר ("For a mitzvah is a lamp and
Torah is light”, Mishlei 6:23).

The Divine light in Torah isn’t merely intellectual—it’s transformative. But to perceive this light, we must be free from the burdens that cloud our vision. This is the hidden kindness in Hashem’s material blessings: they are not ends in themselves but tools to reveal the inner, eternal light.

2. Visibility of Divine Favor

The second verse of the Priestly Blessing reads:

יָאֵר ה׳ פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ ("May Hashem shine His face toward you…)

The Hebrew word "יָאֵר" (He will enlighten) is striking. Throughout Jewish tradition, light is associated with Torah, clarity, and spiritual awakening. But how does Hashem “shine His face” if He has no face? The Ibn Ezra and other commentators explain that "face" here symbolizes Hashgachah pratit, Divine providence. When Hashem “shines His face,” it means His presence and guidance are felt clearly in one’s life.

The Netziv again offers a remarkable insight: this blessing is not just that one receives God's favor—but that others can see it. Divine favor becomes visible. It’s not mere luck or circumstance; the blessing radiates with a clarity that even bystanders recognize as holy.

This idea echoes God’s promise to Avraham:

וְאֶהְיֶה בְּרָכָה... וְנִבְרְכוּ בְךָ כָּל מִשְׁפְּחֹת הָאֲדָמָה ("You shall be a blessing… and all the families of the earth shall be blessed through you”: Bereishit 12:2–3).

When others see the glow of God’s favor on someone, they are drawn toward it. They ask: “What is your secret?” And the answer often leads back to Torah, mitzvot, kindness, and faith.

3. Divine Vision: Seeing With “Einayim Shel Maalah”

The Midrash in Midrash Tanchuma interprets “יָאֵר ה׳ פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ” as: He will give you eyes—that is, spiritual vision. Not the physical ability to see, but the deeper capacity to see what truly matters, to see the good, to perceive the Divine in the mundane.

Consider the episode at the Akeidah, where Avraham saw the Divine presence:

וַיִּשָּׂא אַבְרָהָם אֶת עֵינָיו וַיַּרְא ( "And Avraham lifted his eyes and saw...": Bereishit 22:4)

He turned to Yitzchak and asked if he too could see. Yitzchak saw. But Eliezer and Yishmael could not. What did they see? All saw the same cloud. But only Avraham and Yitzchak recognized the Divine within it. Our worldview shapes what we perceive.

Hashem’s blessing, then, is not just to see, but to see clearly, spiritually, and compassionately. As the blessing in the Amidah says:

אַתָּה חוֹנֵן לְאָדָם דַּעַת... חָנֵּנוּ מֵאִתְּךָ דֵּעָה בִּינָה וְהַשְׂכֵּל "You graciously endow man with knowledge… grant us understanding, insight, and discernment."

This Divine illumination is what enables us to see light even in darkness, to judge others favorably, to seek the good in ourselves and in others, and to rise above cynicism or despair.

4. Grace and Exoneration

The verse continues:

וִיחֻנֶּךָּ “And be gracious to you.”

The Hebrew word "חן" (chen, grace) is difficult to define. It is a beauty that transcends reason. As in the story of Esther:

וַתִּשָּׂא אֵסְתֵּר חֵן בְּעֵינֵי כָּל רֹאֶיהָ  "And Esther found favor in the eyes of all who saw her” Esther 2:15.

Grace is not superficial charm—it is Divine favor, where others are inclined toward kindness and compassion on your behalf, often beyond your merits.

According to the Talmud (Berachot 20b), the word “ויחנך” can also mean to exonerate. Sometimes, despite our flaws, Hashem’s radiance obscures our failings. Just as intense light can blur what lies beneath, God's shining face helps diminish our spiritual blemishes—provided we sincerely strive toward Teshuvah.

5. The Culmination: Peace as the Ultimate Vessel

The final verse is:

יִשָּׂא ה׳ פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ וְיָשֵׂם לְךָ שָׁלוֹם "May Hashem lift His face toward you and grant you peace."

The Mishnah (Uktzin 3:12) famously teaches:

לֹא מָצָא הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא כְּלִי מַחֲזִיק בְּרָכָה לְיִשְׂרָאֵל אֶלָּא הַשָּׁלוֹם  "The Holy One, Blessed be He, found no vessel that could hold blessing for Israel except for peace."

The word Shalom shares a root with Shalem—wholeness. Peace is not the absence of conflict, but the integration of all parts into a greater unity. It is the harmony that results when each tribe, each person, contributes their unique light to the national tapestry.

As the verse in Psalms teaches:

ה׳ עֹז לְעַמּוֹ יִתֵּן, ה׳ יְבָרֵךְ אֶת עַמּוֹ בַּשָּׁלוֹם  "Hashem will give strength to His people; Hashem will bless His people with peace”: Tehillim 29:11.

Peace is both the result and the prerequisite of Divine blessing. Without it, blessings dissipate. With it, they endure.

Conclusion: Becoming a Vessel of Light

The Priestly Blessing is not just a wish—it is a call to action. God blesses us with physical needs so that we may pursue Torah. He enlightens us so we may see goodness and emulate Him. He shines His face upon us so that we may reflect His light in our lives and inspire others. And He grants us peace—not as a passive gift, but as a challenge to unify, to respect, and to love.

May we merit the fulfillment of these blessings—personally, communally, and nationally:

וְשָׂמוּ אֶת שְׁמִי עַל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וַאֲנִי אֲבָרְכֵם "And they shall place My Name upon the Children of Israel, and I shall bless them”: Bamidbar 6:27.

Hanassi on song!

For many members who were fortunate enough to attend, the stand-out feature of this year’s celebratory Yom Yerushalayim lunch was a stirring performance by The Rinat Jerusalem Men’s Choir, which treated us to a rousing selection of Jerusalem-themed songs. Some offered thrilling harmonies. Others gave us the chance to sing along. Some folk were genuinely and deeply moved; and the length and breadth of the applause at the close of the performance was a telling indication of the depth of our appreciation.

It will not have escaped the notice of the audience that, among the ranks of white-shirted, blue kippotted choristers with smiling faces, there were some of our very own. This is no cause for surprise. Our lady members already furnish the core of two other local choirs—the intergenerational Dorot choir and Hava Nashira—so why shouldn’t their menfolk do likewise? 

We asked Michael Brody, who handles the choir’s admin aspects, if he could let us have some background. This is what we learned:

The Rinat Jerusalem Men’s Choir was launched in the summer of 2021 by a group of like-minded members who aim to showcase their love of Jewish music to the general public. Among the works that are sung are the songs of the Land of Israel as well as cantorial excerpts. In the current challenging time, we also sing ‘Vehi She'amda’ and ‘Acheinu Kol Bet Yisrael’.

Jason Rosenblatt, the choir’s musical director since 2021, immigrated to Israel from Montreal and has been involved in musical performances for many years. In addition to conducting the choir, he is a talented musician, singer and accomplished player of a number of different musical instruments.

Rinat Jerusalem is always on the lookout for fresh talent. If you would like to be considered for admission to its serried ranks, you can contact Michael Brody by phone (054-461-5014) or by email at michaelbrody46@gmail.com.

Shavuot Night at Beit Knesset Hanassi: A Celebration for the Whole Family

This year, in addition to the usual all-night fare, we were treated to a delightful innovation which, we hope, we will be able to repeat in the future. Rabbi Kenigsberg writes:

This Shavuot night, the halls of Beit Knesset Hanassi were filled with the sounds of Torah, laughter, and community spirit, as several young families gathered for a festive dinner and learning program geared especially for children and parents.

Hosted together with Rabbi and Rebbetzin Kenigsberg and their family, the meal brought together the families who regularly attend our weekly children’s service, creating a sense of connection and belonging as we welcomed the chag together. The atmosphere was lively and warm, with delicious food, engaging conversation, and divrei Torah delivered by two of our young stars, who shared thoughtful insights on Matan Torah.

Following the meal, families moved into a specially prepared “Tikkun Leil" — a night of learning designed for children and their parents. Each family received a guided source sheet with age-appropriate materials for learning together, sparking meaningful discussions and questions. The learning session concluded with a story and an interactive quiz led by Rabbi Kenigsberg, creating an exciting and memorable lead-in to the main Shavuot learning program later that evening.

We’re so proud of the children who participated with such enthusiasm and curiosity, and deeply grateful to all the parents who made the effort to join. Moments like these remind us that Torah is truly morasha kehilat Yaakov — an inheritance passed down through the generations.

The Kotel is in our hands!

Our member Dr Pessy Krausz first came to Israel in 1958, making Aliyah in 1975. In this post she reminisces about her visits to Jerusalem over the decades.

Our nascent State had not even reached its first decade when an excited groom, Neville/Yaacov, flew his bride (me!) on a visit – my first, his one of several – to Israel.  Hiring a small car, we drove to Jerusalem along the winding road from what was then Lod airport. I found difficulty containing my excitement. I was travelling to the city of my prayers and hopes of more than 2,000 years. 

Dusk was falling as we passed the petrol station on our left. Swerving round the bend to our right I strained my eyes to see the city of my dreams. Would these dusty roads with small houses lead to the glorious huge buildings I’d imagined? Continuing further, my tremulous voice asked, 

 “When will we reach Jerusalem?” 

Proudly came the response: “This is It! Soon we’ll find the hotel we’ve booked and rest before sight-seeing in the morning.” 

The city was in darkness. Homes already shuttered at 9 pm. We came to a stop in front of the well-established King’s Hotel. Small bulbs lit the corridors, there was no kettle in the room, but at least a bed was a bed! So that’s how the Jerusalem of my prayers had been cut down to size – and so had my hopes and dreams. 

But what a difference ten years can make when we visited in 1967 – exactly six days after the miraculous Six Day War. This time we came with our three small sons, Shimon (9), Dov (7) and Daniel (4). We would be making our way to witness for ourselves the retaining wall of our Holy Temple – The Kotel – which Rav Shlomo Goren, on finally reaching it with brave Israeli troops, declared in his rousing Hebrew accent– "The Kotel Ma'aravi is in our hands" – upon which he blew the Shofar and recited the Hebrew blessing Shehecheyanu (“He who has given us life”). Then on reaching the Temple Mount he repeated the ceremony. For those who would like to access the historic event, Google הר הבית בידינו

We were also to tour and explore towns that were now accessible. The city of Hebron with the Cave of Machpelah which once again Jews, and indeed people of all faiths, could reach—and also Bethlehem, recorded in the Book of Ruth which opens with a famine in Beit Lechem (meaning “House of Bread”), a town that originally belonged to the tribe of Judah but had been under Jordanian control until the Six-Day War, when it was captured by Israel. 

However, next day’s sight-seeing began in Jerusalem itself when we visited our cousin, Shula, who had made Aliyah and worked in Jerusalem’s Barclays Bank. Reaching this imposing building, built in 1930 and situated on Jaffa Road and Allenby Square, we saw that its granite facade was pockmarked – a telling remnant of the bullets fired from Jordan. These marks are still visible to this day, 58 years later. 

We greeted our pioneer cousin excitedly. She left her desk and led us to the window from which we could see "No-Man's Land”. This strip of land had existed as a buffer zone between the Israeli-controlled West Jerusalem and the Jordanian-controlled East Jerusalem from 1948 until 1967.

In this picture, no-man’s land was where we see the street with the car. It contained small tents. Goats occupied the place of glory, while squatting Arabs found space alongside them. 

“Aren’t you nervous?” we asked her, having freshly arrived from the safety of Great Britain’s northern town of Sheffield. 

“No! Why should I be?” 

“Well, you’re a stone’s throw from those Arabs – a potential enemy -  aren’t you?” 

“They’re harmless, need all their energy to take care of the chickens sharing their tents. It is a sort of boundary, although thanks to the miracle of the Six Day War we can now circumvent the area and make our way to our Old City.” 

We said our goodbyes with a shared drink of cooling water. The Old City was indeed our next port of call. We made our way on foot – past the Cinematheque down the winding Maale HaShalom Street and descended through the Valley of Hinnom. Heartbreaking little wooden sticks with names of our brave soldiers were placed at intervals on the roadside where they had fallen in courageously ensuring the Kotel would be in our hands.  

But was it? Arriving under the glorious blue skies, we proceeded towards it with great expectations and our small prayer books. Easing our way through the narrow alleyways, which at that time led to the Kotel, our historic encounter was rudely interrupted by Arab lads high up on the walls above us, pelting us with pebbles and shouts. Beating a hasty retreat from “our” Kotel which did not appear to be entirely in our hands, we wound our way back, somewhat disheartened, easing our feelings somewhat with a little refreshment we’d brought with us.   

Fast forward to eight years later, when 1975 saw our family make its own personal leap of faith. Aliyah! And we were in time for our youngest son’s barmitzvah which was celebrated  - at the Kotel! By then the narrow alleyways had been replaced by a broad plaza. The walls above were protected by our very own soldiers. We were blessed to have four generations present. How my parents wondered at the miracle which their own parents, who had succumbed to the Nazi’s dastardly annihilation program, must surely have been sharing from above. They would have shared joy as we marked 58 years since the re-unification of Jerusalem – Yom Yerushalyim. No doubt they would also have shared the pain that Israel’s age of innocence – if ever there was one – did not last long. Doubtless they too would have joined in our heartfelt prayers to release our remaining hostages who, at this time of writing, have now exceeded a harrowing 600 days of The Swords of Iron War. 

Our resilient Jerusalemites nevertheless celebrated this year’s Jerusalem Day last week on Sunday 25 May 2025/5785 by holding parades with thousands of all ages singing “Am Yisrael Chai – The People of Israel Lives!”  Dancing jubilantly, with flags unfurled, despite the heat they marched to the Kotel. Some entering the Old City through the Dung Gate, while others through the Lions' Gate. 

We are blessed. The Kotel is indeed in our hands. We will evermore sing Am Yisrael Chai – The people of Israel shall live forever!”

The cost of Torah and the price of honour

Continuing our series of erev Shabbat Pirkei Avot posts on the perek of the week, we finally reach Perek 6, “Kinyan HaTorah” (“Acquisition of the Torah”), which we learn ahead of the festival of Shavuot which marks the giving of the Torah at Sinai.

Not all the teachings in Avot consist of rabbis telling people what to do. One of them, a baraita in the final perek (Avot 6:9), opens with a short story:

אָמַר רַבִּי יוֹסֵי בֶּן קִסְמָא: פַּֽעַם אֶחָת הָיִֽיתִי מְהַלֵּךְ בַּדֶּֽרֶךְ, וּפָגַע בִּי אָדָם אֶחָד, וְנָתַן לִי שָׁלוֹם, וְהֶחֱזַֽרְתִּי לוֹ שָׁלוֹם, אָמַר לִי: רַבִּי, מֵאֵיזֶה מָקוֹם אָֽתָּה, אָמַֽרְתִּי לוֹ: מֵעִיר גְּדוֹלָה שֶׁל חֲכָמִים וְשֶׁל סוֹפְרִים אָֽנִי. אָמַר לִי: רַבִּי, רְצוֹנְךָ שֶׁתָּדוּר עִמָּֽנוּ בִּמְקוֹמֵֽנוּ, וַאֲנִי אֶתֵּן לָךְ אֶֽלֶף אֲלָפִים דִּנְרֵי זָהָב וַאֲבָנִים טוֹבוֹת וּמַרְגָּלִיּוֹת. אָמַֽרְתִּי לוֹ: אִם אַתָּה נוֹתֵן לִי כָּל כֶּֽסֶף וְזָהָב וַאֲבָנִים טוֹבוֹת וּמַרְגָּלִיּוֹת שֶׁבָּעוֹלָם, אֵינִי דָר אֶלָּא בִּמְקוֹם תּוֹרָה

Rabbi Yose ben Kisma said: Once I was going on my way and I encountered a man. He greeted me and I returned his greeting. He said to me: "Rabbi, where are you from?" I said to him: "I’m from a great city of sages and scholars". He said to me: "Rabbi, would you like to live with us in our place? I will give you a million gold dinars of gold, precious stones and pearls”. I said I to him: "If you were to give me all the silver, gold, precious stones and pearls in the world, I wouldn’t live anywhere but in a place of Torah”.

Is any further comment needed, or indeed desirable? Here, in narrative form, we read a simple story of a great and highly principled rabbi who refuses all inducements and blandishments for the sake of being able to learn Torah in the company of other like-minded scholars.

Those who discuss this stranger tend to do so in a pejorative sense. Thus R’ Abraham J. Twerski (Visions of the Fathers) describes him as “lacking the basic underpinnings of spirituality” with his “superficial manners and his overvaluation of money”. The Chafetz Chaim says the man was not asking Rabbi Yose to teach Torah but only that people would honour him (Shmuel Charlap, Chafetz Chaim al Avot).  The Maharal of Prague, seeking to identify him by name, pointed to two candidates who could have scarcely been more different from one another: Elijah the Prophet and the Satan.

But perhaps there is more to this story than meets the eye. For one thing, though we know very little about Rabbi Yose ben Kisma, we do know that he lived and taught in the Roman city of Caesarea—an affluent place but hardly a notable makom Torah after the Bar Kochka revolt of 132-136 CE.

Further, everyone reads this baraita from the standpoint of Rabbi Yose ben Kisma. But why do we not read it too from the perspective of the unknown man whom he meets? Here we find a man who is so desperate to secure a rabbi who will illuminate his town with Torah and enrich it with his knowledge that he is prepared to pay any price for it. Perhaps he is even greater in his dedication to Torah than is Rabbi Yose. After all, the rabbi articulates his concern for himself, while the man he meets is seeking a rabbi for an entire community.

What counts is the way you count: Bemidbar 5785

The count of the Jewish people that appears in this week’s parsha is difficult to understand. What are we to learn from all these detailed descriptions and seemingly exact numbers? The general lesson that every Jew counts, and is to be counted, is plain—but that lesson can be learned from a far more concise précis of the population of the Jews than the long account that appears in the parsha. Perhaps it the messenger that itself is the message: the Torah wishes to express its relationship to the Jewish people by dwelling at “unnecessary” length on the counting exercise. For those with whom we have a loving relationship, there are no unnecessary or superfluous acts or gestures. 

The rabbis wryly compare this type of relationship to the way one counts one’s money: thus one can compare the speed and intensity with which we recite our prayers with the speed at which we would count valuable coins. Care in counting is also an expression of the underlying attachment to what is being counted. I note that people leaving the ATM cash dispenser invariably check the bills that they have received. This is not only an act of prudence; it is an act of affection. Similarly the count of the Jews in the parsha, even in its detail and length, make perfect sense. Another explanation can be found in the identity of the counters themselves. Moshe, Aharon, Elazar and Itamar are the leaders of the Jewish people, totally responsible for its physical and spiritual welfare. Part of their task is to seek to know their millions of constituents—to make some sort of connection with each as an individual.

 The leaders of Israel used to view their responsibility as being like those of parents. Some Jews crave affection while others need tough love. The enormous diversity of the Jewish people—twelve different tribes that are counted separately as well as in their aggregate—is emphasized by the fact of their being counted as individuals. Responsibility for the fate of the Jewish people is a heavy burden, but it is one that automatically comes with leadership positions. Those who count he Jewish people are its leaders, constantly aware that they are relied upon for their leadership and wisdom. And they must also be aware that the needs of every person must be accounted for. 

So, the counting of the Jewish people is not an empty exercise; it reflects the scale of challenges they and their leaders face. May both the counters and the counted of Israel in our day be great in numbers, spirit and accomplishments. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein 

Rabbi Wein's devar Torah on parshat Bemidbar last year, "In the desert", can be read here.

Encamping with Purpose: Identity, Destiny, and the Call of the Land

Each year, as we begin reading Sefer Bemidbar, we are greeted by what appears to be a census—a counting of men aged twenty and above, fit for battle. This enumeration yields the familiar number: 603,550. The book’s name in English—Numbers—reflects this opening theme. But as with everything in Torah, the surface conceals a profound inner depth. This is not simply a military registration; it is a moment of spiritual crystallization.The Torah uses the phrase שְׂאוּ אֶת-רֹאש—“Lift up the head”—to describe this counting. Each individual is elevated, seen, and given significance. This isn’t about quantity: it’s about identity. And not just one identity, but a multi-layered formation of the self and of the nation. Rabbi Paul Bloom explains.

Four Dimensions of Jewish Identity

Sefer Bemidbar reveals four dimensions of identity—personal, familial, communal, and cosmic—each represented in the way the people encamp around the Mishkan and prepare to receive the Torah anew.

1. Peshat: Readiness and Responsibility

At the literal level (peshat), the nation is arranged in military formation. “Kol hayotzei l’tzava”—those who go out to war—are counted and grouped by tribe. This reflects a nation on the brink of entering Eretz Yisrael, preparing to fulfill its divine mandate not just through faith, but through action and readiness. They were being prepared for immediate entry into the Land, each person in their place, ready to march with purpose.

Yet, as the Sforno insightfully notes, this arrangement also carried a divine potential: had the people entered the Land with eagerness and faith, God would have made the conquest unnecessary. The nations would have fled. As Chazal teach, the Girgashites left voluntarily. The encampment was meant to signal a people worthy of divine miracles. Tragically, the sin of the Spies would forfeit that opportunity, forcing Israel into forty years of wandering and eventual warfare.

The lesson is sobering and urgent: when we hesitate in our mission, our enemies grow bolder. This truth echoes into our own time. Following the miraculous victory of the Six-Day War, the Jewish people stood poised to reclaim and resettle their full inheritance. But reluctance to act decisively gave our enemies renewed claims. We must not repeat this error again.

2. Remez: Echoes of the Patriarchs

On the level of remez (hint), Chazal and Rashi point out that the tribal formation around the Mishkan mirrored the funeral procession of Yaakov Avinu. When the sons of Yaakov carried his body to Me’arat HaMachpelah, they stood in the very same tribal configuration.

This powerful parallel teaches that the structure of the Jewish camp is not arbitrary—it is ancestral. The honor once given to the father of the nation becomes the structural paradigm for the nation itself. Our future encampment is modeled on our past devotion. We are a people formed not only by divine instruction, but by the enduring legacy of our forebears.

3. Derush: Flags, Stones, and Sanctified Distinctions

On the homiletic level (derush), each tribe had its own flag (degel), uniquely colored to match its corresponding stone on the Choshen Mishpat—the breastplate of the Kohen Gadol. These were not mere decorations. They symbolized the holiness embedded in each tribe’s unique identity.

Rashi emphasizes that these colors and banners represent the tribe’s distinct spiritual role. Just as the High Priest wore twelve different stones, each tribe shone with its own hue, yet all were unified in the service of God. Unity in Judaism is never uniformity. It is the harmony of diverse roles, gifts, and callings sanctified within a single national soul.

This is the message echoed every Friday night in Kabbalat Shabbat. We sing “Bo’i VeShalom” three times—once as individuals, once as families, and once as a community. Each level of identity is necessary for true wholeness.

4. Sod: A Reflection of the Heavenly Chariot

And then there is sod, the secret, mystical level. Ibn Ezra, drawing from the vision of Yechezkel, reveals a breathtaking parallel: the tribal encampment mirrors the celestial Ma’aseh Merkavah, the Divine Chariot. The four lead tribes—Yehuda, Reuven, Ephraim, and Dan—correspond to the four celestial beings:

●      Yehuda: Lion (aryeh), symbol of royalty and courage.

●      Reuven: Human face (adam), symbol of introspection and wisdom.

●      Ephraim: Ox (shor), representing strength and service.

●      Dan: Eagle (nesher), sign of vision and divine swiftness.

The Jewish people encamp not just as a nation, but as a reflection of heaven itself. Their structure is a cosmic alignment, their movement a celestial choreography. Through their formation around the Mishkan, they became a living sanctuary, a human Merkavah for the Divine Presence.

Spiritual Archetypes: Four Pillars of Holiness

The Kli Yakar adds yet another layer. Each of the four camps corresponds to a spiritual archetype, values essential for building a holy society:

●      Chochmah (Wisdom): Yehudah’s camp, center of Torah and leadership.

●      Middot (Ethical Character): Reuven’s camp, source of integrity and humility.

●      Gevurah (Moral Strength): Ephraim’s camp, courage and discipline.

●      Ashirut (Wealth for Good): Dan’s camp, material prosperity directed toward sanctity.

These archetypes call on each of us to discover our unique spiritual path and contribute our talents to the collective mission.

Sinai, Shavuot, and the Mission of Unity

It is no coincidence that Parashat Bemidbar is read just before Shavuot, the anniversary of Matan Torah. At Sinai, we were “k’ish echad b’lev echad”—like one person with one heart. That unity was not sociological; it was sacred. To receive Torah, we had to become a vessel—a unified entity ready to carry the Divine word.

The desert encampment is not just a memory—it is a model. To receive Torah today, we must reclaim those layers of identity: personal uniqueness, familial roots, communal responsibility, and cosmic purpose. We must align ourselves—individually and nationally—with the Divine order.

A Timeless Call

The Sforno’s message rings clear: had the Israelites embraced the Land with love, God would have conquered it for them. The same truth faces us now. The Land of Israel awaits not only our return, but our readiness. When we despise the Land, even passively, we empower those who oppose us. But when we act with conviction and holiness, miracles follow.

The census in Bamidbar is not ancient history. It is a mirror. It asks us: Who are you? Where do you stand? What is your mission?

As we approach Shavuot, let us remember that we stood at Sinai not as a crowd, but as a formation. Let us stand again, each in our place—elevated, counted, and ready to carry the Torah into the Land and into the world.

Megillat Ruth: Three Declarations

One of the highlights of the festival of Shavuot is the public reading in shul of Megillat Ruth, a powerful and moving narrative of love, of commitment, of honesty and sincerity. Three of the most famous passages in this Megillah has been the inspiration for "Three Declarations", a piece for solo bassoon and strings that our member Max Stern dedicated to his friend, musician and fellow educator Mauricio Paez, who commissioned them. What is this piece all about? Let Max explain in his own words: 

These Three Declarations for solo bassoon and string quintet encapsulate three scenes from the Book of Ruth in brief musical portraits, which musically synthesize traditional ethnic sources (Yemenite women’s wedding songs) with freely expressive instrumental interpretations of statements by Ruth, Boaz, and “People at the Gate.” The Three Declarations are as follows:

Ruth I: 16-17

וַתֹּאמֶר רוּת אַל-תִּפְגְּעִי-בִי, לְעָזְבֵךְ לָשׁוּב מֵאַחֲרָיִךְ:  כִּי אֶל-אֲשֶׁר תֵּלְכִי אֵלֵךְ, וּבַאֲשֶׁר תָּלִינִי אָלִין--עַמֵּךְ עַמִּי, וֵאלֹהַיִךְ אֱלֹהָי

בַּאֲשֶׁר תָּמוּתִי אָמוּת, וְשָׁם אֶקָּבֵר; כֹּה יַעֲשֶׂה יְהוָה לִי, וְכֹה יוֹסִיף--כִּי הַמָּוֶת, יַפְרִיד בֵּינִי וּבֵינֵךְ

16 And Ruth said: "Entreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people hall be my people, and thy God my God; 

17 where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried; the LORD do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me".

Ruth II: 11-12

וַיַּעַן בֹּעַז, וַיֹּאמֶר לָהּ--הֻגֵּד הֻגַּד לִי כֹּל אֲשֶׁר-עָשִׂית אֶת-חֲמוֹתֵךְ, אַחֲרֵי מוֹת אִישֵׁךְ; וַתַּעַזְבִי אָבִיךְ וְאִמֵּךְ, וְאֶרֶץ מוֹלַדְתֵּךְ, וַתֵּלְכִי, אֶל-עַם אֲשֶׁר לֹא-יָדַעַתְּ תְּמוֹל שִׁלְשׁוֹם

יְשַׁלֵּם יְהוָה, פָּעֳלֵךְ; וּתְהִי מַשְׂכֻּרְתֵּךְ שְׁלֵמָה, מֵעִם יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, אֲשֶׁר-בָּאת, לַחֲסוֹת תַּחַת-כְּנָפָיו

11 And Boaz answered and said unto her: "It hath fully been told me, all that thou hast done unto thy mother-in-law since the death of thy husband; and how thou hast left thy father and thy mother, and the land of thy nativity, and art come unto a people that thou knowest not heretofore. 

12 The LORD recompense thy work, and be thy reward complete from the LORD, the God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to take refuge".

Ruth IV:11-12

וַיֹּאמְרוּ כָּל-הָעָם אֲשֶׁר-בַּשַּׁעַר, וְהַזְּקֵנִים--עֵדִים; יִתֵּן יְהוָה אֶת-הָאִשָּׁה הַבָּאָה אֶל-בֵּיתֶךָ, כְּרָחֵל וּכְלֵאָה אֲשֶׁר בָּנוּ שְׁתֵּיהֶם אֶת-בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל, וַעֲשֵׂה-חַיִל בְּאֶפְרָתָה, וּקְרָא-שֵׁם בְּבֵית לָחֶם

וִיהִי בֵיתְךָ כְּבֵית פֶּרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר-יָלְדָה תָמָר לִיהוּדָה--מִן-הַזֶּרַע, אֲשֶׁר יִתֵּן יְהוָה לְךָ, מִן-הַנַּעֲרָה, הַזֹּאת

11 And all the people that were in the gate, and the elders, said: "We are witnesses. The LORD make the woman that is come into thy house like Rachel and like Leah, which two did build the house of Israel; and do thou worthily in Ephrath and be famous in Beth-lehem;

12 and let thy house be like the house of Perez, whom Tamar bore unto Judah, of the seed which the LORD shall give thee of this young woman".

You can experience "Three Declarations" as played by Mauricio Paez on YouTube here. 

When one day makes a difference

The Destiny Foundation contains a treasure trove of divrei Torah, insights and words of wisdom from Rabbi Wein. Here's one to share on the topic of our shortest Chag.

Here in Israel Shavuot is a one-day holiday. Since many stay up all night on Shavuot and therefore spend a great deal of the day sleeping off the night’s study session, the chag really whizzes by. This really does not allow for much true contemplation of the holiday and its intended message and long-lasting influence upon us. 

We all know that Shavuot marks the granting of the Torah to the Jewish people on Mount Sinai, though the biblical names for Shavuot, which appear in the Torah itself, do not specifically reflect this truth. The reality of the holiday is not easily absorbed in so short a period of time as one day. After all, we savor Pesach but it takes a week to do so—and the same is true for Succot which lasts eight days. 

When I lived in the United States, the second day of Shavuot was one of my favorite days of the year. I appreciated the wisdom of Jewish tradition in extending the holidays for Jews living in the Diaspora. But, living now in Israel, with its one-day holiday of Shavuot, it has forced me to consider the import of the holiday in a less leisurely manner than before. 

Although there is no second day of Shavuot here, the aftermath of Shavuot nevertheless can and should wield an influence upon us, on our attitudes, behavior and beliefs. If it does not, the holiday itself, passing in a blur, loses its sense of importance and relevance and becomes a wasted opportunity. 

Dealing with the Torah is not a one-time situation. Perhaps this is the reason behind the Torah not emphasizing Shavuot as the anniversary of its being granted to the Jewish people on Sinai all those years ago. Torah is “our life and the length of our days.” It really therefore has no anniversary or commemorative day for it is the constant factor in the life of Jews. 

The Torah is a continuous guide and challenge in our everyday life, always demanding and probing into our innermost thoughts and outward behavior and lifestyle. It does not allow for vacations and negligence, societal correctness and sloppy thinking. Our teacher Moshe stated in his famous psalm that life itself passes by as in a blur, much like the holiday of Shavuot does. Without focus and purpose, dedication and fortitude, life itself resembles a lost opportunity. 

Shavuot’s message therefore truly lies in its aftermath and not so much in its one-day of commemoration. In Temple times, Shavuot, so to speak, was extended for another week to allow the holiday offerings of individuals to be brought upon the Temple’s altar. 

There was a conscious effort by Torah law to impress upon the Jews the continuity of Shavuot, with the deep understanding that, out of all of the holidays of the year, it was the one that never quite ends. It was and is the source of “our lives and the length of our days.” Shavuot is only one day out of 365 but its true commemoration extends to the other 364 days of the year as well. 

I have often remarked that Shavuot is the forgotten holiday for many Jews in the Diaspora. Its almost complete disappearance from Jewish life outside of the observant Orthodox community has become the symbol of the ravages of assimilation, intermarriage and alienation that plague the modern Jew who has little self-identity and abysmal ignorance of Torah and its values. 

Here in Israel all Israelis are aware of Shavuot, even those who only honor it in its breach. So the Torah and its influence is still a vital part of Jewish life here. The study of Torah and Jewish subjects of interest on the night of Shavuot here cuts across all lines and groupings in Israeli society. Secular and religious, Charedi and Reform, synagogues and community centers—all have all night learning sessions on the night of Shavuot. So Torah has an effect upon all here, naturally in varying degrees of knowledge and attitude. 

In the Diaspora, Shavuot is simply ignored by many Jews and thus it cannot have any continuity in the lives and value systems of those Jews. It is difficult to see how this situation can be materially changed in the near future. Yet Shavuot has always somehow been able to produce its magic on the people of Israel. We should therefore be most grateful that the Lord has extended to us a year-long and eternal Shavuot.

Royalty v Chaos

 

Here's a timely debut blogpost by one of our newest members, Rabbi Steven Ettinger--live wire, author and tax lawyer. Thanks, Steve, for shedding some fresh light on the impending chag of Shavuot.

As with most of our religious practices, there are no straight answers, or more accurately, there are scores of alternative answers. Take, for example, the reading of Megillat Rut on Shavuot. Why do we read it? A recent search on Chabad.org provided a list of eight reasons and I am sure one could find sixty-two more.

First up on the list is the one that speaks most poignantly to me, that Shavuot is the day of birth and passing of Dovid Hamelech. The denouement of Megillat Rut leads into his birth. However, looking more closely, one can find a much deeper connection between this work and the life of Dovid: there is a character linked both to his rise and to his later near demise. She appears briefly; however, her character, actions and impact are significantly more far-reaching. Thematically, she influences the very conflict that envelopes us and our country today.

After Machlon and Chilion die in Moav, Naomi decides to return to Israel.  Her daughters-in-law Rut and Orpah initially accompany her. After a short while, she implores them to remain in Moav, but they are steadfast in their loyalty to her.  Back and forth they go, until Orpah finally relents -- but Rut perseveres.

It does not seem that Orpah is judged harshly. Just the opposite. The Talmud (Sota 42b) brings three opinions to support the “reward” she received for one of the following: kissing Naomi four times, shedding four tears, or accompanying her four mil upon their separation.

Chazal explain that although she was barren, Orpah merited to be the mother (or perhaps ancestor) of Goliath and three other giants (mighty warriors) that we find in Sefer Shmuel (see 2 Shmuel 21: 18-22). Goliath, of course, is identified with the revelation of Dovid’s destined greatness. Another of these giants, Ishbi, nearly kills Dovid, as recounted in an elaborate aggadah in Sanhedrin (95a).  It is interesting to note that, in this tale, Dovid is saved because Avishai ben Zeruiah kills Orpah and then subsequently is able to kill Ishbi by distracting him with news of her death.  Thus Orpah and her progeny are not mere antagonists but their destinies are intertwined with those of Dovid.

Circling back to Megilat Rut and Shavuot and its connection to Dovid Hamelech, how is Orpah still relevant to our contemporary story? Does she continue to play a role in the destiny of “Dovid v’zaroh?”

The simple reading of the story presented two similar and compassionate women – differentiated by one small action. One remained with Naomi and one returned home. However, as the story unfolded, through time and the eyes of Chazal, there was a divergence. One woman, Rut, became the symbol of purity and beauty. She was the mother of royalty of the hero. The other, Orpah , devolves into an ugly, deceitful person who is the mother of those who threaten the hero and Israel’s very existence.

The moment Orpah walked away was no mere familial split; it represented the separation of the values of Moav from those of Yehudah. The contrast between Rut and Orpah – and later between their descendants -- represents an existential struggle between tribes and nations. This is ultimately the contrast between good and evil -- moral and the immoral.  That separation occurred at the very moment Rut declared “Amech ami,  v’Elokaich Elokai” –words that represented her acceptance of the Torah and its obligations – values that Orpah could not assimilate.

The cults of death, the immoral, the haters, the ones we battle every day are the ones who walked away with Orpah . They chose and continue to choose to reject the opportunity accept and constantly reaffirm of the ethic of the Brit of Matan Torah, that runs through Rut and Dovid and their actions, that will assure us of victory.

Rising Moon, by Moshe Miller (Book of the Month, Sivan 5785)

With Shavuot fast approaching, our Book of the Month for Rosh Chodesh Sivan is Rabbi Moshe Miller's Rising Moon. What's it about? Here's a handy synopsis, drawn from one of the websites from which Rising Moon can be purchased: 

Ruth, a princess of Moab, leaves her homeland, along with Naomi and Orpah, after suffering terrible losses to become the mother of the royal house of Israel. Now, in a revolutionary reading of the Book of Ruth, Moshe Miller provides an entirely new perspective on this beloved story. 

Beneath the simple surface of the Book of Ruth, the Sages trace a web of primal issues, including the Serpent in the Garden of Eden; the jealousy of Cain; the painful break between Abraham and Lot; and the mystery that is the mitzvah of yibum. The fiber that binds together all these issues is the theme of love. Love is the key to this story, which culminates in the unique love of Ruth and Boaz, the ancestors of the once and future king, David, whose very name means love! 

Don't let this synopsis lure you into thinking it's just a romantic rendition of one of Tanach's most moving episodes. With a subtitle that reads "unravelling the book of Ruth", it is presented as a drama in four acts and turns out to be an ingenious and textually sensitive analysis of a Megillah that we know so well that we don't stop to ask ourselves if we can't get to know it a little better.

You can borrow this book from Beit Knesset Hanassi's downstairs library.