A Force As Strong As Stone

by Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Parshas Vayeitzei, Rav Moshe Shapiro once remarked, is a parsha "filled with stones."

It opens with the account of Yaakov Avinu’s first rest in fourteen years, as the stones he selected negotiated with each other for the right to serve the tzaddik.The single stone they became was turned into a matzeivah, enduring testimony to the awesomeness of the place.

As the parsha continues, Yaakov journeys on, using every bit of strength to lift the weighty stone from atop the well, allowing the shepherds and their sheep to drink.

The parsha closes with Yaakov Avinu facing Lavan, with a collection of stones between them. The pile would serve as a monument, an agreement of sorts between two men representing two different worlds.

The stone symbolizes strength, firmness and solidity in a parsha where those traits were necessary for our father’s survival in the face of much opposition and forces determined to destroy him.

The word even, stone, is explained (Rashi, Vayechi, 49:24) as a fusion of av and ben, the strength of the relationship between father and son hinted at in the stone’s power. It is fitting that a parsha that connects the avos to their bonim - the shevotim - is filled with stones.

Each word and each nuance in this parsha, describing the very beginning of our nation, is significant and deserves close scrutiny. The story of the stones battling for the right to protect and shelter Yaakov Avinu is filled with meaning.

The Ramban, quoting Pirkei D’Rav Eliezer, writes that the twelve stones were gathered from the mizbeiach that Avrohom had constructed for the Akeidah. Rashi quotes the Medrash which states that the stones fought each other for the right to have the tzaddik rest his holy, tired, head upon it. The Medrash Rabbah adds that it was when the stones resolved their quarrel, agreeing to join as one, that Yaakov Avinu rejoiced with the realization that he would be the one to spawn the holy shevotim, twelve sons who would join into one eternal unit, Klal Yisroel.The greatness of those shevotim, like the stones, is that twelve different paths and ideas, each with its unique gifts, fused into one, committed to unity, while not forfeiting their individuality.

When Yaakov saw the achdus of the stones, he understood that he would merit sons who, despite their differences, would behold the ability and potential to become one.

The greatness of our people is not only that there are twelve shevotim, though it is part of our inherent greatness to acknowledge that there are twelve distinct derochim in avodah. Yaakov knew that he was going to be the father of the shevotim when he saw that they were able to end their dispute and work together, each one compromising and joining with the others as one.

It was then that he had the dream and saw the malochim and received the Divine blessing. For only when there is achdus can we merit such things. It was when he had that realization that he was able to dream of our destiny, the angels hinting at our rise, fall and eventual climb back up.

It is this lesson that we take with us from the parsha, and it is as true today as it was back then. Together, we can achieve and effect change. Separate, we are irrelevant and weak.

It is like that on an individual level, too. Man is comprised of diverse parts, and he is charged with leading them together to bring glory to his Creator - "kol atzmosai tomarna" - as one united entity. The yeitzer hara seeks to introduce peirud, division and discordance, to break down communication within man, so that he has no clear direction.

Nothing is more damaging than peirud, the greatest obstacle to communal effectiveness.

We have been in golus for so long that we are worn down, broken by cheit and suffering. It seems as if we have lost the ability to respect and work along with those who disagree with us, even though they are our brothers.

We know that the geulah depends on the relationship between Yidden, as Moshe Rabbeinu commented when he realized that the incident with him and the Mitzri had become common knowledge. If there is evil speech amongst you, he remarked, I know why you have not yet been redeemed.

Perhaps we can understand the depth of the concept by recognizing that lashon hara is borne of jealousy and pettiness. If we rise above envy and resentment and accept and reach out to others, loving every Jew, then we prove ourselves ready to become one stone, twelve shevotim living b’achdus and worthy of geulah.

Distinct, yet together.

When the winds of war grew stronger in Poland of 1939, the gadol hador, Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzensky, brought many European yeshivos to his hometown of Vilna, funding their survival. He found a bais medrash for each, taking responsibility for feeding the bochurim.At the time, there were people who thought it would be more practical to create one large yeshiva, rather than several small ones. Rav Chaim Ozer, father of the olam hayeshivos, disagreed with the plan. He explained that Klal Yisroel needs a Mir and a Novardok and a Stolin and a Lubavitch and each of the many streams that form the mosaic of our nation. Fusing them into one, he said, would dull their magnificent stripes and colors.

Dovid Hamelech asks, "Pischu li sha’arei tzedek, avo vom odeh Kah. Zeh hasha’ar laHashem... - Open up for me the gates of righteousness… This is the gate of Hashem." Dovid is asking that the gates of righteousness be opened for him. Shouldn’t he then continue with "Eilu hashe’arim laHashem - These are the gates," in plural? Why does he refer to many "sha’arei tzedek" and then point to one and say, "Zeh, this, is the sha’ar laHashem"?

Commentators explain that Dovid Hamelech is teaching that there are different paths to Hashem, each holy and each precious. Every person has to find the path that is right for his neshamah, and whichever it is, zeh hasha’ar laHashem, that is the correct one for him. Zeh, the seforim point out, has a gematria of 12, hinting to the twelve sons who first taught us this lesson of many paths leading to one goal.

In fact, pertaining to the various customs regarding the recitation of piyutim in tefillah, the Mogein Avrohom (Orach Chaim 68) states as halacha lema’aseh that there are 12 gates in Heaven, corresponding to the 12 shevotim, and each shevet has its own gate and minhagim from which they should not deviate.

Back in the days of the British Mandate, the ruling British officers conducted a survey in Yerushalayim, asking its Jewish residents if their language of choice was Yiddish or Hebrew. It was a loaded question, pitting the Hebrew-speakers in the Zionist camp against the Yerushalayimer Yidden of the old yishuv, who wouldn’t speak the modern language of Ben Yehudah.

A British officer showed up at the home of the Yerushalayimer rov, Rav Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld, to ask him his language of choice. "Hebrew," smiled Rav Yosef Chaim to the astonished official.

When he left, Rav Yosef Chaim’s talmidim asked him about his seemingly strange answer. "Voss iz tzuvishen mir un mein brider, what’s between me and my brother, iz nisht der gesheft fun der sheigetz, is none of his business. It’s between us."

There are so many different paths. There are the paths of Yehudah and Yosef, and the paths of Yissochor and Zevulun.

Yaakov Avinu perceived this, and he asked his sons to gather around his bed before his passing, as Rav Dovid Cohen, the Chevroner rosh yeshiva, explains in a new sefer of his maamarim on Sefer Bereishis and Sefer Shemos.

"Hei’asfu - Gather together," Yaakov requested of them, since that is the prime condition for hashro’as haShechinah and the ultimate geulah. Gather around me and I will tell you what will transpire at the end of days. But the Shechinah left him and he wasn’t able to foretell the day of the redemption.

Rav Cohen explains that when Yaakov felt the Shechinah leaving him, he concluded that there must be peirud, dissonance, among his sons, for strife drives away the Shechinah.

In this light, we can comprehend the response of the shevotim: "Shema Yisroel Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad. Kesheim she’ein b’libcha elah echod, kach ein b’leibeinu elah echod. Just as you only have One in your heart, so too, in our hearts there is One." They were mechadeish that even under different exteriors, with different functions in His Kingdom; they were still one, with a common goal. As the Mahral [Nesivos Olam, Nesiv Ha’avodah 7] expounds, just as Yaakov was one, with one heart because he was one person, so too the shevotim proclaimed that they would join together until they would become united as one.

Last week, I was privileged to visit Montreal for a rally in support of Sholom Mordechai Rubashkin. The askonim arranging the event were rushed, hoping that it would take place before the snow began. In Montreal, that’s working against the clock. Sure enough, the season’s first snowfall came the morning of the event, just in time to make it difficult to get around and to provide another reason for people looking for excuses to stay home.

Our friends in Montreal tell me that they never experienced such an event and such an outpouring of compassion, concern and love. It was a collective shout of: "Reb Sholom Mordechai, we are with you!"

Spearheaded by a group of askonim from Satmar, Belz, Lubavitch, Skver, Vizhnitz and the yeshiva community, the event drew multitudes of Yidden, representing the many beautiful kehillos that make up that city. Chassidim, Litvaks and Sefardim came out en masse for the Lubavitcher chossid from Iowa.

Looking around at the overflowing crowd, we saw what makes us great. I witnessed the beauty of Am Yisroel.People have a tendency to point out flaws and to find faults with this or that system or approach. Events like the one in Montreal last week demonstrate that we have many struggles, but shechorah ani venava, the enduring, untarnished beauty of a nation shines through on a cold winter night, when they come to shed a tear and give a dollar for another Yid. The headlines, the haters, the cynics and the scoffers can sometimes make us believe negative things about ourselves. Last week, I heard the resounding answer of the gathered Yidden, with virtually each of the twelve shevotim represented. They said, "We don’t care what nusach he davens. We don’t care what kind of hat he wears or if he wears a hat at all. Ess achai anochi mevakeish."

One of the great modern-day paragons of ahavas Yisroel was Rabbi Naftali Neuberger, the late menahel of Yeshivas Ner Yisroel in Baltimore. He recognized the danger that Iranian Jewry was facing before others did, and he traveled to that hostile country to lay the groundwork for the community’s emigration. Then he opened wide the doors to his yeshiva, welcoming the influx of students and meeting their every need.

However, as an Iranian alumnus of Ner Yisroel recalled, Rabbi Neuberger insisted that the newcomers maintain their precious, sacred mesorah, which stretched back many centuries. He established a separate minyan for them, so they could adhere to their minhagim in tefillah. In time, they acclimated to the yeshiva, learned English, were able to follow the shiurim, and adapt socially and academically - but as proud bearers of their distinct tradition.

But that wasn’t the only thing that made Rabbi Neuberger’s method unique

"One Shabbos morning," recalls the alumnus, "we were davening at our Iranian minyan, and I noticed Rabbi Neuberger himself slip in during davening and stand inconspicuously in a corner."

The talmid asked Rabbi Neuberger why he was there. Rabbi Neuberger explained that he wanted to take advantage of the fact that at the Iranian minyan, they recited Birkas Kohanim."But we understood what he was really saying: ‘I respect your minhagim. I want you to maintain your mesorah, and here I am, a German-born talmid of the Mir, soaking in your brachos,’" said the talmid.The brachos of an agudah achas.The posuk we previously quoted from Parshas Vayechi states, "Hei’asfu v’agida lochem," Yaakov Avinu called together the shevotim and wanted to reveal to them what would transpire at the end of days. The Medrash Rabbah (Bereishis 98:2) says that if the Bnei Yisroel will join together as an agudah achas, they will thereby have prepared themselves for the final redemption, the geulah b’acharis hayomim.

After the Montreal event, a Yid stopped me and grasped my hands. He seemed a relic of a bygone time. On his head, he sported a well-worn fur hat to protect against the cold. His flowing gray beard was streaked with red, his face crisscrossed with lines. He possessed a quiet dignity that hinted at past suffering, and he seemed to be having trouble expressing what was on his mind. I looked at him and took in the picture. I was wondering why he wasn’t speaking. He had approached me and was then quiet. So I looked him in the eye and it was then that I noticed why he wasn’t speaking.

His eyes were filled with tears.

He was so overcome that he couldn’t speak.

He was sad, but happy. He was feeling the pain of golus, but also the light of redemption.

"Thank you for letting us be a part... a part of this," he mustered.

What he was saying, this old-world Europeiyishe Satmar Yid, was, in essence, what the shevotim told their father.

He wasn’t thanking me, or the askanim, or even Reb Sholom Mordechai, the catalyst for this remarkable show of achdus.

He was echoing the words of the shevotim around Yaakov Avinu’s bed.

"We are all one. Ein belibeinu elah Echad."

He was saying thank you to the Ribbono Shel Olam for letting him be part of a nation joined by a force as strong as stone - those stones, way back at the beginning of Yaakov Avinu’s journey.

He was saying we are b’achdus, we are prepared for the geulah. May it arrive speedily. Amen.

Parshas Vayeitzei, Rav Moshe Shapiro once remarked, is a parsha "filled with stones."

It opens with the account of Yaakov Avinu’s first rest in fourteen years, as the stones he selected negotiated with each other for the right to serve the tzaddik.The single stone they became was turned into a matzeivah, enduring testimony to the awesomeness of the place.

As the parsha continues, Yaakov journeys on, using every bit of strength to lift the weighty stone from atop the well, allowing the shepherds and their sheep to drink.

The parsha closes with Yaakov Avinu facing Lavan, with a collection of stones between them. The pile would serve as a monument, an agreement of sorts between two men representing two different worlds.

The stone symbolizes strength, firmness and solidity in a parsha where those traits were necessary for our father’s survival in the face of much opposition and forces determined to destroy him.

The word even, stone, is explained (Rashi, Vayechi, 49:24) as a fusion of av and ben, the strength of the relationship between father and son hinted at in the stone’s power. It is fitting that a parsha that connects the avos to their bonim - the shevotim - is filled with stones.

Each word and each nuance in this parsha, describing the very beginning of our nation, is significant and deserves close scrutiny. The story of the stones battling for the right to protect and shelter Yaakov Avinu is filled with meaning.

The Ramban, quoting Pirkei D’Rav Eliezer, writes that the twelve stones were gathered from the mizbeiach that Avrohom had constructed for the Akeidah. Rashi quotes the Medrash which states that the stones fought each other for the right to have the tzaddik rest his holy, tired, head upon it. The Medrash Rabbah adds that it was when the stones resolved their quarrel, agreeing to join as one, that Yaakov Avinu rejoiced with the realization that he would be the one to spawn the holy shevotim, twelve sons who would join into one eternal unit, Klal Yisroel.The greatness of those shevotim, like the stones, is that twelve different paths and ideas, each with its unique gifts, fused into one, committed to unity, while not forfeiting their individuality.

When Yaakov saw the achdus of the stones, he understood that he would merit sons who, despite their differences, would behold the ability and potential to become one.

The greatness of our people is not only that there are twelve shevotim, though it is part of our inherent greatness to acknowledge that there are twelve distinct derochim in avodah. Yaakov knew that he was going to be the father of the shevotim when he saw that they were able to end their dispute and work together, each one compromising and joining with the others as one.

It was then that he had the dream and saw the malochim and received the Divine blessing. For only when there is achdus can we merit such things. It was when he had that realization that he was able to dream of our destiny, the angels hinting at our rise, fall and eventual climb back up.

It is this lesson that we take with us from the parsha, and it is as true today as it was back then. Together, we can achieve and effect change. Separate, we are irrelevant and weak.

It is like that on an individual level, too. Man is comprised of diverse parts, and he is charged with leading them together to bring glory to his Creator - "kol atzmosai tomarna" - as one united entity. The yeitzer hara seeks to introduce peirud, division and discordance, to break down communication within man, so that he has no clear direction.

Nothing is more damaging than peirud, the greatest obstacle to communal effectiveness.

We have been in golus for so long that we are worn down, broken by cheit and suffering. It seems as if we have lost the ability to respect and work along with those who disagree with us, even though they are our brothers.

We know that the geulah depends on the relationship between Yidden, as Moshe Rabbeinu commented when he realized that the incident with him and the Mitzri had become common knowledge. If there is evil speech amongst you, he remarked, I know why you have not yet been redeemed.

Perhaps we can understand the depth of the concept by recognizing that lashon hara is borne of jealousy and pettiness. If we rise above envy and resentment and accept and reach out to others, loving every Jew, then we prove ourselves ready to become one stone, twelve shevotim living b’achdus and worthy of geulah.

Distinct, yet together.

When the winds of war grew stronger in Poland of 1939, the gadol hador, Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzensky, brought many European yeshivos to his hometown of Vilna, funding their survival. He found a bais medrash for each, taking responsibility for feeding the bochurim.At the time, there were people who thought it would be more practical to create one large yeshiva, rather than several small ones. Rav Chaim Ozer, father of the olam hayeshivos, disagreed with the plan. He explained that Klal Yisroel needs a Mir and a Novardok and a Stolin and a Lubavitch and each of the many streams that form the mosaic of our nation. Fusing them into one, he said, would dull their magnificent stripes and colors.

Dovid Hamelech asks, "Pischu li sha’arei tzedek, avo vom odeh Kah. Zeh hasha’ar laHashem... - Open up for me the gates of righteousness… This is the gate of Hashem." Dovid is asking that the gates of righteousness be opened for him. Shouldn’t he then continue with "Eilu hashe’arim laHashem - These are the gates," in plural? Why does he refer to many "sha’arei tzedek" and then point to one and say, "Zeh, this, is the sha’ar laHashem"?

Commentators explain that Dovid Hamelech is teaching that there are different paths to Hashem, each holy and each precious. Every person has to find the path that is right for his neshamah, and whichever it is, zeh hasha’ar laHashem, that is the correct one for him. Zeh, the seforim point out, has a gematria of 12, hinting to the twelve sons who first taught us this lesson of many paths leading to one goal.

In fact, pertaining to the various customs regarding the recitation of piyutim in tefillah, the Mogein Avrohom (Orach Chaim 68) states as halacha lema’aseh that there are 12 gates in Heaven, corresponding to the 12 shevotim, and each shevet has its own gate and minhagim from which they should not deviate.

Back in the days of the British Mandate, the ruling British officers conducted a survey in Yerushalayim, asking its Jewish residents if their language of choice was Yiddish or Hebrew. It was a loaded question, pitting the Hebrew-speakers in the Zionist camp against the Yerushalayimer Yidden of the old yishuv, who wouldn’t speak the modern language of Ben Yehudah.

A British officer showed up at the home of the Yerushalayimer rov, Rav Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld, to ask him his language of choice. "Hebrew," smiled Rav Yosef Chaim to the astonished official.

When he left, Rav Yosef Chaim’s talmidim asked him about his seemingly strange answer. "Voss iz tzuvishen mir un mein brider, what’s between me and my brother, iz nisht der gesheft fun der sheigetz, is none of his business. It’s between us."

There are so many different paths. There are the paths of Yehudah and Yosef, and the paths of Yissochor and Zevulun.

Yaakov Avinu perceived this, and he asked his sons to gather around his bed before his passing, as Rav Dovid Cohen, the Chevroner rosh yeshiva, explains in a new sefer of his maamarim on Sefer Bereishis and Sefer Shemos.

"Hei’asfu - Gather together," Yaakov requested of them, since that is the prime condition for hashro’as haShechinah and the ultimate geulah. Gather around me and I will tell you what will transpire at the end of days. But the Shechinah left him and he wasn’t able to foretell the day of the redemption.

Rav Cohen explains that when Yaakov felt the Shechinah leaving him, he concluded that there must be peirud, dissonance, among his sons, for strife drives away the Shechinah.

In this light, we can comprehend the response of the shevotim: "Shema Yisroel Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad. Kesheim she’ein b’libcha elah echod, kach ein b’leibeinu elah echod. Just as you only have One in your heart, so too, in our hearts there is One." They were mechadeish that even under different exteriors, with different functions in His Kingdom; they were still one, with a common goal. As the Mahral [Nesivos Olam, Nesiv Ha’avodah 7] expounds, just as Yaakov was one, with one heart because he was one person, so too the shevotim proclaimed that they would join together until they would become united as one.

Last week, I was privileged to visit Montreal for a rally in support of Sholom Mordechai Rubashkin. The askonim arranging the event were rushed, hoping that it would take place before the snow began. In Montreal, that’s working against the clock. Sure enough, the season’s first snowfall came the morning of the event, just in time to make it difficult to get around and to provide another reason for people looking for excuses to stay home.

Our friends in Montreal tell me that they never experienced such an event and such an outpouring of compassion, concern and love. It was a collective shout of: "Reb Sholom Mordechai, we are with you!"

Spearheaded by a group of askonim from Satmar, Belz, Lubavitch, Skver, Vizhnitz and the yeshiva community, the event drew multitudes of Yidden, representing the many beautiful kehillos that make up that city. Chassidim, Litvaks and Sefardim came out en masse for the Lubavitcher chossid from Iowa.

Looking around at the overflowing crowd, we saw what makes us great. I witnessed the beauty of Am Yisroel.People have a tendency to point out flaws and to find faults with this or that system or approach. Events like the one in Montreal last week demonstrate that we have many struggles, but shechorah ani venava, the enduring, untarnished beauty of a nation shines through on a cold winter night, when they come to shed a tear and give a dollar for another Yid. The headlines, the haters, the cynics and the scoffers can sometimes make us believe negative things about ourselves. Last week, I heard the resounding answer of the gathered Yidden, with virtually each of the twelve shevotim represented. They said, "We don’t care what nusach he davens. We don’t care what kind of hat he wears or if he wears a hat at all. Ess achai anochi mevakeish."

One of the great modern-day paragons of ahavas Yisroel was Rabbi Naftali Neuberger, the late menahel of Yeshivas Ner Yisroel in Baltimore. He recognized the danger that Iranian Jewry was facing before others did, and he traveled to that hostile country to lay the groundwork for the community’s emigration. Then he opened wide the doors to his yeshiva, welcoming the influx of students and meeting their every need.

However, as an Iranian alumnus of Ner Yisroel recalled, Rabbi Neuberger insisted that the newcomers maintain their precious, sacred mesorah, which stretched back many centuries. He established a separate minyan for them, so they could adhere to their minhagim in tefillah. In time, they acclimated to the yeshiva, learned English, were able to follow the shiurim, and adapt socially and academically - but as proud bearers of their distinct tradition.

But that wasn’t the only thing that made Rabbi Neuberger’s method unique

"One Shabbos morning," recalls the alumnus, "we were davening at our Iranian minyan, and I noticed Rabbi Neuberger himself slip in during davening and stand inconspicuously in a corner."

The talmid asked Rabbi Neuberger why he was there. Rabbi Neuberger explained that he wanted to take advantage of the fact that at the Iranian minyan, they recited Birkas Kohanim."But we understood what he was really saying: ‘I respect your minhagim. I want you to maintain your mesorah, and here I am, a German-born talmid of the Mir, soaking in your brachos,’" said the talmid.The brachos of an agudah achas.The posuk we previously quoted from Parshas Vayechi states, "Hei’asfu v’agida lochem," Yaakov Avinu called together the shevotim and wanted to reveal to them what would transpire at the end of days. The Medrash Rabbah (Bereishis 98:2) says that if the Bnei Yisroel will join together as an agudah achas, they will thereby have prepared themselves for the final redemption, the geulah b’acharis hayomim.

After the Montreal event, a Yid stopped me and grasped my hands. He seemed a relic of a bygone time. On his head, he sported a well-worn fur hat to protect against the cold. His flowing gray beard was streaked with red, his face crisscrossed with lines. He possessed a quiet dignity that hinted at past suffering, and he seemed to be having trouble expressing what was on his mind. I looked at him and took in the picture. I was wondering why he wasn’t speaking. He had approached me and was then quiet. So I looked him in the eye and it was then that I noticed why he wasn’t speaking.

His eyes were filled with tears.

He was so overcome that he couldn’t speak.

He was sad, but happy. He was feeling the pain of golus, but also the light of redemption.

"Thank you for letting us be a part... a part of this," he mustered.

What he was saying, this old-world Europeiyishe Satmar Yid, was, in essence, what the shevotim told their father.

He wasn’t thanking me, or the askanim, or even Reb Sholom Mordechai, the catalyst for this remarkable show of achdus.

He was echoing the words of the shevotim around Yaakov Avinu’s bed.

"We are all one. Ein belibeinu elah Echad."

He was saying thank you to the Ribbono Shel Olam for letting him be part of a nation joined by a force as strong as stone - those stones, way back at the beginning of Yaakov Avinu’s journey.

He was saying we are b’achdus, we are prepared for the geulah. May it arrive speedily. Amen.

Parshas Vayeitzei, Rav Moshe Shapiro once remarked, is a parsha "filled with stones."

It opens with the account of Yaakov Avinu’s first rest in fourteen years, as the stones he selected negotiated with each other for the right to serve the tzaddik.The single stone they became was turned into a matzeivah, enduring testimony to the awesomeness of the place.

As the parsha continues, Yaakov journeys on, using every bit of strength to lift the weighty stone from atop the well, allowing the shepherds and their sheep to drink.

The parsha closes with Yaakov Avinu facing Lavan, with a collection of stones between them. The pile would serve as a monument, an agreement of sorts between two men representing two different worlds.

The stone symbolizes strength, firmness and solidity in a parsha where those traits were necessary for our father’s survival in the face of much opposition and forces determined to destroy him.

The word even, stone, is explained (Rashi, Vayechi, 49:24) as a fusion of av and ben, the strength of the relationship between father and son hinted at in the stone’s power. It is fitting that a parsha that connects the avos to their bonim - the shevotim - is filled with stones.

Each word and each nuance in this parsha, describing the very beginning of our nation, is significant and deserves close scrutiny. The story of the stones battling for the right to protect and shelter Yaakov Avinu is filled with meaning.

The Ramban, quoting Pirkei D’Rav Eliezer, writes that the twelve stones were gathered from the mizbeiach that Avrohom had constructed for the Akeidah. Rashi quotes the Medrash which states that the stones fought each other for the right to have the tzaddik rest his holy, tired, head upon it. The Medrash Rabbah adds that it was when the stones resolved their quarrel, agreeing to join as one, that Yaakov Avinu rejoiced with the realization that he would be the one to spawn the holy shevotim, twelve sons who would join into one eternal unit, Klal Yisroel.The greatness of those shevotim, like the stones, is that twelve different paths and ideas, each with its unique gifts, fused into one, committed to unity, while not forfeiting their individuality.

When Yaakov saw the achdus of the stones, he understood that he would merit sons who, despite their differences, would behold the ability and potential to become one.

The greatness of our people is not only that there are twelve shevotim, though it is part of our inherent greatness to acknowledge that there are twelve distinct derochim in avodah. Yaakov knew that he was going to be the father of the shevotim when he saw that they were able to end their dispute and work together, each one compromising and joining with the others as one.

It was then that he had the dream and saw the malochim and received the Divine blessing. For only when there is achdus can we merit such things. It was when he had that realization that he was able to dream of our destiny, the angels hinting at our rise, fall and eventual climb back up.

It is this lesson that we take with us from the parsha, and it is as true today as it was back then. Together, we can achieve and effect change. Separate, we are irrelevant and weak.

It is like that on an individual level, too. Man is comprised of diverse parts, and he is charged with leading them together to bring glory to his Creator - "kol atzmosai tomarna" - as one united entity. The yeitzer hara seeks to introduce peirud, division and discordance, to break down communication within man, so that he has no clear direction.

Nothing is more damaging than peirud, the greatest obstacle to communal effectiveness.

We have been in golus for so long that we are worn down, broken by cheit and suffering. It seems as if we have lost the ability to respect and work along with those who disagree with us, even though they are our brothers.

We know that the geulah depends on the relationship between Yidden, as Moshe Rabbeinu commented when he realized that the incident with him and the Mitzri had become common knowledge. If there is evil speech amongst you, he remarked, I know why you have not yet been redeemed.

Perhaps we can understand the depth of the concept by recognizing that lashon hara is borne of jealousy and pettiness. If we rise above envy and resentment and accept and reach out to others, loving every Jew, then we prove ourselves ready to become one stone, twelve shevotim living b’achdus and worthy of geulah.

Distinct, yet together.

When the winds of war grew stronger in Poland of 1939, the gadol hador, Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzensky, brought many European yeshivos to his hometown of Vilna, funding their survival. He found a bais medrash for each, taking responsibility for feeding the bochurim.At the time, there were people who thought it would be more practical to create one large yeshiva, rather than several small ones. Rav Chaim Ozer, father of the olam hayeshivos, disagreed with the plan. He explained that Klal Yisroel needs a Mir and a Novardok and a Stolin and a Lubavitch and each of the many streams that form the mosaic of our nation. Fusing them into one, he said, would dull their magnificent stripes and colors.

Dovid Hamelech asks, "Pischu li sha’arei tzedek, avo vom odeh Kah. Zeh hasha’ar laHashem... - Open up for me the gates of righteousness… This is the gate of Hashem." Dovid is asking that the gates of righteousness be opened for him. Shouldn’t he then continue with "Eilu hashe’arim laHashem - These are the gates," in plural? Why does he refer to many "sha’arei tzedek" and then point to one and say, "Zeh, this, is the sha’ar laHashem"?

Commentators explain that Dovid Hamelech is teaching that there are different paths to Hashem, each holy and each precious. Every person has to find the path that is right for his neshamah, and whichever it is, zeh hasha’ar laHashem, that is the correct one for him. Zeh, the seforim point out, has a gematria of 12, hinting to the twelve sons who first taught us this lesson of many paths leading to one goal.

In fact, pertaining to the various customs regarding the recitation of piyutim in tefillah, the Mogein Avrohom (Orach Chaim 68) states as halacha lema’aseh that there are 12 gates in Heaven, corresponding to the 12 shevotim, and each shevet has its own gate and minhagim from which they should not deviate.

Back in the days of the British Mandate, the ruling British officers conducted a survey in Yerushalayim, asking its Jewish residents if their language of choice was Yiddish or Hebrew. It was a loaded question, pitting the Hebrew-speakers in the Zionist camp against the Yerushalayimer Yidden of the old yishuv, who wouldn’t speak the modern language of Ben Yehudah.

A British officer showed up at the home of the Yerushalayimer rov, Rav Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld, to ask him his language of choice. "Hebrew," smiled Rav Yosef Chaim to the astonished official.

When he left, Rav Yosef Chaim’s talmidim asked him about his seemingly strange answer. "Voss iz tzuvishen mir un mein brider, what’s between me and my brother, iz nisht der gesheft fun der sheigetz, is none of his business. It’s between us."

There are so many different paths. There are the paths of Yehudah and Yosef, and the paths of Yissochor and Zevulun.

Yaakov Avinu perceived this, and he asked his sons to gather around his bed before his passing, as Rav Dovid Cohen, the Chevroner rosh yeshiva, explains in a new sefer of his maamarim on Sefer Bereishis and Sefer Shemos.

"Hei’asfu - Gather together," Yaakov requested of them, since that is the prime condition for hashro’as haShechinah and the ultimate geulah. Gather around me and I will tell you what will transpire at the end of days. But the Shechinah left him and he wasn’t able to foretell the day of the redemption.

Rav Cohen explains that when Yaakov felt the Shechinah leaving him, he concluded that there must be peirud, dissonance, among his sons, for strife drives away the Shechinah.

In this light, we can comprehend the response of the shevotim: "Shema Yisroel Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad. Kesheim she’ein b’libcha elah echod, kach ein b’leibeinu elah echod. Just as you only have One in your heart, so too, in our hearts there is One." They were mechadeish that even under different exteriors, with different functions in His Kingdom; they were still one, with a common goal. As the Mahral [Nesivos Olam, Nesiv Ha’avodah 7] expounds, just as Yaakov was one, with one heart because he was one person, so too the shevotim proclaimed that they would join together until they would become united as one.

Last week, I was privileged to visit Montreal for a rally in support of Sholom Mordechai Rubashkin. The askonim arranging the event were rushed, hoping that it would take place before the snow began. In Montreal, that’s working against the clock. Sure enough, the season’s first snowfall came the morning of the event, just in time to make it difficult to get around and to provide another reason for people looking for excuses to stay home.

Our friends in Montreal tell me that they never experienced such an event and such an outpouring of compassion, concern and love. It was a collective shout of: "Reb Sholom Mordechai, we are with you!"

Spearheaded by a group of askonim from Satmar, Belz, Lubavitch, Skver, Vizhnitz and the yeshiva community, the event drew multitudes of Yidden, representing the many beautiful kehillos that make up that city. Chassidim, Litvaks and Sefardim came out en masse for the Lubavitcher chossid from Iowa.

Looking around at the overflowing crowd, we saw what makes us great. I witnessed the beauty of Am Yisroel.People have a tendency to point out flaws and to find faults with this or that system or approach. Events like the one in Montreal last week demonstrate that we have many struggles, but shechorah ani venava, the enduring, untarnished beauty of a nation shines through on a cold winter night, when they come to shed a tear and give a dollar for another Yid. The headlines, the haters, the cynics and the scoffers can sometimes make us believe negative things about ourselves. Last week, I heard the resounding answer of the gathered Yidden, with virtually each of the twelve shevotim represented. They said, "We don’t care what nusach he davens. We don’t care what kind of hat he wears or if he wears a hat at all. Ess achai anochi mevakeish."

One of the great modern-day paragons of ahavas Yisroel was Rabbi Naftali Neuberger, the late menahel of Yeshivas Ner Yisroel in Baltimore. He recognized the danger that Iranian Jewry was facing before others did, and he traveled to that hostile country to lay the groundwork for the community’s emigration. Then he opened wide the doors to his yeshiva, welcoming the influx of students and meeting their every need.

However, as an Iranian alumnus of Ner Yisroel recalled, Rabbi Neuberger insisted that the newcomers maintain their precious, sacred mesorah, which stretched back many centuries. He established a separate minyan for them, so they could adhere to their minhagim in tefillah. In time, they acclimated to the yeshiva, learned English, were able to follow the shiurim, and adapt socially and academically - but as proud bearers of their distinct tradition.

But that wasn’t the only thing that made Rabbi Neuberger’s method unique

"One Shabbos morning," recalls the alumnus, "we were davening at our Iranian minyan, and I noticed Rabbi Neuberger himself slip in during davening and stand inconspicuously in a corner."

The talmid asked Rabbi Neuberger why he was there. Rabbi Neuberger explained that he wanted to take advantage of the fact that at the Iranian minyan, they recited Birkas Kohanim."But we understood what he was really saying: ‘I respect your minhagim. I want you to maintain your mesorah, and here I am, a German-born talmid of the Mir, soaking in your brachos,’" said the talmid.The brachos of an agudah achas.The posuk we previously quoted from Parshas Vayechi states, "Hei’asfu v’agida lochem," Yaakov Avinu called together the shevotim and wanted to reveal to them what would transpire at the end of days. The Medrash Rabbah (Bereishis 98:2) says that if the Bnei Yisroel will join together as an agudah achas, they will thereby have prepared themselves for the final redemption, the geulah b’acharis hayomim.

After the Montreal event, a Yid stopped me and grasped my hands. He seemed a relic of a bygone time. On his head, he sported a well-worn fur hat to protect against the cold. His flowing gray beard was streaked with red, his face crisscrossed with lines. He possessed a quiet dignity that hinted at past suffering, and he seemed to be having trouble expressing what was on his mind. I looked at him and took in the picture. I was wondering why he wasn’t speaking. He had approached me and was then quiet. So I looked him in the eye and it was then that I noticed why he wasn’t speaking.

His eyes were filled with tears.

He was so overcome that he couldn’t speak.

He was sad, but happy. He was feeling the pain of golus, but also the light of redemption.

"Thank you for letting us be a part... a part of this," he mustered.

What he was saying, this old-world Europeiyishe Satmar Yid, was, in essence, what the shevotim told their father.

He wasn’t thanking me, or the askanim, or even Reb Sholom Mordechai, the catalyst for this remarkable show of achdus.

He was echoing the words of the shevotim around Yaakov Avinu’s bed.

"We are all one. Ein belibeinu elah Echad."

He was saying thank you to the Ribbono Shel Olam for letting him be part of a nation joined by a force as strong as stone - those stones, way back at the beginning of Yaakov Avinu’s journey.

He was saying we are b’achdus, we are prepared for the geulah. May it arrive speedily. Amen.

Parshas Vayeitzei, Rav Moshe Shapiro once remarked, is a parsha "filled with stones."

It opens with the account of Yaakov Avinu’s first rest in fourteen years, as the stones he selected negotiated with each other for the right to serve the tzaddik.The single stone they became was turned into a matzeivah, enduring testimony to the awesomeness of the place.

As the parsha continues, Yaakov journeys on, using every bit of strength to lift the weighty stone from atop the well, allowing the shepherds and their sheep to drink.

The parsha closes with Yaakov Avinu facing Lavan, with a collection of stones between them. The pile would serve as a monument, an agreement of sorts between two men representing two different worlds.

The stone symbolizes strength, firmness and solidity in a parsha where those traits were necessary for our father’s survival in the face of much opposition and forces determined to destroy him.

The word even, stone, is explained (Rashi, Vayechi, 49:24) as a fusion of av and ben, the strength of the relationship between father and son hinted at in the stone’s power. It is fitting that a parsha that connects the avos to their bonim - the shevotim - is filled with stones.

Each word and each nuance in this parsha, describing the very beginning of our nation, is significant and deserves close scrutiny. The story of the stones battling for the right to protect and shelter Yaakov Avinu is filled with meaning.

The Ramban, quoting Pirkei D’Rav Eliezer, writes that the twelve stones were gathered from the mizbeiach that Avrohom had constructed for the Akeidah. Rashi quotes the Medrash which states that the stones fought each other for the right to have the tzaddik rest his holy, tired, head upon it. The Medrash Rabbah adds that it was when the stones resolved their quarrel, agreeing to join as one, that Yaakov Avinu rejoiced with the realization that he would be the one to spawn the holy shevotim, twelve sons who would join into one eternal unit, Klal Yisroel.The greatness of those shevotim, like the stones, is that twelve different paths and ideas, each with its unique gifts, fused into one, committed to unity, while not forfeiting their individuality.

When Yaakov saw the achdus of the stones, he understood that he would merit sons who, despite their differences, would behold the ability and potential to become one.

The greatness of our people is not only that there are twelve shevotim, though it is part of our inherent greatness to acknowledge that there are twelve distinct derochim in avodah. Yaakov knew that he was going to be the father of the shevotim when he saw that they were able to end their dispute and work together, each one compromising and joining with the others as one.

It was then that he had the dream and saw the malochim and received the Divine blessing. For only when there is achdus can we merit such things. It was when he had that realization that he was able to dream of our destiny, the angels hinting at our rise, fall and eventual climb back up.

It is this lesson that we take with us from the parsha, and it is as true today as it was back then. Together, we can achieve and effect change. Separate, we are irrelevant and weak.

It is like that on an individual level, too. Man is comprised of diverse parts, and he is charged with leading them together to bring glory to his Creator - "kol atzmosai tomarna" - as one united entity. The yeitzer hara seeks to introduce peirud, division and discordance, to break down communication within man, so that he has no clear direction.

Nothing is more damaging than peirud, the greatest obstacle to communal effectiveness.

We have been in golus for so long that we are worn down, broken by cheit and suffering. It seems as if we have lost the ability to respect and work along with those who disagree with us, even though they are our brothers.

We know that the geulah depends on the relationship between Yidden, as Moshe Rabbeinu commented when he realized that the incident with him and the Mitzri had become common knowledge. If there is evil speech amongst you, he remarked, I know why you have not yet been redeemed.

Perhaps we can understand the depth of the concept by recognizing that lashon hara is borne of jealousy and pettiness. If we rise above envy and resentment and accept and reach out to others, loving every Jew, then we prove ourselves ready to become one stone, twelve shevotim living b’achdus and worthy of geulah.

Distinct, yet together.

When the winds of war grew stronger in Poland of 1939, the gadol hador, Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzensky, brought many European yeshivos to his hometown of Vilna, funding their survival. He found a bais medrash for each, taking responsibility for feeding the bochurim.At the time, there were people who thought it would be more practical to create one large yeshiva, rather than several small ones. Rav Chaim Ozer, father of the olam hayeshivos, disagreed with the plan. He explained that Klal Yisroel needs a Mir and a Novardok and a Stolin and a Lubavitch and each of the many streams that form the mosaic of our nation. Fusing them into one, he said, would dull their magnificent stripes and colors.

Dovid Hamelech asks, "Pischu li sha’arei tzedek, avo vom odeh Kah. Zeh hasha’ar laHashem... - Open up for me the gates of righteousness… This is the gate of Hashem." Dovid is asking that the gates of righteousness be opened for him. Shouldn’t he then continue with "Eilu hashe’arim laHashem - These are the gates," in plural? Why does he refer to many "sha’arei tzedek" and then point to one and say, "Zeh, this, is the sha’ar laHashem"?

Commentators explain that Dovid Hamelech is teaching that there are different paths to Hashem, each holy and each precious. Every person has to find the path that is right for his neshamah, and whichever it is, zeh hasha’ar laHashem, that is the correct one for him. Zeh, the seforim point out, has a gematria of 12, hinting to the twelve sons who first taught us this lesson of many paths leading to one goal.

In fact, pertaining to the various customs regarding the recitation of piyutim in tefillah, the Mogein Avrohom (Orach Chaim 68) states as halacha lema’aseh that there are 12 gates in Heaven, corresponding to the 12 shevotim, and each shevet has its own gate and minhagim from which they should not deviate.

Back in the days of the British Mandate, the ruling British officers conducted a survey in Yerushalayim, asking its Jewish residents if their language of choice was Yiddish or Hebrew. It was a loaded question, pitting the Hebrew-speakers in the Zionist camp against the Yerushalayimer Yidden of the old yishuv, who wouldn’t speak the modern language of Ben Yehudah.

A British officer showed up at the home of the Yerushalayimer rov, Rav Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld, to ask him his language of choice. "Hebrew," smiled Rav Yosef Chaim to the astonished official.

When he left, Rav Yosef Chaim’s talmidim asked him about his seemingly strange answer. "Voss iz tzuvishen mir un mein brider, what’s between me and my brother, iz nisht der gesheft fun der sheigetz, is none of his business. It’s between us."

There are so many different paths. There are the paths of Yehudah and Yosef, and the paths of Yissochor and Zevulun.

Yaakov Avinu perceived this, and he asked his sons to gather around his bed before his passing, as Rav Dovid Cohen, the Chevroner rosh yeshiva, explains in a new sefer of his maamarim on Sefer Bereishis and Sefer Shemos.

"Hei’asfu - Gather together," Yaakov requested of them, since that is the prime condition for hashro’as haShechinah and the ultimate geulah. Gather around me and I will tell you what will transpire at the end of days. But the Shechinah left him and he wasn’t able to foretell the day of the redemption.

Rav Cohen explains that when Yaakov felt the Shechinah leaving him, he concluded that there must be peirud, dissonance, among his sons, for strife drives away the Shechinah.

In this light, we can comprehend the response of the shevotim: "Shema Yisroel Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad. Kesheim she’ein b’libcha elah echod, kach ein b’leibeinu elah echod. Just as you only have One in your heart, so too, in our hearts there is One." They were mechadeish that even under different exteriors, with different functions in His Kingdom; they were still one, with a common goal. As the Mahral [Nesivos Olam, Nesiv Ha’avodah 7] expounds, just as Yaakov was one, with one heart because he was one person, so too the shevotim proclaimed that they would join together until they would become united as one.

Last week, I was privileged to visit Montreal for a rally in support of Sholom Mordechai Rubashkin. The askonim arranging the event were rushed, hoping that it would take place before the snow began. In Montreal, that’s working against the clock. Sure enough, the season’s first snowfall came the morning of the event, just in time to make it difficult to get around and to provide another reason for people looking for excuses to stay home.

Our friends in Montreal tell me that they never experienced such an event and such an outpouring of compassion, concern and love. It was a collective shout of: "Reb Sholom Mordechai, we are with you!"

Spearheaded by a group of askonim from Satmar, Belz, Lubavitch, Skver, Vizhnitz and the yeshiva community, the event drew multitudes of Yidden, representing the many beautiful kehillos that make up that city. Chassidim, Litvaks and Sefardim came out en masse for the Lubavitcher chossid from Iowa.

Looking around at the overflowing crowd, we saw what makes us great. I witnessed the beauty of Am Yisroel.People have a tendency to point out flaws and to find faults with this or that system or approach. Events like the one in Montreal last week demonstrate that we have many struggles, but shechorah ani venava, the enduring, untarnished beauty of a nation shines through on a cold winter night, when they come to shed a tear and give a dollar for another Yid. The headlines, the haters, the cynics and the scoffers can sometimes make us believe negative things about ourselves. Last week, I heard the resounding answer of the gathered Yidden, with virtually each of the twelve shevotim represented. They said, "We don’t care what nusach he davens. We don’t care what kind of hat he wears or if he wears a hat at all. Ess achai anochi mevakeish."

One of the great modern-day paragons of ahavas Yisroel was Rabbi Naftali Neuberger, the late menahel of Yeshivas Ner Yisroel in Baltimore. He recognized the danger that Iranian Jewry was facing before others did, and he traveled to that hostile country to lay the groundwork for the community’s emigration. Then he opened wide the doors to his yeshiva, welcoming the influx of students and meeting their every need.

However, as an Iranian alumnus of Ner Yisroel recalled, Rabbi Neuberger insisted that the newcomers maintain their precious, sacred mesorah, which stretched back many centuries. He established a separate minyan for them, so they could adhere to their minhagim in tefillah. In time, they acclimated to the yeshiva, learned English, were able to follow the shiurim, and adapt socially and academically - but as proud bearers of their distinct tradition.

But that wasn’t the only thing that made Rabbi Neuberger’s method unique

"One Shabbos morning," recalls the alumnus, "we were davening at our Iranian minyan, and I noticed Rabbi Neuberger himself slip in during davening and stand inconspicuously in a corner."

The talmid asked Rabbi Neuberger why he was there. Rabbi Neuberger explained that he wanted to take advantage of the fact that at the Iranian minyan, they recited Birkas Kohanim."But we understood what he was really saying: ‘I respect your minhagim. I want you to maintain your mesorah, and here I am, a German-born talmid of the Mir, soaking in your brachos,’" said the talmid.The brachos of an agudah achas.The posuk we previously quoted from Parshas Vayechi states, "Hei’asfu v’agida lochem," Yaakov Avinu called together the shevotim and wanted to reveal to them what would transpire at the end of days. The Medrash Rabbah (Bereishis 98:2) says that if the Bnei Yisroel will join together as an agudah achas, they will thereby have prepared themselves for the final redemption, the geulah b’acharis hayomim.

After the Montreal event, a Yid stopped me and grasped my hands. He seemed a relic of a bygone time. On his head, he sported a well-worn fur hat to protect against the cold. His flowing gray beard was streaked with red, his face crisscrossed with lines. He possessed a quiet dignity that hinted at past suffering, and he seemed to be having trouble expressing what was on his mind. I looked at him and took in the picture. I was wondering why he wasn’t speaking. He had approached me and was then quiet. So I looked him in the eye and it was then that I noticed why he wasn’t speaking.

His eyes were filled with tears.

He was so overcome that he couldn’t speak.

He was sad, but happy. He was feeling the pain of golus, but also the light of redemption.

"Thank you for letting us be a part... a part of this," he mustered.

What he was saying, this old-world Europeiyishe Satmar Yid, was, in essence, what the shevotim told their father.

He wasn’t thanking me, or the askanim, or even Reb Sholom Mordechai, the catalyst for this remarkable show of achdus.

He was echoing the words of the shevotim around Yaakov Avinu’s bed.

"We are all one. Ein belibeinu elah Echad."

He was saying thank you to the Ribbono Shel Olam for letting him be part of a nation joined by a force as strong as stone - those stones, way back at the beginning of Yaakov Avinu’s journey.

He was saying we are b’achdus, we are prepared for the geulah. May it arrive speedily. Amen.

And The Music Played On

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

So often, we read books about people who made it big, and it seems as if they led a charmed life, were born as geniuses with silver spoons in their mouths, were brought up surrounded by splendor, and then went on to become famous intellectuals, literati, scholars, politicians or artists whose fame and accomplishments captured the world’s imagination.

There is little for simple common folk, such as us, to learn from such people. We don’t have the gift of genius, the enormous wealth or the pedigree to compare with them. We read the stories and we say, "If only we had been smarter, richer and more handsome, we could have accomplished so much more with our lives. But since we are not, we can excuse ourselves for our apathy, lack of initiative or action to help others, to lead people desperate for guidance, or to provide succor for those in need of help and salvation."

In fact, many of our leaders were born into poverty and suffered through childhood. They rose from humble backgrounds to occupy positions of authority and leadership, gaining the respect of the masses by dint of their hard work and long days and nights laboriously spent assisting others and bent over tomes.

Studying the parshiyos of Sefer Bereishis as we are now, we see that the avos didn’t have it easy either, and this is so that we can relate to them, learn from them, and follow their examples.

In a new biography on Rav Mordechai Zuckerman zt"l titled "Yochid Vedoro," he is quoted speaking about the practice of "eating teg" in the pre-war Lithuanian yeshivos. The boys would eat the main meal in the homes of local Jews, many of whom were poor and had little to offer. Rav Mordechai said, "Eating teg played a large role in the formation of the personalities of bochurim. It was said that a person who was lacking in fine personality traits was obviously one who hadn’t eaten teg, for by eating teg, you maintained some of the flavor of home. You learned how to say thank you and how to deal with embarrassment when the host family didn’t treat you properly. Those bochurim learned how to accept it when things didn’t go their way. They also learned how to deal with other people."

Yeshiva bochurim in those days didn’t have it as easy as we do, yet they grew from their ordeals and were better able to deal with others because of those experiences. The abuse they took toughened them to be able to handle life’s difficulties, which would inevitably confront them as they matured and left the yeshiva.

There is a chassidishe vort on the words of the bracha "Borei nefashos rabbos."

The explanation of the bracha is as follows. Hashem created great nefashos, the tzaddikim who would become the pillars of our nation. "Vechesronan al kol mah shebarasah." They faced challenges and difficulties in virtually every area of life. Any problem that their children would encounter, they experienced first.

Why did this happen to them? "Lehachayos bahem nefesh kol chai." So that we, their children, will be able to find "life," a means and a path to daven for virtually anything, knowing that our forefathers davened for these very same things. Their tefillos forged a path that made it possible for us to approach the Kisei Hakavod and express our needs, just as they did.

All of the current crises or nisyonos that we face, such as problems with shidduchim, childlessness, difficulty in raising ehrliche children, safety from enemies, or parnassah, were faced and confronted by our avos and imahos.

The Slonimer Rebbe, in Nesivos Shalom, explains the words of the Mishnah in Maseches Avos which states, "Asarah nisyonos nisnasah Avrohom Avinu ve’amad bekulam," with another maamar Chazal which tells us, "Ein amidah elah tefillah." Avrohom Avinu, he says, faced ten serious trials and tribulations and he davened his way through them all.

The avos were baalei nisayon. They faced serious challenges, and in the way they confronted them lies their avhus. Our connection to them is based on the fact that we, in our personal nisyonos, can reach deep into ourselves and our history and find reservoirs of stamina and strength in our DNA, which is an inheritance from them. In fact, Rav Chaim Volozhiner, in Ruach Chaim (5,3), writes that the great levels that our forefathers worked so hard to reach thus became almost natural for us and are attainable with a minimum of effort.

Our avos, imahos, and every succeeding generation up until our grandparents and parents knew this, and they faced nisyonos undaunted, with a healthy, Jewish attitude.

They knew that, in this world, we have to forge on, prepared to confront all sorts of obstacles.

Recently, we experienced a universal outpouring of love and respect upon the sudden passing of Rav Nosson Tzvi Finkel zt"l. Much of the emotional reaction to him is undoubtedly the amazement people have from the way he dealt with adversity, overcoming handicaps which would have limited the accomplishments of a smaller person.

Despite his physical limitations, he spent his days and nights fighting off exhaustion, engulfed in a sea of Torah and the construction and maintenance of an empire of Torah which had not previously existed.

He refused to permit his illness to force him to curtail his sedorim, shiurim, chaburos, shmuessen, davening, and acts of chessed and love for others.

His loss was mourned by all strata of Jewish society. Everyone knew that this was a man who experienced several serious nisyonos and remained determined to grow and lead.

On a different level, the universal appeal of the Rubashkin story is similar. There are many reasons Yidden from all walks of life have rallied around Reb Sholom Mordechai and invested time, money and prayer into the campaign, but one of them is because he and his wife have prominently embraced their nisayon in the time-honored Jewish way. Their resilience, optimism and simcha strike a chord. Their response, looking ahead with the Chovos Halevavos Shaar Habitachon held close to their hearts, is the Jewish reaction to difficulty.

People look to them and are reminded of the way our zaides and bubbes lived in the alter heim.

The tale is told of a joyous wedding. The crowd danced, as peddlers and fishermen joined hands with the town’s leading citizens. All rejoiced in honor of the chosson and kallah.

The band played with vigor and energy, feeding off the exuberance of the crowd, comprised of tired, over-worked people who had left the pressures and stress of everyday life at the door of the hall.

Few noticed the look of fury that crossed the face of the band-leader as he caught sight of his drummer, who had dozed off while playing. While playing his own instrument, the band-leader reached over and slapped the face of the slumbering drummer, startling him awake. In one motion, the drummer lifted his head and resumed drumming, as if he had never stopped. The music continued.

Rav Nachman of Breslov would recount this story, commenting with great satisfaction on the outcome: "Ah potch gechapt, uhn veiter geklapt - He received a blow and he kept on playing."

Even when he sustains a blow, the rebbe taught, a Jew must keep on making music.

Our generation doesn’t like it when things don’t go the way we want them to. We have little patience to think things through and arrive at proper and intelligent conclusions. We too often seek quick, simplistic solutions even for complicated problems.

Due to marked advances in science, medicine and technology, a process that may have taken months to accomplish can now be done in seconds. Ulcers used to require surgery. Today, people ingest a small pill. Diseases which used to wipe out entire populations are cured with a shot. Computers can make trillions of computations a second and solve problems man thought could never be solved.

Meals that used to take hours to prepare are now packaged in a box, ready to be popped into a microwave oven and, in mere minutes, satiate the desires of all those who want it "now!"

News travels around the world in seconds. Leaders no longer have the time to stop and think before responding to a crisis. They are expected to instantly provide deep answers to perplexing questions.

People attempt to offer solutions for the problems we confront in the realm of shidduchim as if one can pop up if we only cared enough. Life is not that simple. Problems that took years to develop, and are the accumulation of social, economic and a host of other factors, cannot be solved with a snap of the fingers.

It is true; the shidduch system that determines our children’s lives and the future of our people remains flawed and fraught with pain and hardship. We read the letters and we hear the stories, yet if we don’t have someone close to us in the parsha whom we are worried about, we go on to the next topic.

The Gemara in Maseches Sotah (2a) states, "Omar Rabba Bar Bar Chanah omar Rabi Yochanon: vekashah lezavgon k’kriyas Yam Suf - It is as difficult to match up couples as it was to split the Yam Suf for the Bnei Yisroel after they left Mitzrayim." The difficulties we currently experience with shidduchim are devorim kashim. They are immense, intricate and endemic, necessitating hard work and much thought to remedy.

The problems run deep, with baffling complexity. Simplistic solutions will not do; catchy phrases and slogans will not solve the crisis. What is required is a thorough examination of the problems and serious analysis leading to responsible, viable, solutions.

We each have to do what we can to bring about the day when all Jewish men and women find life mates without coming to the brink of despair. We have to treat the problem as if it were our own personal burden and leave no stone unturned to help people find shidduchim.

That’s the way of our avos. To work and work and work - ve’amad bekulam, davening through it all.

There is no magic pill. There is no databank you can go to and punch in a name and address and have a computer spit out the perfect match. You have to keep plugging away and refuse to accept defeat.

If you see a successful person, know that he or she has labored hard for many years. Such people have cried themselves to sleep many times. At other times, they went for days without sleeping. They never ceased working, thinking, doing, moving and, most importantly, refusing to let anything get in the way of their goal.

They davened as if their lives depended on it. They gave tzedakah and they helped other people. They ran around looking for segulos. They worked and worked and worked until one day the bracha was fulfilled.

There are no shortcuts in life. In order to arrive at a solution, you have to understand the true essence of the problem and analyze every step of the process. It is only by ripping the issue apart from beginning to end, and thoroughly understanding every one of its components, that you can arrive at a working solution. Often, the issue is complex and requires great effort to be examined from all sides, while bearing in mind all the ramifications of the attempted resolutions. In fact, often, the deeper you go into the complexity of the conundrum, the simpler and more obvious the solution is. For only when you truly understand what you are facing and the forces organized against you, are you able to dominate them.

Someone shared a comment with me from a very dynamic rov and mashpia. During Hakafos in his shul, the mispallelim were singing the traditional song, "Ivdu, ivdu, ivdu, ivdu ess Hashem besimcha." Many of the younger people were singing the tune, but rather than repeating the word "ivdu" four times, as the tune goes, they were extending the word for a longer period, drawing it out.

The rov stopped the Hakafah and pointed out that the older generation knew that it was a process. They knew it was ivdu, and then again ivdu, and then again, despite the obstacles, a continuance of the avodah, undaunted, and once again ivdu.

Our generation wants their avodah to be smooth and uninterrupted. They want an ivdu that is one long song, with no bumps in the road.

Back in Parshas Lech Lecha, we learned how Hakadosh Boruch Hu told Avrohom Avinu to leave his home and birthplace for a promised land. Avrohom received Hashem’s promise that he would be blessed in the new country. The posuk relates that following the command to leave his home, Avrohom took Sarai and Lot and the nefashos they made in Charan and they left for Canaan.

Lot’s shepherds were not able to get along with those of Avrohom Avinu, and Avrohom decided that they had to separate. He could not bear the thought of entering into a dispute with Lot, and he told his nephew to choose the area where he preferred to live.

The posuk relates that Lot saw that the Kikar Hayardein was blessed with fertile land and he chose to move there. He was looking for the quick fix. He was looking to make a fast buck. He wasn’t interested in challenges.

Lot didn’t think through the problem to arrive at a proper solution. He ignored the root of his dispute with Avrohom and the fact that he would be living with the wicked people of Sedom. All he was interested in was making money. The dollar bills were dancing in his eyes as he surveyed the territory he had chosen as his own.

He left the company of Avrohom, the holiest and kindest man alive, to move in among the most wicked and selfish people ever to walk the earth. He could have answered Avrohom that his shepherds would exercise more care in the future. Instead, as soon as Avrohom asked him to leave, he was gone, off to the Kikar Hayardein. He thought his life would be better off there than living in close proximity to an honest and righteous man.

Avrohom didn’t let Lot cut corners. He got upset when Lot fed off of other people’s property. We all know the end of the story. Sedom was destroyed and its inhabitants and their wealth were obliterated.

The solution to Lot’s problem could have been to plead with Avrohom Avinu for guidance and direction. The solution could have been to stay true to the principles taught to him by Avrohom since they had lived in Charan.

We are all affected by outer appearances. Promises of fame and glory tempt many people. The objects of our desires may not be good for us, but we rationalize them and fall prey to the lure of Sedom. The glitter dazzles and blinds us to what lies beneath the attractive veneer.

Lot had a problem and he saw the Kikar Hayardein as a convenient solution.

If you want to be successful at what you do, and if you want to really solve pressing issues of the day, know that you have to work real hard at it and not simply take advantage of the opportunity to run off to the attractive kikar, for what may appear enticing at first glance may indeed be as virtuous as Sedom was.

Our job is to care about the problems of our time and attempt to solve them by working intelligently to come up with proper and responsible remedies. Our job is to care about people who aren’t making ends meet and those who are in pain, who have been abused, who are suffering, and who are seeking encouragement and guidance.

Our job is to keep on making music, even when the going gets rough, Uhn veiter klappen.

It’s the Jewish way. It’s the only way.

So often, we read books about people who made it big, and it seems as if they led a charmed life, were born as geniuses with silver spoons in their mouths, were brought up surrounded by splendor, and then went on to become famous intellectuals, literati, scholars, politicians or artists whose fame and accomplishments captured the world’s imagination.

There is little for simple common folk, such as us, to learn from such people. We don’t have the gift of genius, the enormous wealth or the pedigree to compare with them. We read the stories and we say, "If only we had been smarter, richer and more handsome, we could have accomplished so much more with our lives. But since we are not, we can excuse ourselves for our apathy, lack of initiative or action to help others, to lead people desperate for guidance, or to provide succor for those in need of help and salvation."

In fact, many of our leaders were born into poverty and suffered through childhood. They rose from humble backgrounds to occupy positions of authority and leadership, gaining the respect of the masses by dint of their hard work and long days and nights laboriously spent assisting others and bent over tomes.

Studying the parshiyos of Sefer Bereishis as we are now, we see that the avos didn’t have it easy either, and this is so that we can relate to them, learn from them, and follow their examples.

In a new biography on Rav Mordechai Zuckerman zt"l titled "Yochid Vedoro," he is quoted speaking about the practice of "eating teg" in the pre-war Lithuanian yeshivos. The boys would eat the main meal in the homes of local Jews, many of whom were poor and had little to offer. Rav Mordechai said, "Eating teg played a large role in the formation of the personalities of bochurim. It was said that a person who was lacking in fine personality traits was obviously one who hadn’t eaten teg, for by eating teg, you maintained some of the flavor of home. You learned how to say thank you and how to deal with embarrassment when the host family didn’t treat you properly. Those bochurim learned how to accept it when things didn’t go their way. They also learned how to deal with other people."

Yeshiva bochurim in those days didn’t have it as easy as we do, yet they grew from their ordeals and were better able to deal with others because of those experiences. The abuse they took toughened them to be able to handle life’s difficulties, which would inevitably confront them as they matured and left the yeshiva.

There is a chassidishe vort on the words of the bracha "Borei nefashos rabbos."

The explanation of the bracha is as follows. Hashem created great nefashos, the tzaddikim who would become the pillars of our nation. "Vechesronan al kol mah shebarasah." They faced challenges and difficulties in virtually every area of life. Any problem that their children would encounter, they experienced first.

Why did this happen to them? "Lehachayos bahem nefesh kol chai." So that we, their children, will be able to find "life," a means and a path to daven for virtually anything, knowing that our forefathers davened for these very same things. Their tefillos forged a path that made it possible for us to approach the Kisei Hakavod and express our needs, just as they did.

All of the current crises or nisyonos that we face, such as problems with shidduchim, childlessness, difficulty in raising ehrliche children, safety from enemies, or parnassah, were faced and confronted by our avos and imahos.

The Slonimer Rebbe, in Nesivos Shalom, explains the words of the Mishnah in Maseches Avos which states, "Asarah nisyonos nisnasah Avrohom Avinu ve’amad bekulam," with another maamar Chazal which tells us, "Ein amidah elah tefillah." Avrohom Avinu, he says, faced ten serious trials and tribulations and he davened his way through them all.

The avos were baalei nisayon. They faced serious challenges, and in the way they confronted them lies their avhus. Our connection to them is based on the fact that we, in our personal nisyonos, can reach deep into ourselves and our history and find reservoirs of stamina and strength in our DNA, which is an inheritance from them. In fact, Rav Chaim Volozhiner, in Ruach Chaim (5,3), writes that the great levels that our forefathers worked so hard to reach thus became almost natural for us and are attainable with a minimum of effort.

Our avos, imahos, and every succeeding generation up until our grandparents and parents knew this, and they faced nisyonos undaunted, with a healthy, Jewish attitude.

They knew that, in this world, we have to forge on, prepared to confront all sorts of obstacles.

Recently, we experienced a universal outpouring of love and respect upon the sudden passing of Rav Nosson Tzvi Finkel zt"l. Much of the emotional reaction to him is undoubtedly the amazement people have from the way he dealt with adversity, overcoming handicaps which would have limited the accomplishments of a smaller person.

Despite his physical limitations, he spent his days and nights fighting off exhaustion, engulfed in a sea of Torah and the construction and maintenance of an empire of Torah which had not previously existed.

He refused to permit his illness to force him to curtail his sedorim, shiurim, chaburos, shmuessen, davening, and acts of chessed and love for others.

His loss was mourned by all strata of Jewish society. Everyone knew that this was a man who experienced several serious nisyonos and remained determined to grow and lead.

On a different level, the universal appeal of the Rubashkin story is similar. There are many reasons Yidden from all walks of life have rallied around Reb Sholom Mordechai and invested time, money and prayer into the campaign, but one of them is because he and his wife have prominently embraced their nisayon in the time-honored Jewish way. Their resilience, optimism and simcha strike a chord. Their response, looking ahead with the Chovos Halevavos Shaar Habitachon held close to their hearts, is the Jewish reaction to difficulty.

People look to them and are reminded of the way our zaides and bubbes lived in the alter heim.

The tale is told of a joyous wedding. The crowd danced, as peddlers and fishermen joined hands with the town’s leading citizens. All rejoiced in honor of the chosson and kallah.

The band played with vigor and energy, feeding off the exuberance of the crowd, comprised of tired, over-worked people who had left the pressures and stress of everyday life at the door of the hall.

Few noticed the look of fury that crossed the face of the band-leader as he caught sight of his drummer, who had dozed off while playing. While playing his own instrument, the band-leader reached over and slapped the face of the slumbering drummer, startling him awake. In one motion, the drummer lifted his head and resumed drumming, as if he had never stopped. The music continued.

Rav Nachman of Breslov would recount this story, commenting with great satisfaction on the outcome: "Ah potch gechapt, uhn veiter geklapt - He received a blow and he kept on playing."

Even when he sustains a blow, the rebbe taught, a Jew must keep on making music.

Our generation doesn’t like it when things don’t go the way we want them to. We have little patience to think things through and arrive at proper and intelligent conclusions. We too often seek quick, simplistic solutions even for complicated problems.

Due to marked advances in science, medicine and technology, a process that may have taken months to accomplish can now be done in seconds. Ulcers used to require surgery. Today, people ingest a small pill. Diseases which used to wipe out entire populations are cured with a shot. Computers can make trillions of computations a second and solve problems man thought could never be solved.

Meals that used to take hours to prepare are now packaged in a box, ready to be popped into a microwave oven and, in mere minutes, satiate the desires of all those who want it "now!"

News travels around the world in seconds. Leaders no longer have the time to stop and think before responding to a crisis. They are expected to instantly provide deep answers to perplexing questions.

People attempt to offer solutions for the problems we confront in the realm of shidduchim as if one can pop up if we only cared enough. Life is not that simple. Problems that took years to develop, and are the accumulation of social, economic and a host of other factors, cannot be solved with a snap of the fingers.

It is true; the shidduch system that determines our children’s lives and the future of our people remains flawed and fraught with pain and hardship. We read the letters and we hear the stories, yet if we don’t have someone close to us in the parsha whom we are worried about, we go on to the next topic.

The Gemara in Maseches Sotah (2a) states, "Omar Rabba Bar Bar Chanah omar Rabi Yochanon: vekashah lezavgon k’kriyas Yam Suf - It is as difficult to match up couples as it was to split the Yam Suf for the Bnei Yisroel after they left Mitzrayim." The difficulties we currently experience with shidduchim are devorim kashim. They are immense, intricate and endemic, necessitating hard work and much thought to remedy.

The problems run deep, with baffling complexity. Simplistic solutions will not do; catchy phrases and slogans will not solve the crisis. What is required is a thorough examination of the problems and serious analysis leading to responsible, viable, solutions.

We each have to do what we can to bring about the day when all Jewish men and women find life mates without coming to the brink of despair. We have to treat the problem as if it were our own personal burden and leave no stone unturned to help people find shidduchim.

That’s the way of our avos. To work and work and work - ve’amad bekulam, davening through it all.

There is no magic pill. There is no databank you can go to and punch in a name and address and have a computer spit out the perfect match. You have to keep plugging away and refuse to accept defeat.

If you see a successful person, know that he or she has labored hard for many years. Such people have cried themselves to sleep many times. At other times, they went for days without sleeping. They never ceased working, thinking, doing, moving and, most importantly, refusing to let anything get in the way of their goal.

They davened as if their lives depended on it. They gave tzedakah and they helped other people. They ran around looking for segulos. They worked and worked and worked until one day the bracha was fulfilled.

There are no shortcuts in life. In order to arrive at a solution, you have to understand the true essence of the problem and analyze every step of the process. It is only by ripping the issue apart from beginning to end, and thoroughly understanding every one of its components, that you can arrive at a working solution. Often, the issue is complex and requires great effort to be examined from all sides, while bearing in mind all the ramifications of the attempted resolutions. In fact, often, the deeper you go into the complexity of the conundrum, the simpler and more obvious the solution is. For only when you truly understand what you are facing and the forces organized against you, are you able to dominate them.

Someone shared a comment with me from a very dynamic rov and mashpia. During Hakafos in his shul, the mispallelim were singing the traditional song, "Ivdu, ivdu, ivdu, ivdu ess Hashem besimcha." Many of the younger people were singing the tune, but rather than repeating the word "ivdu" four times, as the tune goes, they were extending the word for a longer period, drawing it out.

The rov stopped the Hakafah and pointed out that the older generation knew that it was a process. They knew it was ivdu, and then again ivdu, and then again, despite the obstacles, a continuance of the avodah, undaunted, and once again ivdu.

Our generation wants their avodah to be smooth and uninterrupted. They want an ivdu that is one long song, with no bumps in the road.

Back in Parshas Lech Lecha, we learned how Hakadosh Boruch Hu told Avrohom Avinu to leave his home and birthplace for a promised land. Avrohom received Hashem’s promise that he would be blessed in the new country. The posuk relates that following the command to leave his home, Avrohom took Sarai and Lot and the nefashos they made in Charan and they left for Canaan.

Lot’s shepherds were not able to get along with those of Avrohom Avinu, and Avrohom decided that they had to separate. He could not bear the thought of entering into a dispute with Lot, and he told his nephew to choose the area where he preferred to live.

The posuk relates that Lot saw that the Kikar Hayardein was blessed with fertile land and he chose to move there. He was looking for the quick fix. He was looking to make a fast buck. He wasn’t interested in challenges.

Lot didn’t think through the problem to arrive at a proper solution. He ignored the root of his dispute with Avrohom and the fact that he would be living with the wicked people of Sedom. All he was interested in was making money. The dollar bills were dancing in his eyes as he surveyed the territory he had chosen as his own.

He left the company of Avrohom, the holiest and kindest man alive, to move in among the most wicked and selfish people ever to walk the earth. He could have answered Avrohom that his shepherds would exercise more care in the future. Instead, as soon as Avrohom asked him to leave, he was gone, off to the Kikar Hayardein. He thought his life would be better off there than living in close proximity to an honest and righteous man.

Avrohom didn’t let Lot cut corners. He got upset when Lot fed off of other people’s property. We all know the end of the story. Sedom was destroyed and its inhabitants and their wealth were obliterated.

The solution to Lot’s problem could have been to plead with Avrohom Avinu for guidance and direction. The solution could have been to stay true to the principles taught to him by Avrohom since they had lived in Charan.

We are all affected by outer appearances. Promises of fame and glory tempt many people. The objects of our desires may not be good for us, but we rationalize them and fall prey to the lure of Sedom. The glitter dazzles and blinds us to what lies beneath the attractive veneer.

Lot had a problem and he saw the Kikar Hayardein as a convenient solution.

If you want to be successful at what you do, and if you want to really solve pressing issues of the day, know that you have to work real hard at it and not simply take advantage of the opportunity to run off to the attractive kikar, for what may appear enticing at first glance may indeed be as virtuous as Sedom was.

Our job is to care about the problems of our time and attempt to solve them by working intelligently to come up with proper and responsible remedies. Our job is to care about people who aren’t making ends meet and those who are in pain, who have been abused, who are suffering, and who are seeking encouragement and guidance.

Our job is to keep on making music, even when the going gets rough, Uhn veiter klappen.

It’s the Jewish way. It’s the only way.

So often, we read books about people who made it big, and it seems as if they led a charmed life, were born as geniuses with silver spoons in their mouths, were brought up surrounded by splendor, and then went on to become famous intellectuals, literati, scholars, politicians or artists whose fame and accomplishments captured the world’s imagination.

There is little for simple common folk, such as us, to learn from such people. We don’t have the gift of genius, the enormous wealth or the pedigree to compare with them. We read the stories and we say, "If only we had been smarter, richer and more handsome, we could have accomplished so much more with our lives. But since we are not, we can excuse ourselves for our apathy, lack of initiative or action to help others, to lead people desperate for guidance, or to provide succor for those in need of help and salvation."

In fact, many of our leaders were born into poverty and suffered through childhood. They rose from humble backgrounds to occupy positions of authority and leadership, gaining the respect of the masses by dint of their hard work and long days and nights laboriously spent assisting others and bent over tomes.

Studying the parshiyos of Sefer Bereishis as we are now, we see that the avos didn’t have it easy either, and this is so that we can relate to them, learn from them, and follow their examples.

In a new biography on Rav Mordechai Zuckerman zt"l titled "Yochid Vedoro," he is quoted speaking about the practice of "eating teg" in the pre-war Lithuanian yeshivos. The boys would eat the main meal in the homes of local Jews, many of whom were poor and had little to offer. Rav Mordechai said, "Eating teg played a large role in the formation of the personalities of bochurim. It was said that a person who was lacking in fine personality traits was obviously one who hadn’t eaten teg, for by eating teg, you maintained some of the flavor of home. You learned how to say thank you and how to deal with embarrassment when the host family didn’t treat you properly. Those bochurim learned how to accept it when things didn’t go their way. They also learned how to deal with other people."

Yeshiva bochurim in those days didn’t have it as easy as we do, yet they grew from their ordeals and were better able to deal with others because of those experiences. The abuse they took toughened them to be able to handle life’s difficulties, which would inevitably confront them as they matured and left the yeshiva.

There is a chassidishe vort on the words of the bracha "Borei nefashos rabbos."

The explanation of the bracha is as follows. Hashem created great nefashos, the tzaddikim who would become the pillars of our nation. "Vechesronan al kol mah shebarasah." They faced challenges and difficulties in virtually every area of life. Any problem that their children would encounter, they experienced first.

Why did this happen to them? "Lehachayos bahem nefesh kol chai." So that we, their children, will be able to find "life," a means and a path to daven for virtually anything, knowing that our forefathers davened for these very same things. Their tefillos forged a path that made it possible for us to approach the Kisei Hakavod and express our needs, just as they did.

All of the current crises or nisyonos that we face, such as problems with shidduchim, childlessness, difficulty in raising ehrliche children, safety from enemies, or parnassah, were faced and confronted by our avos and imahos.

The Slonimer Rebbe, in Nesivos Shalom, explains the words of the Mishnah in Maseches Avos which states, "Asarah nisyonos nisnasah Avrohom Avinu ve’amad bekulam," with another maamar Chazal which tells us, "Ein amidah elah tefillah." Avrohom Avinu, he says, faced ten serious trials and tribulations and he davened his way through them all.

The avos were baalei nisayon. They faced serious challenges, and in the way they confronted them lies their avhus. Our connection to them is based on the fact that we, in our personal nisyonos, can reach deep into ourselves and our history and find reservoirs of stamina and strength in our DNA, which is an inheritance from them. In fact, Rav Chaim Volozhiner, in Ruach Chaim (5,3), writes that the great levels that our forefathers worked so hard to reach thus became almost natural for us and are attainable with a minimum of effort.

Our avos, imahos, and every succeeding generation up until our grandparents and parents knew this, and they faced nisyonos undaunted, with a healthy, Jewish attitude.

They knew that, in this world, we have to forge on, prepared to confront all sorts of obstacles.

Recently, we experienced a universal outpouring of love and respect upon the sudden passing of Rav Nosson Tzvi Finkel zt"l. Much of the emotional reaction to him is undoubtedly the amazement people have from the way he dealt with adversity, overcoming handicaps which would have limited the accomplishments of a smaller person.

Despite his physical limitations, he spent his days and nights fighting off exhaustion, engulfed in a sea of Torah and the construction and maintenance of an empire of Torah which had not previously existed.

He refused to permit his illness to force him to curtail his sedorim, shiurim, chaburos, shmuessen, davening, and acts of chessed and love for others.

His loss was mourned by all strata of Jewish society. Everyone knew that this was a man who experienced several serious nisyonos and remained determined to grow and lead.

On a different level, the universal appeal of the Rubashkin story is similar. There are many reasons Yidden from all walks of life have rallied around Reb Sholom Mordechai and invested time, money and prayer into the campaign, but one of them is because he and his wife have prominently embraced their nisayon in the time-honored Jewish way. Their resilience, optimism and simcha strike a chord. Their response, looking ahead with the Chovos Halevavos Shaar Habitachon held close to their hearts, is the Jewish reaction to difficulty.

People look to them and are reminded of the way our zaides and bubbes lived in the alter heim.

The tale is told of a joyous wedding. The crowd danced, as peddlers and fishermen joined hands with the town’s leading citizens. All rejoiced in honor of the chosson and kallah.

The band played with vigor and energy, feeding off the exuberance of the crowd, comprised of tired, over-worked people who had left the pressures and stress of everyday life at the door of the hall.

Few noticed the look of fury that crossed the face of the band-leader as he caught sight of his drummer, who had dozed off while playing. While playing his own instrument, the band-leader reached over and slapped the face of the slumbering drummer, startling him awake. In one motion, the drummer lifted his head and resumed drumming, as if he had never stopped. The music continued.

Rav Nachman of Breslov would recount this story, commenting with great satisfaction on the outcome: "Ah potch gechapt, uhn veiter geklapt - He received a blow and he kept on playing."

Even when he sustains a blow, the rebbe taught, a Jew must keep on making music.

Our generation doesn’t like it when things don’t go the way we want them to. We have little patience to think things through and arrive at proper and intelligent conclusions. We too often seek quick, simplistic solutions even for complicated problems.

Due to marked advances in science, medicine and technology, a process that may have taken months to accomplish can now be done in seconds. Ulcers used to require surgery. Today, people ingest a small pill. Diseases which used to wipe out entire populations are cured with a shot. Computers can make trillions of computations a second and solve problems man thought could never be solved.

Meals that used to take hours to prepare are now packaged in a box, ready to be popped into a microwave oven and, in mere minutes, satiate the desires of all those who want it "now!"

News travels around the world in seconds. Leaders no longer have the time to stop and think before responding to a crisis. They are expected to instantly provide deep answers to perplexing questions.

People attempt to offer solutions for the problems we confront in the realm of shidduchim as if one can pop up if we only cared enough. Life is not that simple. Problems that took years to develop, and are the accumulation of social, economic and a host of other factors, cannot be solved with a snap of the fingers.

It is true; the shidduch system that determines our children’s lives and the future of our people remains flawed and fraught with pain and hardship. We read the letters and we hear the stories, yet if we don’t have someone close to us in the parsha whom we are worried about, we go on to the next topic.

The Gemara in Maseches Sotah (2a) states, "Omar Rabba Bar Bar Chanah omar Rabi Yochanon: vekashah lezavgon k’kriyas Yam Suf - It is as difficult to match up couples as it was to split the Yam Suf for the Bnei Yisroel after they left Mitzrayim." The difficulties we currently experience with shidduchim are devorim kashim. They are immense, intricate and endemic, necessitating hard work and much thought to remedy.

The problems run deep, with baffling complexity. Simplistic solutions will not do; catchy phrases and slogans will not solve the crisis. What is required is a thorough examination of the problems and serious analysis leading to responsible, viable, solutions.

We each have to do what we can to bring about the day when all Jewish men and women find life mates without coming to the brink of despair. We have to treat the problem as if it were our own personal burden and leave no stone unturned to help people find shidduchim.

That’s the way of our avos. To work and work and work - ve’amad bekulam, davening through it all.

There is no magic pill. There is no databank you can go to and punch in a name and address and have a computer spit out the perfect match. You have to keep plugging away and refuse to accept defeat.

If you see a successful person, know that he or she has labored hard for many years. Such people have cried themselves to sleep many times. At other times, they went for days without sleeping. They never ceased working, thinking, doing, moving and, most importantly, refusing to let anything get in the way of their goal.

They davened as if their lives depended on it. They gave tzedakah and they helped other people. They ran around looking for segulos. They worked and worked and worked until one day the bracha was fulfilled.

There are no shortcuts in life. In order to arrive at a solution, you have to understand the true essence of the problem and analyze every step of the process. It is only by ripping the issue apart from beginning to end, and thoroughly understanding every one of its components, that you can arrive at a working solution. Often, the issue is complex and requires great effort to be examined from all sides, while bearing in mind all the ramifications of the attempted resolutions. In fact, often, the deeper you go into the complexity of the conundrum, the simpler and more obvious the solution is. For only when you truly understand what you are facing and the forces organized against you, are you able to dominate them.

Someone shared a comment with me from a very dynamic rov and mashpia. During Hakafos in his shul, the mispallelim were singing the traditional song, "Ivdu, ivdu, ivdu, ivdu ess Hashem besimcha." Many of the younger people were singing the tune, but rather than repeating the word "ivdu" four times, as the tune goes, they were extending the word for a longer period, drawing it out.

The rov stopped the Hakafah and pointed out that the older generation knew that it was a process. They knew it was ivdu, and then again ivdu, and then again, despite the obstacles, a continuance of the avodah, undaunted, and once again ivdu.

Our generation wants their avodah to be smooth and uninterrupted. They want an ivdu that is one long song, with no bumps in the road.

Back in Parshas Lech Lecha, we learned how Hakadosh Boruch Hu told Avrohom Avinu to leave his home and birthplace for a promised land. Avrohom received Hashem’s promise that he would be blessed in the new country. The posuk relates that following the command to leave his home, Avrohom took Sarai and Lot and the nefashos they made in Charan and they left for Canaan.

Lot’s shepherds were not able to get along with those of Avrohom Avinu, and Avrohom decided that they had to separate. He could not bear the thought of entering into a dispute with Lot, and he told his nephew to choose the area where he preferred to live.

The posuk relates that Lot saw that the Kikar Hayardein was blessed with fertile land and he chose to move there. He was looking for the quick fix. He was looking to make a fast buck. He wasn’t interested in challenges.

Lot didn’t think through the problem to arrive at a proper solution. He ignored the root of his dispute with Avrohom and the fact that he would be living with the wicked people of Sedom. All he was interested in was making money. The dollar bills were dancing in his eyes as he surveyed the territory he had chosen as his own.

He left the company of Avrohom, the holiest and kindest man alive, to move in among the most wicked and selfish people ever to walk the earth. He could have answered Avrohom that his shepherds would exercise more care in the future. Instead, as soon as Avrohom asked him to leave, he was gone, off to the Kikar Hayardein. He thought his life would be better off there than living in close proximity to an honest and righteous man.

Avrohom didn’t let Lot cut corners. He got upset when Lot fed off of other people’s property. We all know the end of the story. Sedom was destroyed and its inhabitants and their wealth were obliterated.

The solution to Lot’s problem could have been to plead with Avrohom Avinu for guidance and direction. The solution could have been to stay true to the principles taught to him by Avrohom since they had lived in Charan.

We are all affected by outer appearances. Promises of fame and glory tempt many people. The objects of our desires may not be good for us, but we rationalize them and fall prey to the lure of Sedom. The glitter dazzles and blinds us to what lies beneath the attractive veneer.

Lot had a problem and he saw the Kikar Hayardein as a convenient solution.

If you want to be successful at what you do, and if you want to really solve pressing issues of the day, know that you have to work real hard at it and not simply take advantage of the opportunity to run off to the attractive kikar, for what may appear enticing at first glance may indeed be as virtuous as Sedom was.

Our job is to care about the problems of our time and attempt to solve them by working intelligently to come up with proper and responsible remedies. Our job is to care about people who aren’t making ends meet and those who are in pain, who have been abused, who are suffering, and who are seeking encouragement and guidance.

Our job is to keep on making music, even when the going gets rough, Uhn veiter klappen.

It’s the Jewish way. It’s the only way.