Generational

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

The essence of the Haggadah and the entirety of Pesach is the relationship between father and son and the obligation for a father to transmit to his son the story of the geulah from Mitzrayim. The Torah and Chazal prescribe different ways to speak to different children and lay out the format for the Seder evening conversation.

The people of Adopt-a-Kollel were kind enough to gift me Haggadah Nifle’osecha Asicha from Rav Yitzchok Zilberstein. I opened it up to the page on which he tells the following story.

One Shabbos morning a few years ago, an old man and his son entered a shul in Petach Tikvah. They stood frozen at the door, gazing at the people davening Pesukei Dezimra. Finally, they felt comfortable enough to find themselves seats and sit down. There was no need for a siddur, because they both couldn’t daven, as they had been locked behind the Iron Curtain for seventy years.

The older man paid attention to the chazzan and seemed to enjoy his tunes and chanting, while the younger one waited for his father to lose interest so they could go back home. He’d have to wait.

As the laining progressed, the old man started paying particular attention. All of a sudden, he started screaming towards the gabbai in a beautiful Litvishe Yiddish, “I must have an aliyah. Please, I must have an aliyah.” The kind gabbai acquiesced and called the senior guest to the Torah at the next opportunity.

The old man borrowed a tallis and a yarmulka and made his way to the bimah. He pushed away the siddur that was given to him to read the brachos and, with a deep and emotional voice, he began to slowly recite the brocha, saying each word with meaning.

When the baal korei finished his portion, the scene repeated itself, as the man cried his way through the words of the second brocha. There was utter silence in the shul, as everyone fixed their eyes on the old man standing at the bimah crying.

After davening, people approached the guest. They asked him questions, intending to elicit his story.

“I was born and bred in Vilna,” he began. “When I was 12-1/2, my parents started fighting about where I should go to school. My mother wanted me to continue in yeshiva, but my father wanted me to go to the gymnasia school of the maskilim. He said that this way, I would learn a trade and how to maintain my Yiddishkeit while living among goyim.

“My father won and I was sent to that school. I began focusing on the studies, which brought my father much satisfaction.

“My bar mitzvah celebration was held in the large Vilna shul. I was given the aliyah for maftir, made the birchos haTorah and lained the haftorah. My father was beaming, while my mother was upstairs in the ezras noshim weeping.

“As I came down from the bimah, Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzensky came over and shook my father’s hand, wishing mazel tov. And then he said to my father, ‘For your benefit, let me warn you that if you do not remove your son from the gymnasia school, generations will pass before your son will be called to the Torah a second time!’

“My father did not obey the rov.

“Today, for some reason, I felt a pull to the shul,” the man said as he began to weep once again. “When the baal korei began to read the parsha, I remembered that this is my bar mitzvah parsha.”

He raised his voice and said, “Yidden, her vos ich zog eich. From that Shabbos of my bar mitzvah, when I had an aliyah to the Torah, until today is exactly seventy years [two generations]. Today is the first time since my bar mitzvah that I received an aliyah!

“Ay, iz der gaon geven gerecht. Oh, what the great rov said was so true.”

His father, back in Vilna, might have meant well. He wanted the best for his son and thought that the Haskalah school would provide for him the best of both worlds. But he should have listened to the rov, because if you want nachas from your children, the way to achieve that goal is by following the Torah, as interpreted by the gedolei olam, our leaders, the people such as Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzensky with whom Hashem blesses us in every generation. Those who think they understand better and ignore the warnings of the rabbonim gedolim jeopardize their ability to succeed in this world, and the next.

Pesach is an intrinsic part of our fiber. Its mitzvos, rituals, liturgy and special foods enrich and enhance our souls year after year.

While the Yom Tov has a special effect on children, as we grow older we perceive new depths. Chag hacheirus becomes more meaningful, as we appreciate its valuable messages in a different, richer way. We increasingly realize how Pesach is meant to equip us with new resolve to rid ourselves of chometz and cheit, villains and tormentors. It drives us to pine ever more for the geulah, so that we might merit visiting the home of Hashem, offering korbanos to Him.

We recognize that we can only arrive at cheirus and geulah by doing what is incumbent upon us and fulfilling our missions as best as we can. We reach our potential by delving into the study of Torah and seeking messages from great men whose lives are totally devoted to Torah and nothing else. Sometimes, they tell us to act, and other times, they say to desist. Those who seek the brachos of the Torah follow it, and don’t follow the path of greater personal benefit or enjoyment, whether they understand or not.

At the time of Krias Yam Suf, the Jews were afraid that the Mitzriyim would catch up to them and destroy them. They cried out to Moshe for a game plan. Instead, they were told, “Hashem yilocheim lochem ve’atem tacharishun. Your job at this time is to remain silent and do nothing. Hashem will fight for you.”

Chazal state that this advice is eternal. There are times when we must speak up and times when we must remain silent, times to do battle and times to be passive. Our limited human intelligence is not always able to figure out the proper course of action. How we are to act in all times is prescribed by the Torah, as is so beautifully expressed by Shlomo Hamelech in Koheles: “Eis livkos, ve’eis lischok... Eis le’ehov, ve’eis lisno, eis milchomah, ve’eis shalom.” How we are to act in each “eis,” or time, is determined by the Torah.

The Torah is a constant, but people change, every generation is different. We have a generational obligation to speak to our children in a language and voice they will understand, respect and follow. What worked in the past does not necessarily work now and to assume it does risks losing touch with those whom we love and wish to follow in our ways.

After his arrival in Eretz Yisroel, Rav Elozor Menachem Man Shach lived in a small apartment in the Kerem Avrohom neighborhood of Yerushalayim. The diminutive, humble man kept to himself, engaging in Torah learning all the time and rarely opening his mouth to express an opinion on issues of the day. His acquaintances in the Kerem shul saw him as a talmid chochom, but few foresaw a position of leadership for the scholar.

Eventually, the poverty-stricken Rav Shach accepted a position as a maggid shiur in Tel Aviv, grateful for the chance to teach Torah and earn an income. Within weeks of starting the new job, however, he detected that the leader of the place possessed an outlook that was contrary to the views of gedolei Yisroel.

When he came upon that realization, Rav Shach immediately resigned his position and returned home, settling back into his corner of the small neighborhood shul where he again spent his days and nights learning.

His rebbi, the Brisker Rov, encouraged him that he acted properly by leaving his job and told him that a better position would come along. “Someone who forfeits parnossah because of principle will see brachos,” he told him.

In time, the Ponovezher Rov discovered Rav Shach, and after living in virtual anonymity for so long, the rosh yeshiva’s rise to leadership began, ushering in the glory era for the olam haTorah.

He was an exceedingly humble man, but when the Torah demanded strength from him, he was strong as a lion.

Some years ago, I wrote of a dream I had before Pesach that year. In the dream, I gained a new understanding of the posuk, “V’acharei chein yeitzu b’rechush gadol,” in which Hashem foretold to our forefather Avrohom the future course of Jewish history. Hashem told Avrohom that after being enslaved for many years, the Jewish people would be freed and would depart their host country with a great treasure.

The common understanding is that the promise of “a great treasure” was fulfilled with the vast quantity of belongings the Jews received from the Mitzriyim prior to being sent out.

In the dream, I thought that the rechush gadol the Jews received was the matzoh that baked on their backs as they left b’chipazon. Matzoh is not simply a physical food. It possesses spiritual qualities and is a gift to the Bnei Yisroel. Only we have the ability to take flour and water and transform them into a cheftzah shel mitzvah.

The Netziv of Volozhin, in his peirush on Shir Hashirim titled “Rinah Shel Torah,” writes in the introduction concerning the posuk which states, “Sheishes yomim tochal matzos uvayom hashevi’i atzeres l’Hashem Elokecha lo sa’aseh melacha - You shall eat matzos for six days and on the seventh you shall rest for Hashem and you shall not do any work” (Devorim 16:8).

He explains that on the first day of Pesach, the obligation to eat matzoh is to remember that we left Mitzrayim in such haste that the bread the fleeing Jews took along for the journey had no time to rise. He says that the obligation related to the consumption of matzoh the first six days of Pesach recalls the eating of the korban mincha by the kohanim. The korbanos mincha were brought of matzoh breads and were never made of chometz. That was to teach the Jewish people that in order to draw closer to Hashem and achieve a higher level of holiness, they must reduce their involvement in the pursuits of Olam Hazeh.

On Pesach, we sustain ourselves with matzoh for six days for that same higher purpose. On Pesach, a Jew attempts to rise spiritually and become closer to Hashem.

Therefore, on the seventh and final day of the holiday, Jews are commanded to refrain from work and to internalize the message of the six days of eating matzoh.

Not partaking of chometz is supposed to affect us in a fundamental way. It is supposed to change our outlook on life and remind us of our purpose here. Eating matzoh for seven days is not something we do to fill ourselves physically. The change in diet is meant to bring about a spiritual change in our souls.

This message supports the idea that the matzoh is a rechush gadol. Matzoh is a gift from Hashem that enables us to elevate our rote observance of mitzvos to a higher dimension of avodas Hashem. Partaking of matzoh for a week is meant to reduce our drive for physical gratification. If we heed its message, it is truly a gift, a rechush gadol, which has the power to uplift and purify us and draw us closer to our Creator.

I found a similar idea in the words of the Ramchal in Derech Hashem (4:8). He says that as long as the Jews were enslaved in Mitzrayim and living amongst the pagan population, their bodies were darkened by the poison of impurity that overwhelmed them. When they were finally delivered from that society - goy mikerev goy - their bodies underwent a purification process so that they would be able to accept the Torah and mitzvos.

This is the reason they were commanded to refrain from consuming chometz and to eat matzoh. The bread that we eat all year is prepared with yeast and rises. Easier to digest and tastier, it is the natural food of man. It feeds man’s yeitzer hora and more base inclinations.

Klal Yisroel was commanded to refrain from eating chometz for a week in order to minimize the power of the yeitzer hora and their inclination towards the physical, and to strengthen their attachment to the spiritual.

It is impossible for people to live on this diet all year round, and it is not Hashem’s intent. But if we maintain this diet for the duration of Pesach while incorporating the lessons of matzoh, it will energize us spiritually for the remainder of the year.

Rav Aryeh Leib Schapiro of Yerushalayim writes in his sefer Chazon Lamoed that the Ramchal connects this to the dictum of the Rambam in Hilchos Dei’os (2:1) that a person seeking to rectify his conduct should go to the opposite extreme of his natural inclination, and he will then end up in the middle, where Hashem wants us to be.

The Rambam continues (3:1) that a person should not reason that since kinah, taavah and kavod - jealousy, evil desires and the craving for honor - lead to man’s demise from this world, he should therefore adopt the extremes of self-denial, refusing to eat meat or drink wine, marry, live in a nice house or wear nice clothes. Pagan priests lived this way. According to the Rambam, it is forbidden to follow this path; one who does is called a sinner.

The Netziv’s and the Ramchal’s understanding of Pesach is in accord with the words of the Rambam. While it is undesirable for people to live this way all year round, if one takes a temporary turn to the extreme, it will help him return to the middle, where we all belong.

The Yom Tov of Pesach provides a respite from the pressures that govern our daily lives. Pesach is one week of the year that frees us from the yeitzer hora and the pursuits that drive us throughout the year, which lead to dead ends, disappointment and depression.

Matzoh is indeed a rechush gadol, a treasure of the Jewish people. Matzoh weakens our evil inclinations and strengthens our inherent goodness. Matzoh has the ability to raise us above our preoccupation with the mundane.

Pesach is not meant to be a holiday of gorging and self-indulgence. On the contrary, Pesach is the time given to us to refrain to a certain degree from such pursuits and to absorb the lesson of the matzoh.

Following a week of such elevated behavior, we continue along that pattern as we count to Shavuos, when we mark the acceptance of the Torah as the ultimate gift from G-d to man. It is only after the week of matzoh and seven weeks of Sefirah that we can achieve the highest possible levels of spiritual accomplishment.

If we take the words of the great Netziv and Ramchal to heart and properly observe the mitzvos of Pesach, and we review the lessons the matzoh can teach us, its influence and inspiration will long remain with us, giving us the strength to rise above whatever challenges we face throughout the rest of the year.

Gedolim such as Rav Chaim Ozer, Rav Shach, the Brisker Rov, the Netziv and the Ramchal light up our way and provide direction and inspiration for us to follow if we wish to enjoy life the way Hashem intends us to and if we wish to be successful in all we do.

Despite all we have been through, a constant in Torah life is that those who seek lives of blessings follow the words of Torah giants. In our day as well, despite the prevalence of so much superficiality, cynicism, pessimism and negativity, when it comes to the bottom line, people who adhere to Torah know that wisdom is found by those who dedicate their lives to the pure pursuit of Torah and mitzvos.

May we merit to be among them and to follow them, living lives of steady aliyah.

This story took place on Erev Pesach seventy-five years ago, in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. A couple of weeks before Yom Tov, the Bluzhever Rebbe, Rav Yisroel Spira, placed his life in jeopardy and approached the murderous head of the camp, Commandant Hass. He asked permission for forty men to bake matzoh for Pesach. He asked the Nazi to supply them with wheat and in return they would forgo their daily ration of bread for eight days.

Surprisingly, the Nazi examined the request seriously, without issuing any threats of punishment. However, he said that since the German Reich was run in a very orderly fashion, he would have to get clearance from Berlin. A week later, the response came from Berlin and the request was approved.

After returning to the camp from their body-breaking labor, the rebbe and his group assembled a small oven and began grinding wheat kernels to make flour. They mixed the flour with water and quickly kneaded the mixture, rolling out matzos to bake in their tiny oven. Flames danced atop the branches fueling the oven and the holy work of baking matzos for Pesach in Bergen-Belsen was underway.

Suddenly, the commandant burst into the room, screaming at the Jews like a wild man and breaking everything and everyone he saw. His eyes fixed on those of the rebbe, and he beat him to a pulp. When he was done, the 56-year-old rebbe was barely hanging on to life.

The historic attempt ended disastrously.

The next night, the people sat down to a “Seder” in the rebbe’s barracks. They had everything – well, almost everything. The rebbe knew the Haggadah by heart, and he was going to lead the Seder. For wine, they were going to drink the slop the Nazis called coffee. There was no shortage of maror, with bitterness everywhere. The rebbe let it be known that he was able to retrieve and save a very small piece of matzoh. They were set.

When it came time at the Seder to eat matzah, everyone assumed that the rebbe would be the one to perform the mitzvah and eat the small piece he had rescued. After all, he was the oldest, it was his idea to bake matzos to being with, and he had risked his life to obtain permission for it. Not only that, but he was a tzaddik, he was leading the Seder, and he was the one who had saved the piece. But they were wrong.

After proclaiming “motzie matzah,” the rebbe looked around the room, as if he was trying to determine who is the most appropriate person to eat the matzoh. A widow, Mrs. Kotziensky, stood up and said, “Since upon this night we engage in transmitting our traditions from one generation to the next, I propose that my young son be the one to eat the matzoh.”

The rebbe agreed. “This night,” he said, “is all about teaching the future generations about Yetzias Mitzrayim. We will give the child the matzoh.”

After they were freed, the widow approached the Bluzhever Rebbe. She needed help. Someone had proposed a shidduch for her, but she had no way to find out about the man. Maybe, she said, the rebbe could help her. “Can you find out who he is? Can you see if he is appropriate for me and if I am appropriate for him?”

“What is his name?” asked the rebbe.

The woman responded, “Yisroel Spira.”

The rebbe said to her, “Yes, I know him well. It is a good idea that you should get to know him.”

She returned to the shadchan and gave her approval to set up the match. When the woman showed up at the right address, standing before her was none other than Rav Yisroel Spira, the man she knew as the Bluzhever Rebbe!

A short time later, they married, and the little boy who ate matzah in Bergen-Belsen became the rebbe’s son and eventual successor.

Which spiritual attributes did the rebbe see in that woman that led him to marry her? When asked, the rebbe answered that in the cauldron of Bergen-Belsen, where the horizon was measured in minutes and the future was a day at a time, a woman who believed in the nitzchiyus of Am Yisroel, that our people is eternal, and who worried for the future generation was someone with whom it was worthy to perpetuate the golden chain.

Thankfully, we aren’t tested the way those holy people were that night in Bergen-Belsen. Our matzos come easy. For a few dollars, we can have as many as we want. We can drink wine without fearing a pogrom. We can eat maror and not live it. We don’t have to make awful choices.

We can sit as kings and queens at the Seder, surrounded by different generations, concentrating on doing our best to transmit our glorious heritage to the future generations, ensuring that they know the story of Yetzias Mitzrayim and Avodim Hayinu.

May we merit much nachas and simcha, cheirus and freedom, kedusha and mitzvos, at the Seder and every day.

A Private Spring

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Nissan is here. The cold is gone, snow is history, and the harsh weather is a thing of the past. The ground has warmed. Trees and bushes are beginning to show signs of life as tiny green buds begin to unfurl. Branches bloom, grass turns green, and squirrels and birds dart across the lawn seeking life. The sun rises higher in the sky, shining brighter, filling hearts with promises of warmth and color.

Young and old soak in the pleasures of recreation, walking, biking, and playing ball, as they strengthen their bodies, enhance their well-being, and broaden their perspective.

Spring, the season of new beginnings, announces that Pesach, the Yom Tov of freedom, is almost here. Freedom is the feeling of not being subjugated to another power. Freedom is the ability to think, speak and act without fear. Freedom is a feeling of liberty and emancipation. The freedom of living a Jewish life is here.

It was during this period so many years ago that Hashem announced that the time for our freedom had come. He told our beleaguered ancestors that this month of Nissan was to be the first of the year for them. As the Bnei Yisroel were about to become an independent nation and gain their freedom, Hashem told them that they would begin counting their months from Nissan. The world may have been created in Tishrei, but that month precedes the doom of winter, while Nissan heralds spring. It is fitting for our nation to begin counting from when the world starts to get back to itself after lying in semi-hibernation.

Spring, the season of new beginnings, gave rise to the newfound freedom for an enslaved nation. For 210 years, they knew subjugation and torture. The people were as a tree in the depths of winter, broken by pain, hunger and demoralizing servitude. Hashem appeared to Moshe and told him to inform the salves that life as they had known it would come to an end.

“Hachodesh hazeh lochem.” There would soon be a new month, a new season, a new reality. “Lochem,” given to you, a personal gift that you would recognize and appreciate. From this month forward, you will never be the same. No longer lowly slaves, you will become a holy nation.

At the Seder, we retell the story of our redemption from Mitzrayim. We tell of the misfortune that befell our forefathers as our nation was forming. We speak of what the Jews in Mitzrayim endured and progress to discuss to their liberation and formation as a new people, for there is no spring that is not preceded by winter, no freedom that comes without agony, and no birth without pain.

Thus, the posuk states (Devorim 16:1), “Shamor es chodesh ha’aviv, v’asisa pesach laHashem Elokecha ki bechodesh ha’aviv hotziacha Hashem Elokecha miMitzrayim laylah - Watch the month of spring, and make in it the Korban Pesach to Hashem, because in the month of spring Hashem removed you from Mitzrayim in the night.”

Pesach is intrinsically tied to spring. We were taken out in this season and we celebrate our delivery in this season. The Gemara (Sanhedrin 11a) understands from this posuk that the month of Nissan must be watched - “shamor” - to ensure that it falls in spring, and when it appears that it will be during the winter, we must make a leap year, like this year, when we had two months of Adar.

Perhaps we can also explain that the reason the posuk interjects that we were taken out of Mitzrayim during spring and at night, “laylah,” is to reinforce the concept that we were enshrouded in slavery, darkness and tumah. We were removed from that dark situation and placed in “aviv,” spring, with our newly-gained freedom and soon-to-be rebirth as a nation.

Even after our formation as a people and even after receiving the Torah, there were ups and downs, as there are in daily life. The lesson of “Hachodesh hazeh lochem” reminds us that there is always opportunity for hischadshus, renewal, in our world. We should never despair. Cold will give way to heat, and sadness to joy. If things aren’t going right for us, we have to believe that there can be improvement and set ourselves to realize that goal. It may be difficult and it may take special effort, but there is no goal that is unattainable for a person of faith.

Leading up to Pesach, we scramble, expending much energy to prepare for the chag. The drive to clean every part of the house and clean every closet is widespread, even when not halachically mandated. It hints to the fact that we remember our history and that before the geulah there was hard work. Mekubolim reveal that the sweat that results from working to clean for Pesach purifies as a mikvah, for there is no purity and no holiness without lots of hard work and sweat.

The connection between the exertion involved in biur chometz and the enduring struggle against evil is referenced by Chazal, who compare the yeitzer hora to se’or sheba’isah, the layer of chometz in the dough. Chometz represents immorality, and by eradicating it, we undergo a profound spiritual cleansing.

The eternal message of chodesh Nissan is that just as winter leads to spring and darkness leads to light, periods of g’nus - shame - lead to times of shevach.

Now, with winter’s end, with so many of us smarting from challenges, hardships, sickness and discouraging news, we grab on to the message of hope and rebirth afforded to us by this glorious month and the glorious Yom Tov.

Although it may appear to be laylah, armed with emunah and bitachon we fortify ourselves with additional strength, even when we think we have none left. We sense that we are in chodesh ha’aviv and that our travails will give birth to recuperation and success.

Sickness will give way to health, failures will lead to achievements, losses will lead to triumphs, and golus will lead to geulah.

Freedom is accompanied by obligations. We are given the abilities we need and enabled to rise to greatness. We are no longer held back from dreaming and setting goals.

When the Alter of Slabodka decided to open a yeshiva, he approached his rebbi, Rav Yisroel Salanter, and asked him what his main task should be as he directed the yeshiva.

Rav Yisroel told him that the task of a rosh yeshiva is to recharge the lives of the downtrodden and depressed. The Alter adapted this message and set as his goal in Slabodka to educate and inculcate the message of “gadlus ha’adam,” the greatness that man can reach.

Apparently, they are not the same goal, for while Rav Yisroel told him to raise the weak and deficient, the Alter concentrated on motivating the bright.

But, in essence, they are one and the same, for the way for people to realize their talents and inner greatness is by helping them when they are down and letting them know that periods of darkness and dread don’t need to be followed by despair, because each person has greatness within that they can tap into and realize.

Each person can have their own spring. When everything seems dark and dreary, when all seems lost and you understand nothing, know that each person has a path that they can follow that can lead them to light, warmth and understanding.

As deep as a person has sunk, and as locked away as he may feel, if he latches himself onto Torah, he has a way out of his personal swamp. “Asei lecha rav,” make for yourself a rebbi, a teacher, “uknei lecha chover,” and procure for yourself a good friend, for they will guide you and lead you and help you reach your own promised land.

Seek warmth on a cold day and light when all is dark. “Hisna’ari mei’ofor kumi,” lift yourself off the floor and out of the dirt. “Hisoreri, ki va oreich,” lie not in slumber, awake, for your light is there, “kevod Hashem olayich niglah,” Hashem’s honor is upon you.

You’re not alone, you’re not weak, and you’re not powerless or incapable. Spring has sprung and you also can.

Pesach cries out to all, from the rich man with the sterling ke’arah to the poor man who is fed by the tamchui. It proclaims in a language all can understand, in a voice all can hear, that Chag Hacheirus is here. You have the freedom and the ability to accomplish any goal you set for yourself.

“Kol dichfin yeisei veyeichol, kol ditzrich yeisei veyifsach.” Let us all partake of the Yom Tov’s blessings. We will soon be redeemed as blessed, free, wholesome people in the land Hashem promised us.

Du Bist Ein Yuda

Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

The Chazon Ish was walking with a yeshiva bochur in Lita and a few teenagers were mocking them. The bochur responded, and the Chazon Ish chastised the bochur for doing so. “You are not acting as a ben Torah,” he said. To the boy’s question of how a ben Torah would react, the Chazon Ish replied that a ben Torah would not respond at all.

Apparently, the admonition was not to pay attention to what some ruffians say. Why let it bother you enough that you feel you must respond to them?

We are insecure. Admit it. Even people who study Torah all day and are familiar with our way of thinking and how we view the world culture get excited when a secular source says something nice about religious Jews. On those rare occasions when it happens, people excitedly say to each other in conversation, “Did you see what the New York Times wrote about…?” People feel validated when the Times agrees with them. The very same publication bashes us nine times out of ten, and we pretend not to care, but when that one positive happens, people get pumped. The Times is with us. Even the Times is with us.

We really shouldn’t care. It should not make a difference to us what they say. The Torah is correct 100% of the time, regardless of what the experts say. Scientists who don’t believe in creation devise wacky theories about how the world came into existence and how the multiple forms of life came to be. They mock us, our Torah and our way of life. Yet, if one scientist somewhere says a word that can be interpreted as supportive of Torah, we get all excited. That scientist becomes a hero and everyone quotes him. “Even Joe Blow, the famous scientist, said…” Really, it shouldn’t make a difference to us what he says, whether he agrees with the Torah or not. We have our deeply-held truths and they are unchangeable, no matter what any expert says.

Can it be that our beliefs are not as strong as they need to be? Can it be that somewhere inside our psyche, we feel that maybe the scientists have a point? Why else would we pay attention to their comments and feel strengthened when there is a hint of something that can be interpreted as supportive of our beliefs?

The same phenomenon exists with media pundits in general. The talking heads are set in their ways and rarely deviate from liberal orthodoxy and political correctness. Their comments are predictable and quite often ridiculous, and we really shouldn’t be paying any attention to them or what they have to say. But when there is one who for some reason says something complimentary about Jews, Israel or religion, everyone quotes him as if he is some sort of savant. Why do we care when people who we should be ignoring say something complimentary?

The country recently went through such an experience. Former heads of the FBI, the CIA and other intelligence agencies made a career of promising that the president was involved with the Russians. Using underhanded tactics to bring down a president, they stopped at nothing. The accusations were recurrent and wild, but who could argue with these experts? The mainstream media reported the accusations as fact and trotted out politicians and the former heads of the FBI and CIA. Pundits authoritatively said thousands of times that Trump is unworthy of being president because he is a Russian agent.

A phony document paid for by an opposition candidate campaign team was passed around and quoted as if it were true. It was used in court documents to permit spying on the Trump campaign. Never was there any evidence that Trump, or members of his campaign, colluded with Russians to steal the election, but the lie was repeated enough times that Trump’s enemies hoped it would enable them to unseat him and return to advancing their agenda.

They do not understand the Trump phenomena and did not think that the president’s supporters would stick with him. They did not believe that the president would be strong enough to withstand the constant onslaught. They were sure that one way or another, he would be gone by now.

The fact that this lie was repeated so many times, coupled with the fact that people have been conditioned to hate Trump, led at least half of the country to believe that the person who had been legitimately elected to lead this country is not only evil, but is also a Russian agent.

Anti-Semitism has always been around, at times more hidden than others. Today, it is no longer improper conduct for a gentleman to betray tendencies against Jews. While Democrat politicians mouth friendly platitudes when they appear in front of adulating Jewish groups, once they remove the yarmulke, they revert to their progressive leftist ways, which now includes a hatred of Jews and anti-Israel bigotry.

Pelosi and Hoyer appear in front of Aipac and you would think they are Israel’s biggest boosters, but they return to the swamp and empower known anti-Semites, giving them tools of power and influence.

Mega-macher Senator Charles Schumer is welcome at every religious Jewish function, where he dons a yarmulka and tells stories about being a “shomer” for Israel and the Jewish people. Yet no one calls him to task for what he does. Nobody calls him out for being the phony and liar that he is. Instead, they line up for selfies.

Our people walk down the streets of Borough Park as if we own the neighborhood. We act as if New York is a Jewish city, though if it ever was, it is becoming less and less so.

A frum councilman, Kalman Yeger, who represents Borough Park, tweeted last week that “Palestine does not exist.” No news there, you say. Everyone knows that there is no state named Palestine. This is apparently, once again, a case of not being confused with the facts when it pertains to Jews.

The councilman was immediately blasted for his “hateful” and “Islamaphobic” comment. No less an authority than the mayor demanded that “if he is not going to apologize, he shouldn’t be on [the council’s immigration] committee.” In fact, he was thrown off the committee. He said that Yeger’s statement was “destructive and divisive.”

The City Council speaker also weighed in, calling Yeger’s remark “dehumanizing.” For good measure, he joined the condemnation brigade, declaring, “I vigorously condemn his comments in no uncertain terms. They have no place in New York City.”

So much for truth and justice in the Big Apple. So much for decency and separating right from wrong. More and more often now, it seems as if there is a parallel universe, one in which the progressive, peace preachers live, and the other inhabited by Jews who thought that by now the world would recognize the silliness of their outright bigotry.

Why should we care what they say?

Just last week, Ken Livingstone, former mayor of London, told a group of supporters of Jeremy Corbyn, the anti-Semitic Labour party leader with a real chance to become prime minister of that country, that “It’s not anti-Semitic to hate the Jews of Israel.”

A motion was introduced to the German Bundestag calling on the German federal parliament to codify that the country should work in U.N. bodies “to dissociate from unilateral, primarily politically motivated initiatives and alliances of anti-Israeli Member States and protect Israel and legitimate Israeli interests from unilateral condemnation.” In other words, Germany should stop engaging in voting against Israel at the UN. Only one member of the governing coalition voted in favor of the pro-Israel bill. A lopsided 408 parliamentarians voted against the bill. So much for our European friends who have asked forgiveness so many times over the years for their murderous anti-Semitism in the last century.

Is there any reason we should take anything they say seriously? Is there any reason we should even care what they say?

They opened their country to a wave of Jew-hating Muslims. They do business with Iran, the empire that has sworn to wipe Israel off the map. They recognize Hezbollah and find constant cause to vote against Israeli interests and much more. Should we care when the German president comes to Israel, mouths some platitudes, and places a wreath at Yad Vashem?

Israeli archeologists digging in Ihr Dovid, the ancient Yerushalayim city unearthed across the street from Shaar Ha’ashpos, are making constant discoveries tying Jews to the city. The place brings history to life from the period of Dovid Hamelech, the first Bais Hamikdosh, the Jews hiding and fleeing from the Romans leading up to the churban, and much more. Most recently, a 2,600-year-old clay “bulla” seal was found. Archeologists were exultant. Yuval Gadot, who found the bulla, said, “This bulla connects to a whole context, a whole world, that we have been uncovering at this spot.”

The seal impression reads, “Nissan Melech, eved l’melech.” In Melochim II (23:11), there is a reference to Nissan Melech, a minister to the righteous king Yoshiyohu, and his service to the king in helping him rid the Land of Israel of avodah zorah.

It is interesting to note that a few pesukim after the mention of Nissan Melech, the novi says (ibid. 30) that Yoshiyohu was the greatest king of all when it came to doing complete teshuvah. The pesukim (ibid. 21-23) relate that when he thought he had finished his mission of ridding the Bnei Yisroel of the bamos and avodah zorah, the king commanded that they properly observe the mitzvah of Pesach in Yerushalayim. A proper Pesach had not been brought since the days of Shmuel Hanovi.

How appropriate that the news of a seal traced back to one of his officers was revealed now as we approach Pesach.

Getting back to the bulla, not everyone is happy. The New York Times ran an article this past Sunday complaining that this dig is taking place “in East Jerusalem, which most of the world does not regard as belonging to the state of Israel. And it is being unearthed, in part, under homes of Palestinians, from land that those Palestinians want to be incorporated in their future state.”

Facts are stubborn and nasty things, especially when they are thousands of years old and prove beyond any doubt whose land it is.

The Times reports, however, that “many legal experts, monitoring groups or the Palestinians” see things differently. A Jewish person who runs an anti-occupation group is quoted as saying, “The archeological site is the tool to delete the village that is here.” For the Arabs, the evidence is easy to ignore. Two people are quoted. One says simply, “All of it is lies. All of it is Islamic. There are no Jewish antiquities. They dig. They place stuff. And they convince the world.”

Faced with all the secrets that ancient stones are revealing, and all the known facts from Tanach, the nations of the world remain unfazed. The Jews are liars. They make it up. They have no rights, no claims, nothing. Instead, the world shamelessly proclaims that that very area of Yerushalayim, where so much of our soul and history lies, should be given to a nomadic tribe, with no local history.

Leibel Kutner, a Polish chossid, was imprisoned by the Nazis in a work camp. After working twelve hours straight in a munitions factory, the machine that powered the enterprise gave out and sputtered into silence. Everything stopped. The Nazi commandant searched around the large room, finally settling upon Leibel. “You, fix the machine.” Leibel protested, “How can I fix the machine? What do I know about machines, especially a complicated one, with many moving parts, such as this one? How can I be expected to get it in working order?”

The wicked commander barked at him, “Du bist ein Yudah. You are a Jew. Kunst du –You can figure it out.”

That night, Leibel worked feverishly on the machine, taking it apart and putting it back together, as the rest of the camp stood by nervously, unsure of what would happen if he would not be able to get the gears turning once again.

Suddenly, it gave a jerk and began roaring to life. The astounded Nazi returned to the room and was just as astounded as everyone else. It is one thing to demand from the Jew to do the impossible. It’s a whole other thing when the Jew does it.

Leibel decided to take advantage of the Nazi’s surprise and asked for a reward, something that would never have been tolerated in normal situations. The Nazi acquiesced and gave Leibel his box of cigarettes. Leibel held the box high as he passed out cigarettes to his mates and proclaimed loudly, “Du bist ein Yudah. Kunst du.”

We are Jews. No matter where we find ourselves and how dire our circumstances, we never give up and we never feel beaten. As long as we are proud bnei Avrohom, Yitzchok and Yaakov, we can do it. We can persevere. We can right what’s wrong and repair what is broken. We can mend broken souls and trashed egos. We don’t lose our pride. We hold our heads up high.

Ich bin ein Yudah un ich ken.

May we merit the return of the melech Yoshiyohu and all the other righteous kings and leaders of Klal Yisroel. May we merit for all of Am Yisroel to repent and for Eretz Yisroel to be rid of the avodah zorah in the land. And may we merit to all join in Yerushalayim, observing Pesach as it hasn’t been observed since the days of King Yoshiyohu.

We can do it.