Watch What You Say

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Rav Eliyohu Mann of Bnei Brak would speak with Rav Chaim Kanievsky daily, and people who had questions or sought brachos from Rav Chaim would often call him. One day, a rebbi contacted him.

“I need your help,” he said. “Out of the clear blue, my young son suddenly began to suffer from psychotic episodes. I made a cheshbon hanefesh to try to determine why Hashem would punish us in that way. I suspect that it may be a punishment for me telling my class that Rav Chaim Kanievsky was not especially smart when he was young, but because he dedicated himself to studying Torah, he became wiser and wiser the more he learned, until he became a gaon and the gadol hador.

“My intentions were pure. I meant to inspire my students to be diligent in their learning, even if they didn’t feel that they were smart enough to develop into Torah giants. I totally did not mean to impugn Rav Chaim in any way.

“Please tell him my story and ask him to forgive me so that my son will be well again.”

Rav Mann approached Rav Chaim and told him about the rebbi’s call and request for mechilah. Rav Chaim laughed and said, “I am still not smart.”

In his humility, he didn’t see any offense in what the man had said and saw no need for forgiveness.

When Rav Mann phoned the rebbi to convey to him Rav Chaim’s reaction, the man was upset. “Please ask him again to forgive me. I feel that I need forgiveness for what I said.”

Instead of returning to Rav Chaim to ask him again, Rav Mann approached Rav Michel Yehuda Lefkowitz, a leading gadol in his time who had served as a rebbi of Rav Chaim Kanievsky in his younger years. He told him what had happened and asked him what he thought.

Rav Michel Yehudah responded that he remembered Rav Chaim from when he taught him in his youth and said that he was brilliant back then as well. Therefore, the man needs forgiveness. “You must go back to Rav Chaim and ask him again,” he said.

Rav Mann returned to Rav Chaim. When he began telling him that he went to see his rebbi, Rav Michel Yehuda, and had posed the question to him, Rav Chaim immediately said that he was fully mochel the man for what he said and he should consider himself forgiven.

Within a few days, the boy’s mental health was restored.

A fantastic, true story about the great gadol whose loss we are still mourning, as well as about the power of speech and how careful we must all be when we speak about others.

This week’s parsha of Tazria, and Metzora which we will lain next week, deal with the halachos of a person afflicted with tzoraas. Though its laws are quite complex, we are all familiar with the basic concept. A patch of skin, or clothing, or a home becomes infected with pigment changes. A kohein is called to inspect and render a decision regarding the status of the stain. If he deems it tzoraas, the offender is secluded.

While tzoraas is usually described as leprosy or some other disease, in fact it is not a disease. Rather, it is a signal from Hashem to repent and do teshuvah for various sins.

On Shevi’i Shel Pesach, we read Parshas Beshalach and the story of Yetzias Mitzrayim. The posuk (Shemos 15:26) states, “Kol hamachalah asher samti b’Mitzrayim lo osim alecha ki ani Hashem rofecha.” Hashem promises that if we follow His mitzvos, He will not bring upon us any of the diseases He brought upon the Mitzriyim.

The ailments and diseases that befell the Mitzriyim were Divine punishment for their treatment of the Jews. There was no cure for them.

When a person is infected by illness, it is similar to a conventional vaccine. The vaccine works by planting into the body, a strain of the illness that is weak enough for the body to fight off. The process strengthens and inoculates the person from the disease. The sickness itself is what causes good health. We believe that disease and yissurim are for a higher purpose, sometimes perceived and often times not. We trust that our Doctor has our best interests in mind. We therefore say, “Ki Ani Hashem rofecha.” If He wishes it so, then we will be healed.

The Chazon Ish would say that each generation experiences a new class of diseases for which it has no cure. In generations prior, people would die from typhus, smallpox and measles, and desperate people hoped valiantly for the day that medication would be found to cure them. Once the world was rid of those feared maladies, new diseases were diagnosed and spread, without the ability to cure them.

This is to remind us that Hashem is the Rofei cholim. Doctors are His messengers. They do not hold the key to cures unless the Creator wills it so.

This concept is explicit in the words of the Rambam (Hilchos Mikvaos 11:12), in his closing remarks on the topic of purification:

“Impurity is not filth that can be washed away with water, but, rather, a scriptural decree that calls for intent of focus of the heart. Chazal therefore teach that one who immersed but did not intend to purify himself is considered as not having been toiveled.

“Although it is a gezeiras hakosuv, there is an allusion inherent in the act of tevilah. One who focuses his heart on purity is indeed cleansed through immersion, even though there was no noticeable change in his body. Similarly, one who focuses his heart on removing the contamination of the soul - namely, evil thoughts and negative character traits - becomes purified when he resolves within his heart to distance himself from such counsel and immerse his soul in the waters of knowledge.”

Thus, it is the sacred role of the kohein to determine whether a person is a metzora. The task of the kohein is to bring people closer to Hashem through removing sin, which causes separation between man and his Maker. He helps people purify themselves. Tzora’as is not a medical condition. It arises from chet, and thus the kohein intercedes to help the victim repent from his chato’im, which brought about his condition. He then achieves the desired healing.

We are familiar with the pesukim that state, “Mi ha’ish hechofeitz chaim oheiv yomim liros tov. Netzor leshoncha meira usefosecha midabeir mirma” (Tehillim 34:13-14). One who desires life should be careful not to use his mouth for bad purposes and not to speak improperly.

Man causes tzora’as to be brought upon him, for it is a punishment for people who do not follow the admonitions of that posuk and speak ill of others. Those who do not appreciate other people, who are not concerned about the feelings of others, or who cavalierly destroy reputations of fellow Jews are punished and banished from the camp. For seeking to create separation between the people they gossiped about and their communities, they are placed in isolation.

We no longer merit this precise Divine message. We speak lashon hora at will and think that we won’t suffer consequences. In fact, while we don’t come down with tzora’as, we are beset by other punishments, whose cause is not as obvious.

The loving Rofei sends us hints of disapproval. We are afflicted with various aches, pains, and ailments. We go to the doctor, fill prescriptions, and seek to be healed. We are lulled into thinking that the sickness or pain is caused and cured by something physical.

How wrong we are.

Sometimes, we go about dealing with life’s serious issues in a superficial manner. Life is a long learning process. As we grow and learn and go through the experiences that make up life, we gain the tools we need to be able to contend with and hopefully overcome many of the challenges we face. When we conduct ourselves and think maturely and intelligently, we are better able to remain healthy, strong and vibrant. To merit recovery from illness and pain, we need to know that every limb and part of the body receives its sustenance from a specific mitzvah. Every ailment is caused by a specific aveirah.

The Gemara in Maseches Avodah Zarah (55a) quotes the words of a posuk that we recite in the tefillah of Nishmas each Shabbos as we say that Hashem saved us from “chola’im ra’im vene’emonim - harsh and faithful diseases.” How can illness be referred to as faithful?

The Gemara explains that they are faithful to keep the promise they make. They have a mission, they are sent from Heaven for a reason, for a specific amount of time. Once that time elapses, they are directed to leave a person’s body. They are faithful to that oath.

There is no longer tzora’as. But that is not necessarily a blessing. Were that so-called disease still in existence, we would be very careful about speaking lashon hora. It would disappear from our midst. The cause and effect would be plainly evident.

And it’s not only tzora’as. It’s all diseases. It’s not only lashon hora. It’s all the aveiros. The Medrash teaches that there are ten parshiyos of negoim, just as there are ten cardinal mitzvos. If Am Yisroel observes the Aseres Hadibros, then Hashem protects them from negoim. However, if they disobey the Aseres Hadibros, they are plagued.

We have to recognize that our tumah, taharah and welfare depend on our actions. The Gemara in Maseches Sotah (21a) teaches, “Torah magna umatzla,” Torah fortifies and protects. We know that “tzedakah tatzil mimovess,” charity saves one from death (Mishlei 10:2).

Just as tzedakah has the power to save a person from death, tefillah has the power to bring about salvation. Torah surrounds us with armor in the face of punishment. Every act we perform, including the way we think and speak, has the ability to determine the quality of our lives.

The posuk (Vayikra 18:5) states, “Ushemartem es chukosai v’es mishpotai asher yaaseh osam ha’adam vochai bohem.” If you will observe My mitzvos, they will give you life. From this posuk, we derive that pikuach nefesh is doche Shabbos. That means that the posuk is speaking not only in an allegorical sense - that mitzvah observance enhances life - but in a very literal sense as well. Observance of the Torah’s chukim and mishpotim is life-inducing.

Dovid Hamelech sang, “Shivtecha umishantecha heima yenachamuni - Your rod and staff comfort me.” Baalei mussar teach that the comfort Dovid Hamelech derived from Hashem’s “rod and staff” was similar to the comfort a stray sheep receives from the prodding tap of its master. The wayward sheep had veered from the path and group. It was lost, alone and afraid. Finally, it was found by the shepherd, who hit it with his staff. Along with the blow came a sense of belonging, of being watched once again, and of being cared for. The stick striking its back stung, but it was comforting nonetheless.

At the shivah for Rav Shmuel Halevi Wosner, his children recounted that their father never raised his voice to rebuke them and never slapped them. One of the children asked him how he understood a posuk that seems to indicate that slapping children is a sign of love: “Choseich shivto sonei beno - One who withholds the stick hates his son” (Mishlei 13:24).

Rav Wosner explained, “The lesson of the posuk is not that a father should hit his son. Rather, the explanation is that a wise father learns to keep a stick nearby to remind his son of its existence. The stick is a tool, but the loving father finds a way not to have to use it.”

He uses it by not using it. The threat is ever-present, and when the child thinks of misbehaving, he controls himself because he doesn’t want that stick on his back.

We have seen and experienced the Divine staff all too often. Like frightened sheep, we have been prodded back to the flock, influenced to stay on the correct path. We see through the darkness and appreciate the message that after making many mistakes, Hashem still hopes for our return. He hasn’t forgotten us, even for a moment.

Ki anu tzonecha, ve’Atah Roeinu.

May everyone suffering from disease be cured, and may we be free of all plagues and speedily merit the ultimate healing.

Dovid Hamelech says in the 15^th chapter of Tehillim, “Hashem, who merits to inhabit your tent, to live on Your holy mountain? He who walks purely, does justice and speaks truth from his heart. Slander doesn’t appear on his tongue; he doesn’t wrong his friend and doesn’t slur those close to him. He despises contemptible people and honors those who fear Hashem. He keeps his word and oath even when it hurts him. He doesn’t take interest for lending people money and never accepts bribes. Whoever possesses these characteristics will never falter.”

As we study the parshiyos of tzora’as, let us begin our return to good health by reforming how we deal with each other, giving attention to our middos and observance of the mitzvos, chukim and mishpotim.

May all those who suffer find relief, may all the ill be healed, may all the lonely be comforted, and may we all merit the geulah sheleimah bemeheirah. “B’Nissan nigalu ub’Nissan asidin ligoel” (Rosh Hashanah 11b). May it be this month.

Rav Chaim zt”l

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

One day it was Purim, and all around the world Jews were celebrating. The next day, it was Tisha B’Av. The celebrations were forgotten. Purim was a distant memory.

“Shekulah missoson shel tzaddikim k’sreifas Bais Elokeinu” (Rosh Hashanah 18b). In a flash, we were bereft. Our leader was gone. Yesterday, he sat at his famed table upon which he had learned so much Torah and received and lifted up so many people. Yesterday, he welcomed people who came to bring him mishloach manos. Today, he was gone. There was no time to daven for him and for us. The gezeirah was sealed and carried out, and from orah, simcha, sasson and yekor, it was now choshech al pnei sehom.

Rav Chaim was taken to Shomayim. Our rebbi, the rebbi of Klal Yisroel, the Urim Vetumim of the generation, left us, and we barely had time to prepare for this awful moment and the vacuum his petirah created.

Rav Chaim. Wherever you went in the Jewish world, when you said Rav Chaim, everyone knew who you were referring to. If there was a question relating to Torah, Yahadus, chinuch and everything that mattered to a Yid, Rav Chaim had the answer. Readily accessible, he would also answer the many letters that were sent to him with questions of all types, often with one or two words.

Where to begin? Rav Chaim. The last word on everything that was going on in Klal Yisroel. On every halachic shailoh. On every public issue. The question was presented to Rav Chaim and what he said was final.

He was the paradigm of limud haTorah, of hasmodah, of yediah, of everything that was tied to Torah. He was the epitome, the apex, of what a person can reach. In our generation, in our world, there was a person who knew and was familiar with the entirety of Torah. We were able to see him, speak to him, ask him our questions, and seek out his brachos. We were able to be inspired anew every time we entered his room. To gaze upon him was a brocha, watching him as he learned undisturbed, moving through Shas or whatever sefer was in front of him, sliding his finger down the page line by line with an obvious familiarity.

Seeing that it was possible to reach such heights not only inspired us, but also obligated us in our lives. It is possible to really know everything. When a human devotes himself entirely to Torah, there is no barrier to attaining it all. 

Hundreds of people would stand on line waiting to greet him and ask for a brocha or an eitzah. He would answer the simple shailos of regular people and the deepest, most entangled questions that the greatest rabbonim were unable to rule on. 

His greatness was Torah. His life was Torah. Everything about him was Torah. Nothing else mattered to him outside of Torah.

He beheld gadlus baTorah of a rare stature. Kol roz lo anus lei. There was nothing he didn’t know, all of Torah on his fingertips.

He was the living embodiment of the posuk in Tehillim which states that man should be “k’eitz shasul al palgei mayim.” He was as a tree with deep and holy roots, “asher piryo yitein b’ito,” and everybody benefited from the fruits of his Torah and avodah.

For nine decades, he had little interest of anything outside of Torah. Every year, he would make a siyum on kol haTorah. People would ask him where a specific idea is found in Chazal and then watch in amazement as his mind worked its way through Bavli, Yerushalmi, Toseftos, all the Medrashim, Zohar, Tikkunei Zohar, and much else until he was able to locate the matter that was being sought. And if he didn’t find it, it didn’t exist.

A month ago, his talmid, Rav Eliyohu Mann, was our guest for a Shabbos meal. I asked him for some good stories. He told me that he met Rav Yehoshua Dovid Hartman, who published the sifrei Maharal with detailed footnotes, including commentary and marei mekomos. Rav Hartman told him that the Maharal cites a Chazal that techiyas hameisim will begin at the Meoras Hamachpeilah. He searched everywhere and was unable to find the Chazal. He asked many talmidei chachomim and none of them were able to cite the Maharal’s source.

One day, he met Rav Chaim as he was walking in the street. He went over to him and asked him his question. As they continued walking, after a few moments, he heard Rav Chaim say to himself, “In Bavli is dos nisht du. It’s not in Shas Bavli.” A few moments later, he said to himself, “In Yerushalmi is dos nisht du. It’s not in Shas Yerushalmi.” And so he went through all of the Medrashim. After one and a half minutes, Rav Chaim turned to Rav Hartman and said, “Es iz in Zohar. It is in the Zohar.”

The stories about Rav Chaim are not fables. They are true. And the people with whom they transpired readily confirm them. A man from our day walking down the street had the entirety of Torah on his fingertips. It was important to him, so he knew it. Had Rav Hartman asked him what street he was on, he would not have known. It wasn’t important.

Years ago, my son asked Rav Chaim’s son, Rav Shlomo Kanievsky, for a fascinating story about his father. “Vilst heren ah moifes? I’ll tell you a miracle,” he said. “Every day, when my mother serves him a meal, when he finishes, he asks her what he ate, so he will know which brocha achronah to make.”

Is that not a miracle? The same person who could whizz through Shas in one minute looking for something couldn’t remember what he had eaten two minutes before. It wasn’t important. The only thing that was important about his meal was the brachos.

People would lay out a shailoh and he would answer quickly, rarely giving explanations. His time was too precious. And everybody knew that when he spoke, it was the Torah speaking, and they followed him implicitly. His was the final word on every issue.

Thousands of his answers to every topic imaginable have been published in dozens of seforim, and as you peruse them, you grasp the greatness that has left us. On the same page, he can cite from memory a Gemara in Brachos, then a posuk in Chumash, then a Gemara in Sanhedrin, then a p’sak from the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch, then a Gemara in Nedorim and Nozir, then a Tosefta in Shavuos, and then a selection from his monumental sefer Derech Emunah in Hilchos Terumos. He could say p’shat in a Rabi Akiva Eiger to one person, cite a Medrash to another, share a story from the Chazon Ish and a vort from the Chofetz Chaim, tell one person what to do as a segulah for his problem and tell another person that a certain segulah has no basis in Torah.

He literally changed the face of Klal Yisroel. He told so many shaven people to grow beards that he made a perceptible change in the look of the generation. And the change was more than skin deep. He added kedusha to the life of every person who went to see him. A change that had a ripple effect in communities around the world.

People would come to Rav Chaim for brachos and direction in life. The sick, the poor, and the barren would come to his home on Rechov Rashbam and wait for their turn with the gadol. Each person would receive a different response. Sometimes he said to follow the doctor, and to others he said that the doctor was incorrect in his prognosis. They could have been suffering from the same ailment, but one was told to grow a beard, one to stop wearing a watch, another to learn Maseches Shvi’is, and another to make Havdalah on wine. Other times, the responses were more striking. For most, the life-altering conversations were invariably short, for there was a long line of people waiting and besides, he wanted to return to his learning.

Nobody asked why, how he knew, or why he told them one thing and the other guy with the same issue a different thing. For 99.9% of the people who came, if Rav Chaim said to do it, they did it. But sometimes people found what he said hard to accept. He told a single boy who asked for a brocha for a shidduch to grow a beard. “But I can’t,” said the boy. “It’s impossible. It’s just too hard socially. Is there something else I can do?” The response was harsh. “If you don’t grow a beard, you will remain single your entire life.”

Once, when going through a difficult issue, I asked him for a brocha. He leaned over and folded up my hat brim. “If you go like this, everything will be fine.” I kept the brim on my hat up the way he had placed it, and when the issue was resolved, I purchased a nice brim-up hat and traveled to Bnei Brak to thank him for the brocha. He looked at me and the hat and smiled. “Azoi shein. Let’s see how you look with your peyos out.” I complied, of course, wary as I was that he would tell me to keep them out. A wide smile broke out on his face. “Oy, zey zenen azoi shein. Foon vemen shemst du? You look so nice like that.”

Since he didn’t tell me to keep them out, I returned them to their regular place, but I felt like a million dollars.

A story was told that a young bochur came to him complaining that it was hard for him to learn. He asked what he should do to help his hasmodah. The story went that Rav Chaim told the boy that whenever he encountered difficulty learning, he should go to the mikvah. Someone asked Rav Chaim to explain why he had suggested that as a solution to the boy’s problem. Rav Chaim responded that he didn’t remember such a conversation, but if it happened and that was what he said, it was because that was what was placed in his mouth min haShomayim.

How did he know? Nobody asked. He knew.

Was it with the koach haTorah? Was it ruach hakodesh?

Rav Chaim’s ruach hakodesh wasn’t only relegated to everyday matters. It affected his learning. The story is well known that when he was learning the halachos of the kosher status of locusts, since he hadn’t seen a grasshopper, he was unable to fully understand the halacha. It so happened that a locust flew into his room and landed on the Gemara he was studying. Rav Chaim was able to examine the creature, and when he was satisfied that he had a full comprehension of the halachos, the creature picked itself up and flew out the window.

When reflecting upon this story, it appeared to me that Rav Chaim’s learning and understanding of Torah were so choshuv that min haShomayim he was brought a locust to enable him to properly study and determine the halacha.

In fact, Rav Chaim wrote a sefer on the sugyos and halachos of eating locusts called Karnei Chagovim. In the first chapter of the sefer, he discusses the shitah that it is a mitzvas asei to study those halachos. (The basis for that obligation is a posuk in this week’s parsha, Vayikra 11:47.]

What does this have to do with ruach hakodesh?

Rav Chaim’s uncle, the Chazon Ish, writes that “ruach hakodesh is when a person studies Torah with great effort and much hard work, and he gains added knowledge and understanding… This is ruach hakodesh that rests with all those who labor in the study of Torah. …And how did Rabi Yehudah know about all the plants that grow around the world? This is not a question, for Hashem reveals His knowledge to those who fear him.”

We can similarly say that Rav Chaim’s knowledge of locusts was revealed to him min haShomayim. His father-in-law Rav Elyashiv said that Rav Chaim’s gadlus in Torah was such that he attained a level of Divine assistance that was found among Rishonim.

The Raavad writes in several places that the explanation he wrote came to him min haShomayim (Toras Kohanim, Parshas Acharei Mos, Baalei Hanefesh, Shaar Hamayim, and others). He writes in his introduction to Maseches Idiyos, “In these matters, I had no rebbi or teacher, but they are from Hashem Himself.

Similarly, Rashi writes (Yechezkel 42:3) when elucidating the prophecy of Yechezkel regarding the third Bais Hamikdosh, “I had no rebbi or helper [in my understanding] of the building. Rather, this is what was shown to me min haShomayim.”

Talmidei chachomim such as Rav Dov Landau have said that there is no doubt that when Rav Chaim wrote his sefer Derech Emunah, there was a malach with him.

Such is the ruach hakodesh of people like Rav Chaim. We don’t know how many have attainted that level, and throughout the ages many definitely have, but the fact that Rav Chaim was with us in this generation until last week obligates us all. We cannot say that such things cannot be expected of us, because we live in a depraved world, in a society where it is thought that such goals are no longer attainable. Rav Chaim was a living demonstration that gadlus in Torah, avodah and middos tovos is achievable to someone who really wants to achieve it.

Every night he would awake for Tikun Chatzos, he would learn one page of Zohar, one chapter of Tehillim, one chapter of Tanach, three pages of Mishnah Berurah, three chapters of Rambam, five pages of Shulchan Aruch, eight dapim of Talmud Bavli, eight dapim of Talmud Yerushalmi, a certain amount of Tosefta, besides for the other seforim he learned.

Impossible, you say? But he did it. Not only did he fill that quota every day, but he also said davened, ate three meals, was sandek at brisos daily, visited his parents daily, visited his children from time to time, attended simchos and functions (rarely), wrote seforim, responded to letters from around the world, and dedicated much time to receive people, answering their questions and providing them with chizuk and direction.

How did he do it? It was his primary interest in life. Anything that wasn’t related to Torah was quickly forgotten. He forgot most things except for Torah, which he was fluent in. He remembered because he cared. He remembered because it’s all he cared about. He remembered because he followed what he wrote in Sefer Hazikaron, a collection of divrei Chazal on the levels a person must attain in order to be able to retain the Torah he studies.

Were Torah as important to us as it was to him, were we to use our time to study and review Torah, we could also become great. If we wouldn’t occupy our time with nonsense, if we would not waste brain space on futile things, we could surely become better and holier than we are now.

Rav Chaim never held any position, and that was by choice, not by chance. His father, the great gaon known to all as The Steipler, told him that he was placed in this world to write and publish seforim. He told Rav Chaim in his younger years that he should not accept any position, lead any organization, sign any proclamations, or accept any salary for his learning, for that would ultimately take away from his learning and cause more outside obligations. It was only many decades later, when Klal Yisroel sought a leader and a Torah giant to turn to, that Rav Chaim acquiesced to become involved in communal matters.

Money was always anathema to him. He didn’t respect it and it was of no use to him. His son once told me that a philanthropist wanted to repay Rav Chaim for his assistance and expressed that he was going to present him with a $250,000 check. Rav Chaim would have none of it. He didn’t want the money and didn’t even want to touch the check. It didn’t talk to him, and he even feared touching that large a sum, lest he be tainted in some way.

His greatest joy was Torah - when he learned, when he saw others learning, and even when he was presented with a new sefer. Although his home was filled with bookcases loaded with seforim and the chance of him studying from the new sefer was slim, the joy of seeing that another sefer was published, and that more Torah was being studied and spread, overwhelmed him with joy.

Someone once told me that the biggest smile was seen on Rav Chaim’s face when a mechaber came and presented him with a new sefer that he just published. So, when I published a sefer on Chumash, I went to his home to present it to him. The fellow who advised me to go there was correct. It is difficult to express the simcha that came over him. He went through the sefer as I sat there and was most effusive in his comments and brachos.

Rav Chaim was niftar on Shushan Purim, the day following the day upon which he would make his annual siyum upon completing his regimen of kol haTorah kulah in a leap year, such as this.

It was providential, as well, that he passed away during a Shmittah year, because although he was proficient in all areas of Torah, there were some areas in which he took a leading role. His uncle, the Chazon Ish, was a leader in restoring shemiras Shmittah to Eretz Yisroel, and Rav Chaim worked to strengthen the knowledge and observance of Shmittah.                          

Rav Chaim would often discuss the concept that Klal Yisroel will merit the geulah in the zechus of observing Shmittah. Although his dedication to the mitzvah was because it was a mitzvah, when encouraging fundraising efforts to help observant farmers, a campaign that the Chazon Ish initiated, he would remind the activists that they are helping to bring Moshiach through their efforts.

Rav Chaim saw that the power of the brocha the Torah reserves for Shmittah observance is so great that he would advise thousands of people who came to him searching for brachos and specific yeshuos to undertake to study Maseches Shvi’is.

Many books have already been published with fascinating anecdotes involving Rav Chaim, and many more can be expected to come out now that he has left us. Many thousands of people sought him for his brachos and guidance, and they all have stories to tell. We have all heard some and will be hearing and reading many more.

The stories should be a source of chizuk to us in our daily lives and struggles, and to our emunah, as they demonstrate the greatness of Torah and Klal Yisroel, and how blessed we were to have had access to such a timeless gadol from whom to benefit spiritually and physically. As the stories of his greatness multiply and spread, we will increasingly realize that he was much greater than we ever could have imagined, and the loss we mourn will be increasingly larger and larger.

Rav Chaim’s passing leaves the world a darker, sadder, emptier, and more dangerous place than it was when he was alive. We all need to improve in the areas in which he excelled to help bring back some of the missing light and Torah and yashrus and middos tovos and humility and dikduk b’mitzvos. We can all improve. We can all be nicer, learn more, daven better, be better people, and work to make a positive difference in the lives of others, so that we can help bring about the coming of the Moshiach Rav Chaim told us was imminent, making the world a better place in which to be until the moment arrives. May it be speedily in our day.

Tehei nishmaso tzerurah betzror hachaim.

See the Strength

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz 

Most real estate solicitations begin the same way: “I found this great building/project/development. The past owner didn’t manage it properly, so I can get in at a low price as the income is not where it should be due to his delinquency. With not much effort or investment, I can fix it up, put in a new roof and boiler, renovate the apartments/offices/homes as they become vacant, refresh the outside, spruce up the landscaping and parking lot, and voila, we will have a quick turnaround. Rents will go up and we will be making money in six months.”

There is a unique joy in discovering light in a place of darkness and value in a space considered worthless. Investors of all types spend their time searching for assets with hidden value. When they find one, they celebrate a great payday in the making.

As Yidden, we also search for light and value where others don’t see much, and when we hit paydirt, our reward is more precious than an investment in any highflying stock. We search for lost souls and kids who people have given up on because we know that within each Jewish person, there is a torch of goodness and holiness waiting to be lit by someone who cares enough to create a spark.

A story is told about a chassidishe rebbe who heard his grandson crying. He asked the child what prompted his tears. The boy explained that he was playing hide-and-seek with his friends and was hiding in a closet. His friends looked for him for a few minutes, and when he wasn’t quickly found, they got restless and ran off to play a different game, leaving him behind and forgotten.

As the rebbe listened to the child’s tale, he began to cry. “The way you feel,” said the rebbe, “is how Hashem feels. He hides, and people spend a few minutes trying to find Him, but then they tire and give up.”

This task is relevant throughout the year, but on Purim, a day dedicated to revealing depths and removing masks and veneers of this world, we are obligated to see beyond the superficial and find the hiding truth. Often, we do. It is a day to get close to others and listen to what is on their chest. Thoughts, wishes, ambitions, and regrets that are kept hidden all year are often given voice on this holiday of Purim, when the hidden is revealed and the revealed is hidden.

This is alluded to by the Gemara’s statement (Chulin 139b), “Esther min haTorah minayin?” A hint to the tale of Esther is found in the Torah in the posuk which states, “Ve’anochi hasteir astir Ponai,” where Hashem says that His face will be hidden. The essence of Purim is to realize that Hashem is always there, though His Presence is hidden in what is referred to as hester.

The same is with people. Sometimes, their goodness is hidden under years of pain, their holiness covered by so many scars. Good people see the hidden. They sense the potential and seek to coach others back to life, so that all can see and appreciate what is not readily apparent.

Life is tough, and too many people go underground rather than contend with the daily pressures of having to prove their goodness. Doing so can lead them down a slippery path of duplicity and danger, but they have become too hurt to conform. They think that their independent course will work for them, and when it doesn’t, few believe in them anymore and they are left with no place to turn.

Our task, not only on Purim, is to warm their cold souls, spark their latent goodness, and arouse the torch of holiness and goodwill that lies within them.

The Gemara (Yoma 69b) teaches, “The Anshei Knesses Hagedolah received their name from restoring Hashem to His former glory. Moshe Rabbeinu referred to Hashem as ‘Hakeil, Hagadol, Hagibor, Vehanora, the Great, Awesome, and Strong G-d.’

“Yirmiyohu Hanovi saw gentiles violating the Bais Hamikdosh and wondered, ‘Ayeh nora’osav? Where is Hashem’s awesome power?’ Left without an answer, he omitted the word nora when speaking of Hashem. Daniel viewed Hashem’s chosen nation subjugated to gentiles and asked, ‘Ayeh gevurosav? Where is Hashem’s strength?’ He left out the word gibor.

“Then the Anshei Knesses Hagedolah came along. They saw things differently. ‘To the contrary,’ they said, ‘we see His gevurah everywhere, for He controls His will, allowing wicked people to succeed in order to carry out His ultimate plan of rewarding the righteous. Klal Yisroel’s survival, one nation amongst so many others, is testimony to His awesomeness.” They restored the original text.

Mordechai Hatzaddik was a member of the Anshei Knesses Hagedolah, and when he experienced the miracles that are described in Megillas Esther and celebrated on Purim, he saw that even though Hashem is hidden, He is not concealed. He saw clearly that from His place of hiding and hester, He controls the world, and led the Anshei Knesses Hagedolah to return those attributes that had been removed.

All throughout the period of the tale of Achashveirosh and Haman, Hashem was coordinating the moves, setting the stage for the great miracle that would save the Jewish people from destruction and show His mastery to all.

Yirmiyohu had seen the evident splendor and then the churban and destruction of everything he held dear. Daniel was taken prisoner by Nevuchadnetzar and experienced subjugation. Although he was miraculously saved, he never made it back to Eretz Yisroel and passed away in golus (see Maharsha in Yoma, ibid.).

Mordechai experienced the dread and threats and then the remarkable salvation, all occurring while Hashem remained hidden and unseen. He appreciated that in times of darkness and worry, as well as in times of good, Hashem is always there.

In our day, as well, we witness the world as a gunpowder-filled-keg, waiting for someone to light a fuse and launch World War III. We see weak and ineffectual leaders confronted by a feared tyrant and unable to deter and stop him from genocidal medieval barbaric inhuman attacks that threaten the equilibrium of the Western world.

The world seeks explanations for why the tyrant’s army didn’t seem as capable as they had thought. How was a much smaller, more backward country able to hold them off? Why are the leaders of the West inept? Why is indiscriminate, senseless human slaughter allowed to continue inside a sovereign nation? Meanwhile, the bombing of civilians, including apartment buildings, hospitals and schools, goes on, as cities are surrounded and pounded, bereft of food, water, power, heat, medicine and much else. Death is everywhere.

We don’t seek explanations, for we know that the Hidden Hand of Hashem is at work, preparing the world for Moshiach. There is much we don’t understand, but we know that with the redemption will come the revelation and explanation of all that is taking place now and all that occurred throughout the centuries. We know that Hashem selected these leaders for these times in order to bring about the result He seeks.

The words of the Gemara and the insight of the Anshei Knesses Hagedolah resonate through the ages, empowering us to continue despite Hashem being in hiding. On Purim every year, we are reminded of Hashem’s powers even as we are in golus and under the domination of others. We need a tiny spark to reveal the light that remains hidden. Purim provides that spark.

Purim is the day when we see that gevurah does not have to be out in the open for it to be present. We see that we cannot judge the world by the way current events are described and portrayed. There is always something much more potent going on which we cannot see or appreciate. Purim demonstrates that it is always there.

On Purim, we perceive this fact, as it relates not only to Hashem and His people and the entire world as a whole, but to every one of us personally.

On Purim, the hastarah goes into hiding.

Sometimes, we feel as if we are lacking in gevurah. We feel weak and beaten. We become unhappy, because we think that we aren’t as strong as we have to be. Purim tells us that Hashem cares for us and provides us with the amount of strength we need to fulfill our missions in this world. If we feel as if our physical strength is declining as we age, we should recognize that we have been given other strengths. We have become more astute and more intelligent and have imbibed more Torah. Perhaps we cannot run as fast, but that is because we don’t have to be running anymore to complete our mission.

Our strengths may not be as obvious, but they are there, waiting to be tapped into and utilized to realize our goals. They are in hiding.

That is why Chazal say, “Eizehu gibor? Hakoveish es yitzro.” The really strong person is the one who defeats his yeitzer hora. Our mission is to beat back the yeitzer hora and not let him overtake us. No matter our situation, we always possess the strength to overcome him. We may feel weak and defeated, but, in truth, the strength we require is always there, though it needs a spark to get it going. Our job is to look for and find our inner strength and use it to accomplish good and beat back evil.

Who is strong? One who recognizes the strength he beholds and uses it for its intended purpose.

On Purim, the essence, which is hiding beneath the surface, is revealed, and the sod of every Yid flows as free as the yayin that allows it to rise to the top. We recognize our strength and that causes us to be joyful.

On Purim, we hear the dreams that are kept silent a whole year. On Purim, we hear the songs that are kept buried deep in our hearts all year. On Purim, the dreams come alive, the music is pumped up, and the songs are sung with much more life than all year around.

On Purim, you look at our people, and at the people around you, and you see how strong we are. You see the gevurah and you become happy. You see the realization of the posuk in Megillas Esther (8:16) which states, “LaYehudim hoysah orah vesimcha vesasson vikor - The Jews had light, joy and splendor.”

The Gemara states that when the posuk says, “LaYehudim hoysah orah,” it refers to the light of Torah. On Purim, when the plan came together, the Jews of the time perceived, as Mordechai did, that even in a time of hester, the Hand of Hashem is evident, even though it is hiding. They had light because the miracle gave them the spark they needed to light their torches which had been kept unlit under the fear of Haman and the thought that the Bais Hamikdosh would never be rebuilt.

Perhaps this is also the explanation of the statement of Chazal that “Hadar kibluha b’yemei Achashveirosh, the Jews reaccepted upon themselves the observance of Torah in the days of Achashveirosh.” Now that they realized once again the prevalent power and glory of Hashem, they agreed to follow the Torah. They knew that they’re never alone, no matter how lonely they appear to be. They are never in the dark, no matter how little light there is. There is always more light beneath the surface, in hiding, b’hester.

On Purim, we stood back and marveled at Hashem’s power. The hidden became revealed, and when we put the story together, we saw Hashem’s Hand guiding the news of the day from the beginning of the sad saga until its joyful end.

On Purim, the hastarah goes into hiding.

Rav Chaim Kreiswirth was escaping from the Nazis when he met a beaten Jew lying on the ground, his life slowly leaving him. The dying man saw the young rabbi and asked him to bend down to hear his whispers. He knew that his end was approaching and he had an important message to impart.

“Please, do me a favor,” the man whispered. “You look like someone I can trust.”

He told Rav Chaim who he was and other identifying information, along with a series of numbers, which represented his substantial bank account. “If you survive,” he asked, “please find my son, Shloime, and give him these numbers. Tell him about the account.”

Rav Kreiswirth survived the war. He occupied rabbinic positions in Israel, America and Belgium, and traveled the world speaking and raising funds for charity. Yet, wherever he went, he always remembered the dying Jew and his last wish. He never gave up on finding Shloime. Years went by and he had not found him.

One day, a poor Yerushalmi came to him seeking help. Like so many others, he went to the rov and out came his tale of woe. The compassionate rov listened to his story and asked the man about his background.

The Yerushalayimer visitor said that he was a Polish survivor and had arrived in Eretz Yisroel alone, having lost his family in the war. Rav Kreiswirth asked more questions about his hometown, shtiebel and relatives. The poor man just wanted a donation. He wondered why the rov was asking him so many questions.

It was because the rov never gave up on his mission to find Shloime.

Finally, he decided that the man asking for a handout was none other than Shloime, the son of the dying man with the bank account.

Rav Kreiswirth asked the man to wait for a moment and went to retrieve the paper with the bank name and account number from his safe.

“Here,” he said, handing it to the middle-aged pauper. “This is from your father.”

Rav Kreiswirth subsequently had local lawyers help the man deal with the bank and prove his identity in order to claim the funds.

He returned to Yerushalayim a wealthy man. His father’s inheritance had finally reached him.

One never gave up searching, while the other never searched. Why should he? How was he to know that he had a father who provided for him?

The story has a dual message. We all have a treasure somewhere. We all have the ability to help other people. Within us, there is strength, ability, power, goodness and kindness waiting to be tapped. If we have faith and search enough, we will find them.

In many ways, we are like the pauper who has no idea of his wealth. We don’t know how strong we are. We don’t know how smart we are. We don’t know how capable we are.

On Purim, we were reminded once again that we are not lacking anything. Wine elicits the hiding secrets. Our hidden strengths and abilities were revealed. Our goodness, kindness and holiness were on display for ourselves and all to see.

May we all merit experiencing the joy and light, the orah, simcha, sasson and yekor of Purim, all year round.

 

The Joy of Clarity

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Purim will live on for eternity as a day of joy and festivity. After the arrival of Moshiach, the other Yomim Tovim will no longer be celebrated, other than to be remembered as part of the golus past.

Even estranged Jews appreciate the awe of Rosh Hashanah and listen to the cry of the shofar, but they have a hard time with Purim. They wonder how this can be a holiday. And what is the deal with the alcohol, the clowning around, and the lack of decorum?

The closer we are to the source of joy, the more joyous we are. When we attend a simcha, the better we know the people who are celebrating, the more joyous we are and the more we participate. People who complain about attending simchos demonstrate that they are incapable of having strong relationships or caring enough about other people to add the joy to their lives.

The more we are able to appreciate the source of the happiness of Purim, the happier we are and the longer we are able to experience that joy. People privileged to live Torah lives, connected to the meaning and flavor of life, experience Purim joy with added delight.

What is it about Purim that generates so much joy and elation? Even today, when people are dangerously apathetic, and so many hearts are numb and without emotion, we can still sense the simcha. There is a mitzvah to be happy on the Yomim Tovim. On Purim, it is so much easier for all to feel it.

The message of Purim is something everyone can identify with and appreciate.

Like a beacon of light on a dark, stormy night, Purim shines into our world. Everyone has struggles. We have days when events threaten to engulf us. We encounter people and situations that we find intolerable. We can feel lost and abandoned. We wonder why there is so much hate in our world and why people seem intent on destroying others. It bothers us and brings on a certain sense of despondency. We pine for proper leadership to fill vacuums and right wrongs. We need so much money to survive. Most of us endure many struggles to make ends meet. Every penny we earn is swallowed up, and now inflation is taking an even larger bite out of our wallets, making our struggle much more difficult. There are also many who are sick or suffering in other ways and eagerly await a yeshuah.

Yet, when Purim comes, worries are set aside and everyone joins in the celebration.

The Baal Shem Tov traveled through a tiny, forlorn town consisting of a few farmhouses and fields. The residents there were suffering from a severe drought. The lack of rainwater threatened the crops, and their livelihoods were in jeopardy. If the drought would continue, they would all starve.

When the Baal Shem Tov went into the shul, he saw the entire town –men, women and children – gathered there, listening respectfully to the words of a visiting maggid. The preacher was castigating the people for their misdeeds, telling them that their offensive behavior was causing Heaven to withhold the blessing of rain.

When the maggid finished, the Baal Shem Tov rose to speak. “What do you want from these people?” he asked the maggid. “They work long, hard hours, laboring under the blazing sun all day. When they have a few spare minutes, they rush to the shul to daven and learn a bit. What do you want from them? What type of message are you giving them?”

Turning to the crowd of farmers and their families, the Baal Shem Tov said, “Tayere Yidden, this is what you must know. We have a Creator with unlimited abilities, and He can do whatever He wants. He loves us and wants to shower us with blessings. So come, Yidden. Let us dance.”

The Baal Shem Tov led the simple townspeople in joyous dance. The circle of Jews began singing their thanks and praise to the Master of the Universe.

When they were done and left the shul to return home, they were greeted by a driving rain that turned the roads and fields into mud.

It rained and rained, drenching the happy townspeople as they danced their way home.

The Baal Shem Tov gave them reason to dance. The Creator loves us and wants the best for us. He can do anything.

This knowledge is like a bolt of lightning that lights up the night.

Throughout the year, we are confronted by various types of people and the vast spectrum of human behavior, from righteous and noble to incorrigibly evil and the many shades in between.

We live in a world where up is down and down is up. We have to resist being bowled over and led astray. No matter what comes over us and the world, we must maintain our equilibrium and faith.

Rav Yitzchok Hutner told of two men who were lost overnight in a forest. To survive in the thick blanket of darkness and terror, one man figured out how to see in the darkness, while the other sharpened his hearing to be able to perceive when danger was approaching.

Which of the two learned a more valuable skill?

Rav Hutner answered that it was the one who developed the ability to perceive sounds and identify them who possessed the more crucial expertise, because in the morning, when the sun comes up and the world is bathed in light, that skill will still be helpful to them as they remain lost in the forest.

When Moshiach comes, the ability to see in darkness will no longer be necessary, as the world will be filled with light. But the ability to hear the knock of Hashgocha and understand that every sound is an announcement of Hashem’s Presence will always be useful. Purim won’t ever go away, as it is the Yom Tov that teaches us to listen and hear the deeper message.

The story of Purim occurred in hester. What was really happening was hidden behind a façade of what appeared to be happening. What everyone saw and believed and read about and discussed was far removed from reality. What they perceived as darkness was actually light concealed.

We all have ups and downs. Sometimes things happen that cause us much sadness and pain, because we see them bringing us insurmountable financial loss, physical illness, or senseless aggravation we feel we don’t deserve. We fret and worry and despair. But when the fog clears and we are able to properly understand what happened, many times, in hindsight, we are able to appreciate that what happened was a blessing in disguise.

Other times, after davening and placing our faith in Hashem, believing that He cares for us and does what is best for us, we are spared from the calamity we were sure was headed our way.

When good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people, the Megillah reminds us that appearances are deceptive. The Megillah reminds us that everything that happens is part of a Divine plan, which we can’t expect to understand until the entire story has unfolded.

That message resonates wherever Jews find themselves. As we masquerade about exchanging mishloach manos with friends and distributing Purim gelt, we tap into the holiness and message of the holy day.

It is a message that never loses its timeliness.

Each year, as we study the Megillah and the story of Purim, we gain a new appreciation of what took place during those critical times and its relevance to us today. We gain a new perspective on life.

We have been close to the brink so many times yet have always been allowed to climb back up. How can we not rejoice?

One year, on Purim, surrounded by multitudes of chassidim hanging on to his every word, the Chiddushei Horim began speaking. This is what he said: “When we start reading the Megillah, we might wonder why we are being told stories about some Persian king. Why do we care that he feasted for three years after being crowned? We continue reading and are told stories about a queen who refused to attend a feast and her punishment. Then we read about the procedure of finding a new queen. And we wonder: Why do we need to know this?”

The rebbe was quiet, deep in thought. He sat up and answered his questions. “In the time of Moshiach,” he said, “many strange things will happen. Nobody will understand what is happening. And then, suddenly, they will realize that it was all tied to the geulah.”

To say that strange occurrences are taking place in our day is an understatement. We are confounded by the daily happenings, so many of which seem to make no sense. Soon the day will arrive when everything will become clear. For now, we have Purim.

Over the past couple of years, the world has had a string of extraordinary occurrences. As soon as one was gone, another popped up. Most prominently, a pandemic circled the world, killing too many people we knew and sickening many others. Some have not yet recovered. Schools were closed and then children were forced to wear masks. Who knows when they will catch up on what they missed?

Some people became very wealthy from the pandemic and government largesse, but many more lost their businesses and sources of income. Stocks plunged along with New York City real estate. Not everyone came back whole from the experience.

Who can forget the calamitous tragedy of Lag Ba’omer last year in Meron, so many lives taken in an instant, so many lives changed, upended. So much sadness in one small, holy place.

A couple of weeks ago, Russia, in a move many see as irrational, invaded a neighboring country and began waging a fierce war. The general peace that has reigned in Europe since the Second World War has been shattered, and it is possible that the world order has been changed. The war can have serious repercussions for hundreds of millions of people, and besides the terrible human toll it has already extracted, it has many other repercussions for people everywhere.

We hope and pray that these and the other tragic occurrences are stirrings of Moshiach, as Hashem prepares the world for the unveiling of the great light of geulah.

We all have stuff going on in our lives that we would love to wish away. There are many problems awaiting solutions. Life isn’t always perfect. We can get down. We can find it impossible to laugh and hard to learn Torah. There is an urge to withdraw from other people, pull down the shades, and cut ourselves off from the rat race.

But on this day, we all become Purim Yidden, connecting with each other, smiling, and exchanging gifts, drinks, hugs, and good vertlach. The stronger and more faithful among us endeavor to hold on to the day and maintain their Purim belief, enabling them to live wholesome lives.

On Purim, we disentangle from our usual habits, urges, appetites and things we think are life’s necessities, and are enveloped by Purim, its joy and its spirit. We get energized. We smile, laugh, sing and dance, because on this day, we have it all figured out and nobody can touch or harm us.

Esther is repeatedly tested throughout the period in which the story takes place. Each time, it appears that there is no way she can outmaneuver the evil facing her. She is galvanized by her hopes rather than her fears. She relies upon the sage counsel of her uncle, the Rosh Sanhedrin. With Mordechai’s support, fear can’t paralyze her.

Faced with situations from which we think there is no way we can extricate ourselves without getting hurt, we should remember Queen Esther and gain strength from the knowledge that by doing the right thing, she saved her people from certain destruction. By following Mordechai’s instructions, she became immortalized in the consciousness of the Jewish people as a righteous and strong woman who put the fate of her people ahead of her personal safety and happiness.

The Jews of Shushan taught a message that is passed down through the ages. They felt doomed. The lot was drawn and they thought their fate was sealed. And then, thanks to the leadership of Mordechai and Esther, Hashem heard their tefillos and accepted their teshuvah. A day marked for sadness and death was transformed into a day of celebration and deliverance for all time.

We can barely imagine what Purim was like in the Warsaw Ghetto in 1941. Many people there made their way to Rav Klonimus Kalman of Piaceczna, searching for direction. Looking around and sizing up their situation, they wondered how they could be expected to smile on this day, or if they were obligated to.

He looked at his brethren with his holy eyes and told them that the Zohar states that Purim is compared to Yom Kippurim. He said that just as on Yom Kippur we are commanded to fast whether we would like to or not, so too, we must be joyous on Purim, no matter who is marching around outside and how bleak things appear.

The Rosh Hashanah l’shonim, the first day of Tishrei, is preceded by a month of teshuvah. The first day of Nissan is Rosh Hashanah l’regolim, marking the beginning of the annual cycle of Yomim Tovim. The Sefas Emes suggests that just like the teshuvah in Elul prepares us for Rosh Hashanah, the month prior to the Rosh Hashanah l’regolim, Adar, is a teshuvah period.

But there is a marked difference between the two periods of repentance. During Elul, the teshuvah is brought on by fear of the impending judgment. During Adar, it begins as teshuvah mei’ahavah, repentance brought on by love, joy and anticipation.

On Purim, we are reminded that just as our ancestors were delivered from despair, so may we be spared of our burdens.

The simcha of Purim returns us to Hashem and sets us back on the proper way. We are reminded that there is no reason for despondency, and that negativism and pessimism are deleterious not only to our physical health, but also to our spiritual health and general wellbeing.

Even when it appears dark, the sun is shining somewhere, though it is not apparent to us. We must know that just as the sun will shine again over us, so will the clouds and darkness dissipate and things will straighten out for us.

It’s Purim. Dance, smile and be happy. Look at the positive. Be optimistic.

Purim is not an escape from reality. Purim is reality. Purim is a reminder of the reality that empowers the Jewish people with the clarity and awareness to continue on.

When we permit the spirit and lessons of Purim to remain with us after the sun has gone down, we become changed, happy, holy and blessed.

Permit the spirit of Purim to overtake you.

Before tekias shofar, the Jews of Salant would marvel at the change in the features of their rov, Rav Zundel. As he grasped the shofar, his face would radiate such holiness that it was difficult to look at him.

The Salanter Yidden asked him about the change that had come over him. Upon hearing what they said about his shining countenance, he sighed. “My rebbi, Rav Chaim Volozhiner, looked this way every morning as he lifted his tefillin out of the bag. Alas, I only experience this raised level of kedusha once a year.”

On Purim, look at the faces around you. At least on this day of the year, we see the truth. Look at the faces and you’ll see inner joy. You will see the happiness of belief. The joy of clarity. All year round, people have various looks on their faces, but the look you see on Purim is the truest face of all.

Let us resolve this year to do our best to maintain that level of holiness and joy, rooted in faith, all year round.

Ah freilichen Purim. Ah gantz yohr freilach.