We Are All Brothers

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Former President Donald Trump appeared at the recent Torah Umesorah Presidents Conference. In his message, he read excerpts from an excellent article by Rabbi Dov Fischer that listed Trump’s many accomplishments for the Jewish people and the State of Israel. The audience clapped as the former president listed what he had done. Stopped the Iran deal. Clap. Moved the embassy to Yerushalayim. Clap. Shut down the Palestinian embassy. Clap. And so it continued until he mentioned his commutation of Sholom Mordechai Rubashkin’s sentence five years ago on Zos Chanukah. With that, the audience rose and gave him a sustained, standing ovation.

The president didn’t understand why. He asked, “Is that more important than Iran?” And again, he wondered aloud, “Why is this getting the most applause?” He came back to it a few more times in his speech.

There wasn’t an opportunity to answer his question and explain it to him, but everyone in the audience knew the answer.

Because he is our brother.

Because at the end of the day, despite our differences, we care deeply about each other, as brothers do. When Sholom Mordechai was away, we davened for him, followed the case, attended rallies, wrote letters, contributed to the legal fund, and were genuinely disturbed by the injustice.

Rubashkin was personal. He is our brother.

Decades ago, when a plane carrying many Jews to Israel was hijacked and held in Entebbe, Jews around the world davened for the welfare of the hostages. Rav Chaim Shmulevitz, the rosh yeshiva of Yeshivas Mir in Yerushalayim, arrived in the bais medrash to deliver a shmuess about the situation, but he never said it.

He stood at the amud in the front of the large room and began to speak. He said two sentences and then became so overcome with emotion that he was not able to say more.

This is what he said: “If the prisoners would be your brothers, think about how much kavanah you would have as you say Tehillim for them.” After expressing that thought, he began to weep. Through his tears, he cried out, “And they takeh are your brothers.”

That was all he said. He didn’t have to say more.

This week, in Parshas Vayigash, Yosef finally breaks down and ends the charade he had been pulling with his brothers. Each time they had come to Mitzrayim in search of food for their families, he had found ways to torment them. In last week’s parsha, we learned how he forced them to bring with them their youngest brother, Binyomin, and then how he threatened to jail him along with Shimon.

But Yehudah would not go along with it. He spoke up to Yosef for the first time after having accepted various conditions and demands until now. When the stipulations related to the shevotim who were appearing before him, they were able to accept them, but now that Yosef was jeopardizing the freedom of their brother Binyomin, Yehudah, as leader of the brothers, stood up to him.

Yosef was overcome when he saw how much the brothers cared for each other. True, they had sold him, but as Yosef Hatzaddik was a man of faith and bitachon, he knew that they were only Hashem’s messengers and what they did was for a higher purpose. A baal bitachon doesn’t bear grudges.

Besides, Yosef had heard them discussing between themselves their regrets that they sold their brother into slavery and did not feel Yosef’s pain (Bereishis 42:21-21). While they had a serious halachic discussion before the sale and ruled that Yosef deserved to be sold, nevertheless, as bad things were happening to them during their Mitzrayim trip, they began thinking that they had erred in their ruling and repented.

With their brotherly feelings toward Yosef restored and the concern they had for Binyomin clearly portrayed, Yosef perceived that his objective had been accomplished and there was no further reason to pain his brothers. The brotherly love and feelings had been restored, and now the shevotim would be able to proceed to the next step in the formation of Am Yisroel and carrying out Hashem’s plan.

Yosef and Binyomin fall on each other’s shoulders and cried. Chazal teach that they were not crying over the pain of separation and the joy of reunion. They weren’t mourning their mother, whose tears would define a nation. They were crying over the churban of Mishkan Shiloh in the cheilek of Yosef. They were weeping over the destruction of the two Botei Mikdosh that would be built in the chelkah of Binyomin.

As brothers, they cried over events that would take place well ahead in the future, but were foremost on the minds of these great people who were concerned about their brothers and sisters, sons and daughters throughout the ages, to the times of great tragedy and destruction. They wept just as their mother Rochel would, and great people like Rav Chaim Shmulevitz did all through the centuries of our golus. They put aside their own personal feelings and concerns and became consumed with their brethren, because that is what being a Jew is all about.

The Chashmonaim were the same. They saw what was happening to their brothers and sisters and how Am Yisroel was getting swallowed up by the Yevonim, and they went to war, despite the great peril to themselves. With millions of Jews in danger of becoming lost, they didn’t think about their own personal welfare, but rather went to battle against a powerful army, armed with faith that Hakadosh Boruch Hu would cause them to emerge victorious, for when a brother is threatened, we do whatever we can to save him.

The lights of Chanukah, which brought joy and hope into our homes, proclaimed this message for eight days, providing us with energy to face our daily struggles. As the glow of the menorah fades, we struggle to hold on to its illumination.

One of the many lessons that emerge from analyzing the maasei avos in the parshiyos of Sefer Bereishis is that our forefathers viewed their experiences not as isolated incidents, but as part of something much bigger crafted by Hashem to lead us to the ultimate redemption. There are bumps along the way as well as periods and happenings of great elation. Our challenge is to always consider the fact that whatever course we are upon was charted by Hakadosh Boruch Hu for reasons larger than us and our circumstance.

Avrohom Avinu was on his way to the Akeidah when he saw Har Hamoriah looming in front of him (Bereishis 22:4). He visualized the future, the nitzchiyus, the smoke of the korbanos being olah lereiach nichoach, and all the glory that would yet come forth from that exalted spot.

He turned to his companions and inquired if they saw this as well. When they told him that they didn’t see anything up ahead, he told them, “Shevu lochem po im hachamor - Stay behind with the chamor, while I go up with Yitzchok on the mountain you don’t see or are aware of.”

Chazal explain that Avrohom was comparing his co-travelers to an “am hadomeh lachamor,” a donkey. Those who failed to see the mountain are similar to the animal that symbolizes base instinct, with neither depth nor vision. They are people who cannot see beyond the moment. The donkey sees what is directly in front of him and has no concept of the past and the future.

We read later in this week’s parsha of the emotional reunion between a father broken by longing for his son and the son torn from his father’s side while still a teenager (46:29). Yet, at this time, as they met, they didn’t discuss each other’s wellbeing, or catch up on the years spent apart, or simply say how happy they were that this moment finally arrived, but rather, Rashi (ibid.) tells us that Yaakov Avinu’s reaction upon meeting Yosef was to recite Krias Shema.

Yaakov had feared that he would never again see his beloved son. He was undoubtedly overcome with joy to see and hold him once again. But when he saw Yosef together with his brothers, Yaakov was witnessing a much larger picture than a reunion of individuals.

When he saw the achdus between the brothers, he perceived that his mission of creating the shivtei Kah could proceed. He saw how a circle that could only have been drawn by Hashem was coming together, and he knew that although they were now beginning another exile, Hashem brought them there for the greater purpose of founding Am Yisroel.

Thus overwhelmed, the words of Krias Shema sprang forth. The greatness and Achdus Havayah was plainly evident, and Yaakov celebrated the present and the future at that moment.

By seizing the perspective of the avos, we can rise above the seemingly endless stream of negativity, pessimism, grim prognoses, and dire warnings.

Similarly, Rabi Akiva was able to smile when he saw foxes making their way out of the holiest spot in the world, for he understood that as sad as the sight was, it had positive connotations, indicating that the world was a step closer to where it is ultimately headed.

So too in our personal lives, quite often, things do not go as we had planned. There are many bumps in the road. Things don’t turn out the way we want them to. Relationships sour, children don’t excel, jobs and careers go south, we don’t make enough money, we lose money, and we are under too much constant pressure. The list goes on and everyone has their own stories and pekel.

The avos call out to us and say, “Don’t get down.” The message of Chanukah reinforces us and our belief.

Moreover, Yosef’s message to his brothers (45:4-11) is relevant to each one of us in our situations. He told them not to become despondent over what they had done, selling him to a group of Yishmoelim so many years prior, because it was Hashem who had arranged for him to get to Mitzrayim years before so that he would be able to set up a place of refuge for them and feed them during the great hunger.

We need to learn his lesson and seek to put bygones out of our memories, relating to our brothers without rancor, for doing so is for the greater good and will help get us to the geulah. We mustn’t become angered and upset when things don’t go our way. We must recognize that it was planned so by Hashem for a higher purpose and to create good for us and our loved ones.

Through it all and everything that he had been through, upon revealing himself to his brothers, Yosef’s primary concern was their wellbeing, as he cautioned them not to be pained by what they had done. Their act had brought him years of untold suffering, yet he didn’t want them to be pained. His concern now was that his brothers should not suffer for their actions.

A Jew’s primary concern is the welfare of his brothers. And we are all brothers.

Ah Lichtigen Chanukah

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

On Chanukah, people wish each other in Yiddish, “Ah lichtigen Chanukah,” literally translated as “Have an illuminated Chanukah.” We wonder what the explanation of that blessing is and what it refers to.

The Rambam (Hilchos Chanukah 3:1) states that when the Yevonim ruled over Am Yisroel during the period of the second Bais Hamikdosh, they enacted various laws to prevent their Jewish subjects from following the Torah, while the Yevonim defiled their children and profaned the holy. Ultimately, the children of the Chashmonaim, the kohanim gedolim, rose up to battle their tormentors. With Hashem’s mercy, the small group of dedicated warriors defeated the superpower of the day and the Jews regained their freedom.

When the Chashmonaim recaptured the Bais Hamikdosh and purified it, they rededicated it with a celebration. They rebuilt the mizbeiach (Avodah Zarah 52), and they held an eight-day Yemei Hamiluim celebration (Meshech Chochmah, Beha’aloscha 10:10; Darkei Moshe 670:1). They relit the menorah with pure oil that survived the war and watched as it miraculously fueled the menorah for the eight days of the miluim.

The Gemara in Maseches Shabbos (21b) asks, “Mai Chanukah?” Rashi explains that the Gemara is asking for which of the many miracles that occurred at the time of Chanukah was the Yom Tov established? The Gemara answers that the Yevonim desecrated all the holy oil that was kept in the Bais Hamikdosh, and when the Chashmonaim emerged victorious, they found only one flask of oil possessing the seal of the kohein gadol. They poured the oil into the menorah, and although there was only enough oil to light for one day, it miraculously burned for eight. To commemorate this miracle, Chazal established an eight-day Yom Tov of Hallel and hoda’ah.

The Rambam follows this explanation of the basis for Chanukah. The tefillah of Al Hanissim which we recite on Chanukah also follows this approach. This supplemental prayer, recited during Shemoneh Esrei and Birkas Hamazon, mentions the miracles that took place during the battles with the Yevonim and concentrates on the consecration of the Bais Hamikdosh through the lighting of the menorah. The rebuilding of the mizbeiach and the Yemei Hamiluim celebration are conspicuously omitted from Al Hanissim. We wonder why.

The Ramban, in Parshas Beha’aloscha, shares the explanation of the juxtaposition of the parsha of menorah and that of the chanukas hanesi’im. Rashi explains that Aharon Hakohein was upset that neither he nor his shevet were given a role to play in the dedication of the Mishkon.

Hashem placated Aharon by telling him that his role was greater than those of the nesi’im who participated in the consecration of the Mishkon, because he prepared and lit the menorah each morning and evening, while the nesi’im’s role in the avodah was limited to just that one time.

The Ramban brings from the Megilas Setorim of Rabbeinu Nissim, who quotes the Medrash (Beha’aloscha) that Hashem told Moshe to tell Aharon not to be upset that he wasn’t included in this chanukas haMishkon, because He will perform miracles at the time of the second Bais Hamikdosh through Aharon’s grandchildren and the rededication of the Bais Hamikdosh will be through them.

Additionally, the Ramban cites the Medrash Tanchuma (Beha’aloscha) that Hakadosh Boruch Hu told Moshe to tell Aharon that the avodah of bringing korbanos, which was initiated by others, will end with the destruction of the Botei Mikdosh, but the avodah of lighting the menorah will carry on forever.

This continues until our very day, our kindling of our menorah serving as a source of consolation to Aharon.

And the question remains: How is what came many hundreds and thousands of years later a comfort to Aharon that he had nothing to do with the chanukas haMishkon?

We often cite the teaching of the Ramchal in Derech Hashem (4:7) that on every Yom Tov, the Divine light that was evident at the time of the miracle that the Yom Tov commemorates shines again. The hashpa’os that empowered the tikkun that we celebrate on each Yom Tov exist again every year on the date of the Yom Tov.

Thus, we can explain that Chanukah is not the celebration of an anniversary when something supernatural transpired years back. Rather, on these eight days, as we light the menorahs in our homes, included in the celebration is that the tikkun and Divine powers that led to the Chashmonai victory and other miracles such as the neis pach shemen are evident now and we can tap into them.

Not only that, but included in the celebration is that the superior ohr haganuz that was evident at creation and then hidden (Chagigah 12a) was shining during the victory and chanukas habayis of the Chashmonaim. The Rokeiach (Hilchos Chanukah 225) writes that that special light shines brightly on Chanukah.

Acharonim (Maharal, Bnei Yissoschor and others) write that the light of the ohr hagonuz shines from the lights of the menorah. Each time we light a ner chanukah, we are bringing more of that light into the world, and if properly tuned in, we can benefit from it.

Perhaps it is this concept that consoled Aharon. Hakadosh Boruch Hu explained to Aharon that the tikkun that he brought about every day through his kindling of the menorah in the Mishkon would be apparent and reinstituted in the second Bais Hamikdosh, when his offspring would light the menorah after vanquishing the enemies of the Jewish people.

That same Divine light and power that Aharon brought into the world would be brought into the world at the time of the Second Bais Hamikdosh and caused there to be an increase in the depth of Torah study during that period. It is also manifest every year on Chanukah, as Jews around the world light the menorah.

Aharon was consoled when he recognized that his shlichus would carry on eternally. The light and the powers that he brought to this world as he lit the menorah would continue for all time. Aharon’s avodah is eternal and remains vibrant still today.

Thus, our celebration of the chanukas haMishkon and our commemoration of the wondrous miracles evident in the Chashmonai war center around the miracles pertaining to the finding and lighting of the pure crucible of shemen zayis that had the seal of the kohein gadol.

Aharon Hakohein, through his dedication to the Mishkon and the kedusha implanted in Am Yisroel, instilled in the Jewish nation the ability to bring about holiness and spiritual light until our time in the darkness, decadence and immorality of golus comes to an end.

Thus, the great tzaddikim and Jews who take Yiddishkeit seriously are overcome with fervor and emotion as they light the menorah, for they recognize – as we all should – that when we light the menorah, we are not just striking a match and causing a wick to absorb oil and give off light. We are proving the promise of netzach Yisroel, as Hashem promised Aharon that Jews would be lighting the menorah on Chanukah until the end of time.

On these eight days, when we light the menorah, we are empowered to bring about and benefit from the special hidden light that generally remains hidden until the coming of Moshiach.

We are also proclaiming that the tikkun habriah introduced by Aharon Hakohein back in the midbar was perpetuated in the Botei Mikdosh and is reintroduced every year on Chanukah. If we dedicate ourselves properly to the mission of kedusha and taharah, we can obtain the ability to shine and see through the darkness, just as the Jews did in Mitzrayim in the time of choshech, as the posuk states, “U’l’chol Bnei Yisroel hoyoh ohr b’moshvosam.”

Much the same, Chazal make a point of informing us that the pach shemen was certified as pure by the kohein gadol in order to teach us that to tap into the koach that manifests itself during these days, we must maintain purity of purpose and action. We cannot expect to be vehicles of light if our souls and bodies are swamped with nonsense and impure conduct.

Today, it is easier than in perhaps any time of our history to become corrupted in action and thought. Every time we dial into what is known as social media, we are setting aside our heritage from Aharon and the Chashmonaim of training our bodies, senses and intelligence to be focused on living lives of bnei and bnos Torah and allowing ourselves to be influenced by nonsense and worse. Without even realizing it, and by sticking to what we think are trivial pursuits of simple, superficial pleasure, we are in essence dialing down our thought process and corrupting our sense of right and wrong. Little by little, we lose the traits we are known for and become rude, crude, dishonest, untrustworthy, and unfaithful to our hallowed traditions and codes of behavior.

Our act of kindling the menorah is part of Aharon’s consolation, because through our lighting, we demonstrate that we want to continue his mission of bringing kedusha to this world and living the type of life that would bring him pride. We show that we are searching for the light and want to burn away the darkness of the exile with the light of holiness. We are proclaiming for all to see that we yearn for the ohr haganuz to once again light up our world as it did before.

That is why the Chanukah miracle is celebrated by kindling lights in our homes facing the street. That is why the mitzvah is to light the menorah as soon as the sun starts going down and darkness starts spreading across the sky.

That is why the shiur that Chazal gave for the duration of the lights is “ad shetichleh regel min hashuk.” The lights of the Chanukah menorah should remain lit as long as there are people out on the street.

As long as people are out in the public thoroughfare, we need to remind them of the miracle. We need to prominently remind them not to yield to the darkness.

We gather our families around us and light the menorah to proclaim that Hashem felled the mighty, the many, and the evil. They were demolished by the weak, the few, the just, and the holy.

Hashem had mercy on us and fought our battles, causing the zeidim to fall into the hands of the oskei Torah. We sing songs of thanksgiving and Hallel, and we remind ourselves that, in our day as well, the Yevonim, in other guises, continually attempt to trap and kill us.

We have to be ever vigilant, for the forces of Hellenism are ever present. They cloak themselves in the guise of enlightenment and intellectual purity, as they accost us with cleverly worded prose, but their intention is to keep us in the darkness and prevent us from venturing forth to find and benefit from the ohr haganuz, the great light that outshines all the fake lights and fake interpretations of Torah and mesorah that the Soton puts forth to curb our historic growth and poison the minds of our young and old.

In our day, the modern Yevonim hide behind the power of the pen, the web, the blogs, and populist demagoguery to attack us. Misyavnim throw wild charges at us. As the Torah world that nobody ever thought would amount to much flourishes, Misyavnim seek to overwhelm us with glitz and glamour, encasing their messages with love and hate, Torah and, lehavdil, apikorsus, and plain old stupidity, all designed to weaken the bond and untie the knots that form the chain that stretches back to Aharon Hakohein on the day of the chanukas haMishkon.

I know I’ve cited this story before, but its message calls out to me as I light the menorah, so I shall share it again.

The Brisker Rov spent Shabbos in a hotel for the sheva brachos of one of his sons. The Rov, as is the habit of others, did not benefit from electricity on Shabbos in Eretz Yisroel because the electric production facilities are operated by Jews. A talmid volunteered to arrange for the hotel to provide a large room in which the electricity was off for them to daven and eat in.

For whatever reason, the job wasn’t done, and when the Rov walked into the room, the lights were shining brightly. He immediately left that room and found a small, dark area where there was no light. He announced that they would be using that room over Shabbos.

In obvious distress, the talmid approached the Rov to apologize. “I am so sorry that the large room is lichtig (illuminated),” he said.

The Rov responded with a surprised look on his face. “Dort iz lichtig?” he asked, indicating the first, well-lit room. “That room is illuminated? No, it is not. Doh iz lichtig!” he said, pointing to the small, darkened room around him where the people sat preparing to daven and celebrate the Yiddishe simcha.

The world calls out to us with all types of lights and flashing things, but we must remember that as far as we are concerned, those shiny objects are dark, for they really are. Where mitzvos are kept, where there is Torah, there is light, no matter what anyone says or thinks.

Always remember that and you will merit to benefit from the ohr haganuz, the great Divine light, this Chanukah and for eternity with the imminent arrival of Moshiach.

Ah lichtigen Chanukah.

Never Give Up

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Just like life, the history of the Jewish people is comprised of highs and lows, mountains and valleys. Much of what transpires is only understood in hindsight. Often, things look bleak and gloomy. It appears as if there is no hope. Everything is closing in. And then the looming clouds separate and light begins slipping through. Eventually, life is bright again.

We deal with all types of people. We try to lift the weary, gladden the downtrodden, and bring light to those for whom everything appears dark. We speak to them softly, lovingly, and with much patience.

We attempt to light small flames of hope within their hearts, shed light where there is confusion, and offer friendship where there is loneliness and solace where there is pain.

We do our best, yet we never know if those flames will remain lit and take hold, burning brightly and amending the trajectory, or whether the storms that are life will extinguish the sputtering flame. But we do our thing. We do what we can and we hope and daven. We anticipate that one day, all of those small flickering flames will join together and form a torch in the person we longed for.

Until the day of the redemption arrives and the world becomes bathed in the light of kedusha, chochmah and understanding, there are days when we hear news that is too difficult to bear. Life throws us awful twists and we think, “Ovdah tikvoseinu. All hope is lost.” We feel beaten, overwhelmed and devastated. We put so much effort into a person, or a project, or a case, or a deal, and it appears as if we failed.

The Chofetz Chaim would relate a parable about a visitor who came to town and had an opinion about everything. On Shabbos, he went to daven in the big shul. As the gabbai gave out the aliyos, the visitor sat in wonderment. The man who was obviously the most prominent in town was passed over, as was the person who had all the marks of a senior talmid chochom. The way the gabbai chose to do his job made no sense. Why this one and why not that one? There was no rhyme or reason for his actions.

The flabbergasted guest approached the gabbai to tell him off. The seasoned veteran smiled patiently, saying to the man, “You’re here for one week. Stay here a few weeks, maybe longer, and you’ll begin to understand. As for the aliyos, the g’vir has yahrtzeit next week and will get his aliyah then. The talmid chochom made a simcha last week; he and his family all had aliyos for the occasion. Everything I did was calculated, but to appreciate what I do, you need to stay here longer.”

The Chofetz Chaim would conclude by saying, “Ich bin shoin an alter Yid. I have been around this world for a long time, and I am just beginning to perceive the small things that are evidence of the plan with which Hashem runs the world. Sometimes you have to wait fifty years to watch things come full circle.”

The parshiyos that we have been laining the past few weeks and those that are forthcoming are cases in point. We read this week the sad account of Yosef being sold into slavery by his brothers. We are astounded each year anew by their act, compounded by the fact that they returned home and told Yaakov Avinu that his most beloved son had been killed by an animal. Yaakov, as Chazal tell us, refused to accept their story.

The Torah then tells us the story of Yehuda and Tamar, another astounding tale, for which the explanations are wanting, until what transpired is viewed through the prism of history and the Yad Hashem becomes evident.

We learn of Yosef’s sale to an Egyptian minister and how he ended up in jail on trumped-up charges. Apparently, in unrelated news, two ministers were jailed with Yosef. Then they had a dream and we know the rest of the story.

Nothing happened by chance.

Years later, the world was hit by hunger and Yosef’s brothers were forced to travel to Mitzrayim in search of sustenance. While there, they were confronted by the viceroy, who seemed intent on preventing them from obtaining food. He threw one bureaucratic obstacle after another in their way, making their lives miserable.

At the beginning of Parshas Vayigash, Yehudah recounted their conversations since they had been coming to Mitzrayim to purchase food for their large family. He retold that the minister had asked whether they had a father and a younger brother. He said that they explained that their father had already lost one of the two sons from one of his wives, and if he would lose the second, he would surely die. The food minister didn’t care and forced them to bring their young brother if they wanted additional food. When they brought their brother on their return visit, he was taken away. Yehudah recounted how brokenhearted their father was over the loss of the older son and how they could never face him again without taking the young son back home with them.

When it seemed that a head-to-head battle was imminent following Yehudah’s powerful argument, the minister, who had seemed determined to cause them maximum anguish, suddenly sprang forth and said to them, “Ani Yosef. I am Yosef.” He then asked them, “Ha’od avi chai? Is my father still alive?”

Yosef’s question was, in fact, an answer. He was aware that their father was still alive, as that had been a central point in the brothers’ arguments during their prior meetings and in Yehudah’s arguments to him. He was, in fact, answering Yehudah, “You claim to be so concerned about your father’s welfare? Where was your anxiety and concern when you pulled a young boy away from his doting father, selling him into Egyptian servitude?”

The posuk relates that the brothers were unable to respond to Yosef - “velo yochlu echov la’anos oso ki nivhalu miponov.” They were speechless, embarrassed by this rebuke, devastated as the realization of what they had done sank in.

Yosef brought them close and told them not to be depressed or angry: “Al tei’atzvu ve’al yichar be’eineichem. It was to keep us alive that Hashem sent me here, losum lochem she’airis ba’aretz, to establish a place of refuge for us in this country.

“It wasn’t you who sent me here. It was Hashem. Don’t worry. All that has occurred isn’t because of your mistakes, but, rather, was merely a chapter in a grand Divine plan. Al tei’atzvu! You were merely messengers, characters in a story written by the Author of creation. Now rush home to my father and tell him that I really am alive.

“You will then all return here with your father and your families, cattle and sheep. I will feed you and care for you so that you do not die of hunger in Canaan. Please tell my father of all the honor I have here. Tell him everything you have seen and rush back here with him.”

The overwhelmed brothers returned home bearing news they knew would bring much joy to Yaakov. They returned home proclaiming, “Yosef is alive and he is a ruler in Mitzrayim.”

Surprisingly, when Yaakov heard that Yosef was alive and a ruler in Mitzrayim, he reacted differently and rejected the news. He didn’t believe it. “Ki lo he’emin lohem” (Bereishis 45:26).

It seems inconceivable. Yaakov Avinu had a special relationship with Yosef and deeply mourned his loss. Why would he not believe that Yosef was alive? Shouldn’t he have been relieved to learn that his beloved son was indeed living? To compound the problem, the very next posuk relates, “Vayedabru eilov es kol divrei Yosef asher diber aleihem…vatechi ruach Yaakov avihem.” When Yaakov heard all the words that Yosef had spoken, he was revived.

What was the reason for his initial doubt and what was it in the words they shared that convinced him?

Perhaps we can suggest that the fundamentals of emunah were playing out here just beneath the surface. Yosef Hatzaddik had survived several miserable experiences that would have broken men smaller than he. Orphaned of his mother, he clung to his beloved father. Then he was cut away from his father and cast aside, despised and scorned. He fell deep, almost into the clutches of aishes Potifar, tested yet again. When he persevered in maintaining his integrity, he landed in prison. Things were dark. Life was bleak. There was little hope for a productive future or a happy ending to his saga.

Yet, when he was reunited with the shevotim who ruined his life, he promised that he bore them no ill will and had no hard feelings. He told them that there is a Master of the world who writes the script. “Al tei’atzvu,” Yosef said. “Don’t be depressed. He calls the shots, not you or anyone else. Life has peaks and valleys, but we never know which is which. What seems to be a curse is often a blessing and vice versa.”

The shevotim returned home, eager to share with their father that his beloved Yosef was alive. But they faced a dilemma. They had originally told Yaakov that Yosef had died. They had shown him as evidence his shirt which they had bloodied. “Chaya ra’ah achalasu. A wild animal ate him. Tarof toraf Yosef. He was ripped apart,”

Now, in order to tell Yaakov that Yosef was alive, they were forced to admit what they had done. They had to tell him that they sold their brother to traveling merchants and created a story to fool him. They had to tell him that he was not really ripped apart by a wild animal, but that they had soaked his kesones pasim in the blood of a goat they had slaughtered to be able to create the fictitious event.

It was to this missing link in the story that Yaakov reacted. He was unable to accept that his own sons had sold Yosef, acting in a way that was so callous and filled with hatred. When the posuk says, “Lo he’emin lohem,” it means that Yaakov didn’t believe that his sons had been capable of such an act and refused to accept that version of the tale. It may have been easier to believe that Yosef was dead than to think that his own children had sold their brother into oblivion and lied to their father about what they had done. He couldn’t believe it.

Yet, what the brothers did next made all the difference. Following Yosef’s instructions, they shared with him kol divrei Yosef, the entire message that Yosef had shared with them - the reminder that we are but pawns in His hands and that actions that seem so destructive are actually the groundwork for construction.

They told their father Yosef’s message: “Al tei’atzvu ve’al yichar be’apchem ki mechartem osi heinah.” They told Yaakov that Yosef said that they shouldn’t be upset or depressed about having sold him. They told Yaakov that Yosef explained to them that Hashem had arranged for him to be transported to Mitzrayim so that he could establish a place of refuge where they would be able to live while hunger prevailed in their homeland.

The posuk relates that when Yaakov heard this, “vatechi ruach Yaakov,” he not only believed them, but upon hearing the lesson Yosef taught, his spirit returned. He was revived, because along with the good news came a message of chiyus.

Yosef’s message explodes with meaning and beauty. There are easier times and harder times, but it is always by design.

Yosef taught the brothers an enduring lesson in emunah and how little we know and understand about what is going on. Yosef told the brothers that we are all like the visitor to the shul who felt authorized to give his opinions, not realizing that he had no concept or clue of the bigger picture.

Jewish history is replete with souls planted in a location where they could best impact others. Sometimes, they had to be uprooted and replanted elsewhere, causing no small amount of hardship, but in the end, the Divine precision became clear.

There is a mesorah regarding the arba’ah shvuyim, the four captives. Four Rishonim, all great gaonim, were traveling to a wedding via Italy, when pirates overtook their boat and captured the passengers. The three gaonim, Rav Shmaryohu, Rav Chushiel and Rav Moshe (the name of the fourth is unknown), were sold into slavery and ended up in North African countries. Providentially, they brought with them the Torah of Bavel and laid the groundwork for the emergence of great yeshivos there.

No doubt they were despondent, as they were viciously chained, but in time, they realized Who was really leading them along and the greater purpose of their suffering.

This was true in our recent history as well, as the Holocaust devastated the European Torah world. A few hardy souls were waiting in America to greet the limping remnant. Most of these European immigrants had come to America before the war because they were forced to, perhaps due to hunger or some other threat. In time, it became clear that they were sent there lefleitah gedolah.

My grandfather, Rav Eliezer Levin, was one of the many who survived what appeared at the time to be tragedy. He had taken a leave of absence for one year from his rabbonus in Lita when his relatives dragged him to America. Fearing for his life as the winds of war circled over Europe, they brought him here and arranged a rabbinic position in Erie, PA. Needless to say, he couldn’t adapt to Erie and wanted to return to his beloved Vashki and to his wife, children and baalei batim.

The thought of bringing his family to die a spiritual death in Erie frightened him. But he couldn’t return to his hometown. He had left his rabbinic position there in the hands of a trusted friend, who agreed to serve as rov until he would return from America. The friend would gain serious experience, aiding him in his pursuit of a position. However, when Rav Levin wrote that he was coming home to reassume the position, the friend was devastated. He said that he would never get another job and pleaded with Rav Levin to let him stay there, asking Rav Levin to find himself a different position.

Although it was his father-in-law’s position, which he had inherited and occupied for several years, Rav Levin didn’t have the heart to unseat the man from the job. Meanwhile, his family members secured a rabbinic position for him in Detroit. With no choice, he moved there and sent for his family. With their meager possessions and several of Rav Levin’s seforim along with kisvei yad of his father-in-law, the family set sail on one of the last boats to leave Europe before the war broke out. They arrived here just ahead of the destruction of Lithuania. The rabbi of Vashki and the entire town were wiped out. No one survived.

Rav Levin played a key role in establishing a Torah community in Detroit and actively assisted the roshei yeshiva of Telshe as they started their yeshiva in Wickliffe, Ohio, after being stranded here. His own children would emerge as prominent rabbonim and roshei yeshiva in this country, providing “michyah,” spiritual sustenance, “she’airis,” and “pleitah gedolah” as the generation faced starvation.

He would recall that when he arrived in Detroit, there were over thirty rabbonim in the city. Some of them wondered who needed another rov, especially a greenhorn immigrant who didn’t speak a word of English. But Rav Levin was the only one among them who sent his son away to yeshiva upon his bar mitzvah. Thanks to his mesirus nefesh and stellar chinuch, Rav Levin’s son, Rav Avrohom Chaim, went on to found the Telz Yeshiva in Chicago and earn much fame and prominence, raising thousands of talmidim, as well as turning Chicago into a Torah city and influencing thousands of people there and around the country through his Torah leadership. This week marks Rav Avrohom Chaim’s fourth yahrtzeit and he is sadly missed.

Examine the history of the rebirth of Torah in this country and around the world and you will find similar stories of people who had lost most or all of everything and everyone they had known and became virtual refugees. Miraculously, they survived the Holocaust, reestablished themselves, and planted the seeds of a recovering nation now blossoming larger than ever before.

Stories of Hashgocha Protis abound. Tales are often told about  people being in the right place at the right time, thinking that they are in the wrong place and bemoaning their fate, only to learn that fate had intervened on their behalf. The stories depict how the Divine Hand reached down from Heaven and plucked the protagonists from disaster, with neither their knowledge nor acquiescence.

We know stories of people who had thought their world was closing in on them and their life was ending, only to learn later that their salvation was cloaked in what at the time they perceived as torture.

But it is not enough to read and be reminded of those stories if we don’t realize that our life is also comprised of such stories. Look back at what you’ve gone through and your experiences throughout life, and you will see the Yad Hashem evident in all.

But when you have a bad day and things don’t go according to plan, remember the call of Yosef as he says, “My brothers and sisters, grandsons and granddaughters, al tei’atzvu. Don’t despair. Don’t be desperate. Don’t think it’s all over. Never give up.”

When it seems as if the bad guys are winning, when you feel all alone, when your teacher or boss or child has screamed at you, or when you feel as if you’re at the end of your rope, know that it is not yet over and the plot will change. Sometimes it happens quickly, while other times it takes longer to see the sun behind the clouds. But you must know that it is always there.

Yosef calls out to us throughout the ages and proclaims to never become despondent. People may mock you, take advantage of you, and question your abilities and stability. Don’t give up. Al tei’atzvu. Maintain your faith and you will be able to overcome your adversary, even if he is more powerful than you. It may take time, but ultimately you will succeed and Hashem’s kindness will become apparent to you.

Golus Jews

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Yaakov Avinu is referred to as “The Av of Golus.” Though he wasn’t the first of the avos to be exiled, he spent much of his life in exile and handed down lessons for us to survive and succeed in exile.

The Torah states that when Moshe Rabbeinu, who had grown up in the palace of Paroh, left and saw the suffering of his brothers in Mitzrayim, “Vayar besivlosam – And he saw their pain.” The Chiddushei Horim adds a component to what Moshe saw. He writes that “sivlosam” hints to the idea that his brethren had begun to be “soveil” what was transpiring. They were tolerant of the sad reality and accepted it as a fact of life.

When Moshe saw that, he perceived that they were in deep trouble and that it was time to begin agitating for their release. They had begun to accept the Mitzri culture, its depravity no longer abhorring them. They had become accustomed to being slaves and accepted it.

As bnei Avrohom, Yitzchok and Yaakov, it needs to bother us that it is becoming acceptable to hate Jews. Rising numbers of people tell pollsters that they don’t hire Jews. Professional athletes and cultural trendsetters are becoming more vocal in their hatred for Jews and are repeating old, worn tropes about us. Democrat politicians are increasingly brazen about their anti-Israel policies, and we know that couching their hatred this way is essentially just a more diplomatic way to say that they can’t stand Jews.

For others, Palestinians as a prominent example, hatred is not enough. They aim to kill and destroy anything Jewish.

What are we to do about it?

Parshas Vayishlach is a guide for relations with the world. Chazal state that chachomim who traveled to Rome would carefully study this week’s parsha before setting out on their missions. As our chachomim throughout the ages studied this parsha and Yaakov’s behavior before confronting the exile, we must do the same.

The Ramban writes that the parsha “contains a hint for future generations, for all that transpired between our forefather Yaakov and Eisov will happen to us with Eisov’s children, and it is fitting for us to follow the path of the tzaddik (Yaakov).”

Throughout the generations, the children of Eisov sometimes present themselves as brothers concerned with our welfare, while other times their evil intentions are more apparent.

No matter how they present themselves, our response to Eisov remains the same. We deal with Eisov the same way our forefather Yaakov did.

The posuk says, “Vayishlach Yaakov malochim lefonov el Eisov ochiv” (Bereishis 31:4). Yaakov sent malochim to his brother, Eisov, to let him know that he was returning to the Land of Israel, seeking a peaceful brotherly reunion.

What was the message Yaakov sent to convince his wicked brother to retreat from his threats to inflict bodily harm on Yaakov? He told the malochim to tell Eisov, “Im Lovon garti, although I lived many years with our wicked uncle Lovon, taryag mitzvos shomarti, I observed the 613 mitzvos.”

The parsha and the dealings between the brothers have historical significance. They are written in the Torah for us to learn from as we navigate our golus experience. There are several issues that bear explanation to understand the message Yaakov sent Eisov. Yaakov chose to send malochim, actual angels, rather than human messengers (Rashi 32:4). Why? And since when does man have the ability to send angels on missions with messages? Furthermore, why would Eisov even care that Yaakov was able to maintain his lofty levels while living by Lovon? Of what interest was it to him that Yaakov had observed the 613 commandments?

Chazal teach that the performance of mitzvos creates malochim. Every time we do a mitzvah, a malach is created. The Vilna Gaon taught that since every word of Torah studied fulfills a mitzvah, it follows that every word of Torah we study creates a malach. The malochim created surround us and protect us from harm.

In his message, Yaakov was telling Eisov, “You won’t just be fighting me and my family. If you go to battle against us, you will be fighting the malochim created by the 613 mitzvos I fulfilled in the house of Lovon. Lest you think that I fell under his influence, be forewarned that I am the same Yaakov ish tom you knew back home. Im Lovon garti, vetaryag mitzvos shomarti. There will be thousands of malochim defending me as I enter your turf. Beware.”

There is no protection stronger than the Torah. The Gemara (Sotah 21a) teaches that Torah and mitzvos are magna umatzla; Torah and mitzvos protect a person. Torah study and mitzvah observance create a fortress, a protective wall.

At the yeshiva of Sheim V’Eiver, Yaakov merited learning Torah, and in the house of Lovon he learned Torah through suffering and challenge. He rose above the distractions and oppression, creating malochim the entire time. Try as he may, Eisov would not be able to escape that fact and knew that he would not be able to defeat Yaakov.

The Chofetz Chaim participated in the construction of a hospital in Radin. At a meeting of sponsors, wealthy philanthropists each announced how many beds he would sponsor. They turned to the Chofetz Chaim and asked how many beds he would sponsor.

“Fifty,” he said.

“Oh, wow,” the board members said, impressed.

The Chofetz Chaim explained that the Torah studied by the bochurim in his yeshiva protects the town and prevents illness and suffering. In their zechus, the town would require fifty fewer hospital beds.

Torah saves lives. Malochim created by observance of mitzvos and limud haTorah stave off punishment, creating a security fence that saves lives and prevents pain and suffering.

To help our situation in the world, the first thing we can do is create malochim. Every time we learn, every time we do a mitzvah, every time we daven, we must do so with an awareness that we have the ability to impact the balance of power in this world. Every time we make a brocha and every time we answer amein to a brocha, we create an angel of protection.

The Gemara in Maseches Brachos teaches that the tefillah of Arvis/Maariv was instituted by Yaakov.

Yaakov was the first av to go into extended golus. Yaakov also had the most difficult life of the three avos. From the womb until his passing, he was beset by trouble.

The tefillah he instituted is recited in the dark and signifies that even in times of darkness, a Jew never gives up. He maintains his faith and can exude and bring holiness into the darkness of exile.

Every time Yaakov was beset by a problem, he grew from it. His parents sent him into exile to escape from Eisov and to find a wife. He took advantage of the opportunity and studied in the yeshiva of Sheim V’Eiver for fourteen years before going to Lovon. He encountered the angel of Eisov, and rather than surrender to defeat at the hands of the higher power, he battled him to a stalemate and extracted a brocha for himself and his future generations.

Lovon cheated him out of his wages, so Yaakov made a deal to obtain his money in payments of spotted sheep and then designed a way to cause sheep to give birth to animals bearing the uncommon markings.

The Maharal (Derech Chaim 5) teaches that the experiences of each of the three avos parallel different periods in Jewish history. Yaakov corresponds to our final golus under Edom, in which we find ourselves today. Just as Yaakov Avinu traveled a difficult, dark path until he tasted peace, so will his descendants travel a lengthy golus before the eventual redemption.

As we learn the account of Yaakov Avinu’s struggle with the malach, the sar of Eisov, in this week’s parsha, we can sense that in these pesukim lies the secret to a destiny that would prove to be an enduring battle between the forces of kedusha and tumah, good and evil. It’s the battle that defines our mission, both as individuals and as a nation, always forced to fight for what’s right and holy.

Often, we are confronted by obstacles and hindrances. We are ready to give up and allow the forces of evil that torment us to win. Sometimes, people think that they are doomed, with no way out. Survival becomes a daily battle. However, if we summon our inner strengths, we will find within us resources of energy and resilience to keep on going, just as Yaakov did.

The parsha recounts (35:21) that following the passing of Rochel Imeinu, Yaakov and his sons traveled on, setting up camp near Migdal Eider, where they enjoyed a rare moment of tranquility and relative quiet. Targum Yonasan Ben Uziel writes that this place, “meihol’oh leMigdal Eider,” is the location from where “Moshiach will reveal himself.”

The aspect of maaseh avos siman labonim carries through here as well. Yaakov’s rest symbolizes our respite from the bitterness and pain of golus. After the battles, after the wars, after enduring the chicanery of Lovon and the depravity of Eisov, Yaakov merits some tranquility. And so shall we.

The Jewish road is strewn with obstacles, and that is the biggest testimony that ours is the path to victory. We keep marching on, secure that there’s a plan.

Instead of becoming bitter and asking, “Why me?” Yaakov looked at each new day as a fresh opportunity to learn more Torah, establish a holy family, and toil in the vineyard of Hashem following his father and grandfather. Thus, he was successful in what he did, fulfilling his mission as he prospered and prevailed.

Some people have problems and grow despondent. Yaakov saw them as opportunities. He was never let down, never got down, and was never put down or defeated. His example guides us in our golus. Often, things don’t go the way we planned. We are upset by people we counted on. We lose friends or chavrusos. We didn’t get the job we wanted. We were turned down for a shidduch. We couldn’t come up with the money we needed to get into a deal. Our child didn’t get accepted into the yeshiva, seminary, school, or playgroup we wanted.

We have to take each disappointment  as an opportunity to go after something better and more appropriate. Instead of becoming angry and resentful, we should objectively examine what happened and analyze what we can do better the next time. We don’t become negative and pessimistic. Rather, we remain optimistic and remember that everything that happens in this world to us personally, to other people and to the community occurs because Hashem willed it so. And we remind ourselves that Hashem cares about us and wants the best for us. Therefore, we can learn from whatever it is that transpired, and become improved and better people for it. We can turn around what happened and continue on, looking forward to the day when we will perceive what happened as a beneficial bump along the way, propelling us on to something better.

When I was in Eretz Yisroel recently, I had the good pleasure of meeting Rav Shimon Biton, who works for Lev L’Achim, establishing and monitoring shiurim and learning groups in the Be’er Sheva area. I asked him to tell me about himself. The people in the group prodded him to tell me “The Asher Yotzar Story.”

This is his story, which tells us so much about him, the type of person he is and the type of people the tzaddikim of Lev L’Achim are, and it bears a lesson for all of us.

A few days before this past Pesach, Rabbi Biton began suffering from terrible stomach pains. One evening, the pain was unbearable, so he headed to the Siroka Hospital emergency room. An MRI test was conducted, and it was determined that he was suffering from an abdominal blockage, which the doctors said required immediate surgery. They said that they would operate first thing the next morning and he would be hospitalized for some days following the surgery.

He called his wife to tell her the diagnosis and that he would have surgery the next morning, explaining that he would have to be in the hospital at least until Erev Pesach and maybe longer. She began to cry bitterly, “I can’t manage without you. All the children will be home from school. Everything will be flying. How will I be able to prepare and cook for Yom Tov?”

She knew it wasn’t his fault, but she was inconsolable. He knew he had to do something. He went outside, away from everyone, and lifted his hands, eyes and heart heavenward. He began to speak and cry out to Hashem.

“Hashem, you afflicted me with this pain. If Rav Chaim Kanievsky were still alive, I would have someone drive me to him. He would tell me what to learn as a segulah, give me a brocha for a refuah sheleimah, and I would be all better. But Rav Chaim is no longer with us. That is not my fault. My wife is home crying and I must do something.

“I know that You are merciful. I know that you are causing me this pain for a reason, for me to better myself. I promise that from now on, every time I say Asher Yotzar, I will do so with much kavanah. Please have mercy on me and accept this improvement and heal me.”

With that, he went back inside, got into his hospital bed, and went to sleep. He awoke early and davened. Shortly after he finished, the orderlies came to take him down to the surgery room. They gave him a few consent papers to sign. He asked to have the MRI done again before the surgery. They called down to the surgeon and he refused, saying that the insurance wouldn’t cover it and that it would cause his surgery schedule to be off kilter.

But Shimon Biton insisted and said that he wouldn’t sign the forms without another test. The doctor checked and the machine was available, so he relented and the test was administered.

The doctor read the results and was astounded. “Mah asita! I can’t believe this! The blockage is gone. There is no more blockage. Everything is clear. I’ve never seen anything like this. No surgery for you. You can go home! Chag sameiach!”

Like a quintessential golus Jew, when Rabbi Biton had a problem, he didn’t become broken. With emunah sheleimah, he used it as an opportunity. He reached out to Hashem, davened, and engaged in self-improvement. And he was rewarded.

May Hashem have mercy on all of us, hear our tefillos, and reward our limud haTorah, bitachon and shemiras hamitzvos with the geulah sheleimah bekarov.