A Rising Light Extinguished

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

The first parsha of the Torah, which discusses the creation of the world and its beginning years, represents potential and the future. On Shabbos Bereishis, we begin the weekly cycle of Torah study—a new beginning, brimming with promise for the coming year.

Yet, almost as soon as Shabbos Bereishis ended this year, we began receiving messages, urging tefillos for Rav Shlomo Halioua, the beloved rosh yeshiva of Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin. The initial requests were marked by a frantic urgency, yet no one knew what had struck him down so suddenly. There was mention of an infection, but nothing more. Within hours, however, the tone shifted. The words became more grave. Rav Shlomo, they said, was in critical need of rachamei Shomayim. He was in the ICU, battling a severe infection.

And then, before we even had time to grasp the magnitude of his illness, he was gone. A young rosh yeshiva, a scion of families rooted in Torah greatness, his presence embodied the grandeur and dignity of the yeshiva he led, Chaim Berlin, a legacy founded by Rav Yitzchok Hutner and carried forward with unwavering dedication by Rav Aharon Schechter.

Rav Shlomo Halioua represented this legacy not only through his knowledge and character, but through the warmth and gadlus that permeated his very being.

Though his tenure at Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin was brief, his influence was immediate and profound. His talmidim were drawn to his insightful shiurim and his meticulously crafted maamorim, treasures of Torah wisdom that resonated deeply with each listener.

Rav Shlomo was a quiet and humble masmid, a tremendous talmid chochom whose every word and action displayed an inherent nobility. Those who knew him saw not just a rosh yeshiva, but a leader in the making, a potential rebbi to thousands, poised to leave an indelible mark on the Torah world.

Yet, just as he stood at the threshold of greatness, the middas hadin struck with unyielding force, leaving us devastated and bewildered by the sudden loss of yet another gadol b’Yisroel. Woe is to us. “Shekulah misas tzaddikim k’sereifas Bais Elokeinu.”

It is not for us to know the Divine plan, but we must heed the messages that Hakadosh Boruch Hu sends us. We must commit ourselves, each in our own way, to a life of increased Torah learning, mitzvos, and achdus. Now, more than ever, as we endure the chevlei Moshiach, as we commit to deeper study of Torah, we must anchor ourselves in the mitzvos that will hasten our redemption—teshuvah and achdus—so that the suffering of our people will come to an end and the Bais Elokeinu will be rebuilt.

When Rav Aharon Schechter, rosh yeshiva of Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin, was niftar, I felt compelled to share the profound and enduring connection that I feel for that extraordinary yeshiva. It holds a unique place in my heart. As a young yeshiva bochur, an esteemed mispallel in my father’s shul, a person I had come to greatly respect, invited me to attend a maamar delivered by his rebbi, Rav Yitzchok Hutner, on Chol Hamoed Sukkos.

At the time, I was just a young boy from Monsey who had barely set foot in Brooklyn, and though I had heard of Rav Hutner’s greatness, I had never experienced it firsthand. Yet, thanks to the encouragement of his talmid, Reb Matis Greenblatt, I decided to attend the maamar. I didn’t know what to expect, and yet it surpassed anything I could have imagined. The experience was nothing short of transformative. The maamar, and every detail surrounding it, captured my mind and heart. The Torah that Rav Hutner imparted was like nothing I had encountered before—profound, poetic, and alive with meaning. His voice was soft yet vibrant, painting concepts with a clarity and beauty that caused the Torah to dance in my mind long after his words had ceased.

The scene itself was unforgettable. Rav Hutner sat regally at the head of the table, surrounded by senior talmidim, each one transfixed by the richness of his words. The entire setting exuded a reverence and awe that matched the gravity of the Torah being shared. I was spellbound, utterly captivated by the majesty of it all.

Years have passed since that day, yet the memory remains vivid, as does the deep impact it had on me. I was privileged to attend more maamorim with Reb Matis, and although I never had the honor of a personal conversation with Rav Hutner, his teachings opened my heart to the world of Maharal and machshovah, and he earned a permanent place in my heart alongside his yeshiva.

Later, when I became involved with Torah Umesorah, I was drawn back to that hallowed bais medrash, where Rav Aharon Schechter had already established himself as a leader among roshei yeshiva. Rav Aharon played a pivotal role in communal leadership, giving of himself to organizations like Torah Umesorah, where he was closely connected to Rav Shea Fishman. It was through Rav Shea, who had studied under Rav Hutner and was intimately familiar with his teachings, that I was introduced to Rav Aharon.

Rav Aharon welcomed me with kindness and generosity, drawing me close with a warmth that was both aristocratic and deeply human. He represented the highest ideals of gadlus ha’adam, of a talmid chochom conducting himself with inherent dignity. There was a unique quality to the way he spoke with people. Everyone felt special, honored to be in his presence. Every encounter with him was elevating, and I was always touched by the profound respect that he showed for each person he met.

For several years, I had the privilege of sitting with Rav Aharon at the Torah Umesorah convention, sharing Shabbos seudos in his private dining room. Those moments were treasures, as Rav Aharon, enveloped in the kedushas haShabbos, led the seudah with a sanctity and joy that filled the room. The zemiros, the divrei Torah, and his insights into the parsha were delivered with a passion that was unmatched, and I felt honored to be included among his close family and talmidim. Though I was technically an outsider, he welcomed me in, making me feel like family.

Once, someone approached him and asked why he had allowed me into his private circle, as I was not technically a talmid. With his signature warmth, Rav Aharon replied that he considered me “an honorary talmid.” It was a comment that touched me deeply, one of many moments in which he extended himself with kindness and grace.

On one memorable occasion, during my first visit to Camp Morris, I went to greet Rav Aharon and casually mentioned that it was my first time there. Without hesitation, he offered to give me a tour of the camp himself. He climbed into my car, and with the pride of one introducing a friend to his home, he directed me around the campus, pointing out each building and landmark. His love for the yeshiva was palpable, and I felt privileged to see it through his eyes.

The rosh yeshiva attended several of my family’s simchos, including my children’s weddings and a vort in Brooklyn. Each time, his presence was a cherished honor, a testament to the bond between us. In Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin, once a talmid, always a talmid, and the roshei yeshiva were steadfast in their devotion to their talmidim. Rav Hutner and later Rav Aharon were involved not only in their talmidim’s Torah growth, but in guiding them through life’s complexities. Each talmid was set on a unique path, tailored to their individual strengths and aspirations, with the rosh yeshiva’s unwavering guidance helping them find success both in Torah and in life.

The Chaim Berlin roshei yeshiva had “breiteh pleitzes” and were prime leaders, accepting responsibility and working for the klal, through organizations and by helping and supporting individual communal leaders, rabbonim, roshei yeshiva, askonim, and regular good Jews. In his short time at the head of the yeshiva, Rav Shlomo Halioua followed their tradition in communal affairs as well.

Even in his youth, Rav Shlomo’s qualities shone brightly. As a young bochur in Yeshiva of Brooklyn, Rav Shlomo was marked by a chashivus that set him apart, a quiet dedication that became his hallmark. Known among his peers as a baal middos and masmid, his commitment to learning was unwavering. Together with the recently departed tzaddik Rav Velvel Finkelstein, he achieved national recognition by winning the first National Pirchei Hasmodah Contest, an honor that reflected not only his natural brilliance but his tireless dedication to Torah.

Rav Shlomo hailed from an aristocratic family, a lineage of rabbonim and marbitzei Torah that had nurtured Torah in Morocco for generations. This noble heritage traced back to Rabbeinu Bachya Ben Asher, an illustrious forebear whose Torah insights continue to enlighten minds centuries later. Cognizant of his legacy, Rav Shlomo carried the responsibility and reverence for Torah that had been passed down through the ages. From his earliest years, he knew that every moment he invested in learning brought him closer to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. His limud haTorah was not just study. It was an act of weighty avodah, through which he reached greater spiritual heights.

Throughout his formative years, Rav Shlomo had the extraordinary privilege of learning under some of the era’s most towering figures. His learning under Rav Binyomin Paler, Rav Feivel Cohen, Rav Avrohom Yehoshua Soloveitchik, and, of course, Rav Yonason David and Rav Aharon Schechter established a strong foundation, both in hasmodah and in the clarity of thought that would come to define him. Each rebbi instilled in him values that would become intrinsic to his character—iyun in Torah, rigor in his avodah, and a humility that was ever-present.

As his reputation grew, so did his stature among his peers, who recognized in him not just a masmid, but a tremendous lamdan and person of depth.

A person who thinks everything through very carefully grows in Torah and succeeds. A person who spends hours deep in thought, working through the intricacies of a sugya, becomes a lamdan. Rav Shlomo spent hours poring over the intricacies of each sugya, never satisfied until he arrived at a conclusion that was both profound and rooted in truth. This amkus was his natural inclination, an extension of his deep ahavas haTorah.

As an ish tzonua, he was careful not only with his thoughts, but with his words, thinking through each question posed to him before offering a response. He carried himself with a quiet dignity, never seeking the limelight, but consistently earning the respect and admiration of those around him. It was this humility that marked him as a gadol baTorah—a person who understood that true greatness is found in service to Torah, in refining oneself to be a vessel for Torah. He attempted to hide his greatness in Torah, but in the yeshiva all knew that he encompassed the many facets of gadlus.

Rav Shlomo’s life was a constant process of growth, of horeving over Torah and avodah, reaching new depths of understanding with each passing day. Through his relentless dedication, he not only became a man of wide-ranging Torah knowledge, but also succeeded in every facet of his life. This ascent was not a matter of ambition. It was a natural result of his avodah, an unending journey toward ever-greater heights in Torah, middos, and closeness to Hakadosh Boruch Hu.

He continued along the path hewed by the previous roshei yeshiva of Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin, studying and teaching the sugyos of Shas, as well as the seforim of the Maharal, the Ramchal, and the Vilna Gaon, to reach a lofty understanding of Torah, mitzvos, and all of creation.

Therefore, the promise of the Torah was realized in him, and he succeeded in his role as rosh yeshiva of a foremost yeshiva, taking over from his legendary rebbi and father-in-law, who followed in the path paved by his own rebbi, Rav Hutner, leading the yeshiva and its talmidim to grow and succeed in their unique, glorious path in Torah.

May his memory, the example he set, the Torah he studied and taught, and what he stood for be a zechus for his wife, children, grandchildren, talmidim, and all of Klal Yisroel.

A Holy Connection

Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

The Jewish world has undergone a tremendous change since Sukkos ended last year. It was as if once the Yom Tov that celebrates Hashem’s protection of the Jewish people in the midbar and throughout the ages ended, Hashem, for reasons unknown to us, removed His protection for ten hours and a terrible massacre resulted.

By the time it was over, 1,200 of our brothers and sisters were killed, bombed, burned, and mutilated in a historically horrific manner. Over three thousand were wounded and 251 were taken hostage.

Those who believe saw the Yad Hashem at work. When He protects us, nobody can touch us, but when He removes the protection, the highly respected army is inept and impotent in the face of our enemies.

What can we do to earn Hashem’s protection? We know that the study of Torah creates protection for Am Yisroel, as Chazal say (Sotah 21a), “Torah magna umatzla - Torah protects and saves.”

Mitzvos do not necessarily protect as Torah does, but they make us holy and bring us closer to Hashem’s embrace. Rav Chaim Volozhiner writes (Nefesh Hachaim 1:6) that as soon as a person undertakes to perform a mitzvah, it connects to its shoresh, its root in Heaven, causing the “ohr hamakif,” the “holy light,” to attach itself to him and for kedusha to hover over and surround him. He explains that this is the reason that we recite the brocha of “asher kideshonu b’mitzvosav,” thanking Hashem for making us holy through His mitzvos.

The mitzvah of sukkah, however, protects those who sit in it.

The Ramchal (Derech Hashem, Avodas Hazeman, Sukkah) discusses the Ananei Hakavod that protected the Jewish people in the midbar. He says that they consisted of six clouds that surrounded the Jewish people on all sides and a seventh cloud that paved the way for them, straightening out the ground they were to traverse and killing all matters of pestilence on the way.

While the Ananim appeared to offer only physical protection, directing the nation as they traveled to Eretz Yisroel and keeping their enemies at bay, there was also a spiritual shield. As the Ananim surrounded them, the Jews were able to understand that they are a chosen people and separate from all the nations of the world. The Ananim thus signified for the Jewish people that they lived on a higher, more spiritual plane than everyone else. That awareness helped them live up to their potential to serve as a holy nation.

While we no longer have the Ananim to protect us physically, their spiritual protection is still present for those who are worthy. There is a spiritual light that emanates from Shomayim and surrounds the tzaddikim, separating and raising them from the others. Tzaddikim, though they are with us in this world, are removed from many of the physical aspects of our lives and operate on a higher, spiritual level.

The Ramchal writes that on Sukkos, all of Klal Yisroel is surrounded by the walls and roof of the sukkah, which are reminiscent of the Ananei Hakavod that surrounded the Jews in the midbar, setting them apart. When we sit in the sukkah under the tzeila demehemnusa, we are on a different level, separated from everyone and everything.

To understand the depth of this statement, we quote the Maharal (Chiddushei Aggados, Rosh Hashanah 16b), who discusses the difference between the life of a tzaddik and the life of a rasha. A tzaddik is connected to Hashem, the Source of all life, whereas a rasha, even when he is alive, is disconnected from Hashem. A tzaddik is therefore referred to as alive even after his neshomah has passed into the other world, because he remains connected to Hashem as he was in this world. A rasha is referred to as dead, because even in this world he is not connected to the Source of life.

With this, we can understand what the Ramchal writes in his peirush to the Rosh Hashanah machzor. He states that when we say “chaim,” it refers to those upon whom the kedusha shines and connects to, for they are the ones who are connected to the Source of all life and are thus considered living.

On Sukkos, everyone who enters a sukkah is connected to Hashem on the level of the great tzaddikim, as the Zohar says that when we sit in the sukkah, we are in Hashem’s shadow. In the sukkah, the light of kedusha shines upon us as it shines upon tzaddikim all year. On Sukkos, we have a special connection to Hashem.

This is why on Sukkos we are joyous, as the posuk (Devorim 16:14-15) states, “Vesomachta bechagecha vehoyisa ach someiach.” Sukkos is Zeman Simchoseinu, because on these days, we can attain the highest levels that man can reach.

The Tur (625) asks that the sukkah mentioned in the posuk (Vayikra 23:42-43) refers to the Ananei Hakavod, which protected the Jews upon their exit from Mitzrayim. Therefore, it should follow that the Yom Tov of Sukkos, which commemorates the Ananei Hakavod, should be during Nissan, the month the Jews left Mitzrayim, and not during Tishrei, following the Yomim Noraim.

Many quote the chiddush of the Vilna Gaon (Shir Hashirim 1:4) that the Ananei Hakavod we commemorate on Sukkos are not those clouds that surrounded and protected the Jewish people when they left Mitzrayim. Instead, he says, what we are celebrating on Sukkos is that Hashem returned His Shechinah, via the Ananim, to the Jewish people following the sin of the Eigel. When the Jews sinned, Hashem had removed His Shechinah and the Ananim from them.

Moshe Rabbeinu went up on Har Sinai to plead for forgiveness for the Jewish people and returned when they were forgiven on Yom Kippur. The next day, 11 Tishrei, he addressed the Bnei Yisroel and informed them of the mitzvah of constructing the Mishkon. He appealed to the people to donate the materials necessary to build the Mishkon, which would, so-to-speak, be the home of the Shechinah in this world.

The Torah relates (“baboker baboker,” Shemos 36:3) that the people brought their donations for the next two days, the 12^th and 13^th of Tishrei. On the 14^th of Tishrei, the builders of the Mishkon weighed, measured, and accepted the gold and other materials from Moshe. On the 15^th, they began to build the Mishkon. The clouds returned as the construction began.

Sukkos, says the Vilna Gaon, celebrates the return of the Shechinah cloud that was dependent on the construction of the Mishkon. That happened on the 15^th of Tishrei, the first day of Sukkos.

His explanation answers a question posed by the Chasam Sofer, who asked why we only commemorate the Ananei Hakavod on Sukkos, despite the fact that they protected the Jews every day of the year in the desert. Now that the Gaon has taught us that our celebration is not for the daily protection the clouds afforded us, but rather for the return of the Ananim altogether, Sukkos is the perfect time to commemorate that, as that was when it happened.

Rav Meir Simcha of Dvinsk (Meshech Chochmah, Shemos 23:16) strengthens what the Gaon says, stating that prior to the deliverance of the second Luchos (Shemos 23:16 and 34:22), the Torah refers to the Yom Tov as “Chag Ha’asif.” It is only later on (Devorim 16:13) that the Torah refers to the Yom Tov as “Chag HaSukkos.”

Observing Sukkos during Tishrei following the Yomim Noraim has the added benefit of bringing us to the level the Jews were on following Hashem’s acceptance of their teshuvah after the chet ha’Eigel. Just as Hashem returned His Shechinah to them and shined the light of His countenance upon them, so too, following our teshuvah, Hashem shines His light upon us b’tzeila demehemnusa, in the sukkah.

Additionally, Rabbienu Bachayei writes in his sefer Kad Hakemach that proper observance of the mitzvah of sukkah leads to ruach hakodesh.

This may also be why on Sukkos we merit visits from the Ushpizin. Because we are on the level of great tzaddikim, with the special ohr shining upon us, we have a direct connection to kedusha, and if we are zocheh, we have a bechinah of ruach hakodesh. It is only on Sukkos that the avos can visit with us mortals.

Since the sukkah envelops us with kedusha, we perform the mitzvah of sukkah with our entire body, unlike other mitzvos, such as tefillin, which we do with our arms and head.

With this, we can understand the ruling of the Mishnah Berurah (639:2) that when inside the sukkah, we should discuss Torah and holy matters and minimize mundane and silly talk. He adds that we must be careful not to speak lashon hara or rechilus there.

When we sit in the sukkah, we are b’tzeila demehemnusa, with Hashem’s light shining upon us as we are connected to Him. Since lashon hara causes the Shechinah to depart, we are cautioned to abstain from speaking lashon hara in the sukkah. Also, in order to maintain the special, rare, and holy connection, we must prove ourselves worthy of it.

We hope that the new year will prove to be an improvement over the year that, thankfully, has ended. Our brethren in Eretz Yisroel are still living in the shadow of a war being fought on seven fronts. It is obvious once again that Eretz Yisroel is the proverbial sheep among seventy wolves. Jewish boys and men are fighting and dying to protect the country. We see that when Hashem assists them, they are victorious, but when we don’t merit the Divine protection, anything can happen. We daven that the zechus of Torah protect our people and that we merit peace for Eretz Yisroel.

On Sukkos, we proclaim our faith in Hakadosh Boruch Hu and leave our comfortable, protected homes to live outside in a very temporary fabrication. The Sefas Emes (654) writes that just as those who sit in the sukkah earn the protection of the Ananei Hakavod for placing their faith in Hashem, so too, those who forsake the trappings of Olam Hazeh and cleave to Hashem and His mitzvos earn kedusha and the shield of the Ananei Hakavod.

The Vilna Gaon said that the most difficult mitzvah to perform is the obligation to be happy on Yom Tov: “Vesomachta bechagecha vehoyisa ach someiach.” The mitzvah obligates us to be in a state of happiness for the duration of Sukkos, even in the face of troubling or tragic situations that may befall us and cast a specter of gloom.

In prior generations, observing the mitzvah of sukkah didn’t always come easy. In der alter heim, Sukkos weather was often inhospitable to being in a sukkah. When coming to this country, many were not able to build their own sukkah and had to shlep their food to a communal sukkah. Shabbos complicated the situation even more. Zoning laws banning the construction of “sheds” were used to deter Jews from building a sukkah, and that was just one of the easier problems. In the concentration camps, everyday life hung by a thread, and a sukkah presented its own challenges. Jews literally risked their lives for the opportunity to partake of their meager rations b’tzeila demehemnusa.

As they sat on the floor of their humble sukkos, they felt the warm embrace of the holy light. Despite their privations, with intense simcha shel mitzvah, they joyfully recited the brocha of “asher kideshanu b’mitzvosav v’tzivonu leisheiv basukkah,” thanking Hashem for sanctifying them and giving them the mitzvah of sukkah, despite the difficulties involved. And then they made the brocha of Shehecheyanu, thanking Hashem for being with them and keeping them alive during that awful time.

Things may be rough, but nothing any of us is going through compares to what Jews experienced throughout the centuries leading up to ours. Nothing is comparable to being in a Nazi concentration camp, confronted by a pogrom, the Inquisition, the Crusaders, or the rabid anti-Semitism of the church, the communists, and the socialists. Yet, during all periods, Jews observed the mitzvos of sukkah and daled minim with devotion, fervor, and inner joy.

When we see a sukkah, we are looking at proof that even today we are not alone. The Shechinah is with us. When we see people surround the bimah, holding aloft their daled minim, we are witnessing proof that “netzach Yisroel lo yeshakeir.” Life can be tough, but there is no reason to be down.

We are never alone. Hashem is always with us.

Yogeil Yaakov is a 13-year-old boy who was taken captive last year on Shemini Atzeres. He was held as a hostage for 52 days and then freed in an exchange. He wrote about what happened when he came out.

“When I returned, I right away told everyone that I wanted to start wearing a kippah and tzitzit. They laughed in my face and said to me, ‘What, are you crazy? What do a kippah and tzitzit have anything to do with you getting out?’

“When I was held in captivity, what kept me going was that I felt I was not alone. I believed that Hashem was with me the whole time I was held. He was watching over me.”

This is what a secular boy wrote. The truth is that Hashem watches over all of us. If we go through our day, year, or specific experiences and contemplate them in retrospect, it becomes obvious that whatever happened was because Hashem willed it so. Wherever we are and whatever is going on, we are never alone and should never feel alone.

Sukkah reinforces the feelings of Hashgocha Protis, and through that lens, we are better able to appreciate ourselves, our lives, and what happens to us personally, collectively, and to the world.

As we sit in our sukkah and recite the Shehecheyonu, we should reflect on our blessings, on all the good we have, and how blessed we are to be living at this time, when we can freely observe mitzvos and hear the footsteps of Moshiach getting increasingly louder as they get closer to us.

Have a good Yom Tov.

New Beginnings

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz 

It is interesting that although Rosh Hashanah is included in the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, we don’t mention teshuvah in our tefillos and don’t recite the viduy as we do during the rest of the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah. Why?

We are all familiar with the Medrash (Shir Hashirim Rabbah 5:2), which states that Hakadosh Boruch Hu proclaims to Klal Yisroel to open within themselves an entrance for teshuvah the size of a needle’s eye, and He will open for them gateways wide enough for wagons to pass through.

The meaning of that Chazal is understood together with the Gemara (Yoma 38b), which teaches that “haba letaheir mesayin oso,” Hashem provides assistance for those who want to purify themselves.

We can understand this further by recognizing that on Rosh Hashanah we don’t speak of teshuvah. Instead, much of the avodah and tefillos center on Malchiyos, acknowledging Hashem’s Kingship over the world.

In last week’s parsha, Nitzavim (30:11), Moshe Rabbeinu tells the Jewish people that the mitzvah he is commanding them that day is not difficult to perform. The Ramban, in his commentary, explains that Moshe was referring to the mitzvah of teshuvah.

This raises a question: How can we say that teshuvah is easy, when it requires a person to undergo permanent behavioral change, which is often quite challenging?

We can answer that when a person performs a mitzvah or learns Torah, that action draws him closer to Hashem and brings upon him kedusha and life itself. As the posuk in Mishlei (3:18) states, “Eitz chaim hi lamachazikim bah”—the Torah is a tree of life to those who grasp it.

Conversely, when a person sins, he loses a measure of kedusha and vitality, as the limb associated with that aveirah becomes spiritually weakened. Moreover, committing the aveirah distances a person from Hashem and creates a separation between him and his Creator.

The first step in teshuvah is to acknowledge that everything in our lives and the world comes from Hashem, and that we are subservient to His will. Once we recognize Him as our King, it naturally follows that we must obey Him and strive to be connected to Him.

Therefore, says the Ramban, teshuvah is a simple matter. Any person without an agenda to do whatever his heart desires, looks at the world and what takes place in it and can easily see that the world and all its creations did not come into existence on their own. Anyone who looks at any living creature and examines it can see intricacies that only Hakadosh Boruch Hu could have created.

Anyone who takes even a cursory glance at the events of this world or studies history—especially the history of the Jewish people and their miraculous survival through centuries of persecution by nations that sought to destroy them—must recognize that there is a Supreme Power pulling the strings and making everything happen the way it does.

Take a look at what has unfolded in Eretz Yisroel over the past year, beginning on Shemini Atzeres, when rampaging Gazans killed and wounded thousands of Israelis. People were left questioning how the highly regarded Israeli army and intelligence services could have been so incompetent. There seemed to be no way to comprehend how such a calamity could have occurred.

And now, almost a year later, the same people who were so inept were able to pull off a brilliant string of successes against their Hezbollah enemies to the north of the country. From sidelining many fighters by blowing up their beepers and walkie-talkies and totally demoralizing the entire group to methodically ridding the world of Hezbollah’s commanders and heads, one by one and in groups, until they killed its very leader, the Israeli army and intelligence teams had a string of spectacular successes.

How can it be that the group that couldn’t stop wanton murder of so many of its citizens now appears invincible? Of course, the answer is that their successes and defeats are coordinated by Hakadosh Boruch Hu. When He wants them to win, He makes everything go amazingly brilliant for them, and when He wants them to lose, they are the gang that couldn’t shoot straight.

When a person recognizes that Hashem created and runs the world, he understands that he should be following Him and conducting himself as Hashem expressed in His Torah. 

So, the first prerequisite for teshuvah is to recognize that Hashem is the Melech. Therefore, on Rosh Hashanah, as we earnestly engage in teshuvah, we concentrate on Malchiyos, on acknowledging and celebrating Hashem’s sovereignty. Once we accomplish that, the rest of teshuvah is easy, because everyone understands that they must follow the Melech. Not only must we follow, but anyone who understands that Hashem is the Source of all life and His Torah is the tree of life comprehends that it is for their own benefit to follow Him.

We then hear the blasts of the shofar, which awaken us from our apathy and poor habits, and we become aroused to return to Hashem and His embrace. Thus, the word teshuvah has at its root the word shov, which means to return.

So yes, it is easy to see that the world is Hashem’s. He created it and controls it. Once we recognize this, it becomes simple to decide to observe His commandments. Not only is it easy, but when Hashem sees that a person is turning to Him, He immediately welcomes him and lifts him closer, enabling him to approach, reconcile his past misdeeds, and resolve to remain in Hashem’s embrace.

Thus, we ask, “Rachameinu keracheim av al bonim. Show us the mercy that a father shows his children!” When a child falls and is not able to pick himself up, the father bends down and lifts his child up to him. So too, Hakadosh Boruch Hu helps every person who has fallen and seeks to raise themselves. Especially during Elul, the seforim say, “HaMelech basodeh. The King has come to the field,” for during this month, Hashem lowers Himself, as it were, and makes Himself available to us to enable us to do teshuvah and return to Him. What we need to do is realize that He is here, waiting for us, and desire to be reconnected with Him. He does the rest.

During the period in which Rav Shmuel Rozovsky served as rosh yeshiva at the Ponovezh Yeshiva, there was a boy who decided that he was no longer interested in living the frum life that he was born into and lived until learning in Rav Shmuel’s shiur. He abruptly left the yeshiva and signed up for the army. He deserted his friends, who, in turn, deserted him, and there was no contact between them anymore.

Initially, he enjoyed the army life and was satisfied with the drastic change he had made. However, after a few months on the army base, he began feeling increasingly uncomfortable. His conscience began eating at him and he started feeling bad for throwing away everything he had previously cherished. His soul was starving and he was missing his friends and everything else about his previous life. But he knew that he had made the change and there was no going back. He would have to make the best of his new situation.

One day, a sign appeared on the bulletin board stating that he had mail. He was thrilled that somebody was finally writing to him. He racked his brain to try to figure out who in his old world would write to him. He couldn’t imagine.

He went to the office to pick up the letter. On the envelope, there was no return address, but the name Shmuel was written as the sender. He didn’t remember any friends named Shmuel. His curiosity was piqued.

He ripped it open and this is what the enclosed note said: “My dear friend, regardless of what happened to you, and no matter where you currently find yourself, I want to meet you and talk to you.” It was signed, “Your friend, Shmuel Rozovsky.”

The sender was none other than the world-renowned rosh yeshiva, Rav Shmuel Rozovsky. He trembled with excitement and resolved to meet his former rebbi. But he was in the army, and in the army, you can’t just pick up and leave—even to meet Rav Shmuel Rozovsky. He was surrounded by gates and fences, with no way to get permission to go anywhere.

So, he jumped over the gates and fences and made his way to Bnei Brak to Rav Shmuel’s home. They spoke for a few hours, and when they were done, the boy decided that he was going back to where he belonged.

On Rosh Hashanah, Hashem reaches out to us, inviting us to return to where we belong. This day marks the beginning of Hashem’s Kingship, as it is the day man was created. As His Kingship is renewed, so is the potential for each of us to be renewed. We each have the opportunity to rectify our mistakes and reclaim our rightful place and position in this world.

We are encouraged to do teshuvah and bring ourselves closer to Hashem. After having gone through the month of Elul, we are prepared to make those changes as we enter the Yom Hadin and the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah. We reflect on our behavior over the past year and strive to do teshuvah for the times we acted improperly in our interactions with others and in observing the halachos of the Torah.

We declare our desire to return to the way we were before we sinned, before we adopted negative middos and bad habits. We say, “Hashem, we want to return to Your embrace, confident in the knowledge that You created this world and guide every part of it. You await us and our tefillos, eager to grant us a blessed, happy, healthy, and successful year, as only You can. We ask You to please accept our tefillos.”

Hayom haras olam. Today is the day of creation. Not just back when the world was created, but also today and now.

Hayom yaamid bamishpot kol yetzurei olamim. Today, the forces of creation are strongly present, as Hashem judges all His creatures and decides what type of year they will have.

Rosh Hashanah marks a new beginning for everyone. The realization that we can start over gives us the confidence to understand that, although we may have made mistakes and taken wrong turns, we are not doomed to remain where we don’t truly belong. Through teshuvah, we can rectify our actions as if we never strayed. It is a day of new beginnings for the world and for each of us. If we seize this opportunity, we can transform ourselves, emerge renewed, and be granted a better life in the year ahead.

Rosh Hashanah provides us with the awareness that we can change. In the shofar’s plaintive wail, we hear echoes of the blasts that were sounded at Har Sinai, when Klal Yisroel was formed into the nation of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The shofar then proclaimed a new beginning. The world had reached its destiny. Ahead was much hope and promise.

The shofar was also blown at Yovel. When we blow it on Rosh Hashanah, it hints at the independence of the Yovel year, the collective song of freedom chanted by so many released slaves going home to begin life anew. The earth, as well, joins in the process, as land returns to its original owners at Yovel. We are reminded that we can all start again. We can get a fresh start, with a new lease on life. Whatever happened in the past will stay in the past. It won’t weigh us down. We can get rid of the things that didn’t go right, the things we did wrong, and the mistakes we made, and begin anew, unencumbered by what was.

The Ramchal writes that when the shofar is blown by us in this world, it strengthens that which was accomplished at the time of Matan Torah [the tikkun] when the shofar was blown, and it helps bring about that which will happen [the tikkun hasholeim] when the shofar gadol will be sounded and the world will reach the destiny for which it was created.

May we all merit for Hashem to hear our tefillos, accept our teshuvah, welcome us to His embrace, and have the Great Shofar blown to herald that the geulah has arrived.

Kesivah vachasimah tovah.