Lessons Big & Small

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

This week we study Parshas Chayei Sarah, as we continue our trek through Sefer Bereishis, learning about our forefathers and mothers so that we can follow in their ways.

While the Torah reports on the passing of Sarah Imeinu, the Medrash provides additional context about what brought about her death. It explains that the Soton told her about the akeidah, and she was so overwhelmed by the pain of the thought that she died.

At first glance, it seems obvious that if Avrohom had gone through with the initial plan and Yitzchok had died, Sarah Imeinu would certainly have passed away upon hearing such news.

However, Rav Elya Ber Wachtfogel, in his recently published sefer on chumash, Even Me’irah, says otherwise.

He recounts an incident that occurred in Yerushalayim, when people were gathering to daven in the minyan of Rav Yehoshua Leib Diskin. Someone entered the room and reported that a fire had destroyed the shop of one of the people present. Upon hearing that his source of livelihood had been destroyed, the shop owner, overcome by pain and anguish, fainted.

Immediately, Rav Yehoshua Leib declared with certainty that the report was incorrect and that the store had not burned down.

After they finished davening, some people went to investigate and found that the rov was indeed correct. The fire had not affected the man’s store. It was another shop that had been destroyed.

When they returned to Rav Yehoshua Leib, they asked him how he had known that the man’s store was still standing.

Rav Yehoshua Leib explained that when Hashem gives a person yissurim, He also grants him the strength to deal with the challenge. “When I saw the man faint upon hearing the news,” said the great gaon, “I knew that his store had not been consumed by the fire. If it had been his store, Hashem would have given him the strength to cope with the loss.”

Rav Elya Ber applies this principle to Sarah Imeinu. He explains that if Yitzchok had indeed died at the Akeidah, Hashem would have given Sarah the strength to deal with her loss. However, because there was no gezeirah to pain Sarah with the death of Yitzchok, she lacked the strength to process the false report from the Soton that Yitzchok had passed away.

We study the parshiyos and uncover profound lessons in the stories they tell of our avos and imahos, lessons that we can apply to our daily lives.

If, chas v’shalom, unfortunate things happen in our lives and we are beset by pain and loss, we must remember that we are provided with G-d-given strength to face and overcome those challenges. Nothing ever happens to us that we cannot endure.

As the parsha continues, we learn how Avrohom Avinu sent his trusted aide, Eliezer, to his homeland to find a wife for Yitzchok.

When Eliezer arrived in the city of Nachor in Aram Naharayim, he davened for Hashem to send him the girl destined for Yitzchok. He also devised a test to confirm that he had found the right girl: If the girl he met would not only offer him water to drink but would also offer to give water to his camels, Eliezer would know that she was Yitzchok’s intended.

The posuk (24:17) tells us that Eliezer saw Rivkah approaching, and he ran toward her to perform his test. Rashi cites the Medrash that states that Eliezer ran because he saw that, as she approached the watering well, the water rose toward her. The Sifsei Chachomim explains that Eliezer had seen this miraculous phenomenon happen to his master, Avrohom, so when he saw it occurring to the girl, he understood that she was worthy of marrying into the house of Avrohom.

Rav Elozor Menachem Man Shach, whose yahrtzeit was this week, would ask why Eliezer proceeded with his test after witnessing the water rise toward Rivkah. Why wasn’t he satisfied with the miracles performed for her? Rav Shach explained that the ultimate qualification for a suitable match in marriage is not whether miracles are performed for someone, but whether they possess proper middos.

When young men and women would ask Rav Shach what to look for in selecting a mate, he would always emphasize that the most important quality is good middos. Everything else is secondary.

Another valuable lesson can be derived from the stories in the parsha.

When Eliezer completed his mission and returned to Avrohom with Rivkah, Yitzchok brought her to Sarah Imeinu’s tent and married her. At that point, the posuk tells us, Yitzchok was finally consoled over the loss of his mother.

Rashi explains that when Yitzchok brought Rivkah into his mother’s tent, he saw that she was a worthy replacement for Sarah. As long as Sarah lived, three miracles occurred in her tent: a candle remained lit from Erev Shabbos to Erev Shabbos, the dough in her tent was blessed, and the spirit of Hashem hovered over the tent. When Sarah passed away, these three miracles ceased, but when Rivkah came to live there, they returned. Thus, Yitzchok found his nechomah.

Once again, we find a lesson hidden here for us. The lights we kindle before Shabbos are meant to foster shalom bayis, peace in the home. In a dark home, peace cannot flourish. For this reason, the Shulchan Aruch (263:3) rules that if a person can afford either wine for Kiddush or candles for neiros Shabbos, they should purchase candles, as peace in a Jewish home is a supreme need, and there can be no peace without light.

Rashi’s reference to the ner, the light, which remained doluk (lit) from Erev Shabbos to Erev Shabbos, signifies that a Shabbos-like peace reigned in the home of Avrohom and Sarah throughout the week. In tribute to this rarefied atmosphere, the onon, a Divine cloud, hovered over their tent. As Hakadosh Boruch Hu states (Medrash, Parshas Pinchos), “Lo motzosi kli machzik brocha ela hashalom”—the vessel for blessing is peace. Where there is peace, there is brocha.

When Yitzchok brought Rivkah to his mother’s home and saw that the ner of peace was rekindled—and that it, in turn, generated the return of the onon—he was reassured that life in his home would reflect the shalom, brocha, and spiritual elevation of his parents’ home. Thus, he was consoled.

We learn from this that we must always strive to ensure that peace reigns in our homes.

Perhaps we can understand Yitzchok’s nechomah on a different level.

The Tur (263) states that there is a dispute among Rishonim regarding when kedushas Shabbos begins. The Behag is of the opinion that Shabbos begins when a person lights candles for Shabbos any time after the zeman tefillas Mincha.

The Gemara in Brachos states, “Tefillos avos tiknum,” meaning that the avos were the originators of the three tefillos we daven each day. Avrohom established Shacharis, Yitzchok introduced the concept of Mincha, and Yaakov was the originator of Maariv.

Avrohom was the first to call out in Hashem’s name, introducing the idea of beginning the day with tefillah.

Yaakov, as the first av to descend into extended golus, instituted Maariv, a tefillah recited in the dark. It signifies that even in times of darkness, we maintain our faith and can embody holiness. It also represents our ability to bring holiness into the darkness of exile.

Yitzchok originated the tefillah of Mincha. By interrupting our daily activities to daven Mincha, we demonstrate that it is possible to sanctify the ordinary. This tefillah teaches us to elevate our level of kedusha even while engaged in regular, everyday tasks.

With this in mind, we can better appreciate Yitzchok’s consolation when he brought Rivkah to the home where Sarah had lived.

When Sarah Imeinu lit the Shabbos lights in her home on Erev Shabbos, she sanctified the ordinary day. She brought the holiness of Shabbos into her home, where it remained until the following Friday, when she once again lit the neiros Shabbos.

The kedushas Shabbos in her home began at Mincha time, when she kindled the lights. Yitzchok learned this avodah from her. He observed her example of bringing kedusha into a weekday. He saw how Friday afternoon was transformed into Shabbos, and how holiness could be added to the day and the home.

When Yitzchok brought Rivkah into the tent, he saw how she lit the candles on Erev Shabbos, just as his mother had, and he perceived how her act of kindling the lights brought kedusha into the home. Just as it had been with his mother Sarah, the holiness and light lasted the entire week. Yitzchok was reassured that with Rivkah, he could build his home, for she understood the avodah of Mincha—how to bring holiness to the mundane.

Perhaps this explains the Chazal that all of Sarah’s days were “equally good.” Since she harnessed the power of making the profane holy, all her days were imbued with holiness, as symbolized by the ner of Erev Shabbos remaining lit from Erev Shabbos to Erev Shabbos.

Sarah experienced days when good things occurred and days when less favorable events transpired, but no matter the circumstances, she worked to maintain her kedusha and belief in Hashem’s goodness.

This may also explain why Eliezer conducted his test to see if Rivkah would not only bring him a drink, but would also water his animals. Eliezer sought someone who understood that spiritual elevation can be achieved even through menial tasks, such as providing water for camels and cattle.

A girl who is so pure in her middos that she understands this concept—caring for the animals as she cared for Eliezer—is a suitable life partner for Yitzchok, the originator of tefillas Mincha.

As we seek to find mates, to bring happiness into our homes, and to bring meaning to the daily grind we endure, we should keep in mind the lesson that Yitzchok Avinu taught when he instituted the tefillah of Mincha.

We should remember our mothers, Sarah and Rivkah, and the kedusha they brought into their homes every Friday, which lasted the entire week. We should remember that light—both physical and spiritual—brings peace, and without peace, there is no blessing.

Studying this parsha should encourage us not to look down on ourselves as we perform the seemingly mundane tasks that life demands. Cleaning, peeling potatoes, cooking, serving, carpooling, shopping, and the many other menial tasks we perform for ourselves and our families are also holy.

We mustn’t focus only on the big, noticeable actions. Anyone can bring a drink to an important person, but the test of a baal middos is whether we are also kind to the “little people” who often go unnoticed.

Rivkah was tested with menial tasks. Would she appreciate that these small tasks shape who we are? The laundry, the dishwashing, the sweeping, and the serving are vital in creating a peaceful, functional, and nurturing environment for the entire family. Nothing we do is truly menial or inconsequential. Washing dishes, folding towels, taking out the trash, and wiping down the counters are acts of care that bring stability to the home.

It is the small, seemingly mundane tasks that form the backbone of our lives and homes. Keeping the lights on and doing whatever is necessary to maintain peace are holy tasks that infuse our lives with kedusha and bring us abundant blessings.

The parshiyos are full of these life lessons. We just have to want to find them.

May we all merit to follow in the ways of our forefathers and mothers and be zoche to the coming of Moshiach speedily in our day.

From Fake News to True Values

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Last week, two events transpired that proved that much of what we have been fed by the media is not only wrong, but a lie.

Donald Trump coined the term “fake news” during his first presidential campaign in 2016. Most people laughed when they initially heard him refer to the media in this way, while others considered him arrogant and insolent for doing so. But if you followed the most recent election campaign, you know how accurate he was back then—and how, if anything, the situation has worsened.

When the Covid pandemic ended, it became clear that they had lied about almost everything related to the disease, from its origin to how to control and treat it. The government and Democrat politicians imposed fictitious measures on the public, claiming that they were dictated by science as prescribed by their expert, Dr. Anthony Fauci. These measures were fabricated by the conceited doctor and forced upon the people. The media was right there, riding shotgun, selling the lies, and castigating and canceling anyone who refused to comply.

Stories alleging that President Trump was “in cahoots with the Russians” began during his first presidential campaign and persist even today. This was a charge that Democrats and the media drove home incessantly along with similar charges that he solicited foreign interference in the presidential election. A much-hyped investigation found no proof that he involved Russia. In fact, the story was a fictitious tale concocted by his campaign opponent Hillary Clinton and her team. Following one-sided congressional investigations, he was impeached twice—both times based on lies propagated by Democrats and the fake news media.

Joe Biden claimed that he was compelled to come out of retirement and run for president after hearing then-President Trump praise Nazis and white supremacists who were marching in Charlottesville, Virginia. This claim, still repeated by him, other Democrats, and the media, has been proven false. Trump never said anything like that.

And so it has been for Trump ever since he announced his presidential run eight years ago.

He is not the first person to seek the presidency, nor is he the first Republican to seek and hold that office. So why the hatred? Why the venom? Why do the left and the media despise him so much? Why do mainstream Republicans dislike him? And how did he manage to reshape the Republican Party and score a sweeping victory last week?

It’s all intertwined.

Donald Trump was the first outsider to enter a presidential primary contest and go head-to-head with party luminaries, scions of party leaders, men of pedigree and political accomplishment. He didn’t just present his ideas in contrast to theirs. He also mocked them and revealed them to be arrogant, empty suits—unintelligent, lacking common sense, and disconnected from the people.

Until he came along, the Bushes were treated as royalty, as were the Cheneys. Figures like Mitt Romney were treated with reverence, even though he had lost his presidential race and had been exposed as a weak candidate who caved, folded, and failed to connect with the American people. In the past, people such as he and Jeb Bush were viewed as part of the Republican dynasty, but Trump changed all that. People who did not have strong Ameri-First views, who were not especially intelligent or quick-witted, and who were hypocrites, were mercilessly exposed.

It was no longer enough to be a pompous, long-serving politician who had achieved high positions due to family name, financial means, or backroom deals. The elite leadership class was under scrutiny and would have to prove its worth to survive. Trump represented the biggest threat that they had ever encountered, and they were ill-equipped to handle—or defeat—him.

Avatars of elitism felt secure in their carefully constructed cocoons of political correctness and doublespeak. Trump was the first capable candidate to puncture that cocoon, letting the people know that it was acceptable to vote against politicians who were condescending to them and viewed them as garbage. He related to everyday people, and they related to him. He presented himself as a leader who understood their thoughts, feelings, and experiences.

He showed them that they did not have to feel trapped by the same stale, ineffective leadership every election season and during the years in between. He voiced their thoughts, articulated their fears and frustrations better than they could, and promised to bring common-sense solutions and enact them into law.

Throughout the campaign, his political enemies—Democrats, Republicans, and the media—portrayed him as an unbalanced maniac who couldn’t be trusted to accomplish anything positive. The Democrats labeled him a wannabe dictator, a fascist, Mussolini, and then Hitler. They called his supporters racists and Nazis. The media repeated these allegations so frequently that low-information people began believing them.

You would discuss Trump with people, and they would say he was crazy. “How can you vote for a meshugeneh?” they would ask. Then they would add that he was an anti-Semite, even though he was the best friend Israel ever had. His daughter had converted to Judaism and married a Jew, with his blessings. You knew that these people were influenced by the media, by fake news. You knew that they were misled by quotes that were either fabricated or taken out of context. You knew that such a person had never actually heard Trump speak on the issues.

Other candidates draw crowds to their events by highlighting the planned attendance and performances of celebrities. At Trump rallies, Trump was the star. People came to see and hear him. He attracted legions of people to his rallies because he was a man of the people—charming, entertaining, and able to pull the thoughts straight from their hearts and the words from their mouths.

He understood their problems and offered common-sense solutions. He didn’t talk down to them and showed his respect by picking regular, nondescript people out of the crowd and bringing them onto the stage. He put on a McDonald’s apron and handed out fries, wore a reflective vest, and rode in a garbage truck. Nobody else would have thought of such stunts, and nobody but Trump could have pulled them off without looking foolish.

They lied about President Biden. Though it was plainly evident that Biden was not fit, the media praised him and dealt with him as he was fully functioning and in charge of the country. Then the elites, including the party bosses, Hollywood stars and billionaire donors decided Biden had to go. After they succeeded in pushing him out, they praised him for his selfless sacrifice on behalf of the American people and sold the lie that he left on his own volition. Biden’s unpopular, incompetent Vice President was selected to run in his place and was sold to the American people as a thoughtful and accomplished leader. More lies.

Joe Biden and Kamala Harris epitomize the ineptitude of politicians who are inauthentic, programmed, out of touch with the citizenry, and purveyors of lies and bad policy. They ran stealth campaigns, repeating canned lines and delivering stilted speeches. While the media and other politicians played along with them, fearing to expose them for what they are, Trump had no problem saying out loud what any thinking person thought but was afraid to express.

An objective observer of the campaign could see that Trump was connecting, that people were flocking to him, and that his positions enjoyed widespread support. But the media continued to disparage him, insisting that he couldn’t win. They claimed that he was too crazy, too racist and too misogynistic. There was no way a majority of the country would vote for him. And the polls supported this narrative. Every day, a new poll was cited by media outlets and people who should have known better, all “proving” that Trump was losing ground and couldn’t win.

As Election Day approached, the polls showed the candidates narrowing, and every day the fake news spun the lie that the election was going to be extremely close. They said that it was neck-and-neck and used every cliché they could think of to convince unsuspecting voters that Trump’s message was not resonating, that people weren’t buying it, and that Kamala Harris would ultimately win.

It was all a lie.

You don’t have to be a conspiracy theorist to see that the polls were manipulated to suppress the Trump vote and enable the Harris campaign to continue raising record amounts of money. The spin doctors, consultants, and fundraisers needed to maintain that it was a margin-of-error race. Otherwise, donations would have dried up, and it would have been a washout for Harris. It was anyway.

While a few honest pollsters reported the truth and Trump campaign insiders claimed their internal polls showed continued gains, Harris’s team and their allies dismissed these claims, saying that they would make up the difference with their ground game and door-knocking efforts.

The fake news is truly fake. The facts they sell are fake and the numbers they present are fake. It’s all fake.

Intelligent people like us must stop falling for these lies and shaping our communal lives based on them. We must recognize our strength and acknowledge that the majority in this country voted for the side of morality, for the side that fights for decency and justice. It’s time we stopped bowing down to hypocritical liberal politicians, stopped expecting them to help us, and stopped making a big deal about the media. Few people still pay attention to the mainstream and corporate media. Trump proved that, and we should proceed accordingly.

The other lie exposed last week is one we are familiar with and must remain aware of. History is repeating itself.

Jews are being chased in the streets of New York and across Europe, including Antwerp, Berlin, France and London, to name a few, just as they were in the Europe of the 1930s, and there is barely a whimper of protest. There are now millions of jihadists spread across Europe. They hate Jews, but they also hate Christians and others. The countries of Europe are led by weak leaders and struggling governments, grappling with internal and financial challenges.

We were told that the world had changed, that with the founding of Israel, anti-Semitism would dissipate.

We were told and regularly reminded by Zionist leaders and adherents that the Holocaust occurred because Jews lacked a state to defend them, but now that we have a state and an army what happened then can never happen again.

But it did.

Just now, Jews in Amsterdam were chased, run over, stabbed, and beaten, and no one came to their aid, not the Amsterdam police nor the Jewish state, which could do little more than issue protest statements and send rescue planes. A premeditated, organized group comprised primarily of people who were born to Moroccans who were welcomed into the country but never successfully assimilated carried out an act that harkened back to the old days of Europe.

A few obligatory statements were issued, but there was no loud condemnation from governmental leaders or prominent figures in Europe, the United States, or elsewhere.

Eighty-six years after Kristallnacht and one year after Jewish people were hunted and slaughtered in Israel, Jews are once again being chased through the streets, in Amsterdam, in Sweden, and who knows where else. A Jew was shot while walking in a frum neighborhood in Chicago, two Jews were beaten at DePaul University in Chicago, and a Jewish child was nearly kidnapped in Crown Heights. Hamas supporters continue to march in this country, protesting against Jews and Israel. Dozens of rockets continue to fly into Israel daily, despite the existence of a proud state and a vaunted army.

The axis of evil—Russia, China, Iran, and North Korea—is growing stronger as the bulwark of freedom is led by appeasers.

We are reminded daily that after all these years, we have not yet merited to be delivered from the exile of golus to freedom in Eretz Yisroel.

We do not despair, though. Instead, we proclaim each morning during Shacharis, “Eileh vorechev v’eileh basusim va’anachnu besheim Hashem Elokeinu nazkir.” We place our faith in Hashem, not in military might. Those who depend on armies and political leaders to defend them will crumble and fall. “Heimah koru venofolu va’anachnu kamnu vanisodad.” We will rise and ultimately prevail.

In this week’s parsha of Vayeira, we read of the chesed and kindness of our forefather Avrohom. We learn how he interrupted his conversation with Hashem to tend to three dirty, dusty travelers, and how he begged Hashem not to destroy the people of Sedom. We also encounter the parsha of the Akeidah.

Hashem foretold to Avrohom that his children would be exiled but promised that He would redeem them. The zechus of Avrohom’s chesed and the Akeidah still sustain us all these years later. What keeps us going is our zechus avos, combined with the zechuyos of our Torah and mitzvos, along with our emunah and bitachon.

This week, we commemorate the yahrtzeit of Rochel Imeinu, who famously rose from her kever to intercede on behalf of her defeated grandchildren as they descended into golus. She still cries for us and begs Hashem to let us go free. Let us dedicate ourselves to be worthy of her tefillos and the tefillos of Jews throughout the ages, so that we may be freed from the alma d’shikra - the world of lies - and soon merit the alma d’keshot - the world of ultimate truth, which will be revealed with the coming of Moshiach and the geulah sheleimah when Rochel’s children will all return home l’gevulom.

Twists, Turns, and Trust

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Life is full of twists and turns. We think everything is set and that our lives will proceed according to one plan, and then things switch. We lose our job, the kollel is no longer satisfying, we receive an offer from an out-of-town community, someone gets sick r”l, and so on.

There are so many variables in life for which we cannot plan. How we deal with them determines whether we will succeed. We can either throw up our hands in desperation, filled with misery and gloom, or we can accept that everything that happens to us is from Hashem and realize that it is up to us to accept the change and make the best of it.

Those who have emunah and bitachon are able to remain optimistic in times of challenge and change, for they know that Hashem is looking out for them and that nothing happens by chance.

This week’s parsha, Lech Lecha, provides chizuk and direction for everyone. The posuk states that Hashem spoke to Avrohom Avinu and told him to leave his ancestral home and head to the land He would show him. The Sefas Emes (632) cites the Zohar that Hashem’s directive of Lech Lecha is directed toward everyone, but Avrohom was the only one who heard the call and followed it.

There is a bas kol that says to go out and proclaims to every Yid not to limit themselves to the familiar and comfortable. Hashem placed every person in this world for a purpose. Everyone has a task that they can perform and a mission that they can complete. Often, that requires for a person to leave their comfort zone and the place where they were born, grew up, and set up house.

We are all here to accomplish things with our lives. Sometimes, doing that requires stepping into the strange and foreboding. The urge to stay home and enjoy a simple, comfortable life is always there, not far from the surface, but our charge as children of Avrohom, Yitzchok, and Yaakov is to brave the challenges and effect change as we work to make the world a better place. Often, doing so involves grief, aggravation, rough days, lonely nights, and lots of hard work. Those who hear the bas kol are able to persevere and go on to accomplish, while those who don’t proceed with emunah and bitachon get deterred and dejected.

Avrohom Avinu hewed the path for us. When he heard the bas kol that nobody else heard or paid attention to, he made it easier for us to hear and follow it. Ever since his time, throughout our history, those who made a mark and difference followed Avrohom’s example, often leaving behind creature comforts, friends, and family to venture forth, knowing that if they worked lesheim Shomayim, Hashem would be there with them.

Avrohom left his home behind and followed Hashem’s voice to the Promised Land. His son, Yitzchok, also left his home and followed the voice into a strange land where the locals were not friendly to him. His son, Yaakov, left his parents’ home and went to live with his uncle Lovon, suffering much degradation and privation, but emerging married with children and many possessions. His son, Yosef, was sent by Hashgocha to a foreign land, followed there by Yaakov, the shevotim, and their families.

Moshe Rabbeinu grew up in royal splendor and left it all behind, only to be forced to flee to a foreign land. He returned to his people and became their savior. And so it has been throughout the ages up until our day.

World War I was a turning point for our people. Many were driven from their homes into exile, where they had little food and no heat. They suffered from disease, pestilence, starvation, and worse. They had no money and no income. When the war ended, those who didn’t hear the bas kol did not return to their shtetlach. They went to the big cities and severed their connections to Yiddishkeit. They no longer had any frum social ties. They sent their children to secular tarbut schools and became lost to our people. Others fled to America, where they were promptly swallowed up by waves of assimilation. Millions were lost forever.

They had left their homes, but they weren’t following Hashem and the direction to which He had directed them. They became overwhelmed by the situation they found themselves in and lacked the spiritual strength necessary to persevere.

The people who remained loyal to the bas kol followed it back to where they belonged, to places where there were shuls and botei medroshim for them and schools for their children. They struggled but survived as faithful Yidden.

Following the Holocaust, survivors faced awful choices. They had lost everything and were barely alive. Which way should they go? Should they give up on life? On humanity? On hope for a future? Should they wallow in self-pity and lose themselves to depression and despair?

Or should they follow the bas kol, which called on them not to lose faith in Hashem, but to follow Him to fresh terrain and rebuild their lives and communities?

Those who followed the bas kol went on to get married, have families, establish shuls, yeshivos, and communities, and help recreate that which was lost. It is thanks to those courageous souls that most of us are here today and that Torah communities and mosdos are flourishing here and around the world.

People in our day are faced with the dilemma of whether to stay where they are and lead nice, comfortable lives or to move to a place where people like them are needed to provide leadership. Some remain where they are and are productive in their comfort zones, but others break out of their boxes and spread their wings to bring and support Yiddishkeit in places as far from their homes as Choron was from Be’er Sheva.

Sometimes the challenge is whether to secure a good job or to go into chinuch, where the pay is not as good, but where the opportunity to make an impact on future generations makes up in spiritual reward and satisfaction for what may be lacking in financial compensation. Sometimes the challenge is whether to get involved in communal needs and assist organizations that work for the public benefit, such as bikur cholim and the like. It is never easy, and it takes commitment and dedication.

Others leave major kehillos and follow the bas kol to kollelim across the country that provide oxygen and life to communities of fine people committed to Torah lives. Others seek out rabbinic positions in shuls struggling to hold out against the Open Orthodox onslaught. By doing so, they keep good people good and rooted in the wellspring of Torah. They keep the community alive and provide guidance and direction for young and old.

They follow the bas kol that Avrohom followed, choosing the more difficult path, following Hashem’s direction to seize a mission and then looking forward to a sense of accomplishment, armed with the promise of earning blessings and greatness.

Nobody said it would be easy, but blessed are those who hear the bas kol in every generation, dedicating their lives to following it and where it leads them.

Rav Yeshayah Cheshin descended from talmidim of the Vilna Gaon who followed his directive almost 300 years ago to leave Lita and move to Eretz Yisroel. The journey from Vilna to Yerushalayim was arduous, and when they arrived in the barren, forsaken land, deprivation of all types greeted them. Life was very tough.

Rav Yeshayah lived during the time when Rav Yehoshua Leib Diskin was rov in Yerushalayim and Rav Yeshayah served as a rebbi in the famed Yeshiva Eitz Chaim. In his sefer Divrei Yeshayah, he wrote of the difficult trip and transition his ancestors endured as they left Lita and went to Eretz Yisroel.

“In order to know and understand the enthusiasm and mesirus nefesh of the Talmidei HaGra and how they placed themselves in danger for a year to travel in small boats on treacherous waters, and what they endured in their initial settlement at a time of plagues and diseases, as well as pogroms, it is first necessary to study their spiritual foundation.

“It was a product of the storm that their rebbi, the Gra, created to gather in the exiles and to settle Eretz Yisroel, to which they were moser nefesh. They went through fire and water to hasten the redemption in this way, as our rebbi, the Gra, discusses in his seforim.

“Who is there who can tell the sad tales of what the early settlers endured? Plagues and pogroms, lack of water, poverty, and myriad diseases. Who is there who can tell of their bravery and obstinacy to maintain the settlement that teetered daily and threatened to fall apart due to the many tragedies and hardships? It is only because of the strength of their emunah to follow their rebbi, the Gra, and his blessings to them that they were able to remain there with an unshakable tenacity that no person can describe.”

And then he writes something quite fascinating, which I had never heard of, and I wonder if you did. Listen to this: “In the earlier period following the initial settlement, when there was a time of communal need, the residents of Yerushalayim would daven and say, ‘Help us in the merit of the Talmidei HaGra who came to settle in the Holy Land.’

“On Mondays and Thursdays, they would add to Tachanun the following phrase: ‘With Your goodness, please remove Your anger from Your people, from Your city, and from Your land, in the merit of the Torah, in the merit of acts of chesed, and in the merit of the students of the Gra who initiated the first [Jewish] settlement in the Holy Land.’

“They would then go to the kevorim of the leading students of the Gra, Rav Hillel and Rav Mendel of Shklov, as well as Rav Saadia of Mohilov, and daven for salvation.”

The Vilna Gaon heard the bas kol of Lech Lecha and taught his students to hear it and follow it. Thanks to them, Eretz Yisroel is now settled from north to south and east to west with Jews, and although there are still many problems and difficulties, we can hear the footsteps of Moshiach approaching.

The greatness and zechus of people who follow the bas kol is so significant that in times of greater difficulty, people would daven to be saved in the merit of those intrepid baalei emunah and bitachon who gave up all to follow the call.

In our day and in our lives, when we face ups and downs, when things are tough and not going the way we want, we should think of those heroes who went before us, who gave up everything to answer Hashem’s steady call, which promises blessings to those who maintain their faith in Him and dedicate their lives to improving and bettering the world.

Whatever befalls us, whatever betrayals we face, and when we are forced to change our course of action and look at the world and our existence differently, we should never despair. We should know that what happens is from Hashem, Who is guiding us to a better situation, a place from where we can experience brocha and hatzlocha and help prepare the world for Moshiach, just like those courageous souls throughout the ages, from Avrohom Avinu until today.

“Lech lecha el ha’aretz asher areka. Follow Me to where I will send you,” says Hashem, “and there you will find blessing.”

We don’t merit for Hashem to speak to us verbally, but He does so through various occurrences that happen to us in life, which we must view through the lens of Torah. If we know that we are here for a purpose and that everything that happens to us is from Hashem, and if we dedicate our lives to Torah, avodah, mitzvos, and maasim tovim, then we will be able to pick up the signals and follow them to where they are leading us.

Our zaides and bubbes always had Hashem in their lives and never lost sight of their obligations in this world. There is no reason we should not be the same. Let us follow their example, handed down to them and us from Avrohom Avinu, and earn for ourselves a world of opportunity and brocha, which will lead us all to the geulah sheleimah bekarov.

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.