The Essence of Pesach

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

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

Rav Yitzchok Zilberstein related the following story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My father did not obey the rov.

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

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

“Ay, iz der gaon geven gerecht. Woe is to me, what the great rov said was so true.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Netziv of Volozhin, in his peirush on Shir Hashirim titled “Rinah Shel Torah,” comments in his introduction on the posuk which states, “Sheishes yomim tochal matzos uvayom hashevi’i atzeres l’Hashem Elokecha lo sa’aseh melacha - You shall eat matzos for six days and on the seventh you shall rest for Hashem and you shall not do any work” (Devorim 16:8). He explains that on the first day of Pesach, the obligation to eat matzoh is to remember that we left Mitzrayim in such haste that the bread the fleeing Jews took along for the journey had no time to rise. He says that the obligation related to the consumption of matzoh the first six days of Pesach recalls the eating of the korban mincha by the kohanim. The korbanos mincha were brought of matzoh breads and were never made of chometz. That was to teach the Jewish people that in order to draw closer to Hashem and achieve a higher level of holiness, they must reduce their involvement in the pursuits of Olam Hazeh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The historic attempt ended disastrously.

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

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

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

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

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

“What is his name?” asked the rebbe.

The woman responded, “Yisroel Spira.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May we merit that this be the last Pesach in golus.

The Song of Pesach

Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

I am writing this on Rosh Chodesh Nissan, grateful to have arrived at the month of geulah—both for the past and, hopefully, for the present as well.

Just as the month was about to begin, Klal Yisroel suffered a devastating tragedy, losing a mother and her two precious children on Shabbos afternoon. At their levayah on Sunday, there was an overwhelming outpouring of grief.

Also on Shabbos, a beloved mechanech and builder of Torah in Monsey passed away. Rav Moshe Schwab blazed a trail of Torah, establishing a yeshiva where each talmid was treated like a diamond, polished to sparkle and shine. He was one of the good people of Monsey, whose efforts helped make the town the special place it is today.

These tragedies, along with so many others that befall us—the wars in Eretz Yisroel between Jews and Arabs, as well as between Jews themselves; the strife, the poverty, and the many challenges we refer to as “crises”—are all symptoms of golus.

We yearn for the geulah because we long for the return of the Shechinah to the Bais Hamikdosh and for the return of all Jews to Eretz Yisroel. We pray to be in Yerushalayim this Yom Tov, partaking in the Korban Pesach. We hope for the healing of the sick, the repair of our divisions, and the return of our departed loved ones, together with all the great souls of generations past.

The Vilna Gaon writes (Even Sheleimah 11:1) that the geulah will begin on Pesach and will unfold in four stages. May it begin this Pesach.

But what can we do to help bring it about?

The Jewish people have been in golus since the destruction of the second Bais Hamikdosh and our dispersion among the nations. That Bais Hamikdosh was destroyed due to the sins of lashon hara and sinas chinom. It was because of our addiction to these sins that we were exiled, and it follows that to merit the geulah, we must eliminate these aveiros from our lives and our world. Despite the efforts of many generations, we still haven’t succeeded. It’s easier said than done.

To understand why these two aveiros are so difficult to overcome, we need to examine their roots. We’ve made significant progress in eradicating many other sins, but these two remain deeply entrenched, despite intense efforts, especially since the time of the Chofetz Chaim.

Our tradition teaches that the roots of lashon hara and sinas chinom trace back to the negative influence of the Eirev Rav, who joined our nation as we left Mitzrayim and have caused great harm ever since. Their impact still lingers in the form of what our holy sages call klipos.

To rid ourselves of these impure forces, we must eliminate the klipas Eirev Rav that fuels them, enabling them to penetrate hearts and stir up conflict, division, and hatred.

But how?

Rav Yitzchok Eizik Chover writes (Ohr Torah 27) that the sins of lashon hara and sinas chinom stem from bittul Torah. The solution, as the posuk in Mishlei (15:4) teaches, is “marpeh lashon eitz chaim.” The cure for harmful speech is Torah, the Tree of Life. Torah purifies the soul and removes the negative inclinations rooted in flawed middos, which in turn are influenced by the klipah of the Eirev Rav.

People speak ill of others and harbor resentment against good people for seemingly no reason. This pattern has persisted since the time of the second Bais Hamikdosh and we have yet to break it. In fact, it seems that in our era, the final phase of exile known as ikvesa d’Meshicha, these elements have grown even more intense. Lashon hara and baseless hatred have become particularly severe.

They are fed by the Eirev Rav. They are fed by bittul Torah. As helpful as programs and educational efforts about lashon hara and sinas chinom may be, if we don’t address the root cause, the problem will continue.

As spring nears, gardening services start promoting the need to destroy weeds at their roots to prevent regrowth. Simply mowing the lawn makes everything appear neat and green for a short time, but unless the weeds are pulled out from the roots, they will quickly return. And worse, they will rob the lawn of vital nutrients and weaken its vitality. No amount of fertilizer or watering will help unless the weeds are uprooted.

Lashon hara and sinas chinom are the weeds that choke our people and obstruct our path to geulah.

When we speak about geulah during Nissan, the chodesh hageulah, it implies that something in this month catalyzes limud haTorah, which in turn weakens the grip of the klipah of the Eirev Rav. But what is that force?

Rav Tzadok Hakohein (Pri Tzaddik, Rosh Chodesh Nissan) explains that Moshe Rabbeinu expressed hesitation in confronting Paroh, saying, “V’aich yishmo’eini Pharoh,” because “va’ani aral sefosoyim.” He doubted his ability to be heard due to his speech impediment.

Hashem, the One who grants speech, assured Moshe that He would repair his speech and that Paroh would listen. However, Moshe’s real concern, “va’ani aral sefosoyim,” alluded to the klipah of impurity in the hearts of the Jewish people, which created a disconnect from Torah and made them unable to heed his words.

This is what he meant when he said, “Hein Bnei Yisroel lo shomu eilay, ve’aich yishmo’eini Pharoh, va’ani aral sefosoyim.” The term orlah refers to the yeitzer hara. Moshe was saying that the yeitzer hara was blocking the people from hearing his message.

When Hashem told Moshe, “Hachodesh hazeh lochem,” He gave the Jewish people the power to infuse this month with extra kedusha. With this added holiness, the Jews were able to overcome their areilus, their yeitzer hara. They returned to Torah study, and the impediment in Moshe’s speech, which had been tied to their spiritual weakness, was lifted. He could now speak to Paroh. The areilus that had blocked his words was gone. Geulah was now within reach.

Even though everything Moshe said was Torah, commanded directly by Hashem, his words could not be accepted by the Jewish people, without the added kedusha brought by the month of Nissan.

It seems, then, that what transformed Nissan into a month of redemption was this infusion of extra kedusha, which neutralized the areilus that had caused a lapse in Torah study.

Nissan, the month of geulah, includes the mitzvah of biur chometz, the removal of chometz from our homes. We search for it in every crack and crevice, ensuring that not a trace remains.

Chometz is allegorically compared to the yeitzer hara, which blocks us from teshuvah and from proper behavior. Chometz is dough that has risen. Matzah is dough that has not. Chometz represents arrogance. Matzah represents humility. A humble person doesn’t engage in lashon hara or sinas chinom. He doesn’t harbor hate. He learns sifrei mussar, such as Mesilas Yeshorim, is content with what he has, learns Torah, and works on his middos.

During this month of geulah, removing chometz from our homes mirrors the need to remove chometz from our souls. To merit geulah, we must search within and cleanse ourselves of the se’or shebe’isah—the yeitzer hara that holds us back from self-improvement and spiritual growth.

Since, as Rav Yitzchok Eizik Chover taught, geulah is dependent on Torah, we are strengthened by the knowledge that this month brings added kedusha. It gives us the spiritual energy to overcome the yeitzer hara and forces of tumah. We are empowered to search for the remnants of tumah within ourselves, knowing that we can uproot them and return to lives free of chet, lashon hara, and bittul Torah.

When we rid our homes and hearts of chometz, we don’t just prepare for the heightened kedusha Nissan offers. We prepare ourselves to help usher in the geulah that this month is destined to bring.

The Arizal taught that the name of the Yom Tov, Pesach, hints at the power of speech, as it can be read as “peh soch—the mouth speaks.”

With the added kedusha of this time and the preparations for geulah, our mouths are cleansed of lashon hara and sinas chinom. We become capable of speaking with love—about our fellow Jew and about Hashem. We learn to use the gift of speech for good.

That’s why, at the Seder, we say, “Vechol hamarbeh lesaper b’Yetzias Mitzrayim harei zeh meshubach”—the more we speak about the Exodus, the more praiseworthy we are. Through this, we demonstrate our ability to use the peh soch—our speech—the way it was intended: to elevate, to inspire, and to bring kedusha into the world through words and Torah.

Imagine a young musician blessed with the ability to bring music to life at the piano, but due to poverty, he becomes a plumber. Even if he becomes the most successful plumber in town, part of him remains dormant. The song inside him goes unsung. As he fixes pipes and clears drains, he dreams of music. No one may notice this about him, but that’s only because they don’t truly know him.

So too, when Klal Yisroel was enslaved in Mitzrayim, we were a nation with a song trapped inside us. We couldn’t express it. We were weighed down, unable to soar, bound by slavery and tumah.

But when we were redeemed, the gift of speech returned. Holiness burst forth from our mouths, along with deep wells of spiritual expression.

“Vechol hamarbeh lesaper b’Yetzias Mitzrayim harei zeh meshubach.” The more we speak of our redemption, the greater we become. The Seder is an experience of expression: Torah, Hallel, and mitzvos, all flowing from mouths that have been spiritually redeemed and elevated.

The night of peh soch.

On Pesach, we became who we were meant to be. Our song—the essence of our soul—was finally released.

We now have the power to achieve greatness through our words. And we’ve been encouraged by the Master of the World Himself, who says, “Harchev picha—Open your mouth wide!”

The Jews weren’t just physically enslaved in Miztrayim. Their thoughts, souls, and speech were shackled too. They were heirs to greatness, but they were caked in mud, buried under the weight of servitude. Holy children of Hashem, they had become defiled and unrecognizable. That’s what golus can do.

But at the destined hour, Hashem lifted them out of the swamp, allowing them to rise again.

In our times, Hashem leaves the task to us. He gives us the tools to rise above the spiritual darkness. He enables us to rid our lives of chometz, to return, to pursue holiness and goodness.

He tells us: “If you want to be redeemed, you must do teshuvah. You must correct your sins—the very sins that delay the coming of Moshiach and the rebuilding of the Bais Hamikdosh.”

Through the Moshe Rabbeinus of every generation, Hashem sends us reminders year after year:

“Rachtzu, hizaku, hosiru ro’ah ma’alileichem mineged einai, chidlu harei’a.” They call out to us, as the novi Yeshayahu did, quoting pesukim, invoking Chazal, drawing from seforim, and speaking in their own words, telling us that to merit the geulah, we must separate from the misguided, abandon sin, and return to our true selves. Then the darkness will lift, the golus will end, and the geulah will usher in a new era.

We are living in the final stages of the final golus. We stand at the threshold of the moment we’ve awaited for thousands of years. It is up to us to make it a reality.

We can do it.

All it takes is a little more love, a little more compassion. Positive thoughts. Positive speech. A thorough internal cleaning and spiritual polishing that restores our brilliance and clarity.

May we all merit to be as pure and radiant as our Pesach homes. And may our actions, words, and deeds help bring the geulah soon.

Rising to Greatness

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

As we observe the world around us and witness the depths to which many have sunk, it becomes increasingly difficult to remember that we were created to achieve great heights, both as a nation and as individuals. Our mission is to continually strive for self-improvement, always working toward the goal of becoming better people.

We see so many Yidden who have become ensnared by ideologies and behaviors that are foreign to Torah. Many have been misled and strayed from our well-trodden path, and we feel pity for them, seeking to bring them back. We wonder how, and if we possess the capability, to engage in outreach that will bring about positive change.

The parshiyos that describe the construction of the Mishkon provide us with encouragement and direction. The posuk (Shemos 35:10-19) states that Moshe Rabbeinu called out to the entire Klal Yisroel and told them, “Kol chacham lev bochem yavo’u v’yaasu, every wise-hearted person among you should come forward to do everything that Hashem commanded us to do regarding the construction of the Mishkon.” The pesukim then list every component of the Mishkon that they were to complete.

The posuk (35:21) reports that every man “asher nesa’o libo,” whose heart inspired him, responded to Moshe’s call.

The Ramban explains that the reason the posuk describes the people who volunteered to help in this way is because none of the Yidden at that time had any formal training in the necessary skills. They came because Moshe said that everyone should have a share in the construction of the Mishkon and they were inspired to fulfill his directive.

Later, the pesukim refer to Betzalel (together with Oholiav) as the leader of the project, blessed by Hashem with the knowledge and ability in every aspect of the technical skills needed for the Mishkon.

Every person who responded to Moshe Rabbeinu’s call was endowed with the ability to play a part in the formation of the structure and the keilim that would house the Shechinah in this world.

Similarly, when a person is inspired to do good, to build, and to help in a positive way, Hashem enables him to rise to the occasion, making him effective and constructive. Every Jew has the ability to bring more kedusha into this world and to build proper homes for that kedusha if he is properly motivated and works leSheim Shomayim.

We see this same concept in Parshas Hachodesh, which we read this Shabbos.

Rashi, in his very first comment on the Torah (Bereishis 1:1), quotes Rav Yitzchok, who said that the Torah should have begun with the parsha of hachodesh hazeh lochem, which we read this Shabbos.

We need to understand the significance of the mitzvah of Kiddush Hachodesh and why it is that we are introduced to this mitzvah as we begin our lives as avdei Hashem. Of all the mitzvos of the Torah, why was this the first one given to the Jewish people as a group and the one with which Rashi believed the Torah should have started?

Proclaiming the new month through Kiddush Hachodesh requires a verbal statement from a bais din. The dayonim on the bais din who certify that the new moon has been seen and proclaim, “Mekudash,” must either be members of the Sanhedrin or “semuchin” (approved by the Sanhedrin for kidush hachodesh), who were certified and invested with the power of psak, forming a link in a chain that stretches back to Har Sinai (Rambam, Hilchos Kiddush Hachodesh 5:1).

Why does the Torah require those who proclaim the new moon to be semuchin? Why is it not sufficient for them to simply be proficient in recognizing the shapes of the moon, so that they can determine when to accept testimony regarding the sighting of the new moon?

This is because Hakadosh Boruch Hu invested these botei din with the ability to affect the lives of every Jew by deciding which day is Rosh Chodesh and thereby determining the calendar—not only determining the day of Rosh Chodesh, but also the days of Pesach, Sukkos, Shavuos, etc., and investing those days with kedusha and mitzvos.

They are enabled to do this in the same way that the people “asher nesaom libom” were able to take simple materials and invest them with kedusha. Because they had dedicated themselves to reach the level of semuchim, Hashem entrusted them with the ability to effect kedusha.

The Nefesh Hachaim and other seforim discuss our ability to affect events in this world and in Shomayim through the observance—and transgression—of mitzvos. That capability is first seen in the mitzvah of Kiddush Hachodesh.

Through the ability to proclaim Rosh Chodesh or a leap year, the Torah first reveals to us the potential of man to rise to the highest spheres, becoming a partner with the Creator.

The bais din, through its proclamation of which day will be Rosh Chodesh and subsequently on which day Yom Tov will begin, determines when Hashem will cause that specific measure of Divine hashpa’ah to occur. The Ribbono Shel Olam abides by the bais din’s decision and determination to celebrate the Yom Tov on that day.

Thus, since the mitzvah of Kiddush Hachodesh is unique in that it shows Klal Yisroel the incredible heights they can reach, it is the first mitzvah given to us as a group and serves as an introduction to all the other mitzvos. It goes to the root of the greatness of Am Yisroel and demonstrates how much we can accomplish if we devote ourselves to observing the mitzvos and living lives dedicated to Hashem and His Torah.

This is the idea of the mitzvah of Kiddush Hachodesh, which would have been a fitting opening to the entire Torah.

Imagine the message that Klal Yisroel received when, still in the throes of servitude, they were taught the details of a mitzvah with the capacity to transcend time and space. What a resounding announcement of their own freedom from the constrictions of Mitzrayim! It was as if they were gathered together by Moshe Rabbeinu and told, “You are redeemed from slavery and ready to soar!”

That awareness, with its accompanying demand for growth, was given to Klal Yisroel on the verge of freedom, as if to say, “This is what you can reach and accomplish through these mitzvos and by learning Torah.”

In Parshas Bo, the pesukim discuss the halachos of Pesach. The posuk (12:28) states, “Vayeilchu vaya’asu Bnei Yisroel ka’asher tzivah Hashem es Moshe v’Aharon - The Bnei Yisroel did as Hashem had commanded Moshe and Aharon.”

The Mechilta, quoted by Rashi, notes that this discussion took place on Rosh Chodesh Nissan, while the Korban Pesach wasn’t brought until the middle of the month. Still, the posuk refers to the Yidden as having done as Hashem commanded Moshe, using the past tense.

We can suggest that the posuk refers to them as having completed what was asked of them because this parsha of hachodesh hazeh lochem carries something integral to the observance of every mitzvah that would follow it, namely, an instructive lesson regarding what a mitzvah can do for us and the heights we can reach by following the Torah. “Vaya’asu” indicates that they understood the message being imparted to them, appreciating its relevance at every juncture of life. In this case, hearing, comprehending, and internalizing the messages of hachodesh hazeh lochem and the Chag Hageulah were themselves fulfillments of Hashem’s will.

The halachos of Kiddush Hachodesh and Pesach aren’t merely introductory and practical. They are a call from Shomayim. “My children,” the Ribbono Shel Olam is saying, “you are ge’ulim. There is no end to your freedom and to how great you can become!”

According to the Nefesh Hachaim (1:13), the word asiyah, which lies at the root of the word vaya’asu, means that what was being discussed achieved its tachlis, or purpose. Thus, when the Torah employs the verb asiyah to complete the discussion, stating, “Vaya’asu Bnei Yisroel ka’asher tzivah Hashem,” that indicates that they realized the potential inherent in Hashem’s commandment. They understood the message behind the tzivuy, and thus, even though they had not yet performed the mitzvah, they had actualized the potential of how high they could reach.

We, the she’airis Yisroel, the remainder that clings to Kiddush Hachodesh and all the mitzvos that follow, know that we have a special purpose to carry out in this world. We need to know that our mission is the same as those in the midbar who built the Mishkon, the semuchin in Eretz Yisroel who decided the timing of Rosh Chodesh and all the Yidden throughout the ages who dedicated their efforts lehagdil Torah ulehaadirah.

Each generation has its own unique challenges that make it difficult to rise. Every generation gives birth to styles, language, technology, and cultural immoralities with the potential to demoralize us and disconnect us from Torah.

That is why the Torah stresses the concept of discussing the events and mitzvos surrounding Yetzias Mitzrayim with the younger generations. This is because the Torah speaks to all generations for all times. No matter what questions confound an era, the answers are in the Torah. Its Divine wisdom shines like rays of welcome light into all epochs of history and corners of the globe, its lessons a living reality for each one.

We thank Hashem that the Torah can be transmitted from one generation to the next, that its messages can reach all children, and that it is relevant and meaningful to each Jewish child as well as adult. It’s a celebration of the timeless and enduring relevance of the Torah.

This represents an obligation upon parents to work to find the point where their child can be reached. No one is ever too far gone, too disinterested, or too worn out to be written off and separated from Torah. The Torah speaks to and is relevant to every Yid. Although it sometimes takes much effort, no parent should ever give up on connecting with any of their children, and no person should give up on reaching those around him and those with whom he comes into contact.

With love and Torah, everyone can be reached.

The tale is told of a chossid who felt that he needed Eliyohu Hanovi to help him out of his troubles. He was confident that his rebbe merited regular visits from the holy sage, so he went to his rebbe and asked him if he could facilitate such a meeting for him.

It was just a few days before Rosh Hashanah. The rebbe gave his chossid an address in a small shtetel and told him to go there for Yom Tov. His heart was pounding as he hitched his horse to a wagon and bumped along the unpaved roads to the tiny town. He finally reached the address his rebbe had given him. It was a run-down, ramshackle hut.

He knocked on the door and a poor widow answered. There were nine children in the hovel.

The rebbe had said that he would find Eliyohu Hanovi there, so he asked the widow if he could stay there for Yom Tov. It was already late and he had nowhere else to go, he told her.

She let him in and he stayed for Yom Tov, hoping that Eliyohu would come to that small home. When Yom Tov was over, he left without having met Eliyohu.

The forlorn chossid returned to his rebbe and said, “Rebbe, where did you send me? Eliyohu was not there. The address you gave me was of a poor almanah who didn’t even have enough food for herself and her children. I had to help them out. I gave them a generous amount of money, and boruch Hashem there was enough time for them to run off and buy what was left in the local market.”

The rebbe listened and told his chossid to go back there for Yom Kippur. With no choice but to follow his rebbe’s command, the man once again hitched his wagon to his horse and headed out. This time, he made sure to bring food for himself and for the poor family.

Finally, he reached his destination. As he was standing by the door, he heard one of the children crying to his poor mother, “Oy, mammeh, morgen iz Yom Kippur un mir hoben gornit heint tzu essen. Tomorrow is Yom Kippur, when we will fast, but we have nothing to eat today.”

The chossid stood there, lost in thought, wondering why the rebbe had sent him to this house again. Then he heard the mother’s response, which changed his life forever. With motherly love, she responded to her child, “Mein tayereh kind, on Erev Rosh Hashanah we also didn’t have anything to eat, but then Eliyohu Hanovi came to our house and bought us food for the whole Yom Tov. Who knows? Maybe he will return for Yom Kippur!”

This story is a portrayal of the concept that greatness lies within our hearts. We each have the ability to be great—great for ourselves and for others. We each have what it takes to make ourselves holy and special. We can all make the world a better place and help bring Eliyohu Hanovi and Moshiach bekarov.

Despite the distractions, temptations, and turbulence around us, we must follow the guidance of the Torah and remain focused on our missions to bring about positive change in ourselves, our families, and the world.

With the emunah and bitachon that emanate from studying the parshiyos and lessons of Yetzias Mitzrayim that we can maintain the simcha, inspiration, and conviction that we need to be good and productive.

In Parshas Pekudei, which we lain this week, the Torah gives a full reckoning of the precious metals that were donated for the Mishkon, all the keilim and begodim that were fashioned by the dedicated volunteers under the direction and leadership of Betzalel and Oholiav.

When everything was completed, it was brought to Moshe, who determined that it was all done precisely as Hashem had commanded, and Moshe blessed them all.

We do not merit at this time to have a Mishkon or a Bais Hamikdosh as a home for the Shechinah. We do not have a place to bring a Korban Pesach or any other korban. But we can still build yeshivos, botei medrash, and botei knesses, where people can become connected to Hashem through limud haTorah, and where their neshamos can be lifted. We can help tzubrocheneh people and assist them in restoring their lives. We can bring Torah to people who are distant and help others who are expanding the tent, bringing more people to shemiras hamitzvos. We can bring love and brotherhood to people who have become lost in the golus and have fallen to the temptations it offers.

Rabbeim and moros everyday show what can be done as they teach and influence their talmidim and talmidos to know and appreciate Torah, mesorah and midos tovos, working with them with love and dedication and helping them grow day by day.

If we are properly motivated and inspired, our actions can help bring about the changes necessary for Moshiach to come. Each one of us can help end the golus and bring us the geulah we so desperately await. May it happen very soon. Amein.

Be Smart, Be Happy

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

This year’s Purim was different from most years. We had the rare occurrence of celebrating the special day on a Friday, with the specter of Shabbos hanging over us. Everything we did on Purim day was rushed because we knew Shabbos was coming. We had our usual stops - the people we visit every year to bring mishloach manos and to make a lechaim with - but this year, we had to cross some of them off the list. There was so much to do, and we wanted to get the seudah started before chatzos as well. We had to end the festivities early, quickly clean up, and restore the house because Shabbos was approaching, and we couldn’t afford to be late.

Despite Purim being somewhat crimped, if you will, its message had time to permeate us and will remain with us for a long time. And despite the feeling that Shabbos and Purim were competing for our attention, they share a common lesson.

The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 688) rules that when the 14^th of Adar falls on a Friday, even those who live in places such as Yerushalayim, where Purim is celebrated on the 15^th of Adar, do not observe it on that day. Instead, they read the Megillah on Thursday evening and Friday morning, when they also distribute matanos la’evyonim, as we do. They eat the seudas Purim and distribute mishloach manos on Sunday.

The Mishnah Berurah (ibid.) explains that the reason the seudah is not eaten on Shabbos is based on a Yerushalmi, which derives it from the posuk (Esther 9:22) which states that it is incumbent to have simcha and a seudah on the days of Purim, and they must be observed on a day whose simcha is dependent on bais din, not on a day whose joy is dependent on Yedei Shomayim.

What the Yerushalmi is saying is that the days on which Purim fall are dependent upon the calendar. Bais din proclaims when Adar begins, and then the 14^th and 15^th of the month are designated as Purim, bringing about joy. The joy of Shabbos, however, is brought on by Hashem, who declared the seventh day of every week holy.

From where does the joy of Shabbos derive? What is it about Shabbos that causes us to be happy? Just because it is a holy day does not necessarily make it a joyous day. What is the source of happiness on Purim and Shabbos?

The Alter of Kelm wrote that the greatest joy a person can experience is when he attains chochmah, intelligence. Chochmah brings simcha because it allows a person to understand that everything that happens in this world is from Hashem.

Once a person understands that everything that happens to him and to the world is from Hashem, he is no longer saddened when things happen that cause him consternation, loss, and pain. A wise person knows that Hashem created him and everything else, and wants His world and people to be happy and productive. Therefore, even when things seem bad, he knows they are ultimately for a good purpose.

Essentially, this is the message of Purim. A wise person studies the Megillah and reviews the story, realizing that everything that initially seemed bad turned out to have been for the good. Those who were evil and were rising to positions of power, threatening the Jewish people, eventually suffered defeat or played a role in the eventual happy ending and the construction of the second Bais Hamikdosh.

A chochom looks at the story of Purim and sees that there is no “ra” in this world. “Kol d’ovid Rachmana letav ovid” - everything that Hashem does is for the good. The gloom of Shushan was turned to joy. Everyone’s fears were shown to be unfounded, because when the people are good and have bitachon, Hashem turns everything around. Certain death and destruction were reversed, and instead of the Jews being killed, their enemies were.

The simcha of Purim comes about through man because we study Megillas Esther and its meforshim, along with Maseches Megillah and the limudei Chazal. The more we learn, the more joyous we become. Purim is a day of intense joy for Jews of all levels, though the more one learns, the more the joy intensifies.

From where does the simcha of Shabbos derive?

Rav Dovid Cohen, rosh yeshivas Chevron, was recently asked this question and responded that the answer lies in the Zohar, which states that the neshomah yeseirah - the extra neshomah we are gifted with on Shabbos - makes us happy and removes from us all the mundane matters of the week, along with all pain and misfortune.

The joy of Shabbos is also derived from chochmah, though it is a Divine chochmah, brought on by the neshomah yeseirah. This extra soul elevates us to a higher spiritual level, where we are granted a deeper understanding of the knowledge that Hashem created the world, and His objective in doing so was to be “meitiv” - to benefit and bring goodness to His creations.

On Shabbos, we rise above the mundane lives we lead and are spared from the agony brought about by the day-to-day activities of the week, which can often cause grief.

Thus, on Shabbos, we are joyful because we are freed from the shackles that bind us and distress us during the week. On this day, Hashem gifts us with additional chochmah and kedusha through the extra neshomah, allowing us to better appreciate the purpose of life and be rid of the pains and struggles of daily life.

When Shabbos ends and the neshomah yeseirah returns to its place On High, we revert to the way we were before Shabbos began, with less chochmah and less kedusha, and with aggravation and frustration brought on by the demands of daily life.

The joy of Purim, which is brought on by man, can have a lasting impact on those who understand its roots and are changed by it. By appreciating that Hashem is behind everything that happens, there is never reason to give up in despair, despite appearances to the contrary. In every situation, we can maintain our faith that Hashem will bring us to a positive conclusion.

When we encounter Hamans in our day - on the road, in school, at work, or wherever we are - we need not become overwhelmed with fear and grief. Instead, we should return to the story of Purim and become reinvigorated. When things are going differently than we had wished, we think of Queen Esther and how Hashem helped her and her people triumph over those who sought to harm them.

We find a similar lesson in this week’s parsha of Vayakhel, where, in the middle of the campaign for the Mishkon, Moshe Rabbeinu brought it to an end. Once they had enough for what they needed to construct the Mishkon, Moshe informed everyone that they had reached their goal and that the people should stop bringing precious metals and materials. The question is why. There was probably no other campaign that ended this way. Although they had received what they needed, down the road there would be a need for more. The prudent thing would have been to continue allowing donations while people were motivated rather than hoping that they would still be interested in giving when the need would arise.

The Chiddushei Horim explains that this was done so that people who wanted to have a share in the holy Mishkon would know that whatever they gave was used. Had there been a bonus round allowing donations to continue after they were no longer needed for the Mishkon’s construction, the generous donors might have felt left out, wondering whether their materials were used in the building of Hashem’s house or left over in some warehouse somewhere.

By ending the campaign when the goal was reached, every contributor knew that he had a share in the Mishkon.

No Jew is superfluous. Every Jew has a share in Torah and fills a necessary role. No matter their social status or degree of wealth, everyone - back then in the desert and today, as we enjoy a burgeoning population - is a vital member of our nation and deserves to be treated as such.

Every person can study Torah and acquire chochmah. Every person receives a neshomah yeseirah each Shabbos. Every person can use these gifts to make themselves a better person, and a better Jew, reaching the highest levels humanly possible if they set their heart and mind to it.

Thus, the posuk states, “Vayavo’u kol ish asher nesa’o libo” (35:21). Every man “whose heart lifted him” was invited to work on the construction of the Mishkon. Regardless of how talented the person was or wasn’t, that was not the determining factor in the decision of the Mishkon’s “HR Department” to accept them into the team.

The Mishkon was built by men of greatness who ignored their shortcomings and pushed themselves to do what they didn’t know they could do to serve Hashem.

What was necessary to be a builder of the most important edifice in the world was desire - the will to be good and to do good. Hashem granted those dedicated people the chochmah and talents required to complete the task given to them.

Rav Yosef Shlomo Kahaneman, the Ponovezher Rov, epitomized being a builder of Torah before the Holocaust in his city of Ponovezh in Lithuania and after the war in Bnei Brak. After losing everything in the Holocaust, he arrived in a hot and dusty small town. He looked up at the large hill in the center of that place and said to himself, and then to anyone who would listen, that he was going to build a huge yeshiva on that mountain.

People thought he was ill, having gone mad from his Holocaust experiences and losses. Nobody really took him seriously. Every architect he asked to draw plans for the building he imagined turned him down. He traveled the world to raise money for the yeshiva he dreamed of building, putting together small donations like bricks, one and then another and another, until his yeshiva rose from the dust, shining light and Torah upon all.

How did he do it? In the words of the posuk, “nesa’o libo” - his heart carried him.

Rav Chaim Leib Auerbach was rosh yeshiva of the famed mekubolim yeshiva, Shaar Hashomayim, in Yerushalayim. One year, he held an emergency dinner to keep the yeshiva open and turned to Rav Kahaneman to be the guest speaker.

The rov made a special trip to be at the yeshiva’s dinner and delivered a rousing speech about emunah, bitachon, and love of Torah. The directors of the yeshiva were very upset. “For this we brought you all the way here to speak?” they told him. “We are desperate for money. We were expecting a rousing appeal from the master fundraiser that would motivate the crowd to donate generously.”

The rov answered them, “I am not a good fundraiser. I do not know how to raise money. What I have is emunah that Hashem will help me maintain the yeshivos I established. The love of Torah that burns in my soul motivates me to travel from one end of the world to the other. These are my fundraising tools, so I shared them with your crowd.”

“Nesa’o libo” - his heart carried him, and Hashem took note of his burning desire to build a Mishkon of Torah and blessed him with the wherewithal to get it done.

What brings a person to nesius lev, to raise his heart and fuel it with a burning desire to build, to create, to donate, to help erect Mishkonos for Torah, for chesed, and for everything our world needs? It is chochmah - the chochmah of the Alter of Kelm. The chochmah that teaches us why we are here, Who brought us here, and why. That chochmah brings happiness and joy, and it also motivates us to answer the call of Hashem in our generation.

There is so much that needs to be done, so many people who have not yet attained chochmah and are therefore sad and floundering, so many yeshivos that need a patron and a helper, and so many institutions of chesed that influence and save lives. They can’t do it alone. They need people who look beyond their own shortcomings and heed the chochmah that teaches us that Hashem placed us here for a reason. It is upon us to raise our hearts, roll up our sleeves, and rise to the occasion.

Helping to build and maintain helps us, brings us joy and satisfaction, and helps the world and so many Yidden. We are living in ikvesa deMeshicha, when there are so many difficulties: physical, mental, moral, financial, and existential. So many institutions and people need help.

We need to keep the spirit of Purim alive in our hearts and souls all year round, happily raising ourselves and assisting others, realizing our missions and helping them realize theirs, so that we all merit the coming of Moshiach very, very soon.

The True Reality

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Face it. Life has its rough patches, days when nothing seems to go as planned and everything you do leaves you feeling frustrated.

It’s a nice, sunny Sunday, just a few days before Purim, and you remember that you need to get shoes for your children for Pesach. So, you gather them up and head to the shoe store. As you approach the door, you realize that you weren’t the only one who had the idea to go to the store today. You end up spending a couple of hours there, waiting in line, trying on shoes, paying, and hoping that they will still fit and be intact when Pesach arrives. Then, you shove your kvetchy cutie-pies into the car for the ride home, which should take ten minutes but, of course, takes half an hour.

There are days when your blood test results come back from the doctor and your sugar levels are high. He calls to remind you for the umpteenth time that you really need to start exercising. There are days when your boss is upset at you, when a deal you’ve been working on falls through, when interest rates stay high and you can’t make your payments, when your chavrusa doesn’t show up, or when the teacher gives a surprise test and you’re not the only one who fails.

Yes, life can be complicated and challenging. The biggest challenge—and the key to success—is staying calm, not allowing yourself to be affected by the negativity or things going wrong, and reminding yourself to be happy and grateful for what you have and for the good times.

More than that, to maintain our sanity and equilibrium, we need to remember that everything that happens is overseen and directed by Hashem. He created each one of us for a purpose, and we each have a mission to fulfill in Hashem’s world. When we are tested—whether it’s by small things, like traffic or long lines at the shoe store, or by matters of much greater consequence—we must understand that the challenges we face are meant to improve us. We are meant to rise above them without becoming depressed or losing ourselves.

Each person is unique and special, and together we form the beautiful mosaic that is Klal Yisroel when we are united and filled with simcha.

The posuk in Devorim chastises and curses those who do not serve Hashem with joy. This may be because people with true belief and faith in Hashem are not easily broken. Even when things seem to be going wrong, they are able to smile because they understand that their situation is part of a Divine plan devised by the Av Harachamon, who seeks only the best for them.

Purim is a day of immense joy because it reminds us not to judge anything by outward appearances. We are taught not to rush to judgment and to recognize that things that appear bad and awful may actually be good.

As the story of Purim unfolded over the course of nine years, things that seemed good were actually bad and things that seemed bad were actually good.

Achashveirosh threw a party, and everyone attended, enjoying themselves. They thought that the party was a good thing, but, in reality, it was bad, because their enjoyment provoked the wrath of Hashem and led to the evil decree.

At the king’s feast, the queen refused him and he had her executed. While that was seen as a terrible thing at the time, it was ultimately for the good, because she was replaced by Esther. The Jews feared that Esther becoming queen was bad, worrying for her safety in the hands of the despot. But in truth, it was for the good, as she would later be able to intervene and save the Jews from destruction.

Esther’s uncle, Mordechai, made a point of snubbing the king’s chief deputy. The people were upset with him for provoking the evil man into declaring a day for the wanton murder of the Jews, but, in fact, it was the merit of Mordechai’s refusal that led to the Jews’ salvation and the unification of the people.

The Megillah introduces Mordechai by referring to him as an “ish Yehudi, a Jewish man,” which Chazal teach us to read as “ish yechidi, an individual man.” Mordechai was a great talmid chochom, and part of his greatness was that he viewed himself as an individual who thought for himself and followed Hashem according to what he knew was right. He wasn’t swayed by popular opinion, didn’t conform just because others did, and stood out as someone who knew that his mission in this world was to follow Hashem’s path and inspire others to do the same.

While artists often portray Mordechai as a serious and somber figure, I imagine him with a long, flowing beard and a constant smile. For even as the events of Purim were unfolding, he knew that they were part of a plan orchestrated by Hashem and that it would have a positive ending. He understood that everything Hashem does is for the good, and thus he remained in a state of simcha and tuv leivav despite the chaos around him.

We must learn from Mordechai and recognize that in a world that often promotes conformity and sameness, being a yechidi, an individual, is not only vital for our personal growth as Jews, but also serves a deeper moral purpose. While it can be tempting to blend in and follow the crowd, choosing to embrace our uniqueness as children of Hashem and descendants of holy ancestors carries profound significance.

Part of Amaleik’s mission was to destroy the Jewish sense of standing apart as bnei melochim, the children of kings. At Krias Yam Suf, Hashem showed His love for us, forming us into His nation by freeing us from Mitzrayim and enabling us to escape its grasp. All the nations of the world were awed by what had happened. But Amaleik decided to attack the Jewish people, seeking to convince them that they were no different than the other nations.

Amaleik wanted to erase the Jews’ sense of being special, believing that there was nothing unique about them. Throughout history, despite Amaleik’s hatred for us, he and his descendants have given us the choice of either blending in with them or facing destruction. The same happened with Haman, says the Bais Halevi at the end of his peirush on Chumash. The Megillah (7:4) quotes Esther Hamalkah as telling Achashveirosh that she and her people had been sold to be killed, using a double expression, “laharog ule’abeid.”

The translation of laharog is “to be killed,” but le’abeid means “to be lost.” The Bais Halevi quotes commentators who explain that the Jews of the time were given a choice: either convert or be killed. Le’abeid, as mentioned, means “to be lost.” The intention of Haman and Amaleik was and is to cause the Jewish people to be lost by integrating with their host countries. Amaleik tells us that we are nothing special and that there is no reason for us to maintain our identity: “Come join us. There is nothing unique about you anyway,” they say to us. Were we to believe them and forsake our uniqueness, we would become lost among them.

Thus, the challenge to maintain our uniqueness has always been both a communal and personal challenge. We must know that each one of us is special and unique, and also that we are special and unique as a people, regardless of the negative voices that seek to diminish us.
To be a Yehudi is to be a yechidi.

This week’s parsha of Ki Sisa opens with the mitzvah of counting the Jewish people following the sin of the Eigel. The posuk declares that Jews are not counted in the regular fashion, but rather each person donated a half-shekel coin to the Mishkon and the coins were counted.

A simple explanation for this method of counting is that nobody should feel that they are merely a number. Instead, wherever they are and no matter how many people they are among, each person is an individual with value, symbolized by the coin. Not only does each person have value, but everyone has unique talents and abilities that allow him to be productive and successful in Hashem’s world. The rich, the poor, and everyone in between are all equal in Hashem’s eyes, each with what he needs to carry out his shlichus in perfecting the world and preparing it for the geulah.

Rav Tzadok Hakohein of Lublin writes (Tzidkas Hatzaddik 154) that just as we are obligated to believe in Hashem, we are also obligated to believe in ourselves. People should never get down on themselves or give up on themselves, feeling that they don’t have what it takes to make it in this world. In whatever position a person finds himself, he has to know that Hashem is pulling for him, and if he lifts himself up with renewed faith in himself, Hashem will help him out of the rut.

People who are looking to invest money know that if they put their money into a stock market S&P fund, their money will increase over time. That is true, but it doesn’t go up in a straight line. Sometimes it goes up and other times it goes down. It can go up daily for weeks and then crash, and then again begin the uphill climb, and vice versa. But if you believe in the power of the market and keep your money there through the ups and downs and wait it out, you will have handsome earnings.

Life is like the S&P. If you believe in yourself and believe in Hashem and don’t quit when you fail or when the world seems to be on the precipice of blowing up, you will succeed and be joyous. If you appreciate your uniqueness and unique abilities, and have proper emunah and bitachon, nothing will deter you from remaining strong and standing up to the yeitzer hora, the voices of the many, and Amaleik.

The message of Purim is that if you are a Yehudi and thus a yechidi, nobody will be able to rip you down and destroy you.

Like a beacon of light on a dark, stormy night, Purim shines into our world, encouraging us. There are gray days, dark days, days that feel like night, days when you want to give up. Purim reminds us that the gray will turn to blue, the dark to light, the night to day, and sadness and gloom to gladness in full bloom.

When Purim comes, our worries are set aside. We are reminded not to be sad or downcast. On Purim, we are reminded that just as our ancestors were delivered from despair over certain doom, so can we be spared of our burdens and watch our afflictions heal if we adopt the proper mindset.

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

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

Let the spirit of Purim overtake you on Purim and all year round. You’ll be happier and more fulfilled.

Ah freilichen Purim. Ah gantz yohr freilich.