On Shabbat, the last day of Passover, April 27, 2019, a gunman attacked the Chabad synagogue in Poway, Ca., murdering Lori Kaye, and wounding the Rabbi, Yisroel Goldstein, Almog Peretz and his 8-year-old niece, Noya Dahan.

This lecture, presented by Rabbi Y.Y. Jacobson at a &ldquo;peace and unity event,&rdquo; brought together many communities from NJ in a show of solidarity, on Monday, April 29, 2019. The evening was held at the Chabad Center of Short Hills, NJ, and was organized by Rabbi Mendel Solomon and Rabbi Zalman Grossbaum. The event was led by Rabbi Solomon, spiritual leader of Chabad, Short Hills.&nbsp;

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21_6308_rabbi_yy_jacobson_chabad_at_short_hills_response_to_poway_attack_r02.9c27.mp4

21_6308_rabbi_yy_jacobson_chabad_at_short_hills_response_to_poway_attack_r02.9c27.mp3

holocaust

lori kaye

anti semitism

terror

kaliver rebbe

chabad of poway

koliver rebbe

yisroel goldstein

menachem mendel taub

We Must Revive the Conscience of Our Nation

Terrorism/Antisemitism

Murder at Chabad of Poway: A Bullet in the Soul of America

Today, on Holocaust Remembrance Day, we remember the six million Jews, including one and a half&nbsp;million children, who perished in the Holocaust.

We remember them all. We remember each and every Jew beaten, tortured, hung, shot, burned and gassed during the six darkest years of our history.

<div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: 13pt; text-align: justify; ">It's hard to sense the sheer scale of the destruction. On Sept. 11, 2001, history was changed by a terrorist attack in which 3,000 people died. During the Holocaust, on average, 3,000 Jews were killed every day of every week for five-and-a-half years. And the killing didn't stop with just Jews: the mentally ill, the physically handicapped, gypsies and gays were murdered because they were different.</div>

<div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: 13pt; text-align: justify; ">&nbsp;</div>

<div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: 13pt; text-align: justify; ">The Holocaust was exceptional in the scientific precision with which it was carried out.&nbsp;It was unprecedented in the sheer scale on which it was conceived. But what made it truly different from other mass murders was that it served no interest. At the height of the slaughter, the Nazis diverted trains from the Russian front to transport victims to the extermination camps. As Emil Fackenheim once put it, the Holocaust was evil for evil's sake. 
 
And today we remember…</div>

<div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: 13pt; text-align: justify; ">&nbsp;</div>

<div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: 13pt; text-align: justify; ">The Cemetery</div>

<div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: 13pt; text-align: justify; ">&nbsp;</div>

<div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: 13pt; text-align: justify; ">The Hebrew vernacular -- the language of the Jewish people – gives us three distinct and paradoxical names for a cemetery: 1) Beit Hakvarot, meaning a home for burial. 2) Bait Olam, meaning a home of eternity; and 3) Beit Hachaim, which means a home for the living. 
 
Why the need for three diverse names for a cemetery, for that inexplicable place signifying, in George Harrison's words, that “All things must pass, none of life's strings can last”? What is the significance behind the three conflicting names conferred by Jewish tradition on a cemetery? 
 
Death and Life: Three Perspectives</div>

<div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: 13pt; text-align: justify; "> 
These three titles – a home for burial, for eternity and for the living -- represent three ways in which we can interpret death. These three interpretations are symptoms of three ways in which we can interpret life. The way we define life, is the way we define death. 
 
If we define life as an exclusively physical experience, an opportunity to maintain, nurture and gratify our material and physical selves; if life is merely about tending to the appetites of our bodies, then death – that unfathomable moment when the body turns lifeless – constitutes the tragic cessation of life. The cemetery, then, is a home for burial. A life has, sadly, reached its final chapter. 
 
“It ain't over 'til it's over,” Yogi Berra taught us. But in the cemetery, “it’s over.” 
 
But there is another possible perspective on the meaning of life: Seeing life as a spiritual experience, in addition to a physical one. If life is also about nurturing and nourishing our souls, our spiritual identity, our inner spark of G-d, then death, as&nbsp;irrevocable as it is, is not the absolute interruption of life. 
 
Tragic and horrendously painful? Absolutely yes. The end of one's existence? Absolutely not. Because a soul never dies. It continues to live, love and feel in another dimension, on a spiritual plane, one that cannot be grasped through our senses of seeing, hearing, touching, smelling or tasting. Yet, the soul, a fragment of the Divine, is not subjected to death, only to travel from one realm of experience to another. 
 
In this perception of life and death, a cemetery&nbsp;is a home of eternity. The body is interred, but the soul remains eternal. 
 
Yet there is something even greater we can achieve. If we, those left behind, use the&nbsp;passion and the values of our loved ones who are not here with us, to&nbsp;inspire and affect our daily lives and behavior, then the cemetery becomes a “home for the living.” By inspiring and touching the daily&nbsp;lives and choices of their children, students, friends, relatives and communities, they are in some very real sense still alive. Their own dreams and ideals continue to exist, in a very tangible way, in the earthly lives of the people touched by their love and&nbsp;goodness.</div>

<div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: 13pt; text-align: justify; ">&nbsp; 
Three Ways of Remembering</div>

<div style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; line-height: 13pt; text-align: justify; ">What is Yizkor? What does it mean to remember? 
 
To begin with, of course, it is about remembering our loves ones who have been taken from us. 
 
But how will we choose to remember them? Will we give them once again a heartfelt goodbye, expressing how much we miss them and how the void is still so palpable? Will we pay tribute to a soul eternally lodged in heaven, linking ourselves to the Divine aspect of our loved ones which never dies? Or will we, in some small but genuine way, bring our loves ones back to life, by sustaining their dreams and commitments in our own physical and earthly daily lives? 
 
Of course, it is not a choice of either or. All three are appropriate and authentic. Each has its own place in the majestic and tragic pathways of the human heart. 
 
Remembering the Six Million 
 
This, then, might be the question we, the Jewish people living in 2012, must answer to ourselves and our children: 
 
Will we allow Auschwitz and Treblinka to remain homes of burial? Or will we lovingly embrace not only the deaths but also the lives, the dreams and&nbsp;the&nbsp;passions of the six million? 
 
Will we merely create beautiful and heart wrenching memorials and museums for dead Jews, or will we bring them back to life through our own? Will we publish documentaries about a world that was and has been reduced to ashes, or will we recreate their majestic and sacred world in our own? 
 
Only you and I, those who are fortunate to still possess the gift of physical life, can and will decide whetherthe Ground Zeroes in our long and bloody history will remain a home of burial and eternity, or will become a home for the living. Will we have the courage to put a living smile on the faces of our ancestors on high, who sacrificed so much to ensure that the people of Israel would survive and thrive? 
 
Close your eyes and you might&nbsp;hear the whispering voices of&nbsp;six million souls: 
 
“Give your children and yourself the gift of Jewish life, of Jewish tradition, of deep and vibrant Judaism. Share with them the gift of Torah, the gift of loving kindness, the gift of Shabbat, the gift of Mikvah, Kashrut, Mezuzah, Tzedakah (charity). Give your sweet daughters the gift of Shabbat candles and grant your precious sons, the gift of daily Tefilin. Fill your homes with books of Torah and holiness. 
 
“Bestow upon your children the infinite richness of a Jewish education. That way, in their daily lives, we will continue to live."</div>

No, this will never bring us comfort for the unfathomable tragedy. But it will deprive Adolf Hitler from claiming victory.

Remembering Auschwitz - Reflections for Holocaust Remembrance Day

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death

cemetery

burial

Reflections for Holocaust Remembrance Day

Remembering Auschwitz

In Germany they came first for the Communists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn't speak up because I was a Protestant. Then they came for me, and by that time no one was left to speak up.—Martin Niemoller

As the Jewish world grieves for the heinous terror attack on Chaabd of Poway, last Shabbos, the final day of Passover, April 27, 2019; as we are alarmed and disgusted by the ugly display of antisemitism in the US and the world over; &nbsp;as many survivors and their families commemorate today&nbsp;Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day, to remember the 6,000,000 who perished in the Holocaust; as Jews in Israel continue to be threatened by nations determined to destroy it; as abuse and injustice often take root in our own communities due to the silence of good people—let us reflect on a stirring Midrash on this week's Torah portion.

The Fateful Conversation

This week's Torah portion, Acharei Mos, relates (for the second time after the first time in Shmini) the tragic episode of the premature death of Aaron's two sons, Nadav and Avihu.

On the day that the Tabernacle in the desert was erected and Aaron's four sons were inaugurated as priests, the two oldest children entered into the tabernacle and did not come out alive<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn1" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref1')">[1]</a>.

The Talmud<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn2" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref2')">[2]</a> relates the following story to explain the cause of their death:&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

"It once happened that Moses and Aaron were walking along the road and Nadav and Avihu (Aaron's two sons) were walking behind them, and all Israel was walking behind them. Said Nadav to Avihu, 'When will these two old men die and you and I will lead the generation?' Thereupon G-d said to them: 'We shall see who will bury whom!'"

A Cryptic Midrash

Now, this story of Aaron's two sons, engendered a cryptic Midrash. It reads like this<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn3" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref3')">[3]</a>:

"When Job heard about the death of the two sons of Aaron, he was seized bytremendous fear. It was this event that compelled Job's best friend, Elihu, to state<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn4" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref4')">[4]</a>: "Because of this my heart trembles and jumps from its place."

This Midrash seems strange. Why did the Nadan-Avihu episode inspire such profound fear in the heart of Job's friend?

Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulaei, the 18th century Italian sage and mystic known in short as the Chida<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn5" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref5')">[5]</a>, presents the basis of the following interpretation on this obscure Midrash. He quotes it<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn6" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref6')">[6]</a> "in the name of the Sages of Germany."

Three Advisors

The Talmud relates<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn7" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref7')">[7]</a> that Job served on the team of advisors to Pharaoh, the emperor of Egypt. The other members of the team were Balaam and Jethro. When the Jewish population in Egypt began to increase significantly, developing from a small family of seventy members into a large nation, Pharaoh, struck by the fear that this refugee group would ultimately pose a threat to his empire, consulted his three advisors on how to deal with the "Jewish problem."

Balaam chose a tyrannical approach. He suggested that Pharaoh drown all Jewish baby boys and force every adult Jewish male into slave labor.

Job remained silent. He neither condemned the Jews to exertion and death, nor defended their rights to life and liberty.

Jethro was the only one among the three who objected Balaam's plan of oppression. To escape the wrath of Pharaoh, who enthusiastically embraced Balaam's "final solution," Jethro fled from Egypt to Midian, where he lived for the remainder of his years.

The Talmud (7) relates the consequences of the advisors' respective behaviors. Balaam was slain many decades later during a Jewish military campaign in the Middle East<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn8" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref8')">[8]</a>. Job was afflicted by various maladies and personal tragedy<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn9" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref9')">[9]</a>, while Jethro, the exclusive voice of morality in the Egyptian palace, merited not only Moses as a son-in-law but also descendants who served as members of the Jewish Supreme Court (Sanhedrin) in Jerusalem, loyally representing the Jewish principles of justice and morality<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn10" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref10')">[10]</a>.

Job's Self-Righteousness

What went through Job's mind after this incident? Did Job consider himself morally inferior to his colleague Jethro who, in an act of enormous courage, stood up to a superpower king and protested his program of genocide? Did Job return home that evening and say to his wife, "I discovered today that I am a spineless and cowardly politician who will sell his soul to the devil just to retain his position in the government."

Job, like so many of us in similar situations, did not entertain that thought even for a moment. On the contrary, Job considered himself the pragmatist and Jethro the idiot.

"What did Jethro gain of speaking the full truth?" Job must have thought to himself. "He lost his position and was forced to flee. He acted as a fanatical zealot. I, Job, by employing my savvy diplomatic skills and remaining silent, continue to serve as Pharaoh's senior advisor and thus will be able to assist the Jewish people, subtly and unobtrusively, from within the governmental ranks of power." For decades, Job walked the corridors of the Egyptian palace saturated with a feeling of self-righteousness and contentment.

Till the day he heard of the death of the sons of Aaron.

Job's Shattering Discovery

When Job inquired as to what might have caused the premature death of these two esteemed men, he was answered with the famous Talmudic episode quoted in the beginning of this essay:

"It once happened that Moses and Aaron were walking along the road and Nadav and Avihu (Aaron's two sons) were walking behind them, and all Israel were walking behind them. Said Nadav to Avihu, 'When will these two old men die and you and I will lead the generation?' Thereupon G-d said to them: 'We shall see who will bury whom!'"

Job was astounded. "I can fully understand," Job said<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn11" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref11')">[11]</a>, "why Nadav was punished. It was he who uttered these disgusting words. But why was his brother Avihu punished? He did not say anything<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn12" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref12')">[12]</a>."

"Avihu?" came the reply. "He was punished because he remained silent<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn13" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref13')">[13]</a>."

Because when a crime is happening in front of your eyes, your silence is deafening<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn14" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref14')">[14]</a>.

No Time for Silence

In the face of despicable anti-Semitism, coming from white supremacists, or any other source from the Right or the Left—all good people who remain silent, become accomplices to the crime.

Ideas have power. It was the propaganda of the Nazi party eight decades ago which allowed millions of Germans to become active murders of millions. When Jew-hatred goes unchallenged and unprotested, the consequences can be horrific.

Throughout history it has been the inaction of those who could have acted, the indifference of those who should have known better, the silence of the voice of justice when it mattered most that has made it possible for evil to triumph.—Haile Selassie

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref1" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn1')">[1]</a> Leviticus 10:1-3; 16:1.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref2" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn2')">[2]</a> Sanhedrin 52a.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref3" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn3')">[3]</a> The Midrash is quoted in Nachal Kedumim and Chomas Anach by the Chida Parshas Acharei Mos (see footnotes 5-6); in the book "Midrash Pliah," and in Pardas Yosef to Leviticus 16:1. - See Vayikrah Rabah 20:5 (and commentaries of Matnois Kehunah, Yefah Toar and Rashash).

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref4" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn4')">[4]</a> Job 37:1.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref5" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn5')">[5]</a> 1724-1806. The Chida, author of more than fifty volumes on Torah thought, was one of the great Torah luminaries of his day. He resided in Israel, Egypt and Italy.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref6" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn6')">[6]</a> In his book Chomas Anach (However, see there for his refutation of this interpretation). This answer is quoted also in Pardas Yosef ibid and in "Midrash Pliah - Chedah Upelpul."

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref7" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn7')">[7]</a> Soteh 11a.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref8" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn8')">[8]</a> Numbers 31:8.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref9" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn9')">[9]</a> See the biblical book of Job chapters 1-2.&nbsp;&nbsp;Job, just like Balaam, received a punishment measure for measure. One cries when he suffers even though he knows that doing so will not alleviate his suffering. Why? Because pain hurts. This keenly demonstrated to Job his state of moral apathy. For if he were truly perturbed by the plight of the Jewish victims, he would have voiced his objection to Balaam's plan even if he thought that protesting it wouldn't bear any results, just as one cries out in pain upon suffering though the cry will not help the situation (See Chidushei HaGriz by Rabbi Yitzchak Ze'av Soloveitchik to Soteh ibid.).

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref10" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn10')">[10]</a> Jethro, too, was rewarded measure for measure (see Toras HaKenaos to Soteh ibid.).

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref11" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn11')">[11]</a> It is unnecessary to assume that the Chida's intent is that Job actually heard of this Talmudic tradition and posed the following question. As is the case with many Midrashim, certain statements and episodes may be understood symbolically. Possibly, the Midrash is conveying to us its perspective on moral silence by employing the images of Job, and Aaron's two sons, as examples

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref12" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn12')">[12]</a> This question is raised (independently of this entire discussion) in Birchas Shmuel to Soteh ibid.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref13" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn13')">[13]</a> Cf. Eyoon Yaakov to Ein Yaakov Soteh ibid.

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref14" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn14')">[14]</a> This essay is partially based on an address by the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Purim 1971.&nbsp;Published in&nbsp;Sichos Kodesh 5731 vol. 1 pp. 560-568 and in Toras Menachem Purim 5731.

A Deafening Silence - In Tribute of Holocaust Remembrance Day

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22_ac_final-1.pdf

nadav and avihu

acharei

iyov

silence

shmini

The Holocaust Began with Propaganda 

Parshas Acharei Mos/Shmini

Don't Be Silent About the Antisemitism

As Israel and the Jewish people face the horrors of October 7th, 2023, I wish to share the story of a fascinating 9-11 diary (capturing a significant theme of the weekly Torah portion&nbsp;of Shemini). This diary can shed light on the ongoing struggle between Israel, the West, and radical Islam.

September 11, 1941: The world is swimming in Adolf Hitler's bloodbath. In a few days, the Germans will capture Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine, and massacre 100,000 innocent human beings in a ravine named Babi Yar.&nbsp;On this day—9/11 1941—in Arlington, Virginia, the U.S. Department of Defense starts construction on its new headquarters, the Pentagon.

On the same day,&nbsp;a middle-aged new immigrant to the shores of the United States, Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, later to become known as the Lubavitcher Rebbe, writes an entry in his private journal concerning two traits that make for a moral and productive human being: "fins" and "scales."<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn1" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref1')">[1]</a>

Nobody imagines that sixty years later, on 9/11 2001, the free world would be struck again. Radical Islamists would crash planes into the Pentagon and the Twin Towers, murdering thousands. A new era of global terror would descend on our planet.&nbsp;

The Journal

The idea the Lubavitcher Rebbe presented in his journal on this day is worth reflecting on today.

The Torah states in this week’s portion (Parshas Shmini as well as Reah): “This may you eat of all that is in the waters: everything that has fins and scales, you may eat. But anything that has no fins and scales, you may not eat.” <a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn2" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref2')">[2]</a> For a fish to be kosher, it needs both fins and scales.

The Talmud states a fascinating fact: “All [fish] that have scales also have fins [and are thus kosher]; but there are [fish] that have fins but do not have scales [and are thus unkosher].”<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_edn3" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref3')">[3]</a>

“If so," asks the Talmud, "the Torah could have written only 'scales,' without having to also write 'fins?’” If a fish that has scales inevitably has fins, why is there a&nbsp;need for both signs? The Talmud answers:&nbsp;"Said Rabbi Abahu, and so it was learned in the study house of Rabbi Ishmael: “This is so that the Torah should be increased and made great." This is a strange answer.&nbsp;Where is the logic in presenting fins as an identifying sign for kosher fish when it is totally irrelevant and inconsequential since scaled fish inevitably have fins as well? How does this make the Torah greater?

Also, why are fins and scales the characteristics that distinguish kosher fish? What is special about these two identifying signs to deem fish suitable for Jewish consumption?

Food’s Force

The Rabbis and Mystics teach that the physical attributes of fish, and of all animals, reflect their psychological and spiritual qualities. They further explain that the food a person consumes has a profound effect on his or her psyche. Therefore, when one eats the flesh of a particular creature, the “personality” of that creature affects the person in some way.

Fins and scales too embody two qualities embedded in the souls of these types of fish that are necessary for the healthy development of human character. When the Jew consumes the substance of such fish, he becomes a more "kosher" and refined human being. When he consumes fish lacking these characteristics, it may dampen some of these vital qualities.

Drive &amp; Direction

Scales, the "armor" that shields and protects the body of the fish, represent the quality of integrity, which protects us from falling prey to the many pitfalls that life presents. A person of integrity will not deceive his customers, despite the apparent financial profits involved. He will not tell a lie to a friend, despite the short-term comfort gained by doing so.&nbsp;He will not cheat on his spouse&nbsp;despite the tremendous temptations.

Integrity means that you have absolute standards of right and wrong and that you are committed to a morality that transcends your moods and temptations. Integrity preserves and protects your life and your soul.

Fins, the wing-like organs that propel fish forward, represent ambition. A healthy sense of ambition, knowing one’s strengths and wanting to utilize them in full, gives a person the impetus to traverse the turbulent sea of life and to maximize his or her G‑d-given potential. It propels us to fulfill our dreams and leave our unique imprint on the world.

What Is Our Priority?

Which of these two qualities is more important to cultivate in life—fins or scales? What ought to be the main function of education? Should we concentrate primarily on providing our children with the confidence and skills necessary for them to become productive and accomplished human beings? Or ought we to focus more intensely on raising children of high moral standing, concentrating more on how they will live than on how they will make a living?

The Talmud teaches that all fish that have scales also have fins. But some fish have fins but do not have scales and are thus non-kosher.&nbsp;On a deeper level, this symbolizes the idea that a human being who possesses fins may still lack scales and thus remain "non-kosher." He might swim and frolic through large seas and oceans with his talent and genius, but his achievements may be corrupt, hurting others in the process. Creating ambitious and confident children does not guarantee their moral uprightness and integrity. In our times, we have seen the result of people who had fins but no scales.

On the other hand, the Talmud tells us that all fish with scales have fins. If you teach your children to approach life with truth and honesty, with an unyielding commitment to morality and decency, this child will certainly succeed and develop "fins" as well. Regardless of his or her degree of intellectual prowess, they will find the "fins" with which to advance in their learning and their achievements to make the world a more beautiful place.

To Change the World

"If so," asks the Talmud, "the Torah could have written only 'scales,' without having to also write 'fins'." On a deeper level, the Talmud is asking, why is it important to emphasize the need for fins in developing a "kosher" human being?&nbsp;Why does an emphasis on ambition constitute part of a moral and "kosher" education? Why not just focus on integrity and ethics?

The Talmud’s answer is marvelous: "This is so that 'Torah be increased and made great.'" This means that our spiritual mission consists not only of professing integrity and morality but also of developing our full potential materially and spiritually.&nbsp;G-d wants us to be good; but He also wants us to be successful and shine; to utilize all of our talents and resources to transform the landscape of our planet into an abode for the Divine; to make the Torah “great and large.” The light, majesty and depth of Torah must penetrate the entire world and turn it into an oasis of goodness and holiness.

Cruel Ambition; Deadly Surrender

The events of September 2001, like those of September 1941, dramatically altered our view of the world. Both ushered in a new era of violence, bloodshed, grief and terror. The first was by Nazi Germany; the second was by radical Islamists. Yet the roots of the two wars were very different: The Germans personified a culture possessing fins but no scales. Their ambitions, achievements, and love of life were impressive, yet their morality and sense of ethics were horrifically skewed. While they loved and nurtured their dogs, appreciated poetry, philosophy, and scientific advancement, they sent millions to die in gas chambers.

September 11,&nbsp;2001, on the other hand, was perpetrated by people with a deep faith and commitment to the will of Allah, yet with a hatred for all progress and advancement, and a desire to destroy all who do not adhere to their dark vision of the world. They died for what they believed to be the ultimate in morality and holiness; yet their perception of G-d was horrifically skewed: theirs was a god who wanted them to die, as long as they can kill others.

People somehow delude themselves into thinking that Hamas and the people living in Gaza are two distinct entities and&nbsp;that Hamas took control of Gazans. They forget that Hamas does not control Gaza; rather, Gaza thinks Hamas. Hamas was elected by the people of Gaza in 2006, and more than 70 percent of Arabs living in Gaza and in the West Bank support the murders of October 7th, 2023.&nbsp;

Many young Muslims are being taught today to develop scales but no fins: to surrender their lives to Allah, without appreciating that G-d wants them to live, and not to die; to build the world, not destroy it, and to respect other peoples, not blow them up. To create a “kosher” world, we need scales, but we also need fins. Muslim leaders, parents and educators must begin to teach their youth to love their own lives more than they hate the lives of others.

They must discover that the love of G-d does not require a love for blood.

Israel and the Jewish people stand at the forefront of this conflict. This is not a time to back down but to stand with unwavering commitment to the sacredness of life and the fight against those who gleefully want to see us dead. With clarity, we ought to call out the evil we are facing and fight to eradicate it.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

________

<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref1" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn1')">[1]</a> Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, escaped Nazi-occupied France with his wife, via Portugal, and arrived to these shores in June 1941. This journal of the Rebbe (among many more), dated Elul 19, 5701 (equivalent to September 11, 1941) was discovered in his study after his passing in June 1994 and published in Reshimos #39, pp. 6-8. I'm sharing my exposition based on the ideas presented in the above journal. 
<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref2" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn2')">[2]</a>&nbsp;Leviticus 11:9. Deuteronomy 14:9–10. – In 1941, Sep. 11 coincided with the Torah portion of Reah. 
<a href="javascript: void(0);" id="_ednref3" onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn3')">[3]</a> Niddah 51b.

The 9-11 Diary: Hitler and Hamas.&nbsp;G-d Wants You to Be Good, But He Also Wants You to Shine

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G-d Wants You to Be Good, But He Also Wants You to Shine

Essay Shmini/Reah

10-7 and 9-11: Hitler, Hamas, and a Historic Diary

The Jewish Perspective

Ammunition had run out for a unit in the Russian army, but it was still under fierce attack. “Take out your bayonets,” said the corporal, “we are going to engage the enemy in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Please sir,” said Pvt. Finkelstein. “Show me my man. Maybe he and I can reach some kind of agreement.”

The Survivor

Let me share a story<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref1')" id="_edn1" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref1">[1]</a>:

After the war, a Holocaust survivor came to visit his one-time spiritual master, the famed Rebbe of the Chassidic dynasty of Ger, Rabbi Avraham Mordechai Alter<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref2')" id="_edn2" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref2">[2]</a>. This broken Jew had been deported to the death camps together with his wife, children, relatives, and the entire community. The man's wife and children were gassed, his relatives exterminated and his entire community wiped out. He emerged from the ashes a lonely man in a vast world that had silently swallowed the blood of six million Jews. This Jew lost one more thing in the camps: his G-d. After what he experienced in the Nazi death camps, he could not continue believing in a G-d who allowed Auschwitz.

Although after the war he made aliyah to Eretz Israel (then known as Palestine), he completely abandoned Jewish practice and observance. Yet he missed his old Rebbe and went to visit him in Tel Aviv. The Gerer Rebbe himself lost many grandchildren and relatives in the Holocaust. In addition, nearly all of his 200,000 followers were wiped out by the Germans. The Rebbe of Ger and his immediate children managed to escape Warsaw in 1940 and arrived in Eretz Israel soon after.

Upon hearing the story of his disciple, the Rebbe of Ger broke into tears. The man and his Rebbe sat together mourning what they had lost. After a long period of weeping, the Gerer Rebbe wiped his tears and communicated—in Yiddish—the following idea.

"Before Your Eyes"

In his farewell address to his people, in the Torah portion of Eikev, Moses recounts the moment when he descended from Mount Sinai with the two Divine tablets to present to the Jewish people<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref3')" id="_edn3" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref3">[3]</a>:

"I descended from the mountain," Moses recalls, "the mountain was still burning with fire and the two tablets of the covenant were in my two hands. I immediately saw that you had sinned to G-d, making a calf. You were so quick to turn from the path that G-d had prescribed. "I grasped the two tablets, and threw them down from my two hands, and I smashed them before your eyes."

Moses proceeds to relate how after much toil he succeeded in “convincing” G-d to forgive the Jewish people for their sin. He then, as mentioned above, carved out a second pair of tablets to replace the first ones. Though the two sets were identical in content, containing the Ten Commandments, the second pair did not possess the same Divine quality as the first tablets, which were "G-d's handiwork and G-d's script<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref4')" id="_edn4" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref4">[4]</a>." The second tablets were Moses’ creation, endorsed by G-d, but not G-d’s own creation.

Now, considering the well-known meticulousness of each word in the Bible, Moses' words "I smashed them before your eyes" seem superfluous. Suppose Moses had turned around and broken the tablets out of view; would that in any way have lessened the tragedy? Why did Moses find it important to emphasize that the breaking of the tablets occurred "before your eyes"<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref5')" id="_edn5" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref5">[5]</a>?

Two Worlds

What Moses was saying, explained the Rebbe of Ger, was that "I smashed the tablets only before your eyes." The shattering of the tablets occurred only before your eyes and from your perception. In reality, though, there exists a world in which the tablets have never been broken.

What Moses was attempting to communicate, the Rebbe of Ger explained is that what may seem to us as utter destruction and chaos, does not always capture the complete story. "I smashed them before your eyes." Before your eyes, there is nothing but devastation. Yet, what in our world bespeaks total disaster may, in a different world, be wholesome.

“As difficult as it is to digest, the Gerer Rebbe went on to say, “there is meaning in the absurdness of history; there is dignity in the valley of tears. G-d—the G-d who transcends all human logic, understanding, and imagination—was present in our broken pieces."&nbsp;

"As difficult as it is for you and me to believe," the Rebbe concluded, "I want you to know that the extermination of our families, our communities, and our people occurred only 'before our eyes.' There remains a world in which the Jewish people are wholesome. Beneath the surface of our perception, there exists a reality in which every single Jew from Abraham till our present day is alive, his or her soul absolutely intact."&nbsp;

"The day will come," said the Rebbe of Ger, "when that world will be exposed. G-d will transform our perceptions and paradigms. He will mend our broken tablets and our broken nation. We will discover how the tablets were really never broken and the Jewish people were always complete."

These are words that could be effective only when communicated by a man who experienced the suffering of the&nbsp;war on his own flesh. Pain is not an intellectual subject; it is raw, personal, and real.&nbsp;When the Rebbe of Ger spoke these words, he spoke them with tears, with grief. He was not an objective preacher of religion; together with the Holocaust survivor, he walked through his tunnel of darkness. Thus, his words gave back to this broken Jew his soul, his faith, and his courage.

Shattered Dreams

Notwithstanding the grand distinctions, the above message&nbsp;applies&nbsp;to our lives as well. Many of us once owned a set of sacred tablets that at some point in our lives were destroyed. It may have been the death of a mother or father at a young age, bringing to an abrupt end the nurturing and security a child so desperately needs from parents. It may have been any other form of pain, abuse, or loss that you experienced during your life that denied you the love, confidence, joy, and optimism you once called your own. It may be profound fear, shame, insecurity, guilt, disappointment, mistrust, or other forms of emotional trauma that afflict you, shattering your inner sacred and Divine “tablets.”

Many of us create for ourselves a second pair of "tablets" in order to substitute for the first ones that were lost. But they are not quite the same. The second set of "tablets" lacks the magic and the innocence of the original "tablets" that no longer exist. In the depth of our hearts, we crave to reclaim something of the wonder of the old tablets.

But it is to no avail: The clock of life never turns back. Here lay the empowering message of Moses to his beloved people before his own demise: There is a secret world in which your first tablets were never broken. Notwithstanding the abuse and pain you experienced, each of you possesses a core self that forever remains invincible, pure, and sacred.

What is more,&nbsp;when your perception expands, you might discover how your shattered dreams may be part of your individual path to wholesomeness. Wholesomeness does not come in one shape; for some, it comes in the form of a broken heart. What is broken in one level of perception may be wholesome in another.

The Final Month

In a few days, we will commence the last month of the Hebrew calendar, known as the month of Elul, when we bid farewell to a year gone by, and prepare to embrace a new one in its stead, beginning on Rosh Hashanah.

The great sage and mystic Rabbi Nathan Shapiro (d. 1640 in Krakow, Poland) writes<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref6')" id="_edn6" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref6">[6]</a> that the four Hebrew letters of the name Elul (spelled Aleph, Lamed, Vuv, Lamed) is the acronym of the four Hebrew words “Aron, Luchos, V’shevrei, Luchos” (which also begin with the Hebrew letters Aleph, Lamed, Vuv, Lamed). These words, quoted from the Talmud<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref7')" id="_edn7" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref7">[7]</a>, mean this: “The Ark containing the whole tablets and the broken tablets.”

What does this mean? In the book of Exodus, the Torah captures the dramatic tale of how, following the Revelation at Sinai, G-d carved out two tablets, engraved the Ten Commandments on them, and presented them to Moses on Mount Sinai. When Moses descended the mountain, however, he observed that the Israelites had created a golden calf as an idol. Seeing this, Moses threw the tablets from his hands and smashed them on the ground. After a powerful confrontation with G-d, Moses persuades Him, as it were, to forgive the Jewish people for their betrayal. Moses then, acting on G-d’s instructions, carves out a second pair of tablets, to replace the smashed first ones. When the Ark was built to be located inside the holiest chamber in the Tabernacle the Jews erected in the desert, both sets of tablets were placed therein: the second whole pair of tablets, as well as the fragmented pieces of the first smashed tablets<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_ednref8')" id="_edn8" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftnref8">[8]</a>.

But what is the connection to the month of Elul? Why does the name of this month symbolize this idea of the Ark containing both sets of Tablets, the complete ones, and the broken ones?

The above story can provide insight. The unique power of the final month of the year, the name of which spells out the words “The Ark containing the whole Tablets and the broken Tablets” is this: This is the month that allows you to build in your personal life an “ark” which will contain not only your second complete tablets but will also embrace the broken pieces of your first tablets. This is the time when you are empowered and can pick up the broken pieces of your life and discover that there is a part&nbsp;of yourself that was never really broken.

What is more, during this month you may lift up with tender love every broken component of your life, learning how each of them constituted another hue of wholesomeness.

(Please make even a small and secure contribution to help us continue our work.&nbsp;<a href="http://www.theyeshiva.net/donate">Click here.</a>)&nbsp;

____________

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn1')" id="_ednref1" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn1">[1]</a> I read the story in a sermon by Rabbi Moshe&nbsp;Weinberger shlita, spiritual leader of Aish Kodesh Institute in Woodmere,&nbsp;N.Y. Afterward I heard it from an elder Gerer Chassid who visited the Imrei Emes as a young man in Poland before the war. Another Gerer Chassid told me that this insight was presented by the Gerer Rebbe at a prayer gathering in the middle of the Holocaust, on 20 Kislev, 5703, in the "Churvah."

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn2')" id="_ednref2" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn2">[2]</a> Rabbi Avraham Mordechai (born in 1866), known as the Imrei Emes, was the third Rebbe of Ger and passed away in 1948 in Jerusalem. The city was under siege at the time, so he was buried in the courtyard of his yeshiva.

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn3')" id="_ednref3" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn3">[3]</a> Deuteronomy 9:15-17.

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn4')" id="_ednref4" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn4">[4]</a> Exodus 32:16.

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn5')" id="_ednref5" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn5">[5]</a> Cf. Abarbanel to Deuteronomy 9:17. Likkutei Sichos vol. 9 p. 241; vol. 26 p. 252. My gratitude to Shmuel Levin, a writer and editor in Pittsburgh, for his editorial assistance.

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn6')" id="_ednref6" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn6">[6]</a> Sefer Megaleh Amukos.

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn7')" id="_ednref7" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn7">[7]</a> Bava Basra 14b.

<a onclick="ty.scrollTo('_edn8')" id="_ednref8" href="javascript: void(0);" name="_ftn8">[8]</a> On a literal level the connection is this: On the 29th of Av, at the end of Moses’ second 40-day period on Mount Sinai, G-d agreed to give the second set of tablets to Israel. The following day Moses ascended again, and remained on the mountain throughout the month of Elul. On Yom Kippur he descended with the new set of tablets (Rashi to Exodus).

The Survivor - How a Rebbe Helped a Survivor Embrace His Fragments

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How a Rebbe Helped a Survivor Embrace His Fragments

Essay Parshas Eikev/Elul

Never Broken

Rebuilding A Shattered World - Breathing new life into a shattered people: the three components that set the Lubavithcer Rebbe’s leadership apart, in the aftermath of the holocaust

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Breathing new life into a shattered people: the three components that set the Lubavithcer Rebbe’s leadership apart, in the aftermath of the holocaust

Rebuilding A Shattered World

On 23 Tamuz, 1570, one of the greatest mystics in Jewish history, Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, known as the Ramak, passed away. At his funeral, he was eulogized by his student and contemporary, the greatest Kabbalist, the Arizal, Rabbi Yitzchak Luria, who spoke about the reason the righteous experience death.

The class dissects the meaning behind this eulogy of the Arizal and gives perspective on how to appreciate the underlying mechanisms behind world events and our life experiences. It also relates an incredible story about a meeting between the legendary Reb Michael Ber Weissmandel&nbsp;and the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe&nbsp;after the Second World War.

Part of the class is based on Likkutei Sichos vol. 24 Ki Seitzei, analyzing the eulogy of the Arizal.

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The Mystery of Death: The Eulogy Presented by the Arizal at the Funeral of Rabbi Moshe Cordovero

Ki Seitzei

Who Is Responsible for the Holocaust?

This lecture presented at the A-Time Shas-A-Thon on Sunday, Shevat 26, 5775, February 15, 2015, when hundreds of Jews completed Shas together. A journey into the story of the Jewish nation, the power of Torah, and how to view the future of our children and our nation.

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A Nation Continuously in Question: The Future of the Jewish People

Siyum Hashas A-Time  Lecture

Parchment Burning, Letters Soaring

March 27, 1945.
Holocaust survivor Solly Ganor, living in Herzelia, Israel wrote up a emarkable story about a Passover seder he experienced, 70 years ago. The seder took place on March 27, 1945, in Dachau, the notorious Nazi concentration camp. He was a youngster at the time, a slave laboring in the death camp where hundreds of thousands perished.
This is how Solly recounted the story:
It is the story of a man who made a difference even while we dwelt in the Nazi hell. We did not know his name. We only knew him as the &ldquo;Rebbe&rdquo; and that he came to us from the Lodz Ghetto, through Auschwitz.
One evening, the &ldquo;Rebbe&rdquo; came to see us in our barracks. He was the same weird man from Lodz who staged the Purim party and almost got us killed by the German guards. We never found out if he was really a rabbi, but we all called him: &rdquo;Rebbe.&rdquo; He knew all the prayers by heart and always urged us to keep the faith even in Dachau.
Burgin, the head Jewish Capo, gave him the job of burying the dead and he had plenty to do, as more and more of our prisoners died. It was a dreadful job, but it was better than carrying hundred pound cement sacks on your back. He called himself &rdquo;Chevra Kadishe&rdquo; and was known to say Kaddish after every burial, which earned him our respect. Everyone considered him strange, but he was a kind man and always smiled, which was another reason why we thought he was crazy.
We were sitting around the small round iron stove trying to warm ourselves, when he came into our barracks. He smelled of the dead. We were well acquainted with that smell. &ldquo;Yidden, peisach kumt in tzvelf tug un men darf baken matze,&rdquo; (&ldquo;Jews, Passover is coming in twelve days and we have to bake matzos.&rdquo;) He spoke Yiddish differently from our Lithuanian Yiddish and sometimes it was difficult to understand him. He also had the strange habit of calling us &ldquo;Yidden&rdquo; and never called us by our names. We just looked at him in astonishment.
In the last few weeks, our situation had deteriorated. The watery soup we got for lunch became even more watery, and the daily portion of bread became thin and quite often green with mold. The German overseers showed increasing nervousness as the Allies were closing in and were even crueler, beating us at every opportunity. We knew that the Allies were somewhere in Germany, but whether we could hold out till they reached our camp was doubtful.
After the incident we had with the &rdquo;Rebbe&rdquo; on Purim, we weren't too surprised that he would come up with another loony idea. Then he gave us a sly look and wagged his forefinger at us. &rdquo;Let me tell you, Yidden, we shall soon celebrate not only 'Yetzias Mitzraim' but also 'Yeztias Deutschland.'&rdquo; He said this and gave a short high pitched laugh. (&ldquo;We shall soon celebrate not only the exodus from Egypt, but also the exodus from Germany.&rdquo;)
We thought that his statement &rdquo;Exodus from Germany,&rdquo; instead of liberation, was part of his strange behavior. &rdquo;From your mouth to G-d's ears, but how on earth do you know that Pesach is in twelve days?&rdquo; my father asked in surprise. &ldquo;I know because it is four days before the end of March!&rdquo; he said triumphantly. That didn't any make more sense to us than his precise knowledge of Jewish holidays. We hardly knew what day it was, let alone the days of our holidays.
&ldquo;And to where is this Exodus taking us from Germany? Shall we cross the Red Sea to the promised land?&rdquo; Chaim asked with derision. &ldquo;No, we shall cross the Mediterranean to the promised land, young man,&rdquo; he answered quietly. We looked at each other. Perhaps his ideas were not so crazy. We all thought that if we would survive this purgatory, the only place left for us to go was the Land of Israel (known at the time as Palestine).
&ldquo;So, how about some flour? I will bake the matzos and make the proper blessing to make it kosher,&rdquo; he said, rubbing his hands. &ldquo;For G-d's sake, Rebbe, where do you expect us to get flour? We are all starving here and you come with your crazy ideas,&ldquo; one of the prisoners said in an irritated voice.
&ldquo;Look, if you want to have an exodus from Germany, we must have matzos,&rdquo; he said, stubbornly. &ldquo;Or there won't be an exodus from Germany,&rdquo; he said, sticking up his chin. Then he suddenly pointed his finger at me and said, &rdquo;You work in the German OT kitchen, you bring us the flour!&rdquo;
I looked at him in astonishment. My father got really mad at him. &ldquo;You want my son to risk his life to steal flour from the Germans for your Matzos?&rdquo; Father practically shouted at him.
&ldquo;For our Matzahs,&rdquo; the &lsquo;Rebbe&rsquo; said calmly. &ldquo;He is the only one who can get the flour.&rdquo; I thought about the cellar in the German kitchen, where they kept the foodstuffs. It was not only under lock and key, but the cook was always hanging around. There was no way I could get into the cellar, and if I did, I certainly wouldn't bother with flour, but would steal food to help us survive.
The &ldquo;Rebbe,&rdquo; as if sensing my thoughts, held up his hand. &ldquo;I have something that may help you get the flour,&rdquo; he said, and took out from under his armpit a small rag tied with a string. He carefully untied it and took out two objects. He put it on his left palm and stuck it under my nose. I recoiled in disgust. They were two foul smelling teeth with some gold attached to them.
We were all stunned. We all knew that he buried the dead. When he saw our looks he smiled. &ldquo;It's not what you think. I didn't pull any teeth from the dead. It was Zundel who gave it to me before he died. I promised him that I would barter the teeth for flour to make matzos for the Passover Seder. You wouldn't want me to go back on the promise I made to a dying Jew?&rdquo; he said looking at us accusingly.
&ldquo;Don't you understand? Pesach is the holiday of our freedom from slavery, aren't we slaves here for the Nazis? You know very well that this may be our salvation and the gate for our exodus from Germany.&rdquo;
Obtaining the Flour
To this day, I don't know how I agreed to the Rebbe's crazy idea. Religion was the last thing on our minds under the circumstances. To some extent, we blamed G-d for what happened to the Jewish people in Europe. There was one sentence in the Haggadah that especially angered us: &ldquo;In every generation our enemies rise to destroy us, but the Almighty always saves us from their hands.&rdquo; He certainly was not saving all of us&hellip;
The next day, I took the gold teeth with me to the German kitchen where I was working. The cook was a mean old German man who always cursed us and would strike us with his iron soup ladle. But he never really hurt us. How should I approach him? What should I tell him? &ldquo;Here are two gold teeth extracted from a dead Jew. Can you please give me some flour to bake some matzos for Passover?&rdquo; He would probably deliver me to the SS guards to be shot.
The more I thought about it, the crazier it sounded. Finally, I decided to abandon the idea. When the cook saw me he called me over. &ldquo;You can start cleaning the mess hall and then the wash room.&rdquo; His tone of voice was much milder than before. I felt a difference in his voice. While he spoke to me, he kept looking at the sky. Sure enough, a squadron of American fighter planes came roaring over the roofs. I saw them wheeling down towards the railroad tracks and heard their cannons rattling, followed by loud explosions. They must have been attacking some nearby target. It was an incredible sight and made my heart leap with joy. The cook almost fainted with fright and ran down to the cellar where the food was stored. I ran after him, but he began shouting, &ldquo;Get out! Get out! Get out! I saw you gloating when the planes came over.&rdquo; He screamed at me. I quickly got out of the cellar hoping he would calm down after a while. I had made a huge mistake by making him angry. I called out to him and begged his forgiveness. &ldquo;I was just frightened of the attacking planes, please forgive me,&rdquo; I said. We looked at each other. I could see in his eyes that he was thinking the same thing as I, &ldquo;Soon the Americans will be here.&rdquo;
It was then that I suddenly blurted out the story of the Passover holiday and that we needed flour to bake matzos. It was as if the &ldquo;Rebbe&rdquo; had taken control of my tongue and made me say these things. Then I slowly opened the rag the &ldquo;Rebbe&rdquo; had given me and extended the two gold teeth to him.
For a while he looked at me as if I had gone mad. Then I saw some recognition in his eyes. &ldquo;Is that the holiday Passover when our savior Yashke (the founder of Christianity) sat with his disciples and ate the unleavened bread at the last supper? Is the unleavened bread what you Jews call matzos?&ldquo;
It was my turn to be surprised. I knew that he was an observant Catholic by the cross he wore around his neck, and I saw him cross himself several times when the American planes came over. This was an entirely unexpected turn of events.
As children we were taught that Yashke was always connected with trouble for the Jewish people. But if Yashske can help us get the flour, nu nu, we will take it&hellip; I was beginning to be hopeful. He looked at the gold teeth for a while but didn't take them. He didn't say anything more, and told me to clean up the mess hall and the wash room.
Before we went back to the camp, he came out of the kitchen and gave me a small paper bag full of white flour. &ldquo;I think our lord would want you to have matzos for your holiday. After all he was one of your people. Sometimes we forget that.&rdquo; I don't know why he gave me the flour, perhaps be thought that I would say a good word for him when the Americans came, or perhaps he did it out of religious convictions. The fact was that he didn't take the gold teeth. Whatever the reasons, the &ldquo;Rebbe&rdquo; had his flour and, on the small iron stove, he baked us little white wafers that reminded us vaguely of matzos. They had small holes in them and were slightly burned.
The Seder Begins
It was on March 27, 1945, when he brought the matzos and declared that the Passover Seder would now begin.
&ldquo;Out of the seven ingredients needed to conduct the Seder, we now only have two. Matzos and Marror, but the Almighty will understand,&rdquo; this weird man said.
&ldquo;'Rebbe', where is the Marror (bitter herb) that you mentioned?&rdquo; We asked him. He looked at us. &ldquo;Our lives in this camp are the Marror; all of our lives are bitter enough.&rdquo; He then divided the matzah, gave each of us a piece and made us say the blessings.
&ldquo;Since you are the youngest of the group, you will ask the four questions &rsquo;mah nishtana.'&rdquo; To my surprise, I remembered most of them and sing-songed the questions with the help of the others. We did not hide the 'Afikomen' because there were no children in our camp. The children had all been sent to Auschwitz to be gassed.
We had to go to work the next day and we were hungry and dead tired, but that night of Passover, we joined the &ldquo;Rebbe&rdquo; in holding some kind of a Seder. He remembered most of the Haggadah by heart; so did my father who had studied in a yeshiva when he was a boy. Some of the other participants also knew parts of the Haggadah. Some of us joined in saying the blessings, but we were all asleep before the &ldquo;Rebbe&rdquo; finished chanting the Haggadah. I vaguely remembered him singing Chad Gadya.
At the end, he made a short prayer in Yiddish: &ldquo;Please, forgive us, Oh Master of the Universe, for conducting such a poor Passover Seder service. But it was the best we could do, and please deliver us, Oh Lord, from the hands of our enemies who rose up, once again, in this generation to destroy us.&rdquo;
What should I tell you? We all felt as if we were there at &ldquo;yetzias Mitzraim&rdquo; (the Egyptian Exodus) and we believed the &ldquo;Rebbe&rdquo; that we would also be at &ldquo;yetzias Deutschland&rdquo; (the German Exodus).
He woke me before he left and told me, &ldquo;You deserve a special blessing for bringing the flour for the Matzos. You will be among those who will soon celebrate the exodus from Germany to the Holy Land.&rdquo;
About a month later, the war was over and we were rescued by the US army. It was May 2, 1945.
And Today&hellip;
We live today in very different times. Yet we still tell the same story as the &ldquo;Rebbe&rdquo; and the Jews in Dachau. Their story, our collective story, still inspires us.
Each year, when Pesach comes around, I ask myself the question: How can I turn my Seder into the meaningful and transformative experience it was meant to be?
The holiday of Pesach, commemorating the exodus of the Jewish people from the land of Egypt some 3,300 years ago (in the year 1313 B.C.E.) reflects the liberation of the soul from the psychological and emotional constraints represented by Egypt.
What is Egypt? The Hebrew term for Egypt (Mitzrayim) may be translated as "inhibitions," or "restrictions." All of us struggle with various inner and outer inhibitions that stifle our growth and prevent us from maximizing our potentials. We may be paralyzed by fear, shame, guilt, resentment, codependency and addictions. We may be lacking the ability to love, to dream, to cry and to let go of our defenses, or we may be enslaved by unhealthy urges and feelings of envy, animosity and bitterness.
Often, our inner Jewishness&mdash;that intimate, wholesome and absolute relationship with the Master of the universe&mdash;is enslaved. It is there, but we know not how to access it.
In this sense, we are all in one or another type of "Egypt," and the Seder experience presents each of us with an opportunity to leave our personal Egypt and embark on the road toward redemption.
During the Seder, you and I owe it to ourselves to open our hearts and welcome into our lives the divine energy of liberation vibrating through the cosmos on the eve of Passover. To become fully you, fully human, fully Jewish.
Reclaiming Your Parents 
The Talmud says, and it's quoted in the Haggadah, that "A second cup is poured and now the child asks 'Mah Nishtanah.'"
The Talmudic words "now the child asks" ("V'kan Haben Shoel") may also be translated as, "now the child may borrow."
Not all of us have been privileged to grow up with parents in our lives. Some were orphaned at a very young age; others may have had physical parents but never had emotional parents. Some of us were privileged to have nurturing parents who have since passed on to the next world. In all of the above cases the children are left behind, a void in their hearts. Here is the time during the Seder where "the child may borrow" a father and a mother. At this point in time, our father in heaven opens the chamber of unconditional love and boundless nurture, through which we may reclaim the confidence and security we so desperately needed from our fathers and mothers. Now the child is given permission to ask all the questions he could never ask. He may declare: "Father, I want to ask you four questions."
Because slaves don&rsquo;t ask questions. Free men and women ask questions. Not only because they feel they have a right to ask, but also because they fear not answers that may challenge them and perhaps even transform them.

Holocaust survivor Solly Ganor, living in Herzelia, Israel wrote up a emarkable story about a Passover seder he experienced, 70 years ago. The seder took place on March 27, 1945, in Dachau, the notorious Nazi concentration camp. He was a youngster at the time, a slave laboring in the death camp where hundreds of thousands perished. This is the story and its relevance to us.

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pesach

passover

matzah

seder

How a “Rebbe” Created Hope in the Most Dire of Circumstances

A Seder in Dachau

This radio show, broadcast on May 2, 2015, explored the theme of forgiveness. Drawing on the stories of Simon Wiesenthal in Sunflower, of Nelson Mandela, and of the German Jewish Foreign Minister Walther Rathenau, it wonders when to embrace forgiveness and when to deny it to your enemy. 

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forgiveness

nelson mandela

radio

simon wiesenthal

sunflower

walther rathenau

Do You Know How To Forgive? When Do You Refuse to Forgive?

Should Jews Forgive the Germans?

An address at the annual Melave Malka of Hatzalah in Boro Park, Motzoai Shabbos, 27 Iyar, 5775, May 16, 2015.

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19_hatzoleh boro park.mp3

jewish love

unity

hatzolah

ahavas yisroel

helping others

hatzalah

The Extraordinary Story of Hatzalah 

Yiddish Hatzalah Dinner Speech: I Am My Brother's Keeper!

A Lecture presented by Rabbi YY Jacobson at the annual fundraiser for Kupas Ezra, helping poor families in Monsey, NY, on 3 Av 5775, July 19, 2015.

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70 Years since Liberation, Stories of Selfless Sacrifice in the Nazi Abyss

Kindness in Auschwitz 

<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">This speech was presented on Sunday, November 1, 2015 (19 Cheshvan 5776), at the dinner celebrating the 70th anniversary of the Southern Connecticut Hebrew Academy, in New Haven, Conn., under the leadership of Rabbi Sheye Hecht. The lecture highlights the extraordinary story of this Jewish day school, founded by Rabbi Moshe Yitzchak Hecht in 1945.</div>

New Haven Day School Dinner: Stop Apologizing for Being Jewish

70 Years Later: The Glorious Story of the Southern Connecticut Hebrew Academy

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