Rabbi Lord Johathan Sacks says that “the Korach rebellion was the single most dangerous challenge to Moses’ leadership during the forty years that he led the people through the wilderness. The precise outline of events is difficult to follow, probably because the events themselves were tumultuous and disorderly. The narrative makes it clear that the rebels came from different groups, each of whom had different expectations, and reasons for resentment.”

And, the Chofetz Chaim teaches that “some people can become so entrenched in a dispute that they prefer to endure great suffering over ‘losing’ the argument.”

We live in an age that is afraid of compassion. During election season, our politicians compete with each other to demonstrate who is tougher, more hard-nosed, and less willing to make exceptions because of extenuating circumstances.

In race after race, politicians declare that they are more willing to sentence convicts to death, to stand tough against foreign enemies, and to battle assertively to get their way. In our personal lives as well, we admire firmness, decisiveness and strength. We reward those postures of power and firmness whenever we can. The last epithet a politician would want associated with his or her own name is “compassionate.” No one wants to be a wimp.

How striking, then, that ‘compassionate’ is one of the names Jewish tradition applies to the supreme leader, to God.

God of compassion and mercy — seems a remnant
of an earlier time: a kinder, gentler somewhere else.

Today’s Torah portion reveals Moses has a troubling experience in front of him. Faced with the most threatening rebellion of his entire leadership, we expect Moses to react the way most powerful men would respond toward an insubordination. We expect hardness, perhaps even ruthlessness, as Moses reasserts his control over a dangerous revolt.

We also know from elsewhere in the Torah, that Moses is a man of tremendous energy and force. This is certainly an instance where we might expect him to lash out. Instead, Moses expresses repeated concern for the rebels themselves. Rather than punishing them immediately, he engages in a series of maneuvers to postpone the inevitable clash, hoping all the while that Korach and his followers will back down.

Instead of calling upon God immediately, Moses first summons two of the leaders of the revolt, Datan and Aviram, hoping that their yielding to his leadership would demonstrate a willingness to renew their loyalty to Moses, and to God. When they refuse to come, Moses again postpones the public contest, saying only that – come morning, the Lord will make known who is going to continue to lead our people through the Dessert.

The Torah records that when first dealing with the rebels, Moses “fell upon his face.” Rashi understands this to mean that he was dismayed that they would yet again rebel against God. Three times, Moses intervenes with God to overlook the rebellions; but, now, at the rebellion of Korach, his thinking may well have been – how long can I impose upon God?  Perhaps he will no longer accept advocacy from me?

A Midrash of Rashi illustrates a powerful mode of leadership not often accepted by our contemporaries. Rather than lash out, Moses demonstrates sufficient confidence in his own leadership to try to re-establish a connection with his enemies. Rather than simply use force to impose his will, Moses makes the effort to persuade, to discuss, to negotiate.

In our own time, when men are praised for their ability to impose their will, to “get things done,” the compassionate efforts of Moses can encourage us to examine a higher level of interpersonal accommodation and understanding.

Power need not only be the ability to use force, or the might to impose will. Perhaps the ultimate power, as our Rabbis understood so well, was the ability to control our own inner drives, to hold them in check, and to occasionally rise above them.

In the world of international politics, no less than in the world of friendship, family and love, taking the time to discuss, to explain and to educate can produce results whose depth and degree can far surpass a begrudging acquiescence to force.

The Chofetz Chaim tells us that the dispute of Korach against Moses was the only one in history in which one side was totally in the wrong and one side was completely in the right. He said…

“I’m also struck by the language the Torah uses to describe Korach and his followers “assemble against” Moses and Aaron. This was not a friendly conversation, a heart-to-heart discussion about the direction the Israelites were taking in their wilderness wandering, or a question about leadership style and priorities. This was rebellion! “

Thus far, the story of Korach is intensely realistic and even similar to politics in today’s WORLD. A leader is able to mobilize a people by articulating a vision. But the journey from the real to the ideal, from starting point to destination, is fraught with setbacks and disappointments. This is when leaders are in danger of being deposed or Assassinated. As in today’s world and in Korach’s some 3,600 years ago, Korach is the symbol of a recurrent type – the coldly calculating man of ambition who fuels discontent against the status-quo, who thinks that only he can make the world a better place, and in reality – he really wants is to become a tyrant himself.

Korach and his people suffered a “measure for measure” punishment because they had accused Moses – “the most humble of all men” – of being arrogant and self-important. And, since Moses was at ground level, God felt that their punishment must be below that! And, at that point, the Earth opened its mouth, which had been created at the dawn of creation, and sucked down Korach and his men from the midst of the people.

The question might be asked, did Korach get his just reward? Are there similar situations in the World today???

I would be remiss if I did not share the names of the scholars who helped me in preparing today’s D’var Torah…

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks

The Chofetz Chaim

Rabbi Bradley Artson

Rashi

Rabbi Yehonasan Gefen

Shabbat Shalom, may it be peaceful, spiritual, and secure for all of us!

Shabbat Shalom.

This D’var Torah is dedicated to Rabbi Yitsi Hurwitz who celebrates life daily. Read about “Rabbi Yitsi” at Aish.com.

In the beginning of this week’s Torah portion, Moses gathers the nation of Israel and lists the various materials that they can contribute to the Tabernacle, G‑d’s home on earth.

“Take from yourselves an offering for the L-rd; every generous hearted person shall bring gold, silver, or copper…”

The Rebbe explains that each of these materials represent a different persona in the nation. Gold represents the purity of the tzaddik, the fully righteous individual. Silver represents the baal teshuvah, the returnee.  And, Copper, the least expensive of metals, represents the sinner.

We might have thought that only a tzaddik who is removed from the enticements and ensnarement of this world has the ability of transforming it into something holy. Or, we might believe that only a baal teshuvah, who intimately knows the negativity of this world, can transform its lowliness into loftiness. But the Torah teaches us that even the sinner must be included in this endeavor, and contribute his share.

No matter our spiritual standing, no matter our intellectual abilities or our emotional intelligence, we were all handcrafted by our Creator to make our world a home for G d.

What matters in life is not who you are, or to which gender you belong, but what you can contribute to the common cause. If you have a specialized skill, then utilize your ability to bring beauty and greatness to the world.

Building the mishkan was the most holy and intricate task that the Jews were assigned during their sojourn in the desert. Nonetheless, every Friday night all work on this magnificent edifice would come to a grinding halt

AT their first stop in the wilderness, the Jews rested at the foot of Mt. Sinai, where they received the Torah and all its teachings. According to Midrash Sh’mot Rabbah, “when God gave the Torah to Israel, they became exempt from the sway of the Angel of Death… For as soon as Israel accepted the Torah, God adorned them with His own glorious splendor. Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai said: God gave them weapons on which was engraved the Ineffable Name of God, and as long as this sword was in their possession, the Angel of Death could exercise no power over them.”

But then, according to the Midrash, and with fear of the unknown by their side, they sinned when they built the Golden Calf: Thereafter God deprived them of all good things. With their rebellion against God, the Israelites once again fell under the sway of death.

Even without taking this story as the absolute truth, as though it were conveying a piece of history, it is possible to understand it as speaking metaphorically about an insight of great worth: we live eternally to the extent that we can tap into something eternal, something that connects our most distant ancestors, ourselves, and our most distant descendants.

Judaism is that eternal something.  In the stirring words of Rabbi Jacob Kohn (a 20th Century US Rabbi), a life of Torah provides “the unbroken faith that links generations, one to another.”

When we study the words of the sages, read the eloquent words of our Prophets, or chant the words of the Torah, we link ourselves to their lives.  In the words of the Mishnah, “their lips move from the grave.”  We grant them posthumous (pas’-che-mous) life through our study.  And we connect ourselves to those of our descendants who will also pour their souls into those same insights.

When we translate the mitzvot from objects of study into living realities, we link ourselves to an aspect of kedushah (holiness) that stretches throughout, and above time.  Observing the mitzvot allows us to soar and transcend time, to enter the realm of the sacred and the timeless.

And, finally, when we study our sacred writings, make the mitzvot the cornerstone of our lives, and let the values of Judaism shine through our deeds, we make of our souls tabernacles in which God can dwell.  By placing ourselves in the Eternal One’s line of vision, we join the parade of Profits and sages who live eternally in God’s eternity.

The truth is, in some significant ways, the Torah still conveys eternal life.  In values that pass from one generation to another, in deeds that transform our communities and the world, and – most precious of all – in making ourselves fit to be cherished by God – we live on as members of Beit Yisrael, the Household of Israel.

In preparing this D’var Torah, I would be remiss if I did not mention the scholars who helped me along the way.

Chana Weisberg is the editor of TheJewishWoman.org.

Then there is Rabbi Elisha Greenbaum, and of course…

Rabbi Bradley Artson

Shabbat Shalom!

At the beginning of this week’s Parasha in Genesis 23:1, the verse tells us of Sarah’s lifetime – the span of Sarah’s life, and it came to 127 years.

In getting into Sarah’s life, let me tell you about a group of students that went to New Orleans to help out as best they could with the poor people in one of the neighborhoods filled with trauma after Hurricane Katrina. While there, they visited the French Quarter. And, a funny thing kept happening to them as they wandered the narrow streets and old buildings. They found money scattered on the sidewalk, some tucked away in the seats at restaurants, even under the seat of the rental car, and even in dark stairwells. And, by the end of the night, they had found nearly $140.

This, of course, led to a lively debate among the students about what to do with this windfall. Some suggested that they take it to the police. Others thought they should donate it to the organization they were supporting that weekend. And, to their credit, not a single student suggested spending it on French pastries. It was of particular note, because this experience gave way to an understanding of the teachings of a section from the Talmud, a discussion referred to as “Elu Metziot,”– that details the laws of lost and found property.

The central concept that emerges from a discussion of old, is the idea of “Ye’ush.” Ye’ush literally means “to give up on.” A lost object that has been found must be returned to its owner, so long as the owner has not yet done Ye’ush – given up on ever recovering the object. Once the owner has resolved that the lost object is irretrievably gone, it ceases to be that person’s property, and it becomes free.

In its original context, Ye’ush referred only to lost physical property, but its spiritual power extends far beyond that definition. There can be a letting go of disappointments, of hopes, of grudges, and of desires. In some ways, this Ye’ush is sad, because it means letting go of the possibility that what was lost might someday be restored, that what is broken might even be repaired. But Ye’ush can also be a source of liberation. It is a rest from the constant what-ifs, and if only I had, that accompany so many of us for so much of our lives. It is an invitation to honor loss, and to then get on with the rest of life.

Last week’s parasha, Vayeira, is among the most traumatic of the Torah. It tells the terrifying stories of two sons who endure two awful fates. Ishmael, Abraham’s eldest, is banished to the desert – driven from the only home he ever knew, with only a slim chance of survival. In the next chapter, Abraham’s second son, Isaac, is led up a mountain, bound to an altar, and saved only at the last moment from his father’s eager knife. While both sons survive their close encounters with death, their family is shattered.

This week’s parasha, Chayei Sarah, has its own share of heartache, but it ends with a profoundly redemptive moment. At the close of this week’s reading, Isaac and Ishmael come together to bury their father (Abraham). Two brothers, torn apart by trauma, meet again to quite literally bury the past. This is an extraordinary moment of Ye’ush. What has been lost to them – love, innocence, a sense of security – will never fully be restored. Yet, in this moment, we bear witness to their placing the past in the ground. We can imagine them walking away from the gravesite, possibly with tears in their eyes, but maybe – perhaps, with a sense of liberation.

Conceivably, this is the reason that according to Jewish Law, one does not begin reciting the Mourners Kaddish for a loved one until they have been buried. Kaddish, which ultimately is a prayer of redemptive, ongoing faith in the face of grief, cannot begin until the ritual of letting go has been completed. Our tradition teaches that only when we can acknowledge that our loved ones are gone forever, can we begin to contemplate returning fully to our own lives.

Thus, Ye’ush is potentially among the most redemptive forces in our lives. It is not about forgetting our losses; it is about releasing them. It is about recognizing what can be mended and what cannot, and being prepared to let go. Every one of us has things that we have schlepped around for too long – a relationship that will not be fixed, a dream that will not come to pass, a wish for things to have turned out differently. Ultimately, and in our own time, there must come to each of us a moment of Ye’ush – of letting go so that new ‘possibility’ – has the space to enter.

On Shabbat Chayei Sarah, we come to understand the courage of Ishmael and Isaac, who were able to do the painful and powerful work of putting their past behind them. We are taught, gently but persistently, of the value of setting down our burdens and embracing a new future. We are offered the capacity to walk toward a tomorrow that is undefined, but in which we are completely free.

The Treasure of Sarah’s Love for Us All.

Testimony to the Power of God’s love for humanity is revealed in the love two people feel for each other — “a man for a woman, a woman for a man, and both with God.” Our tradition repeats the insight that human beings are fulfilled in their love for each other, and in the deeds of love they can perform for each other. Love is ‘as if’ the couple becomes one at some point in their relationship, after marriage.

This week’s Torah reading testifies to the power of love. After Abraham buries his beloved wife, Sarah, and mourns her passing, he then instructs his servant, Eliezer, to find a wife for Isaac. Eliezer returns with Rebecca, who becomes Isaac’s wife, and one of the great figures in the entire Hebrew Bible. And, in the process, the Torah illuminates the power of love inside all of us. “Isaac brought Rebecca into his mother tent, took Rebecca as his wife, and Isaac loved her and found comfort through Rebecca after his mother’s death.”

Parents, generally the mother, are the first source of love in life. The mother attends to her infant’s needs even before the child is aware of having them. Food, comfort, and clothing — all are magically provided, along with smiles, kisses and hugs. As the child grows, the mother is there, along with the father who provides support, encouragement and insight.

HOWEVER, at some point in the child’s life, it becomes apparent that the parents can no longer meet every emotional need or resolve every fear. As the child begins to see glimmerings of the parents as human beings, the parents slowly “die” as parents, and they emerge as people.

Through most of our adult lives, we maintain some mixture of both attitudes — viewing our parents as parents, and also seeing them as people. But something precious died when we lost that vision of our parents as the perfect sources of love, protection and wisdom. One has to wonder if that intense closeness is gone forever. I don’t think so; with a loved spouse, we all have the opportunity to regain some of the same security, affection and intimacy which babies and mothers enjoy. And that comfort is as close a replica of the love of God as one can know in this world.

In the care, trust, decency and goodness of one’s spouse, we can reaffirm the lesson learned in our mother’s arms — that in this sometimes difficult life, there is a haven, and that our love for each other can testify to God’s love for all human beings.

In preparation of this D’var Torah, I would be remiss if I did not thank Rabbis Cheryl Peretz, Gail Labovitz, Adam Greewald, and Rabbi Bradley Artson.

And, please allow me a moment more of your time, to share a thought…

A famous Rabbi said…

“I don’t speak because I have the power to speak; I speak because I don’t have the power to remain silent.”

Rabbi Yitzchak Tendler, Rebbe and Administrator at Aish Ha Torah, shared that this quote embodies the depth of love every Jew needs to feel for one another. The connection between Jews is innate; therefore, one has no choice but to speak. Caring for other Jews cuts to the core of who we are as a people, and we need to reach a point where that care is so deep – that it is impossible not to say or do something.

The Rabbi…

Abraham Isaac Kook; he was an Orthodox rabbi, the first Ashkenazi chief rabbi of British Mandatory Palestine, the founder of a Yeshiva, a Jewish thinker, Halakhist, Kabbalist, and a renowned Torah scholar.

With last Shabbat’s horrifying act of mass murder in a Jewish Sanctuary,

I wish each of you a very safe and spiritual Shabbat Shalom.

The Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is called Shabbat Shuvah, the Shabbat of Return because of the special haftarah beginning with the words – ShuvahYisrael – “Return O Israel”. It is also referred to as Shabbat Teshuvah because it falls during the Ten Days of Repentance. And, this period, is a time for reflection leading up to atonement at Yom Kippur.

The themes of penitence and human reconciliation with God,

are appropriate for the week between Rosh Hashanah & Yom Kippur.

Every year, during the Days of Awe, we are urged to repent for our wrongdoings of the past year. This process of taking stock in ourselves and examining our actions, coupled with recognizing and regretting where we have gone astray is called teshuvah in Hebrew, repentance in English.

It is the single most important value within Judaism; actually,

the key to the entire system of mitzvot, HaShem’s commandments.

Small wonder, then, that our holiest days are devoted to its pursuit.

How is teshuvah the key to Judaism?

God and the Jewish people are linked through the brit, the covenant in which God promises to be our God and we promise to be God’s people. That brit is akin to being cast in STONE in the Torah, and made real through mitzvot, the 613 commandments of the Torah that are obligatory on each and every Jew, for all time.

Yet even the most pious Jew cannot perform all of them perfectly; and, many of us are unable to always do those mitzvot that we find personally compelling. What happens, then, when we have wronged another person, fail to perform a mitzvah, or when a Jew violates a prohibition.

Are we then always in a state of sinfulness?

Are we forever barred from God’s love?

For the system of commandments to work, there has to be a provision for how to wipe the slate clean in the case of an error or even an intentional sin. The curative is teshuvah, repentance. God’s love is bigger than any sin we might commit. And after asking forgiveness of the person we have wronged, after attaining their pardon, all it takes to get God’s forgiveness is a simple act of contrition; all it takes is teshuvah.

Teshuvah is the linchpin that keeps Jews connected to God and engaged in mitzvot. Without it, our sins would simply mount irreversibly.

Teshuvah is the oil that keeps the machinery of the Torah humming.

Ironically, there are few biblical examples of the act of teshuvah; few biblical figures that we see repenting for their sin against another, and then being forgiven by God.

Even the command to repent, is itself – a little murky.

Teshuvah may have first been mentioned within the Book of Numbers…  “When a woman or man commits any sin, then they shall confess their sin.” This sentence seems to be the mandate – the offering of a sin offering, is a sacrifice to atone for the sin that was committed. The Sages note that offering the sacrifice, is obviously preceded by the awareness that a sin was committed, and implies remorse about having erred.

There are few cases of teshuvah in the Torah. One of the most significant, however, involved Reuven and Joseph.   Reuven watched as his brothers decide to kill Joseph by leaving him in a pit. When he returns to the pit to save Joseph, Reuven learns that Joseph has already sold into slavery.

Unlike his brothers, Reuven is filled with remorse. He realizes that he has allowed his brother to be wronged, and he returned to the pit to try to correct his sinful act, to restore his brother, Joseph, to freedom. Reuven did teshuvah, and sat with sackcloth and ashes to mourn his tragic lapse.

As a reward for his act of repentance “God said ‘No one has ever repented after sinning before Me; you are the first!

Because Reuven “discovered” teshuvah, he was rewarded by having that mitzvah expounded on through the prophet, Hoshea, one of his descendants. Such is the greatness of teshuvah. It was Hoshea who cried out, “Return O Israel, to Adonai your God.

What does “return” in this context actually mean? On the most basic level it means a return to HaShem. When one commits a sin, one is distanced from God.     Repentance then is the act of returning to God. And, on a deeper level, it is about returning to one’s self and rediscovering the moral bedrock of one’s value system.

The essence of teshuvah is sincere remorse in the heart over the past, asking for forgiveness, and one must resolve not to do such a thing ever again. This confession is the essential part of repentance. By offering himself as a model of teshuvah, Reuven cleansed his family name, and gave a precious gift to his children, the children of Israel, and to us, his distance relations.

The whole process of teshuvah – atonement and forgiveness – relies on the heartfelt apology, the pardon by the offended party, and then asking God for forgiveness at Yom Kippur.

As the end of the year approaches very quickly, it is our duty to get right with those that we have wronged. That is the essence of teshuvah.

We all have been given a precious gift of time. We have been given a Jewish tradition that sees the past, the present, and the future as always linked in relationship to each other. We have been given an annual gift of time: the chance to spend ten days reflecting, praying, atoning and forgiving, renewing ourselves, our lives, and our community for yet another year.

We can wisely use The Ten Days of Repentance to return to our most pure selves, asking for forgiveness and speaking with those whom we have hurt. We can seek the forgiveness of others, attempting to get right with ourselves, and before God.

On Shabbat Shuvah one should be especially mindful to concentrate on Torah and prayer, with a reflection on repentance, thereby attaining forgiveness for unfitting behaviors of the past year.

I asked earlier…

Teshuvah, and repentance – where will they get us?

It’s my thought that the answer may be

Closer to HaShem.

This D’var’s inspirational message would not have been possible without the insights gained from…

Sara Debbie Gutfreund

Rabbi Allie Fischman, Associate Director – Camp Newman

Chabad.org

Rabbi Bradley Artson

CoffeeShopRabbi.com

The Jewish Virtual Library

G’mar Hatimah Tovar; may we all be inscribed and sealed for a good year.

In this week’s Parsha, there are Seventy-four of the Torah’s 613 mitzvot.

These include the laws o the inheritance rights of the firstborn, burial and dignity of the dead, returning a lost object, sending away the mother bird before taking her young,

and more…

Also recounted are the judicial procedures and penalties for adultery, for the rape or seduction of an unmarried girl, and for a husband who falsely accuses his wife of infidelity.  Included is the duty to pay a worker on time, and to allow anyone working for you, man or animal, to “eat on the job”; the proper treatment of a debtor, and the prohibition against charging interest on a loan.

JUST to name a few more…

 The last of the 74 mitzvot is the commandment to remember the deeds of the vilest of Israel’s enemies, the nation of Amalek… And, God said…

You shall remember what Amalek did to you on the way when you were coming out of Egypt.  Who is this nation of Amalek that deserves such harsh recognition?

Amalek encountered the Jewish people just after they escaped from the clutches of the Egyptians. The Torah tells us that “the people of Israel journeyed. . And, they camped in Rephidim. Moses named the place ‘Challenge and Strife,’ because of the strife of the people of Israel and their challenging of G‑d, saying, ‘is G‑d amongst us or not?’  Amalek attacked.

This is important! The Torah describes the explicit sequence: the Jewish people expressed their doubts, saying “Is G‑d amongst us?” And, the next thing that happened was – Amalek’s attack. Not only did their skepticism make them vulnerable to attack, but Amalek sensed their uncertainty, took advantage of the young nation, and did in fact, attack Israel.

Doubt is a funny thing. It is irrational, and yet it can penetrate almost any rational medium. Here was a nation that had experienced the greatest miracles of all time: the ten plagues, the splitting of the Red Sea and the manna. And yet they were not impervious to the plague of doubt.

This is the nature of doubt itself. It circumvents logic and proceeds to erode away beliefs. And, G‑d said, remember Amalek for all generations.

But doubt and apathy will look truth in the face and exclaim, “So what?”

G‑d tells us: Remember your enemy, Amalek.
Remember that apathy is an empty rival.
AND, there is a purpose here: it challenges the one in doubt to reaffirm and strengthen her or his faith in G‑d.

Let’s change the subject, and talk about YOU!

You know so much. That there is God, and that life has meaning and a purpose.
Or, that God gave his descendents the Torah at Sinai.
Or, you know how to read the aleph bet.
Or, you know a trick or two about marriage, playing mahjong, or Monopoly.
If you’d take a moment to consider, you would surely come to the conclusion that you know a good bit, and that you’ve accumulated a great amount of knowledge during your life.
On the other side of that coin, there are millions of people around the world who don’t know what you know.

They don’t have the humanitarian, Jewish, or ethical education that perhaps you’ve been privileged to experience. Ideas and ways of life that you might think are a given, have never reached hundreds of millions of people around the world.

You really have so much to share, with so many who know almost nothing. Yes, it’s true – there is life in a classroom, but you do not always need to be the student! Climb out of that knee-squeezing, student desk and walk up to the chalkboard, and teach the class a thing or two.  Show us what you’ve got!  Judaism was never an exclusive elitist group where only the learn’ed and the ordained have the right to teach and inspire; rather, in the words of one Chassidic master, “If the letter aleph is all that you know, then teach the aleph to someone who doesn’t know it!”

Simply: if you know something, teach it. The name of this week’s Torah reading is Ki Teitzei, “When you go out.” This teaches us that there is a time when we must go out and spread the message. Don’t be selfish with your knowledge. Practically speaking, you can always share what you know, with somebody who is not aware!

In closing, let’s talk about FAITH!

Believers know that our every waking moment is a gift from G‑d. They treasure the moments that He has planned for them, and express their gratitude with pride. Those with less faith take their moments as they come, and judge the quality of a day by the amount of pleasure they manage to wring out of it.  The Modeh Ani is the first prayer that a Jewish child is taught; and, taught to recite every morning.

“I offer thanks to You, living and eternal King,
for You have restored my soul within me;
Your faithfulness is great.”

We acknowledge our Creator and thank Him for the gift of a new day. By starting off the day full of humility and gratitude, we pledge to live up to G‑d’s vision for the world. But, I ask you: once you have gotten up, how much of the Modeh Ani do you take with you during the day? So you spent eight seconds admitting that you owe your life to G‑d. Did that really positively impact the rest of your day?

The Torah advises us to “fulfill the utterances of our lips;” to pay up our pledges to charity, and to live up to our vows. It’s a directive to listen and learn from the words said while praying. It is too easy to just go through the motions, letting the familiar words…rll off of the tongue and into oblivion.

The words we say must mean something. Prayer is not just dead time spent mindlessly repeating a repetitive refrain, but a unique opportunity to communicate with the divine.

When we train our children to say the Modeh Ani first thing after rising, it is in hoped that the feelings and emotions encapsulated in the prayer will permeate ALL the days of their life. G‑d demands that we fulfill our pledges and live up to our promises. Each morning we acknowledge our Creator as King, and thank Him for gifting us with our soul again. We approach the rest of the day with the enthusiasm and knowledge that we are following the route suggested in God’s guidebook.

We should fulfill the oaths we make to Him, and live by our promises, for now and forever.

Shabbat Shalom!

There is little love lost for Korach. Sure, there haves always been kvetchers and complainers, people or groups who, for one reason or another were dissatisfied with the established order and were not shy in coming forth and airing their views. We have all experienced them.

But for the first time since the Exodus, opposition to Moses had crystallized around a distinct individual. For the first time, the rebels and plotters had a figurehead behind whom they could coalesce.

Make no mistake, Korach died a horrible death, his followers were exterminated and the rebellion was crushed, leaving scholars and writers for the ensuing three millennia with nothing to do other than join the hit parade and compete in a character assassination of Korach.

Who would be willing to speak up in his defense?

Just Google the name, and in 0.44 of a second you too will agree that it is difficult to find anything positive about the man among the 659,000 references found when I did the search.

Korach was greedy, Korach was jealous. Korach was underhanded, Korach was a megalomaniac. Korach was a rabble-rouser intent on world domination. Wow, talk about a victim of BAD Press;

HE and the President… NO, we won’t go there.

OK – How about Korach the seeker of spiritual enlightenment?

Impossible you say; this was a man who attacked Moses, and by extension challenged G‑d. Who could possibly be willing to speak up in his defense?

The Lubavitcher Rebbe.

In an inspirational essay, the Rebbe suggests that though we may question Korach’s methods and means, there is still much to be admired about his purpose. After all, what did Korach demand – but an opportunity to try out for the position of High Priest?    Was Korach misunderstood?

This may indeed look like an instance of naked ambition, but from a more subtle perspective, couldn’t this just be an example of a man trying to connect with G‑d? Sure, his plan went South when he allowed his reasonable desire for spirituality, to lead him into rebelling against Moses. But, there was nothing wrong with his ambition…

It should be the goal of every Jew to serve G‑d in the finest and most meaningful way possible.

 For me, this theory encapsulates the Rebbe’s unique perspective on humans and humanity. It takes no great brains or courage to join in kicking a man when he is down, And, there does not seem to be a lot of folks out there, actively seeking the opportunity to help people rise again.

From the Rebbe’s viewpoint very, very few people are truly evil or irredeemable. No one is beyond the pale without positive characteristics. The trick is to focus on that which is valuable about a person, building them up in their own eyes, and in the estimation of others, and using that as a platform from which to construct a new world order.

The Rebbe sent his followers out onto the streets to help educate and rescue our lost brothers and sisters not out a sense of duty, or pity, or even compassion, but because he honestly treasured every single Jew and the unique facet of brilliance that every single one of us brings to our national jewel.

The Rebbe’s revolutionary insight on the story of Korach’s insurrection, and the positive spin he put on Korach’s motivations for rebelling, were nothing short of insightful, almost GOD-like.

According to the Rebbe, when Korach challenged Aaron’s right to be appointed High Priest, and demanded his own chance at glory, it was more than a self-serving desire to attack the established order. This was a laudable, though misguided, attempt to connect to G‑d and serve Him in a most spiritually complete way. Korach’s mistake was the method he chose to access G‑dliness, not his aspirations.

If the Rebbe’s premise is correct, and Korach’s original motivation was pure – what else was Korach supposed to do? If a man wants to become the High Priest, and there’s another person currently filling the role, then what choice does he have but to challenge the incumbent for the job?

What indeed was Korach supposed to do? And if his intentions were pure, why did he receive a punishment? The punishment would seem to indicate that it is better to sit back quietly and play whatever role you’ve been assigned, without aspiring for advancement.

In other words, you don’t have to dress like a High Priest or be publically appointed to the role for G‑d to consider you a High Priest. Holiness is a state of mind, not a job description. If you decided right now to dedicate your heart, soul, mind and being to serving G‑d, then your efforts are just as precious in G‑d’s eyes as any woman or man who has ever lived.

Korach could have achieved his goal of accessing spirituality by doing his job to the best of his ability; he didn’t need to challenge Aaron for the title.

Rabbi Elisha Greenbaum suggests that the above leads to a different perspective on the Rebbe’s influence on the world. One of the most often quoted descriptions about the Rebbe was a line that Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks came out with immediately after the Rebbe’s passing: “Many people mistakenly assumed that the Rebbe was interested in creating followers,” observed Rabbi Sacks, “however the Rebbe, as a truly great leader, was more interested in creating leaders.”

It’s thought that the Rebbe wanted each of us to achieve greatness wherever we found ourselves, and by living life to the fullest and bringing spirituality into every moment of the day and into every role we are called upon to fill.

The Rebbe wanted us, individually and collectively, to connect to G‑d. He learned incredible life lessons from every encounter and inspires us to do the same.

Don’t be a leader. Don’t be a follower. Don’t be a Korach or a Moshe. It’s not about the uniform or the title. It’s about being yourself and doing that job to the best of your ability. There can be no higher role than the one you’ve been tapped to play; and, by dedicating yourself to G‑d you’ll be sanctified forever.

I have to thank Rabbi Elisha Greenbaum for much of the inspiration that allowed me to share this D’var Torah with you today. Rabbi Greenbaum leads a Congregation in Victoria Australia.

And, before I surrender the bimah…
THIS Shabbat marks the 24^th Anniversary of the passing of Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson of righteous memory. I am not a follower of the Rebbe; however, I do turn to him periodically for guidance.

Shabbat Shalom.