Do You Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is?

Much of our attention and concern these days is focused on the explosive increase in antisemitism. In November alone, there was a 125% increase in antisemitic hate crimes in New York City. Also alarming is the continued increase of intermarriage rates, particularly outside of the Orthodox community. While 98% of Orthodox Jews marry Jewish, among non-Orthodox, 72% are marrying a non-Jew.

While resources and efforts are understandably being directed to fighting antisemitism and outreach efforts to stop intermarriage, we must never neglect “in-reach” or take retention in the observant community for granted. While people leave Orthodoxy for all sorts of reasons, some of which are complicated and difficult to solve, one of them should be relatively easy to eliminate – the inability to afford Jewish education.

As long as there have been Jewish Day schools there have been families struggling to pay tuition. Fortunately, though, there have also always been remarkable people devoted to Jewish education and Jewish continuity willing to help.

In 1959, due to insurmountable financial stress, the Board of Directors of the Hebrew Academy of Miami instituted a Draconian policy. If parents didn’t pay tuition, their child could no longer attend the school. One affected family told their young son that he would sadly need to leave the school permanently. The child was devastated. He loved the Academy and was especially enjoying the Torah studies.

The very mature young man boldly wrote a handwritten letter to the dean, Rabbi Alexander (Sender) Gross:

Dear Rabbi Gross,

I would very much like to go to the academy, but even though I cannot, I do not hold anything against you or the board. I believe that if G-d wanted me to go to the Academy everything would have been arranged so I could’ve gone. If G-d wants me to be a rabbi I will be and if not I won’t. Whatever G-d has planned for me to be I will follow faithfully without asking questions or being disappointed.

Rabbi Gross was so touched by the letter that he shared it publicly at the next meeting of the Board of Directors. They decided to let the child continue at the Academy. He stayed through eighth grade and was the class valedictorian. He continued his studies in the Telshe Yeshiva in Cleveland and became an accomplished and renowned Talmid Chacham, a prominent Rav and popular author.

The young boy who wrote the letter was Rabbi Zev (then known as Billy) Leff. Rav Mordechai Gifter, the famed Rosh Yeshiva of Telz, once told Rabbi Gross, “If the Hebrew Academy was created just so that it could produce this one talmid, Rabbi Zev Leff, dayeinu – it would have been worthwhile.”

Rabbi Gross carried the letter of the young Billy Leff in his wallet. It was with him wherever he went and whenever he had a hard time, he opened the letter and drew strength. Once, referring to the letter, he told his family, “This is my entrance into Gan Eden.”

That part of the story is known. What is much less well-known is that while Rav Leff’s letter moved the Board of the Academy, he was able to stay in school only because Rabbi Gross took it upon himself to personally pay his tuition. Indeed, when he passed away, Rabbi Gross’s family were looking through his personal desk and found a folder that had “מיינע קינדר,” my children, written on the outside. It was a list of children that he personally paid tuition for so that they could stay in the Academy and not go to public school.

Rabbi Gross put his money where his heart and his mouth were. He dug deep to enable Jewish children to get a Jewish education and among those it impacted for generations was one of the great rabbis of our generation.

When I heard this story from his own family, I was reminded of a story I read about the great Rav Yitzchak Dovid Grossman, the Disco Rabbi. When he first went to Migdal HaEmek as a young newly married man, he found the city was a center of crime. Arab men were coming into the city and preying on young Jewish girls. He said to himself, the only way Arabs could enter the city and behave in that way is if someone was taking money to protect them and allow them to enter. After inquiring, he found out the crime boss being paid to protect them was an incredibly tough thirty-five year old named Kobi.

Rav Grossman, a young Chassid who had rarely ever left Meah Shearim, decided to pay this crime boss a visit. He knocked on the door and Kobi, a tall and powerfully-built, frightening figure, answered. He barked at the Chassidish man, “What do you want,” and Rav Grossman responded, “I came to drink a l’chaim with you.”

Kobi was at a loss for words but motioned for him to come in. When they were sitting across from each other, Rav Grossman said to him without preamble, “Kobi, I’m sure you know what I’ve been doing for the youth here in Migdal HaEmek.” Kobi nodded. “Of course I do. All the chevrah (the gang) talks about you and how much they love you.” “Thank you for the compliment. But the truth is I came here tonight to discuss something else – something I saw here in town. Something that disturbed me very much.” Rav Grossman described how he found out that Arabs from the nearby towns were coming there to date the Jewish girls of Migdal HaEmek.

After admitting he had been accepting a fee to let the Arabs enter, and after hearing Rav Grossman’s passionate protest, Kobi responded: “I understand you, Rabbi but this is business. It’s not easy, making money here in Migdal HaEmek, and this is a good moneymaker. For some reason, these Arabs want to marry Jewish girls, and they’re willing to pay money for the opportunity. It’s nothing personal.”

Rav Grossman knew he had to find another source of income in order to get Kobi to stop. He asked Kobi what he wanted to do and Kobi answered, “If I had my own truck, I could do deliveries around the country and get paid very well for my work. I could make my own schedule and get up when I want and come and go when I please. If you’re asking me what I would want to do with my life, that’s the answer: I’d be very content working as the driver of my own truck.” Rav Grossman nodded. “I hear you. You just need a truck.” They drank a l’chaim and Rav Grossman left.

Rav Grossman’s father and father-in-law had purchased the young couple an apartment in Yerushalayim at the time of their marriage. It was their only asset, it represented essentially their entire net worth. The Sunday after meeting with Kobi, Rav Grossman traveled to Yerushalayim, where he put his apartment up for sale. Soon after, with the money received from selling the apartment, he purchased a Volkswagen truck.

Rav Grossman returned to Kobi’s home and knocked on the door. When he was invited in, he placed the keys to the truck on the table and pushed them across the wooden surface toward the speechless Kobi. “You said that your dream is to have your own truck. Well, here it is. Now you have your own truck.” With that, Arabs lost their protection and no longer entered Migdal Ha’Emek. The Jewish girls were no longer in danger, their future as proud and practicing Jews more secure.

I find this story simply amazing. To protect young Jewish girls and keep them part of our faith, Rabbi Grossman, without hesitation, sold his apartment and gave all the money he had. How many of us would do the same? How many of us would be bothered and moved enough to give a meaningful gift altogether?

Fighting antisemitism and stemming the tide of assimilation are critically important, but so, too, is ensuring a Jewish education is available to all who seek one. They say if you want to know what someone cares about, check where they spend their money. Granted, the cost of tuition for our own children is not small. Simply paying for one’s own family can take great sacrifice and reflects a profound commitment. But it isn’t enough. We must go into our pockets and do our part to ensure Jewish continuity. As it turns out, there is nobody better to confront antisemitism and be the response to antisemites than young, knowledgable, practicing Jews.

Please consider supporting our BRS Jewish Education Scholarship Fund that enables dozens of children each year to attend a Jewish school. Please visit brsonline.org/jesf to make a contribution of any amount. Donors of $1,000 or more are invited to a fantastic fun event this Thursday night. If Rabbi Gross believed it was his ticket Gan Eden, maybe it could be ours as well.

Honesty is Such a Lonely Word

Bob was a software developer whose internet browsing history revealed the following typical schedule:

9:00 a.m. – Arrive and surf Reddit for a couple of hours. Watch cat videos

11:30 a.m. – Take lunch

1:00 p.m. – Ebay time

2:00 p.m Facebook and LinkedIn updates

4:30 p.m. – End of day update e-mail to management

5:00 p.m. – Go home

Curiously missing? Work. Apparently, Bob didn’t do any. The thing is, that didn’t match up with Bob’s output. Bob “apparently received excellent performance reviews, even being hailed the best developer in the building: his code was clean, well-written, and submitted in a timely fashion.” He was, somehow, producing great work without actually working. Bob’s employer didn’t seem to notice that he wasn’t doing any work, because from the corporation’s vantage point, he was productive.

But Bob’s employer did notice something else. Weird computer traffic was coming into the company’s servers through Bob’s remote login credentials, and importantly, the traffic seemed to be coming from China. To make matters even stranger, the Chinese connection via Bob’s remote connection was active while Bob was sitting in the office. The company was baffled — why would Bob be logging in remotely, and from China, while he was right in front of them? The company contacted Verizon, its telecom services provider, and asked them to investigate.

Verizon got to work and came to the root of the problem. While Bob’s employer had assumed that some odd sort of malware had infected their systems, that wasn’t the case. Verizon determined that the problem was Bob himself, and it explained how a guy with great performance reviews matched up with that schedule of cat videos and shopping on eBay. Bob had outsourced his own work to China.

The plan was pretty simple: Bob had hired a consulting firm in China, sent the consultants the work assigned to him, and then got out of the way, collecting paychecks the whole time. The Chinese workers did the rest — including returning the completed code to Bob’s employer’s servers. Verizon concluded that Bob had most likely been doing this for a few years, taking about a quarter of his pay and using it to buy the services of lower-cost providers overseas. Bob was fired, of course — the employer was working on developing software for the U.S. government and outsourcing that to China isn’t acceptable — but Bob probably laughed all the way to the bank.

According to the Verizon security team, this wasn’t Bob’s only job — and it probably wasn’t the only job he had outsourced. Bob was making “several hundred thousand dollars a year,” per Verizon, and “only had to pay the Chinese consulting firm about fifty grand annually.”

Yaakov, after years of service to Lavan, grabs his wives and children and flees Lavan’s house expeditiously and secretly. Hashem then visited Lavan in a dream and warned him not to harm Yaakov. The Midrash wonders, why did Yaakov merit this divine protection? It is one thing for us all to feel Hashem protects us. But the Midrash observes that here, Hashem proactively contacts Lavan to warn him to keep his distance. As the Ramban points out, despite Lavan being a despicable, disloyal liar, cheater, thief and idolater, God came to him in a prophetic dream in honor of the righteous Yaakov. What component of Yaakov’s personality merited this extraordinary security?

Was it the fact that Yaakov was an ish tam yoshev ohalim, a yeshiva bachur who diligently spent his waking moments in study? Was it his steadfast commitment to the principles of Torah—as we know, Im lavan garti v’taryag mitzvos shamarti? Was it, as the succeeding pesukim imply, the zechus avos, the merit of his father and grandfather? Was it the chessed, the kindness he had displayed? Was it the depth and profundity of his prayer as evidenced by his introduction of the Maariv service? Which one of these aspects and qualities of Yaakov merited Hashem’s personal protection?

The Midrash Tanchuma answers: We see from the narrative that melacha, working honestly and with integrity, professionally and diligently, brings rewards greater than can be achieved through the merit of our forefathers. Zechus melacha – Yaakov didn’t cut corners, he didn’t steal pencils, he didn’t take a nap on the job, and he didn’t distort his hours, he didn’t outsource to another country, and this behavior is admired and praised above all his other tremendous accomplishments.

Some of the figures and characters of our history have earned different titles and appellations. Avraham is “Avinu,” Moshe is “Rabbeinu,” and Dovid is “Hamelech.” Usually we think of Yosef as having the surname “Tzadik.” However, we do find one place in which Yaakov is called “Yaakov HaTzadik,” Yaakov the righteous.

The Rambam (Hilchos Sechirus 13:7) writes:

כְּדֶרֶךְ שֶׁמֻּזְהָר בַּעַל הַבַּיִת שֶׁלֹּא יִגְזל שְׂכַר עָנִי וְלֹא יְעַכְּבֶנּוּ כָּךְ הֶעָנִי מֻזְהָר שֶׁלֹּא יִגְזל מְלֶאכֶת בַּעַל הַבַּיִת וְיִבָּטֵל מְעַט בְּכָאן וּמְעַט בְּכָאן וּמוֹצִיא כָּל הַיּוֹם בְּמִרְמָה אֶלָּא חַיָּב לְדַקְדֵּק עַל עַצְמוֹ בַּזְּמַן שֶׁהֲרֵי הִקְפִּידוּ עַל בְּרָכָה רְבִיעִית שֶׁל בִּרְכַּת הַמָּזוֹן שֶׁלֹּא יְבָרֵךְ אוֹתָהּ. וְכֵן חַיָּב לַעֲבֹד בְּכָל כֹּחוֹ שֶׁהֲרֵי יַעֲקֹב הַצַּדִּיק אָמַר כִּי בְּכָל כֹּחִי עָבַדְתִּי אֶת אֲבִיכֶן. לְפִיכָךְ נָטַל שְׂכַר זֹאת אַף בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה

Just as an employer is forbidden to steal the wages of his employee, or delay payment, so too is an employee forbidden to pilfer from the labor he is to provide his employer by wasting time a bit here and a bit there, and so spending the day in deceit…. So too must he work with all his might, for the tzaddik Yaakov stated: ‘I have served your father with all my might.’ He therefore was rewarded for this labor in this world as well, as the verse states: ‘The man became tremendously wealthy.’

We see that to earn the title “Tzadik,” to be considered a righteous person who practices tzedek, righteousness, one must be committed to the principles of honesty, integrity, diligence, and truthfulness.

We often make the mistake of thinking we can never live up to the level of our Avos, that we can never achieve their piety. After all, could we survive a kivshan ha’aish experience like Avraham? Are we prepared to be sacrificed on the altar, give our life, like Yitzchak? The Rambam, and indeed our Parsha, are a stark reminder that to be like the Avos one need not sacrifice their lives or achieve the extraordinary. Rather, to be like Yaakov we simply have to be honest, hardworking, and trustworthy. Seems easy, but the truth is that honesty is such a lonely word, in a world where so much is—and so many are —untrue.

In 2006, a report published in Inc.com concluded that productivity losses cost U.S. employers $544,000,000,000. The report found that in an eight-hour day, employers spent an average of 1.86 hours “on something other than their jobs, not including lunch and scheduled breaks.” Additionally, of those surveyed, 52% “admitted that their biggest distraction during work hours [was] surfing the internet for personal use.” That was sixteen years ago, imagine what it is today.

Being an honest employee and putting in our full effort for work applies not only for our professional career but in being accountable to our collective Boss, even long after we are retired. Hashem compensates us with life, health, resources, and our faculties. We are here to dedicate our talents, gifts, blessings and time to His service and to repairing His world. We must not waste or squander time, we can’t outsource what we are meant to do and who we are meant to be to China or to anyone else. To be worthy of being called a Tzadik we must be honest and have integrity in not stealing from others or from the gifts from Hashem.

Nature or Nurture? The Remarkable Story of Twins Separated at Six Months Old

As twins, Jack and Oskar shared the same DNA, the same nature, and yet, they emerged radically different people. Born in Trinidad in 1933, they were six months old when their parents divorced. Oskar went to Germany with his Catholic mother, while Jack stayed with his Romanian Jewish father. Oskar grew up as the Nazis rose to power, greeted the school principal with “Heil Hitler,” and later joined the Hitler Youth movement.

Jack, meanwhile, always considered himself Jewish (though halachically he wasn’t), but didn’t understand the significance of that identity until he was 15 years old and was sent to Venezuela to live with his aunt. A survivor of Dachau, she was the only person from his father’s side to make it out alive.

After the war, Jack’s aunt encouraged him to move to Israel and so at 16, he made Aliyah and joined the Israeli Navy, ultimately becoming an officer. In 1954, Jack went to Germany to meet his identical twin. They were 21 when they met for the first time as adults.

Psychologist Nancy Segal tells the story of that encounter in her book “Indivisible by Two: Lives of Extraordinary Twins.” Jack and Oskar examined one another as if they were looking at an alien, even though the other’s appearance should have been entirely familiar to them. Their cultural differences were as immediately apparent as their physical similarities. Casting a wary eye at Jack’s Israeli luggage tags, Oskar removed them and told his long-lost brother to tell others he was coming from America, not from Israel.

Suffice it to say that first reunion did not go well. Two brothers – one raised the proud son of a Jewish man who served in the Israeli Navy and the other raised a German Catholic who had risen in the Nazi Youth movement and been taught to hate Jews. Because of the language barrier they couldn’t communicate much. At the end of the visit, they shook hands like strangers and Jack set off to San Diego where he lived the remainder of his life.

In 1979, Jack read about a study being done on twins and the great debate between nature and nurture. He asked if he and his brother could participate and thought after 25 years it might provide another opportunity for them to see one another and develop a relationship.

They met at the Minneapolis airport and to their amazement discovered they were wearing the exact same thing – a white sports jacket, similar shirt and wire- rimmed glasses. During the study, they learned that they had so much in common. Both were stubborn and arrogant, both fiercely competitive. Both read books from back to front, both sneezed incredibly loudly, they walked in a similar fashion, and they both wore rubber bands around their wrists.

And yet, with all that nature gave them in common, nurture had made them different. They could never agree on issues about Israel and her enemies or who was responsible for World War II. Oskar’s repeated reference to German soldiers as ‘we’ infuriated Jack. In a BBC documentary about the twins, Jack describes that they tried to like each other and enjoy each other’s company but there was always something in the background that they could not tolerate about one another. Jack died a few years ago at 82 years old. Oskar passed away in 1997.

As twins, Esav and Yaakov shared the same DNA, the same nature, and yet, they emerged radically different people. One became a patriarch of our people and the other a great villain of Jewish History, the progenitor of Edom, the exile in which we remain until this very day.

Rashi and the Rashbam both explain that the name Esav comes from עשוי which means complete or finished product. The simple way to understand this is as a superficial description of Esav’s appearance. He was physically mature, covered in hair and appeared complete, fully grown as an adult.

However, perhaps Esav’s name and its implication about his being complete is not just about his physique but much more importantly about his spirit and approach to life. In his Menachem Tziyon, Rav Menachem Bentzion Zaks points out that the Torah describes that this image of Esav is consistent with the Torah’s description of him as a “man who knows hunting, a man of the field.” Esav remains a primitive, boorish man who spent his days among the animals, doing what animals do – hunting in the field. Esav sees himself from the start as a finished product. What you see is what you get. He had no interest or ambition to grow, change, or improve. He was עשוי, complete from the start.

Rav Zaks suggests that Yaakov’s name reflects the exact opposite quality, the insatiable appetite for growth and improvement. The root of Yaakov’s name is “akeiv,” or “heel.” When we walk, the heel is the first part of the foot that touches the ground, says Rav Zaks. It represents the beginning, the first step, with much to follow. Akeiv means the beginning of a process with much greater things to come as in the expression, “ikvesa de-Meshicha, heel of the Messianic Era.”

Esav and Yaakov are twins who enter the world with the same DNA, the same “nature,” but who bring contrasting attitudes towards their “nurture.” Esav is satisfied with who he is from the start while Yaakov feels entering the world is just the first of many steps and journeys to come.

Indeed, while Esav is spiritually stagnant, remains immature and undeveloped, Yaakov spends his life struggling, wrestling and thereby growing. In our Parsha, he overcomes his shy nature to assert himself, first by obtaining the birthright and then collecting on it by going entirely against his nature and tricking his father into giving him a beracha. Later, before his reunion with Esav, we will read of his encounter with the angel with whom he wrestles the entire evening and triumphs. The shy, passive yeshiva bochur who is characterized as sitting learning diligently in the tent, emerges the strong, dynamic, assertive patriarch and leader who is among the greatest role models of our people.

Esav chooses to remainעשוי but Yaakov puts one foot in front of the other, walks, jogs and ultimately runs to his destiny as Yisrael. No matter what our nature, we are not finished products. We can nurture ourselves to grow, improve, and change in all areas of our lives. We are Bnai Yisrael, we are the children of Yaakov.

Jack and Oskar did not leave legacies based on the “natures” they shared in common like sneezing loudly or by the way they walked. Because of how they were nurtured, Jack left a legacy of having been an officer in the Israeli Navy while Oskar left of a legacy of having been an enthusiastic member of the Nazi youth.

We all have natures that predispose us, but through the way we nurture our lives, ultimately, we can choose who we are and the legacy we leave.

Criticize or Cancel? Engage or Estrange? Some Questions About Confronting Antisemitism

One of the more disturbing trends we are experiencing today is the rise of antisemitic attacks, qualitatively and quantitatively, online with words and offline with physical violence. As we continue to watch and monitor closely, there are many who are confident they know the answer, they understand the correct approach, the appropriate response to each incident. I’m less sure. As each day passes and each new disturbing incident, statement, tweet, or God forbid violent act occurs, the following questions occur to me regarding how to respond, and I share them with you for your careful consideration:

If everything is antisemitism, isn’t nothing antisemitism? We need to be discerning and judicious in our definition of, and what we call out as, antisemitism. Not everything that rubs us the wrong way, offends us, or is insensitive or unkind, is necessarily antisemitic. When we label something antisemitic that isn’t, we lose credibility. Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks z”l explained it as follows:

First let me define antisemitism. Not liking Jews is not antisemitism. We all have people we don’t like. That’s OK; that’s human; it isn’t dangerous. Second, criticizing Israel is not antisemitism…Antisemitism means denying the right of Jews to exist collectively as Jews with the same rights as everyone else. It takes different forms in different ages. In the Middle Ages, Jews were hated because of their religion. In the nineteenth and early twentieth century they were hated because of their race. Today they are hated because of their nation state, the state of Israel. It takes different forms but it remains the same thing: the view that Jews have no right to exist as free and equal human beings.

If nothing is antisemitism, can we survive? Throughout our history, persecution, oppression, expulsion, and attempts at extermination began with the normalization of Jewish stereotypes, slurs, tropes, and promoting distortions and lies about Jewish power and influence. If we dismiss everything elected officials, athletes, celebrities and public personalities say and post about Jews as benign, comedy, hyperbole or “not what it sounds like/not how they meant it,” we are burying our heads in the sand, shirking our responsibility, and ultimately are accomplices to the spread of this pernicious and dangerous hate. While we need to be judicious in not labeling everything offensive as antisemitic, we cannot take the opposite approach and let anything and everything slide, either.

Where, by whom, and how should this be decided? After the Saturday Night Live monologue by comedian Dave Chappelle this week, Jewish social media lit up with a debate about how to characterize his rant. Some slammed it as popularizing and legitimizing antisemitism, while others saw it as humorous and completely ok, while others thought it wasn’t objectively wrong but the timing and environment in which it was shared made it objectionable and irresponsible. For example, popular Jewish comedian Elon Gold tweeted: “I’m in Israel and my phone keeps going off about [Dave Chapelle]’s monologue. I watched it 3X. There’s not a joke in there I wouldn’t do myself. Just not as well written/performed as Dave.” Is social media the place for Jews to debate among ourselves what qualifies as antisemitism? Is it decided by popular vote, or are there experts, leaders, and organizations dedicated to this cause that we should defer to? If I’m offended and you’re not, or vice versa, is one of us “right”?

Do we only call out antisemitism when it’s on the “other side”? Antisemitism is an ideology that transcends political affiliation. There are antisemites on the left, on the right, in both major political parties, and everywhere in between. Yet in this increasingly divisive political climate, there are many who are happy and eager to call out and take action against antisemitism coming from the “other side,” yet remain silent and implicitly tolerant of antisemitism coming from their own. Make no mistake, if the only antisemitism that merits a response from you is antisemitism coming from your political opponent, your credibility is damaged and your ability to be an advocate in this area is compromised.

Engage or Estrange? Just because we can be offended doesn’t mean we always have to be. While we often instinctively respond with outrage and calls for condemnation and cancellation, those aren’t necessarily the best strategies or the most prudent responses to serve our greater and more long term interests. Sometimes, the answer is to engage and dialogue rather than to attack. If we can educate, inform and turn an adversary into an advocate, we accomplish far more than if we label someone and box them into becoming the very thing we seek to oppose. In 2017, I shared the story of Derek Black, a white supremacist who experienced a Shabbos meal and completely turned around his worldview and his activism. Recently, we hosted NBA veteran Meyers Leonard on Behind the Bima who made a terrible mistake using an antisemitic slur but immediately worked to educate himself, apologized genuinely, unconditionally, and profusely, and has spent 18 months making up for his mistake by being willing to recognize why his mistake was hurtful, learning about and talking to the community he hurt, and educating others to prevent future similar harm. When is there hope and we should therefore engage, and when is someone beyond repair and we should estrange?

Are all offenses and responses equal? Sensitivity to antisemitism remains critical, but are we nuanced in appreciating the difference between someone who knowingly promotes something inherently antisemitic that renders them an antisemite, versus someone who promotes something hateful, critical, offensive, illegitimate, but not necessarily antisemitic, versus someone who defends someone in either of the first two categories while not directly making antisemitic statements themselves? Do we treat an antisemite, an unknowing or negligent promoter of antisemitism, and someone who has a bad “take” about an antisemite the same, or should there be differencs in how we respond?

Cancel or Criticize? Is there a place between accepting and being indifferent to antisemitism on the one side and seeking to cancel and boycott those who say and post objectionable things? Can’t we criticize, call out, ask for clarification, and demand contrition without calling to cancel? Insisting on the termination of employment or of an endorsement contract is the nuclear option. When and against whom should it be used? Can we, should we have a more varied tool box of responses, options and approaches? Would we be better served and understood if we offer more than a knee-jerk reaction? And do we recognize there could be different responses based on different degrees of offense?

My questions and doubts are not an excuse for me or you to withdraw from fighting and standing up to antisemitism. They are, I believe, critically important to consider in developing the best and most effective individual and collective strategy to be successful and to have an impact. Our goal is not to be “right,” it is to be effective.

We are at a critical and shocking crossroads, when it is more comfortable to express hate and even violence against Jews in the civilized world than anytime in my life. Whether you found Dave Chapelle’s monologue amusing or offensive, one thing is clear, antisemitism is no laughing matter, we must be thoughtful in our response.

Stop Bowing to Busyness

When is the last time you asked someone how are they are doing and they didn’t answer, “Busy?”

In his article “The ‘Busy’ Trap,” Tim Kreide writes:

If you live in America in the 21st century you’ve probably had to listen to a lot of people tell you how busy they are. It’s become the default response when you ask anyone how they’re doing: “Busy!” “So busy.” “Crazy busy.” It is, pretty obviously, a boast disguised as a complaint. And the stock response is a kind of congratulation: “That’s a good problem to have,” or “Better than the opposite.”

Look around and you’ll notice it isn’t generally people pulling back-to-back shifts in the I.C.U. or commuting by bus to three minimum-wage jobs who tell you how busy they are; what those people are is not busy but tired. Exhausted. Dead on their feet. It’s almost always people whose lamented busyness is purely self-imposed: work and obligations they’ve taken on voluntarily, classes and activities they’ve “encouraged” their kids to participate in. They’re busy because of their own ambition or drive or anxiety, because they’re addicted to busyness and dread what they might have to face in its absence.

One study from the Monthly Labor Review found that people estimating 75-plus hour workweeks were off, on average, by about 25 hours. It mentioned that a young man reported working 180 hours a week, which is quite literally impossible, since that is twelve more hours than a week contains. How many hours a week do you work?

When angels in the guise of men appear before Avraham in this week’s Parsha, he offers them water to wash their feet. The Chizkuni explains – “This all occurred during the season of the desert winds, known as sharaf. Hashem had made the day especially hot, so that the feet of travelers would be soaked in sand and sweat.”

But Rashi quoting the Gemara (Bava Metzia 86b) has a different understanding: He believed they were idolators who bowed down to the dust of their feet and therefore Avraham didn’t want them bringing that idolatry into his home.

The Shelah HaKadosh (Torah Ohr) wonders, what kind of idolatry is this? Of course, it is wrong to worship anything other than God, but who would be so foolish as to worship the dust of their own feet?

The Divrei Yechezkel, the Shinover Rav, says not only is it not lunacy, but many of us in fact worship in the same way. These “idolators” were merchants. They travelled and ran around doing business, selling their wares, growing customers. All of that activity and “busyness” kicked up dust. The idea that they were worshiping the dust of their feet, says the Shinover, is that they were bowing down to their busyness, they were kneeling to their efforts and initiative. These merchants were obsessed and addicted to running around, staying busy, and kicking up dust. They mistakenly attributed success to the level of their activity, they assumed their determination and work, their busyness yielded results, not Hashem. That is avoda zara, idolatry.

Many people tie their self-worth to how busy they are, or at least appear to be. When people ask us how things are going, many of us are in the business of busyness and instinctively talk about how little time we have, how much we have going on, how busy things are. Leisure time used to be viewed as a status symbol. Now, free time has come to be looked down on as idleness. Instead, hectic busyness has become the symbol of achievement.

Avraham told his guests: וְרַחֲצ֖וּ רַגְלֵיכֶ֑ם, wash your feet, get rid of that dust, eliminate the addiction and worship of busyness, and enjoy some slow living.

The Mishna in Avos (1:4) says: יוֹסֵי בֶן יוֹעֶזֶר אִישׁ צְרֵדָה אוֹמֵר, יְהִי בֵיתְךָ בֵית וַעַד לַחֲכָמִים, וֶהֱוֵי מִתְאַבֵּק בַּעֲפַר רַגְלֵיהֶם, וֶהֱוֵי שׁוֹתֶה בְצָמָא אֶת דִּבְרֵיהֶם: “Make your home a gathering place for Chachamim, sit in the dust of their feet, and drink in their words with thirst.” The simple understanding is that the Rebbe, the teacher, used to sit on a chair, surrounded by students on the floor at his feet. Alternatively, it can refer to being humble in their presence. But why then didn’t the Mishna say so explicitly, why connect it to making yourself dusty with the dust of their feet? And do Talmidei Chachamim really “kick up dust” with their teaching, aren’t they sitting down?

Based on the insight of the Shinover, the current Rosh Yeshiva of Ger, R’ Shaul Alter, suggests that maybe the Mishna means if you are going to attach yourself to busyness, it should be to noble activity and movement, to making a difference and finding meaning, to not just making a living, but living.

So what is the antidote to worshipping at the altar of busyness? Don’t we need to remain super active to get everything done these days? After telling them to wash their feet, to stop bowing down to being active and working excessively, Avaham then told them, “וְהִֽשָּׁעֲנ֖וּ תַּ֥חַת הָעֵֽץ, rest under the tree.” Says the Shinover, Avraham was telling them, “Lean under the tree, put yourself under the protection and support of Hashem’s protection. Yes, take initiative, work hard, but then put your trust in Hashem. If Hashem wants you to be successful, He can bring the success after a reasonable amount of work; if you continue to work excessively, you are in fact not trusting in Hashem and have diminishing spiritual returns.”

Yes, there are seasons and periods of busyness. Of course, we have responsibilities, obligations, dreams and ambitions. But we must stop worshipping the idolatry of dust, bowing down to busyness.

We must not only remember that it is acceptable to slow down, it is a value and a virtue, it is the true badge of honor. I was recently talking with someone that would be defined by most people as highly successful. I asked him about his daily schedule and he was telling me that he starts working early in the morning, tries to finish most days in time for when the kids come home from school, makes sure to find time to exercise and learn each day, and to spend time with his wife in the evening. When he finished describing the balance and boundaries of his life, I was more impressed, not less.

It’s time to wash our feet of the illusion that busyness equals productivity and to start leaning under the tree and enjoying the shade of Hashem.

Is There a Valid Excuse Not to Vote?

The world is increasingly complicated and challenging, and we are constantly processing new developments, complications, and challenges. We tend to sit around our Shabbos tables, share on Whatsapp groups and post on social media about issues of the day from growing antisemitism, school choice and vouchers, policies related to taxes and the economy, foreign policy including important issues concerning Israel, and social issues with moral implications. All those conversations, observations, and insights may be thought-provoking and stimulating but they don’t actually directly impact policies or realities. What does is how we vote, whom we choose to represent us, and the laws we put in place when given the chance to do so directly.

The importance of voting may sound obvious and cliché, yet there remain so many who don’t for reasons ranging from they don’t have the time or patience, they can’t be bothered to know where to go, they don’t understand the implications of the amendments, they aren’t familiar with many of the candidates, or they are equally disgusted by the politics and politicians of both sides. Many those excuses are legitimate for some (likely not for most) but I want to suggest a few reasons it remains critically important to vote in this election, and indeed in every one we are privileged to have the opportunity to participate in.

Your Vote Matters – In 2000, President George W. Bush was elected by only 537 votes, some of which were cast in our very district. Put another way, fewer than the number of people who go the 9:15 a.m. Minyan on Shabbos morning at BRS decided a presidential election. That same year a Connecticut Congressman won by 21 votes and a representative from Vermont was elected by a margin of 1. Voting in South Florida matters, it has decided elections. If you sit it out, you are neglecting and abdicating an opportunity and responsibility to influence policy and the future of our country.

Your Vote Will Be Noticed – Even if you don’t agree with the above, or say “Ok, sometimes in a rare case it will make a difference, but I see the polls this year, nothing is that close, so why bother,” there is still another important reason to cast your ballot. While of course how you choose to vote is not public, governments and politicians are constantly studying voting demographics, including geographic area, to determine who voted. For example, if Montoya Circle and its thousands of voters show up to the polls in high numbers, it demonstrates to current elected officials and future candidates that we are a community worthy of their time, their legislative agenda, and their courtship for future elections.

Amendments Matter – We sit around Shabbos tables debating and discussing issues. This week we will have an opportunity to not only voice our opinion, but to directly shape policies and laws on these issues and others. Research the proposed amendments, understand them, take a position on them, and participate in the process of deciding them.

Gratitude Matters – On October 3, 1984, Rav Moshe Feinstein zt”l, the undisputed Halachic authority of America at the time, wrote a responsum—on his stationary and with his signature—regarding the obligation to vote:

On reaching the shores of the United States, Jews found a safe haven. The rights guaranteed by the US Constitution and the Bill of Rights have allowed us the freedom to practice our religion without interference and to live in this republic in safety.

A fundamental principle of Judaism is Hakaras HaTov – recognizing benefits afforded us and giving expression to our appreciation. Therefore, it is incumbent upon each Jewish citizen to participate in the democratic system which guards the freedoms we enjoy. The most fundamental responsibility incumbent on each individual is to register and to vote.

Therefore, I urge all members of the Jewish community to fulfill their obligations by registering as soon as possible, and by voting. By this, we can express our appreciation and contribute to the continued security of our community.

Rav Moshe saw voting as a Halachic and moral imperative. Staying home is not just forfeiting an incredible right and privilege—it is an act of ingratitude and thanklessness. Sitting out an election doesn’t just damage the system and hurt the candidates. It hurts the one who fails to express his or her appreciation for freedom and the right to vote. Don’t sit it out and neglect a privilege and right that many of our ancestors could only have dreamed of having in their countries.

There is much at stake in this election. Local candidates have different views on issues that affect us, such as school choice. Candidates have different views on issues that matter deeply to us such as health care, the economy, foreign policy and, of paramount importance, the US-Israel relationship.

One of the most basic and yet greatest gifts and blessings God has bestowed upon us is our bechirah chofshis, our free will and ability to choose. Choose candidates whose positions and opinions you share. Nobody can or should tell you how to vote, or for whom. But we can and must all tell one another to go out and vote, because it matters.

Need for Speed

Voice notes are an incredibly convenient way to communicate a short thought, a quick question, or a brief response. They are not meant, however, for long expositions, deep thoughts or ongoing monologues. A dear friend likes to say that any voice note over two minutes long is already a podcast. Another dear friend of mine describes it as a hate crime. Luckily, last year WhatsApp offered a tremendous update to their platform, and through it saved many relationships and increased shalom bayis. They gifted us the ability to listen to voice notes at up to double speed.

Speed control exists on several platforms including podcast players, Youtube and many Torah applications. Whether consuming the most precious and holy content possible, our sacred Torah, or l’havdil, binging on entertainment that shouldn’t be in our lives, people want more in less time and now have that ability.

The central story of our Parsha is the hard reset that God performed on the world, undoing all that He had created and restarting the world anew. Hashem took such a drastic measure because, the Torah tells us, the world had become filled with corruption and moral depravity. Indeed, the Sefas Emes says, the flood was midah k’neged mida, measure for measure. The people had violated all boundaries of behavior and so Hashem removed the boundaries that protected the earth from water.

The Gemara (Sanhedrin 108a) makes a mysterious comment: “The generation of the flood became corrupt as a result of the great blessing that God had bestowed upon them.” What does that mean?

Rav Pam zt”l says the key to understanding this Gemara and what happened to Noach’s generation can be found in our title character’s name. The pasuk at the end of Bereishis tells us that Lemech names his son Noach saying, “this one will bring us rest from our work and from the toil of our hands from the ground which Hashem had cursed.” Rashi explains that until that time, the world had continued to suffer from the curse that God gave Adam, b’zeias apecha tochal lechem, you will have to work with the sweat of your brow to draw bread from the ground. Until Noach was born, man labored from morning to night and worked tirelessly with his bare hands just to have food to eat, leaving no recreational or down time.

Lemech saw prophetically that Noach was destined to invent the plow and other agricultural tools that would make man much more efficient and would ease his burden. Lemech names him “Noach” from the root “nuach,” to rest, in the sense of providing relief.

Rav Pam explains that the plow and other tools were the great blessing that Gemara referenced that were bestowed upon this generation and yet, they became corrupt with it. He explains, the inventions and progress yielded more free time. That time was obviously a blessing and gift. It could have been used constructively, productively and meaningfully. Instead, the generation discovered the down time and used it for corrupt activity. The breakthrough and advancement could have brought spiritual ascent, instead they brought moral decline.

Someone shared with me the story of his friend’s grandmother, a Holocaust survivor who made her way to the United States. With the characteristic perseverance of one who could not allow Hitler to win, and despite her poverty, she raised her children to value life, learning and the Jewish nation.

At some point in the 1960’s, after a number of years saving penny by penny, she had finally saved up enough to buy an electric washing machine. On the day that she purchased the washing machine, she called her children in and told them, “Until now, I’ve spent an enormous amount of time washing clothing by hand. Now that we have this machine, I have discovered something I haven’t had until now – free time. Now that I no longer need to spend all day at home, we’re going to the library. If we have free time, it’s to be used for learning.”

We are blessed to live in the greatest era of technological breakthrough of all time. Simple tasks that used to eat up our time can now be accomplished in seconds or through automation, in no time at all. We’ve advanced from the washing machine, dishwasher, bread machine, and microwave, to time-saving modern wonders like GPS, lightning-fast computers in our pockets, smart homes, and more.

Do we use the newfound time to pursue frivolous activities and indulge in hedonistic experiences? Or, do we use the time we are gaining with each breakthrough for meaningful, productive and constructive activities? Are our greater comfort and expanded time leading to moral decay and decline, or moral development and progress?

The Mishna in Pirkei Avos (3:1) quotes Akavya ben M’halalel who teaches that a person should always keep in mind, “Before Whom he will have to give Din V’cheshbon, judgment and reckoning.” What is the difference between din and cheshbon?

The Vilna Gaon explains that din refers to judgment for mistakes, indiscretions and poor decisions we made. Cheshbon is not about what we did wrong during our time, but what we could have done right during that time. We will have to account for din, for mistakes we made, but we will even be held accountable for the cheshbon, the calculation of what we could have accomplished if we had only taken advantage of the time we claimed we don’t have.

Have you ever found yourself wishing there were more than 24 hours in a day? This time of year, your dream comes true. With the clock change this Motzei Shabbos in Israel and next week in America, we will be gifted an extra hour.

A friend of mine in Israel, Akiva Danto, runs a beautiful learning program the night the clock is changed. He tells people, we claim we want to learn but don’t have the time. Well, each fall we gain an extra hour. What will we do with it?

Will we just stay out a little longer or watch just a bit more? Or, will we use it to read the book we claim to never have time to read or learn the Torah we say we wish we had time to learn? Will we waste it or utilize it, let it slip away or embrace it for something meaningful.

Our rabbis say, בדרך שאדם רוצה לילך מוליכין אותו, when we show which path we want to take, we are helped to move forward on it. In the merit of utilizing our extra hour for something noble and meaningful, may we be blessed to find many “extra hours” during the year to further our commitment to Torah and advance our personal growth.

Failing Forward

Describing the painstaking trial-and-error process that eventually led to the creation of the incandescent light bulb, prolific inventor Thomas Edison said “I have not failed. I have merely found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” British entrepreneur James Dyson reports that he built 5,127 prototypes of his cyclonic vacuum before reaching the one that was commercially successful.

John Maxwell is the author of 24 books on maximizing personal and leadership potential. In his book “Failing Forward” he argues that “the difference between average people and achieving people is their perception of and response to failure.” There is no shortage of stories about highly accomplished people who overcame early failures. Abraham Lincoln lost eight elections, failed in business many times, and suffered a nervous breakdown. The Beatles were turned down for a record deal because they were told their sound wasn’t appealing. Michael Jordan cried when he was cut from his high school basketball team. These individuals used their failures to launch success. They didn’t become paralyzed or complacent, but rather regrouped and pressed forward.

But is it only great people who have the tenacity and resolve to overcome failure? Can every one of us fail forward?

The Midrash notes something fascinating about the Torah’s description of the first day of creation:

אר”י בר סימון יהי ערב אין כתיב כאן, אלא ויהי ערב, מכאן שהיה סדר זמנים קודם לכן, א”ר אבהו מלמד שהיה בורא עולמות ומחריבן, עד שברא את אלו, אמר דין הניין לי, יתהון לא הניין לי, א”ר פנחס טעמיה דר’ אבהו וירא אלקים את כל אשר עשה והנה טוב מאד דין הניין לי, יתהון לא הניין לי

Rabbi Judah b. R. Simon said: “‘Let there be evening’ is not written here, but ‘And there was evening’; hence we know that a time-order existed before this.” Rabbi Abahu said: “This proves that the Holy One, blessed be He, went on creating worlds and destroying them until He created this one, and declared, ‘This one pleases Me; those did not please Me.'” Rabbi Pinchas said: “This is R. Abahu’s reason: ‘And God saw everything that He had made, and, behold, it was very good’ (Genesis 1:31). This pleases Me, but those did not please Me.

Is this meant to be taken literally? Is R’ Abahu asserting as a historical fact the existence of previous worlds that were destroyed? And if it didn’t occur, how are we to understand the metaphor that God created and destroyed worlds? Hashem is infinite, omnipotent and perfect. If so, what does it mean for Hashem to create and destroy until He got it “right” or to a point of His satisfaction? Could Hashem not envision and create a correct world from the start?

Rabbi Soloveitchik explains that of course Hashem is perfect and could have created the correct world from the start. But He chose not to in order to set an example, a model, and a precedent for all of us. If Hashem could “need” to start all over again, if He could fail forward and begin anew, then we can, too.

Indeed, the Talmud (Pesachim 54b) tells us that seven things were created before the world was created and one of them is teshuva. Before man existed with the capacity to make mistakes, the process of repairing, redefining, and returning was already prepared for us. If we anticipate complete perfection in our lives, our expectations will inevitably and invariably be shattered. Perfectionism is counterproductive and ultimately damaging.

While we don’t strive for failure, we embrace it and learn from it. Winston Churchill said it most succinctly: “Success is going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.”

Bereishis barah Elokim can be understood not only to mean “In the beginning God created,” but also to highlight one of the greatest gifts He created and gave us is “Bereishis” itself – new beginnings, fresh opportunities. God made it possible for us to begin again, it all depends on our attitude. In her book “Mindset,” Carol Dwek contrasts the growth mindset and the fixed mindset. She writes, “In the fixed mindset, everything is about the outcome. If you fail—or if you’re not the best—it’s all been wasted. The growth mindset allows people to value what they’re doing regardless of the outcome.” She powerfully reminds us that “becoming is better than being.”

Rabbi Soloveitchik shared his insight in 1957 while reflecting on the world following the Holocaust. Like Hashem at creation, many worlds had been destroyed, but The Rav encouraged that we must imitate and emulate Hashem, regroup and create again.

While we are several generations removed from the Holocaust, there are people today who have seen aspects of their world destroyed at different points in their lives. For some, financial security, savings, investments are gone. For others, the time, energy and effort that have gone into relationships feel wasted. We cannot and must not despair or become despondent. We cannot look at a “destroyed world” and see it as the last step in the process instead of the next step towards creating another world. We must follow in the footsteps of the Divine and fail forward.

Don’t Stop Holding Hands

Photo Credit: Chabad.org

In addition to the regular Ushpizin that we proudly welcome each night into our Sukkah, our family has a beautiful minhag. We go around the table and I ask each person at the table to answer the following question. If you could invite anyone as your personal ushpizin, someone who is not alive anymore, from the recent past or from long ago, who would it be and why? Some mention members of their family, grandparents or great grandparents. Others share personalities from Tanach or from Shas and yet others mention heroes of modern Israel.

The answers are fascinating and offer a great insight into what people are reading, thinking about, feeling or who they are missing. This year, I want to ask it a little bit differently. Who would you invite to be your Ushpizin that thinks differently than you, that believes differently, observes differently, dresses differently? Do you have friendships, not acquaintances, but real friendships with people different than you?

שִׁבְעַ֣ת יָמִ֔ים תַּקְרִ֥יבוּ אִשֶּׁ֖ה לַה׳ בַּיּ֣וֹם הַשְּׁמִינִ֡י מִקְרָא־קֹדֶשׁ֩ יִהְיֶ֨ה לָכֶ֜ם וְהִקְרַבְתֶּ֨ם אִשֶּׁ֤ה לַֽה׳ עֲצֶ֣רֶת הִ֔וא כָּל־מְלֶ֥אכֶת עֲבֹדָ֖ה לֹ֥א תַעֲשֽׂוּ׃

“Seven days you shall bring offerings by fire to Hashem. On the eighth day you shall observe a sacred occasion and bring an offering by fire to Hashem.”

Many make a mistake of seeing Shemini Atzeres as the “last days” of Sukkos, but the truth is they are an independent holiday, Atzeres, not Sukkos. Indeed, our rabbis label them a רגל בפני עצמו, an independent holiday. The rest of Sukkos, sacrifices are brought in the merit of the nations of the world, but on Shemini Atzeres, the sacrifices are exclusively on behalf of the Jewish people, Hashem’s children.

Rashi quotes the midrash that compares it to a King who hosts all of his children for a party for several days and when the last day comes, he pleads, please stay with me one more day because קשה עלי פרידתכם. Classically this is understood to mean, it is difficult for me to separate from you.

However, the Imrei Emes has a phenomenal interpretation. What bothers Hashem is not our parting from Him; He will come with us. What bothers Him is פרידתכם, the idea that for the last month and a half we have been united, spent quality time together, worked together, celebrated together, focused on our sense of community with a shared destiny, together.

And now, the holidays will be behind us and we will go back to the usual divides, focusing on our differences instead of our commonalities, resuming the usual blame, finger pointing, name calling and hyper criticism. We will go back to local minyanim instead of gathering at the shul, will go back to our own interests, instead of focusing on community, go back to judging others based on what is on or not on their heads instead of what is in their hearts, go back to worrying about is the community going too far to the right or swinging to the left.

Hashem dreads that business as usual. The Yamim Noraim and Sukkos were so refreshing, so different, so unified, so happy. קשה עלי פרידתכם, says Hashem. Your pirud, your divisiveness, is kasheh, it is so difficult for me. Please spend one more day unified and together, transcending these differences and that nahrishkeit.

How will we spend this one last day, this regel bifnei atzmo? We will grab hands and dance in a circle, a circle that has no beginning and no end, no hierarchy or tier system, no head of the table or dais, no mizrach or lead position, just everyone dancing equally in a circle, united, together. There is not one circle for shtreimels, one for black hats and one for kippot serugot. There isn’t a circle for the old and one for the young or a circle for the republicans and a circle for the democrats.

One circle, one people, one community, one history and one destiny. That is the enduring image of this yom tov, that is the message we take with us into the dead of winter and beyond.

Don’t stop dancing even when Simchas Torah ends. Don’t go back to the usual pirud. Don’t stop holding the hands of the person on your left and your right literally, and metaphorically.

Don’t let go of the hands of your family, friends and members of the community. Don’t let go of the hands of those who are here, and don’t let go of those who are gone. Like the Ushpizin, we have felt the presence of our ancestors, our parents and grandparents over these holidays. Our homes have been filled with the aroma and taste of their recipes, we have heard the tunes they sang, and we have been observing their minhagim. They have lived with us these last few weeks and we must not let them go.

Seeing separation and division is hard for Hashem and it should be hard for you. Don’t let go of those who are gone and don’t stop holding the hands of those who are still here.

The Most Beautiful Esrog

A woman in her seventies had a heart attack and was taken to the hospital. While on the operating table she had a near death experience. She had the opportunity to ask Hashem, “Is my time up?” Hashem answered directly, “No, you have another 23 years, 2 months and 8 days to live.”

Given that, the woman decided to stay in the hospital after her recovery so that she could obtain a face-lift, botox and liposuction. To complete her makeover, she even had someone come in and change her hair color and brighten her teeth. After all, she thought, since she had so much more time to live, she might as well make the most of it.

After the operation, she was released from the hospital. While crossing the street on her way home, she was struck by a car. Arriving at Hashem’s door, she demanded, “I thought you said I had another 23 years? Why didn’t you pull me from out of the path of the speeding car?” Hashem answered: “I would have, but I didn’t recognize you.”

This week, Jews around the world will universally take the exact same four species. Whether of Ashkenazic or Sephardic descent, or from North America, South America, the Eastern Hemisphere or Western Hemisphere, all Jews understand the biblical command to take a pri eitz ha’dar to mean that they are obligated to take an esrog. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of varieties of citrus fruit – oranges, grapefruits, lemons, tangerines, and the list goes on. How do we know that a pri etz hadar, a beautiful citrus fruit, is specifically an esrog?

The Talmud (Sukka 25a) draws the conclusion that a pri eitz ha’dar is an esrog by analyzing the Hebrew word for beautiful, ha’dar. The Gemara concludes it is the esrog tree, because the word “hadar” in truth has two meanings, beautiful and to dwell. They therefore interpret the pasuk to be referring to a fruit that is dar ba’ilan, “dwells continuously all year on the tree.” The esrog, alone fulfills the requirement of constant dwelling. Rabbi Joshua Shmidman explains that while most other fruits are seasonal, the esrog grows, blossoms, and produces fruit throughout all the seasons. It braves the cold, withstands the heat, remains firm and upright in the wind, and stubbornly persists in surviving the storm. The esrog is truly dar, it dwells consistently and constantly. In fact, the Hebrew word dar is very similar to the English word endure.

In other words, by having the same word, hadar, mean both beautiful and endure, the Torah is communicating the Jewish definition of beauty. Beauty is not about the superficial and purely aesthetic. Beauty is not that which is temporary and fleeting. Many other trees and their fruits fit that narrow definition. Rather, true beauty, says the Torah, is the esrog, the ability to endure and withstand the winds around us. Beauty is having an indomitable spirit, to live with determination, to not veer from the path, abandon the mission, or stray from our convictions.

Beauty is not skin deep. It is found in the spirit of endurance, the tenacity and resolve to continue with our convictions intact. The Torah mandate of V’hadarta pnei zakein is usually translated as “honor and stand up for the elderly.” The root of v’hadarta is dar. We respect the elderly for their beauty. Their skin may show the test of time, their joints may have the wear and tear of decades, they may be slow or infirm, but their strength to endure demonstrates an unsurpassed beauty, worthy of respect and admiration.

Shai Agnon, the great Israeli Nobel laureate whose image adorns the 50-shekel note, lived in the Jerusalem neighborhood of Talpiot and was a neighbor of a famous elderly rabbi from Russia. One year, prior to Sukkos, Agnon met his rabbinic neighbor at the neighborhood store selling esrogim. There Agnon noticed how meticulous his neighbor was in choosing an esrog. Even though he was a person of limited means, the rabbi insisted on purchasing the finest, and by extension most expensive, esrog available. After examining many specimens, the rabbi finally chose the one he wished and paid for it.

Walking home with Agnon, the rabbi emphasized to him how important it was to have a beautiful, flawless esrog on Sukkos, and how the beauty of the esrog was part of the fulfillment of the Divine commandment for the holiday. On Sukkos morning Agnon noticed that the rabbi was without an esrog at the synagogue services. Perplexed, Agnon asked the rabbi where his beautiful esrog was. The rabbi answered by relating the following incident:

“I awoke early, as is my wont, and prepared to recite the blessing over the esrog in my sukkah located on my balcony. As you know, we have a neighbor with a large family, and our balconies adjoin. As you also know, our neighbor, the father of all these children next door, is a man of short temper. Many times he shouts at them or even hits them for violating his rules and wishes. I have spoken to him many times about his harshness but to little avail.

“As I stood in the sukkah on my balcony, about to recite the blessing for the esrog, I heard a child’s weeping coming from the next balcony. It was a little girl crying, one of the children of our neighbor. I walked over to find out what was wrong. She told me that she too had awakened early and had gone out on her balcony to examine her father’s esrog, whose delightful appearance and fragrance fascinated her. Against her father’s instructions, she removed the esrog from its protective box to examine it. She unfortunately dropped the esrog on the stone floor, irreparably damaging it and rendering it unacceptable for ritual use. She knew that her father would be enraged and would punish her severely, perhaps even violently. Hence the frightened tears and wails of apprehension.

“I comforted her, and I then took my esrog and placed it in her father’s box, taking the damaged esrog to my premises. I told her to tell her father that his neighbor insisted that he accept the gift of the beautiful esrog, and that he would be honoring me and the holiday by so doing.”

Agnon concludes the story by saying: “My rabbinic neighbor’s damaged, bruised, ritually unusable esrog was the most beautiful esrog I have ever seen in my lifetime.”

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