Rabbi Yaakov Asher Sinclair

Last Men Standing

In the 1930s, the Yiddish theater was thriving in Europe, though it wasn't exactly known for promoting Torah values. One day, a yeshiva student rushed to the Brisker Rav, the Rabbi of Brisk, to report a new play that the Yiddish theater had put on. He was outraged and said, "Does the Rav know about the new play? It's a disgrace! They’ve taken a scene from the Torah portion of Shoftim, where the Jewish army is about to go to war, and turned it into a mockery."

The student described the scene. An actor stands up and quotes the Torah, saying, 'Who is the man who has built a new house and not inaugurated it? Let him go home and return to his house, lest he die in the war and another man inaugurate it.' At this, ten people get up and walk off the stage. Then the actor says, 'And who is the man who has betrothed a woman and not yet married her? Let him go home, lest he die in the war and another man marry her.' Another twenty people get up and leave. Finally, the actor says, 'Whoever is afraid, let him go home so he won’t scare everyone else.'

Now, everyone except two actors leave the stage. These two are playing the Vilna Gaon and the Shaagas Aryeh. They start arguing about who should take the first shot in the battle, each insisting that the other go first. They go back and forth, and the audience collapses in laughter. The curtain falls and that’s it.

“It's a terrible, shameful disgrace!” said the student, appalled. “Rav, you have to put a stop to this."

The Brisker Rav listened and then calmly asked, "Well, what's wrong with that?"

The student was shocked, unable to understand the Rav's reaction. The Brisker Rav explained. "There's nothing wrong with what they did. They just forgot the last scene."

Confused, the student asked, "What last scene?"

The Brisker Rav replied, "The last scene is where the Vilna Gaon and the Shaagas Aryeh win the war."

Fast forward to June 5^th, 1967, when the Israel Defense Forces initiated Operation Focus, a coordinated air attack on Egypt. That morning, around 200 aircraft took off from Israel, flew west over the Mediterranean, and attacked Egypt from the north. They caught the Egyptian forces by surprise, bombing 18 different airfields and eliminating approximately 90% of the Egyptian Air Force while it was still on the ground.

There's a story about a general at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point who was asked why their curriculum included studies of many wars but not the Six-Day War. The general explained, "At West Point, we’re concerned with studying military strategy and tactics, not miracles."

Major General Ezer Weizman, the IDF's director of operations during the Six-Day War and later the president of Israel, was once asked how it was that after the first and second waves of Israeli bombings, the Egyptians didn't radio ahead to warn other air bases. Weizman paused, lifted his hand to the heavens, and quoted from the Torah, "It was the finger of G-d."

The strength of the Jewish people doesn’t lie in our numbers or military might. The Torah calls us, "The smallest of the nations." Our protection comes from G-d, the Master of Wars.

Rabbi Daniel Glatstein

Great Cause, Great Result

Starting Rosh Chodesh Elul, the custom is to begin blowing the Shofar. This is based on the Pirkei D’Rebbi Eliezer (Ch. 46), which explains that Moshe Rabbeinu ascended Har Sinai for the third time on Rosh Chodesh Elul and the sound of the Shofar warned everyone, “Stay away from Avodah Zarah (idol worship).” In order to commemorate that ascent, we blow the sound of the Shofar.

What, ultimately, is the message of the Shofar though?

Rav Yisroel Salanter (Ohr Yisrael, Letter 7) writes it’s well known that a result will only come about from a similar cause. In other words, don't expect a small cause to create a great result. The result will be commensurate with the cause. Therefore, when the month of Elul begins, the first inspiration and cause is the sound of the Shofar.

Now, if someone is already immersed in Avodas Hashem (serving Hashem), and connected to Torah, a small wake-up call will arouse him to just make that little adjustment that he needs to make. But what about us? We don't need to make a little adjustment; we need to make major changes. And if a person doesn't think they have to make major changes, then, as Rav Yisroel Salanter says, one’s heart is numb to feeling his own spiritual ailments and shortcomings.

So we must wonder, will the blowing of the Shofar during Elul truly do anything big for a person? The answer is no. In our day and age, it will not have a major effect on a person. Because you know and I know, we heard the Shofar this morning, and yet, we must honestly ask ourselves, are we different people? So what does the Shofar tell us to do?

Rav Yisroel answers that the Shofar talks to us and the Shofar says, “Learn Mussar.” Sitting down to learn Mussar is a great cause which accomplishes a great result. Anybody could spend five to ten minutes every day learning Mussar. We must just overcome some natural laziness, lethargy and inertia. Anyone could learn Mussar. And yet, though it is something anyone and everyone can do, it is an incredibly great cause which can thereby yield a great result.

Learning Mussar is something which holds the potential to completely revolutionize a person's entire personality, spiritual level and service of Hashem. The blowing of the Shofar is therefore going to do very little to a person. It's not going to change you, but it could prompt you to make a small adjustment, and that small adjustment is learning Mussar.

And that, in turn—the learning of Mussar—could be a great cause to make a major upgrade in your life. Chazal say, “If that despicable one, the yetzer hara, gets a hold of you, draw him to the Beis HaMedrash (Sukkah 52b).” Rav Yisroel Salanter notes there are different Batei Midrashim (study halls). If a person is lax in a certain area, one of the strongest ways to make inroads in that area is to learn the Halachos of that subject, in depth. He should head to that specific “Beis HaMedrash” to learn the laws pertaining to that area of his life and its struggles. Rav Yisroel Salanter states that the Beis Midrash for Timtum HaLev, a closed and unfeeling heart, is the Beis HaMedrash of Mussar. It is the Beis HaMussar (House of Mussar).

And there, in the Beis HuMassar, if one’s heart is a stone, it will be dissolved. Limud HaMussar is the Torah to help a person in his struggles of a heart that is numb of spiritual feeling. The Beis HaMussar is the Beis Medrash for the hardened heart. In fact, the Chida (Birkei Yosef) writes that he has a tradition that when Chazal say, “I created the yetzer hara and I created Torah as the antidote,” (Kiddushin 30b), the antidote is not specifically Torah. It's words of Mussar.

In effect then, imagine somebody went to shul every day during Elul and heard the sound of the Shofar and yet he didn't learn Mussar during Elul. He missed the boat. He blew it. He blew the Shofar, but he blew it because he didn't listen to the Shofar.

You can therefore have two people. One of them goes to shul and he listens to the Shofar and does nothing. The other person goes to shul and puts his fingers in his ears during Tekias Shofar. Both these individuals are basically equal because neither one learned Mussar. The message of the Shofar is to learn Mussar, and if somebody does not learn Mussar during Elul, they missed the point of the Shofar.

There are many Sifrei Mussar: Mesillas Yesharim, Shaarei Teshuva, Orchos Tzaddikim, Chovos HaLevavos. Those are the classics. Those are the bread and butter. And that's the message of the Shofar, which we began on Rosh Chodesh Elul.

So already on the first day of the blowing of the Shofar, you can take advantage of the call of the Shofar by learning Mussar. The Shofar itself is a small result, but Mussar is a great cause, and therefore, Mussar can cause incredible results.

This is what we're hoping for in Chodesh Elul. And with the help of Hashem, we all will accomplish it.

Rabbi Heshy Kleinmen

Visualize Your Way

The Gemara (Berachos 61b) relates a harrowing scene. The great R’ Akiva is being tortured to death by the Romans, yet during this ordeal, he recites Krias Shema flawlessly, with great serenity and calm. His students, witnessing this, ask him, "Rebbe, how are you able to say Shema with such serenity while being tortured by the Romans?"

R’ Akiva replies, "All the days of my life, I've been saying the Pasuk in Shema, 'You shall love Hashem your G-d with all your soul,' and I always wished to fulfill that commandment fully. Now, as I am being tortured, I finally have the chance to love Hashem with my soul, with my Nefesh."

But how was he able to endure such suffering? Rav Dessler, in his Michtav Me'Eliyahu, explains that each day, when R’ Akiva recited Shema, he would close his eyes and visualize himself being tortured. He imagined loving Hashem with all his soul, even in the most extreme circumstances. This daily visualization prepared him to withstand the great pain and torture, allowing him to succeed in his ultimate test of faith.

Rebbe Zelig Pliskin shares a similar story about an American prisoner of war in Vietnam during the 1960s. This soldier, isolated in solitary confinement and on the brink of insanity, managed to keep his sanity by visualizing himself playing golf for four hours each day. He focused on the minutest details of his swing. Remarkably, when he was eventually released and returned to the golf course, his game had actually improved. You need not be a prisoner of war or endure torture like R’ Akiva to make visualization work, but they are supreme examples.

In fact, psychological studies have shown that one of the key traits of highly successful people is their ability to visualize. They picture themselves succeeding in challenging tasks, and this mental rehearsal helps them overcome obstacles in real life.

We can all use visualization techniques to overcome our daily challenges. How do we do this? Stop what you're doing, close your eyes and visualize yourself overcoming the obstacles you face. Make this a part of your daily routine.

Another powerful visualization technique comes from Rabbi Tzaddik Ha'Kohen in Tzidkas Ha'Tzaddik, where he teaches that "Hashem takes pleasure and delight when we fulfill His will.” Hashem actually revels and takes tremendous joy when we do His will, when we serve Him faithfully.

Imagine the joy and celebration in the Heavens every time you overcome a challenge. It reverberates forever and forever.

Rabbi Shlomo Farhi

The Candles' Secret

One of the warmest and most beautiful scenes a person can imagine is a Jewish mother covering her eyes as she lights the Shabbat candles. It’s such a holy, serene moment. The Gemara (Shabbat 25b) tells us that lighting the Shabbat candles brings Shalom Bayit—peace in the home. But what is this Shalom Bayit rooted in? The Gemara explains that with the light, no one will trip in the dark.

Is that it? Is that really the source of holiness and marital harmony?

Let’s ask another question. If the peace and holiness brought by the candles is about being able to see and avoid tripping, why does the mother cover her eyes after lighting them? Isn’t the purpose of the light to see?

There is a deeper, beautiful message here. Shalom Bayit is not simply about whether you can see or not. If you’re in the dark and trip over something, then yes, it’s a problem. But the lesson goes beyond the physical light. In a home, if a person lives in darkness—failing to notice all the beautiful things around them—there is no peace. They are not aware of the blessings they have.

The concept here is that you might stumble over what you fail to see. The Shalom Bayit the woman brings into the home is not just about the ability to see in the literal sense. Rather, once the candles are lit, once there’s light, the peace comes from choosing what to focus on.

Do you focus on the warmth of your children, the beauty of the Shabbat table, and the effort put into preparing the special delicacies? Or do you focus on what’s missing—perhaps something you wanted isn’t on the table, or something doesn’t look exactly how you’d like? The secret to Shalom Bayit is learning how to choose what to see and what not to see. It’s not about ignoring everything. You must see what you have. If you’re blind to the blessings around you, you’ll never be content.

But at the same time, if you spend your time noticing what you don’t have, especially by comparing your home to others, you invite dissatisfaction into your life. You bring into your home a sense of lack that wasn’t there before. That’s the choice of Shalom Bayit—the ability to recognize and appreciate the beauty and goodness that is present, while knowing when to turn a blind eye to the things that could sow feelings of inadequacy or discontent.

May Hashem bless us with the wisdom to know when to open our eyes and appreciate the blessings before us, and when to close them to preserve the peace and joy in our homes.

Rebbetzin Slovie Jungreis-Wolff

Wherever You Go

Many times in life, we feel alone—whether it’s facing a personal challenge or navigating through the world, where it seems as if everything is somehow against us. No matter where we go, no matter the country, we often feel the weight of those who hate us, and the intensity of that hatred can feel overwhelming, beyond anything we've experienced in our lifetime. So, what do we do? What are we supposed to think? Where do we find the strength to carry on?

In Parshas Bo, Hashem says to Moshe, “Bo el Pharaoh”—come to Pharaoh. The Kedushat Levi explains that it would have made more sense for the Torah to say "Lech el Pharaoh—Go to Pharaoh.” But instead, it says "Bo," which means "come." The Kedushat Levi famously explains that wherever we walk, wherever Moshe walked, wherever any of us walk when we have to face a Pharaoh —which, symbolically, represents anything that pulls us down, anything negative or dark, stressful, or challenging—that’s our Pharaoh. And what does Hashem say to Moshe? "Bo el Pharaoh"—I’m coming with you.

Hashem is telling us: You never walk alone. No matter how daunting or overwhelming the challenge may seem—whether it’s national hardships or personal hardships like illness, financial struggles, difficulties with a child or a relationship—Bo el Pharaoh. Hashem says, "I’m coming with you." That Pharaoh in your life, that negative force telling you things will never change, things will never get better—that’s the Pharaoh we all face. But we don’t face it alone. Hashem walks with us through every struggle. Bo el Pharaoh—I am with you.

When we look at the challenges Am Yisrael is facing now, surrounded by millions who harbor hatred toward us, armed with weapons aimed at us, we must remember this message. Whether it’s the mobs marching against us with so much hatred or the forces of destruction gathering, Hashem says to us, "Bo el Paro." We are never alone.

I want to end with a little incident that beautifully captures this idea. Sometimes, we learn the most profound lessons from children. My daughter-in-law, who lives in Yerushalayim, told me about an outing she had with her four-year-old daughter. They went out for ice cream, and at the table next to them, there was a woman sitting all by herself. My daughter-in-law shared how my little granddaughter, with her innocent heart, introduced herself to the woman and asked, “What’s your name?”

After the woman introduced herself, my granddaughter looked at her with wide eyes and asked, “Are you sitting all alone?” The woman responded, “Yes, I am.” And my granddaughter, without missing a beat, said, “It’s not really sad because you have to know that you never sit alone. Don’t worry. Hashem is always sitting with you.”

Wherever we go, whatever we face, Hashem is always with us. We are never truly alone.