I ❤️ ISRAEL: The Shadow of Peace — and the News

THE AIR OF ISRAEL

I’m in Yerushalayim, in Emek Refaim. Outside there’s movement everywhere: cranes and construction all over, streets closed off, traffic squeezed down to a single lane, fences and worksites the length of the whole block. Yerushalayim never stops rebuilding itself. But the noise doesn’t reach inside. I’m at Café Kafit, a beautiful place, full of people, with air conditioning and good wifi. I’m alone, with my computer, trying to finish writing my book —Dinosaurs in the Torah— where I analyze in depth how Chazal, the Rishonim, and the Sephardic Acharonim understood pesukim 20, 21, and 22 of the first chapter of Bereshit. I don’t quite know why, but the coming and going of people doesn’t distract me: it keeps me company. I concentrate better here than in a library. I’m moving forward with my book the way I never could in New York. Could this be what our Sages taught, that avira de’Eretz Israel machkim—that the air of the land of Israel makes you wiser? It helps you think better. The mind feels lighter.

CONNECTION VIA NEGATIVA

I ordered shakshuka and a carrot juice.

The phone rings. It’s a member of my community in Great Neck. I answer. With a worried voice, he asks how I am, how I’m feeling, and what it’s like to be in Israel with the terrible situation with Iran, the confusing messages from Trump and Vance, and the threats from Turkey. He knows Israel matters deeply to me and that I live these news stories with intensity. And he takes for granted that I must be suffering, glued to the latest updates on Telegram.

And I don’t know how to explain to him that here everything is calm. That people are content, that the restaurants are full, and that the biggest problem of the morning is finding a free table to sit down for a coffee.

The truth is there are two countries called “Israel.” There’s the Israel of the international headlines—the one that shows up every day in every newspaper in the world, always on the edge of something, surrounded, threatened, and demonized—and there’s the other Israel, the one where you go to sleep with the windows open, enjoying the breeze of Yerushalayim, and wake up happy to be in the best country in the world.

NEWS DETOX

I told him I had no idea what was going on. And I said, almost without thinking: I’m not following the news! I surprised myself hearing it. And I realized something. In New York my head is more here than there; I can’t help it. A psychologist would tell me it’s a mix of guilt for not being in the land of my fathers and a need to stay connected to Israel all the time. Without meaning to, I had turned worry into a form of connection with Medinat Israel. But here I don’t need that: I’m inside, and the connection no longer runs through the news.

Here I’m in the company of my people, wherever I go. At Kafit I don’t know anyone, yet I know them all. I know exactly where they come from, they and their ancestors, and what future they want for their children.

And the connection with Boreh Olam is felt in the soul. In my Amida it takes far less mental effort to address God in the second person. The relationship with Boreh Olam happens far more naturally. I think that’s what gives a person so much peace. That Presence, immanent in the air of Israel, makes you more aware that there is Someone in charge of this place and this people. Yesh Ribon laBira —there is a Master to this palace. And it isn’t Trump, or Vance, or even Netanyahu.

SHADOWS

Our Chachamim teach that in the desert the people were wrapped in the Anane Kavod, the clouds of glory that surrounded them on every side. They were the sign that HaShem was with them, protecting them “from above.” And so they could go to sleep at ease, without standing guard, in the middle of the desert, even knowing they were surrounded by dangers. They also knew under whose shadow they stood. It’s the same shadow you feel here. It’s the one we’ll mention this Friday night in the Arbit prayer: ufros alenu sukkat shelomecha —spread over us the “shadow,” the sukka of Your peace. And we add a special mention: that this shadow of peace extend over all the people of Israel, and very particularly over Yerushalayim, His city. Our greatest wish as a nation is to dwell beneath the Divine Shadow. And that is what makes Israel special. It’s not that there’s no danger outside. It’s that here you give yourself over to Divine protection, and everything else stays outside: the news, the threats, the headlines. The world keeps turning, but the noise stays on the other side of the Shadow.




BEHALOTEKHA: More therapy or more responsibilities?

American Jewish journalist Abigail Shrier, in her 2024 book Bad Therapy, does not deny that therapy can help, or even save lives. Her warning is that in certain circles it has become automatic, used even when it is not needed. Her target is a culture that, in the name of catharsis, pushes children, and especially teenagers, to ruminate on their own distress again and again. And chewing on it does not help. It locks them in a loop of anxiety that only drags them down further. Asking “how are you feeling” on repeat, validating every fear, tracking every emotion: all of it, Shrier says, manufactures the very problem it claims to cure.

For the kind of anxiety that comes from abundance and from having nothing meaningful to do, her prescription is not the couch. It is real life. And she gets specific. Give the teenager chores at home, jobs that actually matter and have to get done. Push him to get a job, part-time or summer, and earn something with his own effort. Let him move around and figure things out alone: run an errand, settle his or her own fights. Set clear rules at home and hold the line, instead of negotiating every point with your child like she is another adult. And on the other side, let go. Stop padding every fall. Stop treating every normal stumble of growing up like a wound that needs treatment.

Strong character is not built by picking at small problems until they grow. It is built through competence: the feeling that you can stand on your own, that you are useful, that you are worthy. The teenager carrying a real responsibility is too busy to spend his days ruminating over his feelings.




BEHAALOTEKHA: The anxiety of having it all

Clinical anxiety, and the other kind

There are two kinds of anxiety, and they should not be confused. One is clinical. It has a real cause: a concrete threat, the panic attack, the racing heart. That kind is medical. It belongs to doctors, and nothing here is about it.

The other kind is cultural, even spiritual. It grows out of materialism and abundance. It is not the anxiety of the man with nothing to eat. It is the opposite. It is the anxiety of the man who has everything. That was roughly the situation of the children of Israel in the desert. God gave them everything they needed. No generation since has known that kind of material ease. The man or manna fell from the sky each morning. Nobody had to plant it, harvest it, store it, or worry about tomorrow’s supply. It was a complete food: tasty, filling, and nutritious. And it solved the problem that had haunted humanity since Adam: Where will my next meal come from? In Egypt they had worked like animals to answer that one question. Now it was answered. And right then, in the middle of all that comfort, the crisis hit.

Anxiety and emptiness

The mechanics are simple. The human mind runs on a kind of energy built to solve problems: find bread, protect your family, and put a roof up. That mental energy does not switch off when the problems go away. It stays on. It looks for something to do. And when it finds no real goal to attach to, it curdles into anxiety. How?

The small stuff floats up. The Hebrew word for trivial, superficial stuff is “shtuyot”: nonsense. It rushes in to fill the empty space at the center of the mind. The question is no longer “what will I eat.” It is “Do I want the steak medium or medium well?” It is no longer “what will keep me warm.” It is “which of my fifteen pairs of shoes goes with this dress.”

The same Jews who spent centuries as slaves, working for a piece of Matzah, now complain about the manna and demand meat. And fish. And melon for dessert. In the desert!

The first to complain were the asafsuf: the ones with the least spiritual inclination, the ones who never embraced the new national project, which was to learn the Torah they had just received and become God’s people. Freedom plus abundance minus purpose left a void they were not built for. They had nowhere to channel the extra mental energy. Slavery had been easier. At least slavery came with a job.

The wrong diagnosis

What happened in the desert is one of our problems too. We are the best-supplied generation in history. We wiped out hunger across whole continents. We have heat, air conditioning, medicine, too much food, and entertainment without end. We are also the most anxious people who have ever lived. But the curve runs backward from what we expected. More abundance, more anxiety. Fewer real needs, more shtuyot becoming needs.

It is easy to misread this. Many treat this particular anxiety, not the clinical kind, which is real and needs care, like a broken part to be repaired. But read through this week’s Parasha; it is not a psychological issue but a spiritual one. The fix is not chemical. It is a question of direction.

Testing or coaching?

The Torah frames the desert paradise as a nisayon: a test, or better, a training exercise. Take away the daily fight for survival, and one question is left standing. What will you do with your mind when you no longer need it to keep yourself alive?

The answer is not to go back to scarcity. Hardships do not make us better. They distract us. The answer is to give that mental energy a target worth the effort. Build a family. Raise children. Build a home with values. Study Torah. Get closer to God. Improve your Amida. Volunteer at a hospital, at Bikkur Holim, or at a home for the elderly. Any real work for someone else.

A mind that isn’t occupied gets preoccupied. And preoccupation is where this type of anxiety comes from. The surest way to stop chewing on your own small troubles is to go do something that really matters for someone else.




NASO: Sotah and the Art of Marital Fidelity

The trust between husband and wife is one of the foundations on which a family stands—and infidelity is one of the few things powerful enough to bring it down.

One of the topics mentioned in this week’s Parashah is Sotah, a case related to infidelity.

The Torah and the Sages discuss this topic in depth and describe not only the obvious consequences of adultery but also the factors that contribute to this deviation or to a suspicion of infidelity, and the behaviors that prevent it and strengthen fidelity.

In the following lines, I will briefly refer to a few topics directly or indirectly related to preserving sexual exclusivity in a Jewish marriage.

Sanctifying Sexual Intimacy

Unlike other religions, Judaism perceives sexuality as something positive and even sacred. Our Sages explained that our behavior should aspire to emulate God. He is compassionate, equitable, and magnanimous. Likewise, we must incorporate these characteristics into our own conduct. This “imitation of God” reaches its highest point when husband and wife become the “creators” of a new life. Procreation offers us an opportunity—unparalleled in any other act in life—to imitate the Almighty Creator of the world.

Sexuality also completes us: it leads us to physical and emotional plenitude as individuals. The first biblical reference to sexuality states: “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and cling to his wife, and they shall become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24). From this verse, the Sages deduced that a man or a woman should consider themselves as half a person (pelag gufa), and that human fulfillment can only be achieved through marital intimacy.

Sexuality is certainly sacred, but it is also vulnerable to corruption. The Torah recounts the generation of the Flood, where sexual corruption and rape were the first symptoms of the moral decay of that corrupt generation. For those people, sex ceased to be an act that brought humans closer to the Divine. They treated sex as if it had no relation to love and holiness, considering it simply casual and unbound—a means to satisfy primal instincts.

Because of its importance and its creative (and destructive) power, sexuality needs to be “sanctified” (qiddushin). The sanctification of sexuality takes place when it is expressed exclusively within the context of marriage. This allows us to imitate the Creator and helps us intimately know the person we love the most, transforming us into something more significant than just the “I”: a “WE” (husband, wife, children).

Sex outside of marriage is destructive. Infidelity often plays a decisive role in most divorce cases; adultery is usually the final red line that has been crossed. Infidelity distances a person from God and from those one loves the most: the wife or husband and the children.

Preserving Passion

But Judaism goes beyond limiting sexuality to the context of marriage. It is also crucial to preserve the sexual attraction between husband and wife and to avoid anything that can harm or destroy it. The Mitzvah of Niddah strengthens fidelity. A Jewish married couple abstains from sexual activity for approximately two weeks each month, corresponding to the woman’s menstrual cycle plus seven more days. When the Sages of the Talmud, specifically Rabbi Meir, explained the reason behind this regulation, they said that thanks to this period of physical separation, husband and wife are able to rekindle their desire for each other. In other words, far from negatively affecting sexual desire, this period of separation intensifies it, preventing one of the greatest challenges that marriages face: boredom and sexual monotony. This problem, well known and analyzed by psychologists and sexologists, arises from the theoretically unlimited opportunities for intimacy in a marital relationship, which can drive a person to look outside for sexual novelty, leading to infidelity.

Rabbi Meir explained that during the days of physical separation, a Jewish husband desires his wife, and his physical attraction to her intensifies as the night of the Mikveh (the ritual immersion that concludes the period of abstinence) approaches. And when the wife returns from the Mikveh—even in the case of a couple who have been married for many years—the desire between them is regenerated “with the passion they felt on their wedding night.” It is as if the Niddah period creates a new honeymoon every month. (Someone said that if this extraordinary Mitzvah didn’t exist, it would have to be invented!)

This period of separation also promotes a deeper level of interaction between husband and wife. The couple learns to communicate affectionately on the level of friendship. Every couple should aspire to achieve this level of non-physical relationship that will strengthen the marriage for the rest of their lives. Especially as the years go by and sexual desire naturally diminishes, the friendship between husband and wife will flourish, based on that “platonic relationship” built over the years during the Niddah periods.

Preserving Fidelity

In Jewish tradition, laws and codes of conduct are specifically designed to prevent infidelity, or anything that leads to it. One of these rules is known as “Yichud”: when a man and a woman who are not married to each other isolate themselves in a secluded place. The Sages mention it as one of the mistakes made by the Sotah, raising well-founded suspicions of adultery. The story of Amnon and Tamar in the book of Samuel illustrates the importance of Yichud. Amnon, one of King David’s sons, had a sexual obsession with Tamar, his half-sister. In order to be alone with her, he pretended to be sick and asked for her help. He requested that everyone leave his room, and once alone with his half-sister, Amnon abused her. This devastating event deeply impacted King David, who felt guilty for not realizing what was happening in his own family. To prevent similar cases from recurring in the future, King David, together with his Court of Justice, instituted the law of Yichud, which prohibits a Jewish man from being alone in a locked room with a woman who is not his wife.

The prohibition of Yichud falls into the category of “gedarim” or “siyagim,” which translates as “security measures” or halakhic fences intended to prevent people from succumbing to more significant transgressions. An equivalent of a “siyag” would be a ranger erecting a fence a few steps away from a cliff, to protect visitors from getting too close and accidentally falling into the void.

Similar preventive mechanisms exist, for example, in the field of addictions. A person struggling with alcohol addiction is advised to avoid bars and gatherings where alcohol is served, and to refrain from socializing with friends who drink. These “social fences” protect people from their own impulses and prevent the possibility of facing temptations they cannot control. It is easier to avoid entering a bar than to resist drinking once the drink is within reach.

Similarly, the rabbis recognized the power of the sexual instinct and emphasized that relying solely on common sense and personal morality is insufficient (אֵין אַפּוֹטְרוֹפּוֹס לַעֲרָיוֹת). Additional rules and fences are required to prevent potentially catastrophic situations. By avoiding Yichud—private seclusion between a man and a woman—the natural scenario in which infidelity or inappropriate sexual behavior develops is prevented.

The concept of Yichud is recognized and increasingly practiced in our day, even in non-Jewish society. It is very common for legal advisors to recommend that therapists, doctors, lawyers, and other professionals avoid staying alone in a closed room with a patient or client of the opposite sex, in order to prevent inappropriate situations or allegations of misconduct. This demonstrates the advanced wisdom of the Torah and our Sages, who established these laws thousands of years ago—laws that are now widely recognized, valued, and adopted throughout the civilized world.

Communication and Fidelity

In Judaism, sexuality is reserved exclusively for the intimate relationship between husband and wife. This simple but crucial idea also implies that certain types of interaction between married men and women should be avoided—beyond seclusion or Yichud—even in the field of communication.

Affectionate or sexual language and comments, or sensual behavior from a man toward a woman who is not his wife, are considered inappropriate. Similarly, a Jewish wife should reserve her physical charm for her husband, ensuring that her behavior and appearance in public are not provocative and that they reflect this exclusivity.

These principles of moral conduct are not very popular in contemporary society, where sexuality has been objectified through advertising, pornography, and the media. The widespread exploitation of sex—and modern permissive culture—has normalized inappropriate sexual behavior, and intimacy is no longer widely perceived as something exclusive between spouses and bound to marriage.

And this is precisely why preserving our Jewish codes of conduct while living in a society that promotes contrary values represents one of the most formidable challenges that we Jews face today. But it is imperative to do so if we seek harmony in our marriage and the happiness of our family. And to do that, we must recognize the behaviors that enable infidelity, or that provoke justifiable jealousy from a spouse.

Let us consider one last example.

The Torah teaches us that infidelity can sometimes develop unintentionally, through the exchange of emotional communication between a married man and a woman. The first time the Torah describes sexual relations, it uses the verb “to know”: “And Adam knew Eve, his wife.” This “knowing” refers to the emotional connection that precedes—and leads to!—physical intimacy. When a couple goes on their first date, they treat each other respectfully and cordially. Then comes friendship, which slowly develops into an emotional relationship, recognized when communication between man and woman includes the subject of feelings. When this level is reached, the couple is ready for intimacy—that is, for marriage.

If we observe this progression from respect to intimacy, we can understand why the Sages warned that, beyond preventing physical contact or seclusion with someone of the opposite sex, a married person should avoid repeating a similar progression—which might develop unintentionally and unconsciously—with a person of the opposite sex in their professional or social life.

The Sages describe this emotional closeness as “qiruv da’at”: when a woman and a man share and communicate to one another their private feelings and intimate information. Although initially the content of that information may not be related to the sexual sphere, this level of emotional communication enables feelings of closeness that might lead to intimacy.

A married man should avoid this type of communication, especially with a person of the opposite sex with whom he routinely interacts, such as an employee or a colleague in the workplace. Likewise, a married woman should avoid emotional dialogues with a coach, a therapist, or a teacher. These emotional interactions, qiruv da’at, do not turn into intimacy overnight, but they develop gradually.

Preserving fidelity is the cornerstone of the Jewish family and of the emotional well-being of our loved ones. This requires remaining vigilant and respecting the boundaries that prevent situations which can progressively become more difficult to control. The laws of Niddah, Yichud, and qiruv da’at—each from a different perspective—contribute to safeguarding fidelity, the most sacred and essential aspect of our family life.




NASO: The blessing of the Kohanim

Birkat Kohanim is the blessing that HaShem bestows upon us through the Kohanim. This blessing appears in our Perasha, NASO and consists of three biblical verses (pesuqim), organized in a very precise mathematical progression: the first pasuq has 3 words and 15 letters, the second 5 words and 20 letters, and the third 7 words and 25 letters.

Each pasuq consists of two blessings for the recipient of the blessing.

Verse 1: Material blessing and good health.

Verse 2. Wisdom and Grace

Verse 3. HaShem’s attention and peace.

יברכך ה The first pasuq says: “May HaShem (= God) bless you and protect you.”

Which means: May HaShem grant you all the material blessings you need (yebarekhekha), a house, food, clothing, etc. In the second blessing (veishmerekha) we ask that HaShem protect us from diseases or accidents. These blessings complement each other: we need money to buy food, clothing, etc. But we also need the blessing of good health,  one of the few things that cannot be acquired with money. Obviously, a blessing is not a magic formula. To receive this and the other blessings we need to become an appropriate recipient of that blessing. We have to merit it and we have to make our effort and stay healthy, drive our cars with care, and do everything possible to avoid any kind of accidents, etc.

יאר ה The second pasuq says: “May HaShem enlighten you with His presence and favor you.”

The subject of this Pasuq is not material but rather intelctual blessings. “May HaShem enlighten you” means that we expect HaShem to help us and inspire us to obtain a very special type of wisdom, the wisdom to understand the Tora. The biblical words “May HaShem enlighten you” יאר allude to that spiritual and intellectual enlightenment. The second blessing of this verse is חן, grace or favor: HaShem to bless us with a good character, to inspire us to be loved by people, to find grace in the eyes of others. The first blessing refers to our spiritual and intellectual talents. The second to what is called today “emotional intelligence,” the blessing of being accepted and loved by the people around us.

ישא ה  The third pasuq says:” May HaShem direct His Presence toward you and grant you peace. ”

Our rabbis explained that there is no greater blessing for the Jewish people than peace שלום. We Jews do not aspire to destroy our enemies  and control the world. Our aspirations are noble and very simple. We only ask to live in peace. In order to serve our God, fulfilling His Tora in our own land, Israel. These are ALL our national aspirations.

Returning to the first part of this berakha, it literally says: “May HaShem direct His “Face” towards you.” Obviously God has no “face”. Our rabbis explain that this expression means: “May HaShem pay attention to you.” This is probably the most important blessing. Let’s explain it with a simple example. What must I do to deserve this extraordinary privilege? What do I have to do to make God direct His face / His attention to me? Imagine a class in a huge auditorium with hundreds of students. Everyone came to listen to a lecture that will be given by a very famous teacher. Upon entering the auditorium the teacher looks at the audience and welcomes everyone. But suddenly he stops and looks at one of the students, someone sitting in the fifth row. The teacher fixes his eyes on him for a few seconds, smiles at him, and greets him with his hand. At the end of the lecture the other students approach the privileged student and ask: Why did the teacher turn his face towards you, why did he pay a special attention to you? The student responds: “It is because during last year I have read his books, I exchanged some emails with him, asked him some questions and tried to contact him by phone” .

If we want to be the recipients of this blessing, if we want to be identified by HaShem and deserve His special attention, “We must be known by Him”, by studying His works and connecting with Him as often as we can. Thus, we will become an appropriate recipient all His blessings.




A Wedding at Mount Sinai

About 3500 years ago, the people of Israel, in the Sinai Desert, experienced the most important event in human history: a formal alliance — a covenant, a Berit—between the Hebrew nation and HaShem. This covenant is unique in the history of humanity and defines Judaism: it is not a religion. It is an Eternal Covenant between God and Israel.

On the festival of Shavuot we remember this covenant, which in Hebrew is usually called Maamad Har Sinai: the event and the pact that took place at Mount Sinai. This event is described in detail in chapters 19, 20, and 24 of the book of Shemot (Exodus) .

The best way to understand the development of this alliance is to see it the way our prophets and poets saw it through the centuries: a “wedding” between HaShem and Am Israel. A marriage born of mutual love and established through a commitment of fidelity and loyalty.

And like every wedding, it had three stages: the proposal, the engagement, and the wedding itself.

💍 THE PROPOSAL (1st of Sivan)

On the first day of the month of Sivan, Moshe ascended Mount Sinai and received this divine message (Shemot 19:3-6):

“This is what you shall say to the house of Yaaqob and speak thus to the children of Israel: You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I carried you on eagles’ wings and brought you to Me. Now, if you will obey My voice and keep My covenant, you shall be My most precious possession — segula — among all the nations… and you shall be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”

This was the proposal. HaShem “asked for Israel’s hand”: “Will you be My special people? Will you accept becoming a kingdom of priests — Cohanim — dedicated to serving Me, to learning and teaching My laws, and to bearing witness to My existence?”

Being a Nation of Priests brings the privilege of closeness to HaShem. But that right also demands a very high level of morality and a much greater number of obligations and precepts. It is the principle of “Noblesse oblige.”

When Moshe presented the terms of this covenant to the people, they answered with one voice with the first “yes” (Shemot 19:8): “Everything that HaShem has said, we will do” — naase.

But, just like in a marriage engagement, this “yes” was not yet the formal wedding. It was the acceptance of the proposal, the willingness to enter the covenant. In the following days, Am Israel prepared themselves — like a bride and groom preparing for the great day.

🕊️ THE PREPARATIONS (Mikve)

When Israel expressed its willingness, HaShem announced that He would reveal Himself to the entire nation in three days, on Shabuot. God told Moshe (Shemot 19:10-11):

“Consecrate the people today and tomorrow. Let them purify themselves, wash their clothes, and prepare for the third day, for on that day I will descend upon Mount Sinai in the sight of all the people.”

According to our Sages, the purification and washing of clothes refers to immersion in a mikve or ritual bath — the same thing a bride does before her wedding. Bene Israel purified themselves during those three days (the 3rd, 4th, and 5th of Sivan) and were ready for the following day.

📜 THE ENGAGEMENT (the night of the 6th of Sivan)

On the night of the 6th of Sivan, the ceremony moved to its most formal stage: HaShem pronounced the Ten Commandments, the first terms of the Covenant. This was the only time in history that HaShem revealed Himself to an entire nation. God spoke directly, without Moshe’s mediation, the first two commandments.

The Torah tells us that the people could not physically tolerate the impact of the Divine Revelation. HaShem does not speak with a voice produced by vocal cords; the divine voice and its effect are indescribable. The Torah expressed this unique experience with a singular phrase: “And the people saw the words.” They saw the words — probably in their minds, telepathically — as HaShem spoke to them.

The Sages explain that the experience was so intense that it became part of Jewish genetic memory, shaped our character, and strengthened our belief in HaShem: at that moment we became witnesses to the existence of God (atem edai). No other people ever experienced this revelation.

After the second commandment, the people asked Moshe to mediate and receive the rest of the Mitzvot. That same night, after hearing all the precepts (Shemot 21-23, the Mishpatim), the people declared for the second time their willingness to enter into a covenant with God (Shemot 24:3):

“Moshe conveyed to the people all the words of HaShem and all the laws. And the people answered with one voice: Everything that HaShem said, we will do” — naase.

This was the formal engagement. Moshe stayed awake all night and wrote what HaShem had transmitted to him in a document that the Torah calls, suggestively, Sefer haBerit — the Book of the Covenant. It is the Ketuba of this wedding.

👰🤵 THE WEDDING (the morning of the 6th of Sivan)

At dawn on the 6th of Sivan, Moshe built an altar—representing the Divine Presence—and twelve pillars, representing the twelve tribes of Israel. He sent the young men to offer sacrifices, took the blood, and divided it in two: one half in basins beside the pillars and the other half on the altar.

This is how the Torah describes the ceremony (Shemot 24:7):

“Then Moshe took the Sefer haBerit, the Book of the Covenant that included the Ten Commandments and the basic laws of the Mishpatim, and read it in the ears of the people. And the people declared: Everything that HaShem has said, we will do and we will obey.”

The most famous words in all of Jewish history are these: naase venishma — נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע. They mean: “We accept to do everything we have heard until now, and we will also obey all the precepts that HaShem will command us in the future (613 precepts).” This was the definitive “Yes, I do.”

Then Moshe took the blood and sprinkled it on the altar — which represents HaShem’s Presence—and on the pillars that represent the people, saying (Shemot 24:8):

“This is the blood of the covenant that HaShem has made with you, based on all these words.”

With this formal ceremony, our Eternal Covenant with HaShem was sealed.

HaShem adopted us as His people: He supervises us directly, does not allow Israel to disappear, and will never abandon us or cancel this alliance. Israel, for its part, accepted to be governed by the Divine Law, the Torah, becoming a Nation of Priests.

From that moment on, we became the chosen people — as if married to HaShem — and committed ourselves, forever, to be loyal to God and to obey the Torah, which from that day we adopted as the Constitution of our nation.

Thanks to this Covenant, a Jew has the possibility of maintaining a permanent “conversation” with God without intermediaries: he listens to God when he studies Torah, and speaks to Him directly — in the second person singular, atta — when he prays.




Understanding Eruv Tavhsilin

It is permitted to cook on a Jewish holiday (Yom Tob), as we learn from Shemot 12:16: “…No work shall be done on these days [Yom Tob], except to prepare food for everyone to eat; this alone may be done.” However, our Hakhamim explained that it is only permitted to cook on Yom Tob what will be consumed during Yom Tob; one cannot prepare or cook on Yom Tob food that will be consumed after that particular day.

This year, the first day of Shabuot falls on Friday, the 6th of Sivan (May 22, 2026). Therefore, we are not allowed to cook on Yom Tob (Friday) for Shabbat unless we prepare an eruv tavshilin beforehand.

The eruv tavshilin consists of four elements:

  • Preparing some cooked and baked food before Yom Tob.
  • Declaring that we are preparing this food for Shabbat.
  • Keeping that food for Shabbat.
  • Eating that food during Shabbat.

In this way, technically, we begin to cook for Shabbat before the holiday starts, and we are then permitted to continue preparing food on Yom Tob for Shabbat.

How Do We Do It?

Preparing: Today, Thursday, the 5th of Sivan (May 21, 2026), in the afternoon before the Chag begins (7.53pm), we set aside a plate with some cooked food and a piece of bread, and we save this plate for Shabbat. This plate is what we call the eruv. Since some food has already been prepared for Shabbat before Yom Tob, the cooking that takes place during Yom Tob is considered an extension (the word eruv in this context means “extension”) of the food that was already prepared before the holiday began.

Declaring: The following berakha is recited while holding the plate with the food (the eruv) in one’s hands:

“Barukh Ata A-donay E-lohenu Melekh haOlam, asher qiddeshanu beMitsvotav vetsivanu AL MITSVAT ERUV”

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה׳ אֱלֹ-הֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָֽׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֺתָיו, וְצִוָּֽנוּ עַל מִצְוַת עֵרוּב

Then the following text is recited, saying that by preparing this eruv we are permitted to do all necessary work and cook on Yom Tob for Shabbat:

בַּדֵּין עֵרוּבָא יְהֵא שָׁרֵא לָֽנָא לַאֲפוּיֵי וּלְבַשּׁוּלֵי וּלְאַטְמוּנֵי וּלְאַדְלוּקֵי שְׁרָגָא וּלְתַקָּנָא וּלְמֶעְבַּד כָּל צׇרְכָּֽנָא, מִיּוֹמָא טָבָא לְשַׁבְּתָא.

Storing: After reciting the berakha, we place the eruv in a safe place or in the refrigerator and keep it until Shabbat.

Consuming: For the eruv to be real—and not a legal fiction– we must eat that plate of food at some point during Shabbat—usually at Seuda Shelishit.

The general practice is to prepare the eruv with a boiled egg and a piece of bread. Many people also add meat, rice, or other cooked foods to their eruv.




How was Shabuot celebrated in Jerusalem?

רֵאשִׁית, בִּכּוּרֵי אַדְמָתְךָ, תָּבִיא בֵּית ה ‘אֱלֹקיך

Shabu’ot, the day in which we celebrate the giving of the Tora to Bnei Israel and the beginning of our covenant with God, can also be referred to as Hag KaKatsir, the festival of the harvest; and Hag HaBikkurim, the festival of the first fruits.

Let’s see why.

In this season, between spring and summer (in Israel), the plants, grains, and fruits of harvest were already beginning to mature. And so the first thing the Jewish people did, was turn to HaShem in thanks for giving us our land of Israel and blessing us with its fruits.

The most important aspect of the celebrating of Shabu’ot in the times of our Bet HaMikdash was the offering of the Bikkurim- the first fruits and grains.

Jews would come from all the villages of Israel and bring baskets filled with the first fruits.
But how did they know which fruits had bloomed first?

The Mishna tells us that when the field owners would inspect their fields, they paid close attention to which fruits would bloom first. When they would find a first fig, grape, or pomegranate, etc.; they marked it by tying a knot of ribbon made by vegetable fiber, around said fruit.

As Shabu’ot would approach, when it was time to go to Yerushalayim (as was done in all three pilgrimage festivals: Pesach, Shabu’ot, Sukkot), those fruits which were now mature, were picked and placed in a basket. In each town and city of Israel, a caravan of several families was organized to travel together to the Bet HaMikdash. Aside from the fruits, they also brought pigeons, as well as usually a bull- which was used to be decorated. As they would pass through towns on their way to the Temple, the residents of each town would come out to greet them, honor them, and offer a place of rest, or water if necessary. When they approached the Holy City, the Jewish pilgrims sent a messenger to announce their arrival. A delegation of Cohanim (priests) of the Bet HaMikdash went out to receive them with honors and accompanied them into Yerushalayim. Usually, the caravans arrived on the eve of Shabu’ot. They spent the night in a place of lodging assigned by the Cohanim which was outside the city. At dawn, the Cohanim accompanied the caravans into the city of Jerusalem with songs and musical instruments (ie: flutes).

Once they were in Yerushalayim, the caravans were received by the dignitaries of the city, who accompanied them to the Temple Mount, and into the Bet HaMikdash. At this point, the joy was fused with emotion, from entering the Great Temple of Yerushalayim; seeing it in all its splendor, and hearing the beautiful songs of the Leviim (Levites). Once in the Temple, each individual would present their baskets before the Cohanim; and while holding the basket on their shoulder, they’d recite the following statement; “Today I came to declare [my gratitude] before HaShem…, that I have come to the land that He gave us, just as He has promised to our ancestors.” The fruit basket was received by the Cohen, while the Israelite who offered it continued his praise with the following statement, “My father [Abraham Abinu] was a nomadic Aramaic; and his [descendants, later,] went down to Egypt with very few people, and resided there until they became a great nation, strong and numerous. The Egyptians mistreated us, made us suffer, and subjected us to forced labor. And then we cried to HaShem, the God of our fathers, and he heard our prayers, saw our misery… And HaShem brought us out of Egypt with His miracles… And He brought us to this place, and He gave us this land, where milk and honey abound. And for that reason [in a sign of gratitude] I bring now the first fruits of the land that you HaShem, my God, have granted me.”

May HaShem renew His Presence in Yerushalayim, soon, in our days, AMEN.




All you need to know about Shabuot in one word

Most Jewish communities observe five minhagim (traditions) on Shabu’ot. To remember these customs, we use the Hebrew word אחרית     A / CHA / R / I / T, which is the acrostic of these five traditions.

A: Azharot or Aqdamot. During Shabu’ot, we read the beautiful poems (piyutim) composed by the Geonim and Rishonim, which poetically describe the 248 commandments and 365 prohibitions of the Tora. In these poems, we review all the commandments that were entrusted to us. The word AZHAROT means warnings or commands about the rules and precepts of the Tora. The numerical value of the word אזהרת is 613 = 365 + 248.

CHA: Chalab (milk), as in any other Yom Tob, during Shabuot, we should eat meat and drink wine to fulfill the Mitsva of Simcha, celebrating and enjoying the day of Yom Tob. Still, the custom is that some meals are made with dairy products. Several explanations (Sefer haToda’a mentions 10!) explain why we have dairy meals for Shabu’ot. One such explanation is that the Hebrew word CHALAB חלב sums “40”, which reminds us of the days that Moses stayed on Mount Sinai to receive the Tora.

R: Ruth. During Shabu’ot, we study Megillat Ruth. One reason we read Ruth’s story during Shabuot is that when Ruth converted to Judaism, she accepted the entire Tora. In the same way, in Shabu’ot, we celebrate our “conversion” to Judaism by receiving the Tora. Another reason is that after the acceptance of the conversion of Ruth, from whom King David descends, we learn the complete dependence of the written Tora on the oral Tora since, according to the literal text of the Tora, the conversion of Ruth might not have been accepted. The legality of the conversion of a Moabite woman, however, is learned solely from oral tradition (Tora Shebe’al pe).

I: Yereq (green plants). Many communities have the custom of decorating the synagogue with plants and flowers to remember Har Sinai. We cherish in our collective memory that when we received the Tora, it was spring, and Mount Sinai was filled with plants and flowers. In the tradition of the Jews of Iran, this custom is so essential that Shabu’ot is known as mo’ed ghol (the festival of flowers).

T: Tiqun (Reparation). One of the best-known customs of Shabu’ot is to stay awake all night (from midnight until dawn) studying Tora to “repair” what our forefathers did. What happened? On the night of 6 Sivan, HaShem gave the people of Israel the Ten Commandments. Later that same night, HaShem revealed all the commandments in Parasha Mishpatim to Moses. The next day, God would present the covenant to the people of Israel, and they would formally accept all the commandments of the Tora. Instead of waiting awake and enthusiastically for this great event, our ancestors fell asleep. This custom was established initially by Rabbi Shelomo Halevi Alqabets (1500-1580) –a colleague of Rabbi Yosef Caro, the author of Shulhan Arukh– who established the tradition of staying up all night studying Tora to repair what our ancestors did and show our love, devotion, and enthusiasm to receive the Tora.

חג שמח




My most favorite Mishna

בֶּן זוֹמָא אוֹמֵר: אֵיזֶהוּ חָכָם? הַלּוֹמֵד מִכָּל אָדָם, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר מִכָּל מְלַמְּדַי הִשְׂכַּלְתִּי. אֵיזֶהוּ גִבּוֹר? הַכּוֹבֵשׁ אֶת יִצְרוֹ, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר טוֹב אֶרֶךְ אַפַּיִם מִגִּבּוֹר וּמשֵׁל בְּרוּחוֹ מִלֹּכֵד עִיר. אֵיזֶהוּ עָשִׁיר? הַשָּׂמֵחַ בְּחֶלְקוֹ, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר יְגִיעַ כַּפֶּיךָ כִּי תֹאכֵל אַשְׁרֶיךָ וְטוֹב לָךְ. אַשְׁרֶיךָ בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה, וְטוֹב לָךְ לָעוֹלָם הַבָּא. אֵיזֶהוּ מְכֻבָּד? הַמְכַבֵּד אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר כִּי מְכַבְּדַי אֲכַבֵּד וּבֹזַי יֵקַלּוּ.

 

1️⃣ WHO IS WISE?

Most people would say:

Someone who knows a lot, reads many books, and gets good grades. 📚

But Ben Zoma says:

👉 The wise person is the one who is always learning!

And knows that they can learn from everyone.

⭐ Even from someone younger than you

⭐ Even from someone who knows less than you

🧠 Think: Have you ever learned something from a younger sibling?

From a friend? From someone unexpected? That’s exactly what Ben Zoma is teaching us:👉 Wisdom goes hand in hand with humility.

A truly wise person never says: “I already know everything.”

2️⃣ WHO IS STRONG?

Most people would say:

Someone with big muscles who can lift heavy things. 💪

But Ben Zoma says:

👉 The strong person is the one who controls himself and has self-discipline!

🛑 When you feel like hitting someone… but you don’t

💬 When you want to say something hurtful… but you stop

🍪 When you want the last cookie… but you leave it for someone else

👉 The strongest person is the one who controls himself.

3️⃣ WHO IS RICH?

Most people would say:

Someone with a lot of money, amazing toys, and the newest video games. 🎮

But Ben Zoma says:

👉 The rich person is the one who is happy with what they have!

😊 If you always need more and more, you will never feel rich…

But if you look at what you have and say:

“Thank You, HaShem! This is wonderful!”

👉 Then you are the richest person in the world.

💎 The less you need, the richer you are.

4️⃣ WHO DESERVES HONOR?

Most people would say:

Someone famous — a king, a star, or an important person. 👑

But Ben Zoma says:

👉 The honored person is the one who honors others!

👋 Be the first to say hello

👂 Listen carefully to everyone

⭐ Make others feel important

👉 If you want to be respected — respect others first!

✨ You become honorable when you honor others.