Until now, most of the problems the people of Israel faced on their journey through the desert were internal: a discontented people, complaints about the food (the manna), the spies who demoralized the nation, Korach’s rebellion against Moshe’s leadership, and so on. That generation that left Egypt had, quite literally, to pass away.

Our Parasha, however, takes place 40 years after the Exodus. The problems have changed. They’re no longer internal; now they are conflicts with Israel’s external enemies.

The people of Israel are now on the eastern side of the Jordan River —today’s Jordan— ready to enter the Promised Land. Balak, king of the nation of Moab, watches the Jewish people from atop his mountain, and he is afraid. He sees that these Jews are different from the first generation: they know how to defend themselves and fight, as their stunning victories over Sichon and Og made clear. Balak fears his own kingdom will end the same way. To prevent it, he comes up with an unconventional idea —something “outside the box.”

THE SECRET OF JEWISH SURVIVAL

There has to be “something” supernatural to explain why Israel never lost a war, despite being neither aggressive nor warlike nor ruthless. And Balak concludes —correctly— that Israel’s secret does not lie in military skill. There is something —he will later discover it is “Someone”— out of the ordinary that helps them win their wars. He assumes the secret of the Jewish victories lies in the relationship between Moshe and the God of Israel. Moshe’s God, Balak reasons, is the superior one; He defeated all the gods of Egypt.

So Balak has to find a god more powerful than the God of Israel. And if he can’t, he might use someone who knows how to manipulate Israel’s “God” and turn Him against Moshe and his people. In the idolatrous world, this is not strange logic. But he needed to find someone with access to that God, someone who could persuade Him to turn against Moshe. Balak is told that such a person exists —someone truly remarkable, a prophet like Moshe, who believes in and serves the very same God of Moshe! His name is Bilam, and he belongs to the people of Midian, Moab’s allies.

MERCENARY GODS

For the pagans, gods were bribable, mercenary, willing to sell their loyalty to the highest bidder. Balak summons Bilam and hires him, believing that with his knowledge of this God he could “curse” Israel and make God turn against them. Bilam was the right man —or the last resort— to carry out the plan. Bilam doesn’t tell Balak the truth. He hides from him that the God of Israel is not some invented pagan idol but the true God, and that the people of Israel are His chosen people. The explanation Bilam offers, to cover himself, is that he doesn’t speak of his own will: “God will put the words in his mouth.”

The Midianite comes before Balak, enters a trance, and tries to call on God to curse Israel. The commentators say he tried to bring up Israel’s sins, the times they abandoned God, and so on. But God intervenes in Bilam’s words —inspires him, possesses him— and forces the most beautiful blessings out of his mouth instead of curses. Bilam doesn’t give up. He tries again and again, seven times in all, from different vantage points, with different sacrifices. But every single time, the curses he meant to hurl at Israel came out as blessings. Balak, furious, sends him away.

BILAM THE MONOTHEIST

Beyond this fascinating story, two questions remain open.

First: how did Bilam know about the God of Israel? Because when Bilam speaks of God, he isn’t referring to some generic “god.” When he calls on Him, he doesn’t use only the word ELOKIM, which generically means “God,” but the proper name of the God of Abraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov.

I don’t think the commentators take up this point. Perhaps because the answer is too simple: Bilam knows about God because he belongs to the nation of Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law! In the book of Shemot we read that Yitro came to the camp of Israel praising and acknowledging the God of Israel. But later, before Israel set out for the Promised Land, Yitro returned to Midian and, according to some commentators, spread the monotheistic worship of the God of Israel there. Our episode takes place 40 years after that return. Bilam is a disciple of Yitro, and I imagine he practiced “a monotheism with some variant of Judaism.” Something not unlike Islam.

Second question: why does Bilam agree to help the enemies of Israel? It’s strange, because Bilam is, by all appearances, a religious man who acknowledges the same God as the Jews. If he believes in the same God as Moshe, if his religion and Moshe’s were so alike —like Islam and Judaism— why does Bilam hate Israel and want to curse it? Bilam and Moshe share, ideologically, far more than what divides them. Bilam ought to be Israel’s protector, or at least its most loyal ally. How do we explain his hostility?

TIME TUNNEL

Once again, I believe that to understand the biblical past we have to look at the political present. Consider: who are Israel’s fiercest enemies today? Without question, the Islamists —the most “religious” Muslims— like Hamas, the Muslim Brotherhood, and Islamic Jihad. Remember that Islam itself was built out of biblical texts and ideas: the patriarch Abraham, the Bible, monotheism, prayer, fasting. So why this hatred toward the State of Israel, when Muslims —our cousins— ought to be our protectors, or at least our “natural allies”? How do we explain it?

REPLACEMENT THEORY

Professor Mordechai Kedar and other Israeli scholars of Islam explain that beneath all the political hatred and the idea of Jihad lies a foundation that is 100% religious. Who is the true representative of the God of the Bible —Israel, or the Islamic nation? Which is superior, the Quran or the Hebrew Bible? Who was the greater prophet, Moshe or Muhammad? Who are God’s true representatives on earth—the Jews or the Muslims? Let me be clear: this religious struggle for supremacy comes from one side only, the Islamist side. We Jews, thank God, have no need to declare a religious war to validate our standing as the chosen people, because we suffer from no inferiority complex. But on the other side there is an almost “suicidal” desperation to prove religious supremacy.

NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN

This is exactly what happened with Bilam. Despite everything he had in common with Moshe, Bilam had no interest in drawing close to him, no wish to join his people or become his ally. Once he came to know Moshe’s religion, he appropriated it in his own mind, casting himself as the chosen prophet. From that moment on, Moshe stood in his way, eclipsing him. Bilam’s hatred of Israel was born of his own ambition: to replace Moshe and Israel. Far from being an ally, Bilam became Israel’s greatest enemy and sought its destruction.

WHAT NO ONE WANTS TO SEE

Let me illustrate with numbers. The war in Gaza, set off by Hamas’s terrorist massacre on October 7th, has now lasted roughly two years. The reported death toll exceeds 70,000, and that figure fills front pages around the world, day after day, alongside marches, emergency sessions, and accusations of “genocide.”

Now, how many people know what is happening, at the very same time, in the war between Russia and Ukraine? Last month alone, Russia suffered more than 35,000 dead and wounded. More than thirty-five thousand—in a single month. In other words, what took two years to unfold in Gaza recurs on the Russian front every few weeks. And yet that war—incomparably bloodier—barely surfaces in the headlines. No marches. No accusations of genocide. No special sessions at the United Nations.

Why? Because, just as in the days of Bilam, their problem was never the number of victims.

Their problem is Israel.

Professor Dror Eydar, former Israeli ambassador to Italy, put it plainly:

More than three thousand years have passed since then, and many peoples have followed in Bilam’s footsteps, trying to halt the historical process of the Jewish people’s return to their home in Tzion. The world is full of bloody conflicts whose victims vastly outnumber those of the conflict between Israel and its neighbors, and yet the world’s attention fixes mainly on the Arabs of Gaza. That very scandal —the world’s indifference to other conflicts— proves that it is not the Palestinians who concern those who claim to support them, but Israel. There is no other nation whose policies are not what the salons of culture, academia, and the media debate but whose very right to exist is.

But God did not let them defeat us then. And He will not let them today.

Kill a red cow, burn it, and use its ashes to purify ourselves from contact with a corpse? It makes no sense at all!

Our Chachamim identify two kinds of Mitzvot. On one hand, the Mishpatim: the commandments that align with human reason, whose benefit to our personal lives and to society we can grasp, like the Mitzva of helping the poor or the prohibition against murder. On the other hand, the Chukim: commandments whose reason is beyond our logic. The Mitzva of the Para Aduma, mentioned at the opening of our Parasha, Chukat, is the Chok par excellence. It’s hard to understand, too, how the cow’s ashes purify the impure person while those who carry out the purification themselves become impure.

It’s far easier to obey God and keep His commandments when we understand them, when they strike us as reasonable. But serving HaShem at the highest level, unconditionally, means accepting that sometimes we simply cannot grasp the “Divine logic,” the reason behind some of His commandments. What matters is to remember that in obeying the Chukim, we show that we accept Him as the supreme authority, and that we are willing to obey Him beyond our ability to understand what He asks of us. But how does that acceptance of HaShem as the ultimate authority take root in us?

With our children, it’s important to be reasonable. Most of the time, when we ask them to do something or to refrain from it, we explain why our advice is good for them. That naturally makes it easier for them to obey willingly and with a good heart. And it helps us keep a good relationship with them, because they learn to appreciate that we care.

But every so often they’ll have to obey us even when they can’t see the logic of what we’re asking or the good it holds for them. “I don’t understand why I can’t have ice cream for breakfast every morning.” “I don’t understand—if you love me, why do you let this nurse give me a shot that hurts?” “I don’t understand why I can’t go to my friend’s house,” or “to this party.”

Children learn early that there are rules whose “logic” we all share, but that there are also rules and limits they have to accept “because Mom or Dad said so.” The parents —not the logic— are the final authority. These are our children’s Chukim! And parents shouldn’t be afraid to exercise that authority, even when it doesn’t seem reasonable to the child.

It’s true that we parents sometimes get it wrong. We don’t possess the Absolute wisdom of our Creator. But for our children’s own good, we have to teach them to accept a higher authority. And when we win their trust in our authority —when they come to understand that our “decrees” are meant for what we believe is best for them— we are also preparing them to accept the authority of the Creator, even when they can’t understand the Divine logic behind it.

Rabbanit Coty Bitton

In this week’s parashah, the Torah shows us that some conflicts can only be resolved by tearing them out at the root. When Korach challenged Moshe’s leadership, Moshe refused to settle for an ambiguous or halfway outcome. He didn’t ask for a sign in the heavens to prove he was right; he asked for something far more extreme. “If these men die a natural death,” he said, “then God did not send me. But if God creates something never seen before, and the earth opens its mouth and swallows them alive…”. And so it happened: the earth opened and they vanished from this world, leaving no trace and no doubt. Some conflicts cannot be settled with partial results.

After long months of fighting and a string of ceasefires, the United States and Iran signed a memorandum of understanding this week —a phrase that stirs grim memories for any Argentine Jew of a not-so-distant past—. Some rushed to celebrate; others took it with more caution, or with outright pessimism, because Iran’s defeat was partial, ambiguous, unfinished.

Iran’s Celebration

The loudest celebration, without a doubt, is Iran’s. Picture a boxing match. Iran is the fighter flat on the canvas, knocked down, all but knocked out. The referee leans over him and begins the count: one… two… three… The crowd already considers the fight over. The count goes on: seven… eight… nine… One more second and it will all be finished. And then the unthinkable happens. It isn’t Iran who rises, nor his own corner that calls off the fight: it’s the rival’s corner —the United States, with victory already in hand— that suddenly throws in the towel! The referee stops the count. The bout is suspended. Iran, who was about to lose by knockout, is handed a victory or, at best, a technical draw. That is why the leaders of the ayatollahs’ regime celebrate more than anyone: they know, better than anyone, how close they came to the end. They didn’t win the fight in the ring. It was handed to them.

President Trump’s Victory

For President Trump, this deal with Iran —call it an understanding, a peace, or a ceasefire— is a positive picture too: no active fighting, no American soldiers falling, and the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz has brought oil prices down, kept prices in check, and sent the markets ever higher. And for Washington, that is cause for celebration. Because in the United States —and for President Trump— victory and defeat are measured by one very specific gauge: the economy. If prices fall and the market rises, you celebrate. And the market rose.

There is also a political calculation. Even though much of his own administration is deeply uneasy with this deal, for the president it remains a win: one less problem on an agenda that, within a few months, will be dominated by November’s congressional elections. The confrontation with Iran, which could have hurt his Republican candidates in that race, has just been defused. And that’s no small thing: if the Republican Party loses the House or the Senate, Trump would be left all but paralyzed for any decision he might want to make in the final two years of his term. In those elections, what decides the vote is neither Iran nor Israel: it is, once again, the economy.

The Challenges for Israel

In Israel, the mood is far more sober.

On one hand, no one can deny what President Trump has done for Israel. No American president —nor, I would dare say, any leader of any country— has ever done so much for the Jewish State. Whatever happens from here on, that legacy cannot be forgotten. Israel has benefited enormously from that support on several fronts: in Syria, where it has taken and now holds the northern part of the Hermon; in southern Lebanon, where the Jewish army has advanced to the Litani River and controls that entire sector, essential to peace in Israel’s north; and in Gaza, where it now controls more than 60% of the territory. In the Middle East, victory is measured by the land you hold. And it is worth celebrating that Israel has won all that ground, that the United States cooperated directly or indirectly, and that the American president has not, for now, pressed Israel to pull back from any of those three zones. For Israel, that is an incredible, extraordinary, and undeniable triumph.

On the other hand, the deal with Iran —a sixty-day ceasefire— is a serious problem. It does not remove the concrete threat of Iran, which for Israel is not economic but existential. The elimination of nuclear material is left “subject to future negotiations”: no one knows when that uranium will be inspected, when it will be destroyed, or under whose supervision. Nothing is said, either, about Iran’s long-range missiles or its support for terrorist organizations like Hezbollah and the Houthis. Meanwhile, Iran will do what it does best: play for time and play at diplomacy. It will gain months, it will gain years. And when it is ready, it will enrich its uranium and once again threaten Israel with all its force.

Shaul and President Trump

From Israel’s vantage point, the outcome of this war closely resembles what the Jewish people lived through three thousand years ago, when the first king of Israel, Shaul, had the chance to wipe out Amalek: the archetypal enemy of Israel, the first antisemite in history, the one who again and again sought our destruction with relentless obsession. The Divine instruction was clear: eliminate Amalek completely, and erase that existential threat one hundred percent.

Shaul had a powerful army. He went to war —and he won! But he didn’t finish the job. He let himself be swayed by his advisers’ opinions and left the king, Agag —Amalek’s political leadership— alive and standing, along with much of his wealth and resources. Shaul’s victory was perhaps 90 percent. But in battles like these, when the threat is not eliminated to the very end, winning 90% amounts to a defeat!

And the facts bore it out. Some five hundred years later, a descendant of that same Amalekite line Shaul had spared —Haman— rose up against the Jewish people and tried to annihilate them, and only a miracle saved us from extermination. The terrible decision to leave the mission unfinished dragged us all the way to that conflict: the “seed” of Amalek survived, and once again threatened the Jews.

Netanyahu and the New Challenge

Israel’s prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, knows full well that in the Middle East you cannot declare victory while the enemy is still standing. The consequences of not uprooting that Iranian political leadership today —of leaving it standing, surviving— are a terrible burden that Israel, and perhaps in the longer run the United States and the whole world, will bear in the future, once Iran has rearmed.

I trust that, with God’s help and inspiration, Netanyahu will know how to navigate this stormy sea, in which he can neither fall out with Trump nor repeat the mistake King Shaul made: leaving unfinished the task of eliminating Amalek.

I believe the prime minister knows full well the historic role he has been given to play. And he must be weighing the possibility that now, or before long, Israel may have to face Iran “alone” —without the help of the United States—. Netanyahu’s greatest achievement would be, and this is the most delicate part, for President Trump not to oppose Israel finishing what it began exactly one year ago, in the Twelve-Day War, to remove the Iranian threat. For that, we will need a great deal of help from Heaven.

May HaShem enlighten our leaders and inspire them to attain the victory that, in the Middle East, is the only formula for achieving peace.

On ben Pelet is a mysterious figure in the Torah. We know almost nothing about him. This week’s parashah mentions him in the context of Korach’s rebellion: On is a leader of the tribe of Reuben who joins Korach to challenge Moshe’s political role. After they make their case against Moshe, the anti-Moshe coalition gets ready for the next day: in the morning it will be decided —by divine providence— who the true leader of Israel is. The following day, the Divine Presence reveals itself and confirms Moshe’s appointment. Korach, his henchmen, and his followers were punished and lost their lives. The Torah names those who died in the uprising, but On ben Pelet is not listed among the dead. Why? What happened to On?

The Influence of a Wife

The Sages explain that behind Korach’s rebellion stood his wife. It was she who, out of ambition, jealousy, and envy, pushed him to rise up against Moshe. She didn’t merely encourage his rebellious thoughts: she egged him on, day after day. She filled his head with words that fed his resentment and his pride, making him feel that Moshe and Aharon had taken from him what he deserved. According to the Midrashim, this influencer kept telling him how unfair it was that his cousin held all the power, while he —every bit as important, and of distinguished lineage— held no leadership at all. She awakened in him a craving for greatness, until Korach could no longer see reality clearly. The ambition she cultivated in him was, in the end, what led to his ruin.

By contrast, the Midrash tells us that On ben Pelet was saved by his wife. After Korach and his followers confronted Moshe, On came home and told his wife that the question of leadership would be settled the next day, and that he would try to become one of the people’s leaders. But his wife was not impressed by the prospect of political prestige. She acted with intelligence and common sense: when her husband laid out his plans, she discouraged him from siding against Moshe. And she proceeded not only with common sense, but with a great deal of strategy. First, she convinced him that no matter who replaced Moshe, he would still end up in the background. His role wouldn’t change: Korach was only using him.

The Strategy of On’s Wife

Though On agreed with his wife, he told her he still had to show up, because he had already committed to Korach and his friends. Seeing that On was set on going through with his plan, she said nothing —but she decided to take the matter into her own hands.

What did On’s wife do? She most likely kept him awake as long as possible that night. And before he went to sleep, she gave him a very strong wine to drink, which left him sleeping far longer than usual. In the morning, when his friends came to fetch him and wanted to enter the house to wake him, On’s wife deliberately let her hair down —something a married Jewish woman did only in front of her husband— and, out of modesty, the men stayed waiting outside. So they asked her to wake him instead.

I imagine they must have shouted to her from outside the tent that it was late, that the revolt was about to begin. And she must have answered: “Don’t worry. You go on ahead —I’ll wake my husband and he’ll be right there with you.” And so she kept her husband asleep a couple of hours more: exactly the time needed for the tragic revolt to run its course. With great intelligence and feminine influence, she saved his life!

Korach’s wife fed her husband’s ambition to rebel against Moshe and led him to his destruction; On’s wife used all her intelligence, her charm, and her influence to save him. And she succeeded.

UBNE KORACH LO METU

It isn’t enough just to learn the meaning of this verse of the Torah (pasuq). I’d recommend you memorize it. Or print it out and keep it in your pocket, your purse, or your wallet. It’s a very short pasuq, one that belongs to the parashah we’ll read in a few weeks, Pinchas, but it refers to what happened in our parashah, Korach. The pasuq consists of just four simple words: “UBNE KORACH LO METU,” which literally means “And the sons of Korach did not die.” In other words, they survived.

What is this brief text pointing to?

Sons vs. Father

Driven by ambition, envy, and bad counsel, Korach decided to rebel against Moshe and Aharon to strip them of their political leadership. Korach wasn’t alone: more than 250 people joined him in his rebellious venture. His end was horrific: he died swallowed by the earth. And everyone who stood with him met the same fate. Yet, as this pasuq tells us, the sons of Korach were the exception —and they survived! Why? The sons of Korach, who were already grown men, had joined the rebellion led by their father and taken part in the protests and demonstrations against Moshe. But “at the last moment,” when the hour of the final confrontation arrived, they snapped out of it. They realized that what they were doing was an act of madness, and that if they didn’t turn back right then and there, the damage would be irreparable! The sons of Korach survived because they repented just in time, in the final minute.

I think of the moral challenges all of us face every day.

Rage and Anger

Sometimes we’re carried away by rage and we’re about to raise a hand to hurt someone physically, or to wound them deeply with cruel words. These impulsive acts of violence —physical violence especially— can have irreversible consequences for the victim and for the perpetrator alike. In an impulsive act that lasts only a few seconds, a person can condemn himself to live with the consequences for the rest of his life.

Fatal Impulses

Other times we’re carried away by our passions. We get involved with the wrong person, our common sense clouds over, and so, in one brief moment, we let instinct drag us along —ready to ruin “forever” our honor, to stain our good name and our children’s, and to destroy our family.

Texting and Losing Everything

It happens that a person is about to send a message written in anger, pouring out all his frustration with no filter. We do it more to vent than to actually communicate something, and we don’t stop to gauge how the person receiving it will react. There are famous cases of prominent figures who lost their jobs over a single inappropriate tweet that, once sent and captured by just one follower, they could never take back. In the age of WhatsApp and Snapchat, you can wreck another person’s life —or your own— just by sending one inappropriate photo. Incredibly, we don’t always grasp how serious and how irreversible our actions are. Why? I think it’s because, unconsciously, we assume that grave things with far-reaching consequences must be hard to carry out… and clicking “send” seems so easy!

The Last Resort

The striking thing is that, in several famous cases of impulsive acts or inappropriate messages, the people who make the mistake realize what they’ve done just a few seconds later!

In every one of those cases, our name, our family, our reputation, and our life can be saved by remembering this pasuq: “AND THE SONS OF KORACH SURVIVED.” The sons of Korach, who were on the verge of ruining their lives and losing everything, realized what they were about to do a brief moment before —they turned back, and they were saved.

I recommend memorizing these four little words. And if ever, ח”ו, someone is about to fall into the destructive trap of his own impulses, let him say this pasuq to himself and remember that the wisdom of turning back at the last minute saved the lives of the sons of Korach. And it can save yours.

וּבְנֵי־קֹרַח לֹא־מֵתוּ

And the sons of Korach survived!

Bamidbar 26:11

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.

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.

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.

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.