Small tidbits and Sparks of wisdom

Proverbs 17:1 – “Better a dry piece of bread with peace than a house full of sacrifices with strife.”
Proverbs 16:32 – “He who is slow to anger is better than a strong man, and a master of his passions than a conqueror of a city.”
Proverbs 16:33 – “When the lot is cast into the lap, its entire judgment is from Hashem.”

These three verses from Mishlei (Proverbs) weave together a powerful message about strength, peace, and the hidden hand of God in our lives. Each verse builds on the others to form a portrait of what true greatness looks like—not in outward power, but in inward discipline.

1. True Strength Lies in Self-Control

The world respects those who conquer cities, win battles, or gain wealth. But the Torah teaches us that the one who conquers his anger and controls his impulses is even greater. A person who is slow to anger restrains himself until clarity and wisdom return. A master of his passions goes even further—he no longer even wants to strike back. According to the commentaries, such inner mastery is rarer and more praiseworthy than any external victory.

2. Peace Is More Valuable Than Prosperity

Even a poor home with peace is greater than a mansion full of noise, tension, and spiritual decay. A dry crust of bread shared in tranquility is more blessed than rich feasts marred by strife. Hashem does not dwell in places of conflict, even if they are filled with offerings. According to Rashi and the Malbim, Hashem prefers a Temple reduced to ruins—if it is free of sin—over one that functions outwardly but is filled with fighting and division.

3. Hashem Guides Even the Seemingly Random

The verse about casting lots teaches us a deep truth: even events that appear random or left to chance are completely orchestrated by Hashem. Whether the decision falls by a goral (lot) or through the hands of men, the final judgment is determined by Heaven. Nothing is truly accidental. The outcome is known and directed by Hashem, even when hidden from our eyes.

4. A Unified Message of Moral Leadership

Rav Yonah explains that these verses are all linked. They teach how to live among people, how to avoid strife, and how to put our trust in divine judgment. The real leader is not the one who overpowers others, but the one who restrains himself, seeks peace, and knows when to let go of control and let Hashem guide the outcome.

Conclusion

The Torah’s definition of greatness challenges every modern instinct. It is not wealth, power, or reputation that make someone great. It is:

The ability to wait before reacting.

The choice to preserve peace even when you have the upper hand.

The faith to know that you are not in control—and that’s exactly as it should be.

This is strength. This is greatness. And this is the type of home, community, and leadership where the Shechinah can rest.

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Let me know if you’d like this followed by a related parable, midrash, or halachic insight.

I. Fundamental Beliefs (Chapter 1A)

Many people are fond of saying, “Life is not fair.”

Such a statement is the merest step from heresy, even blasphemy, because if life is not fair, then the Creator of life is not fair. A believing Jew knows that everything Hashem does is calculated with precision, even though there is much that is beyond human comprehension.

Ramban begins his introduction to the Book of Job by stating an essential principle of Jewish faith: God knows and controls the lower species generally and specifically. Also, the Creator observes and supervises human beings, regarding whether they do good or evil, and whether they should attain success and fulfillment or pain and mishap. Anyone who claims that whatever befalls them is happenstance, and not the will and intent of the Creator, is a heretic and has no share in the World to Come.

Thus, Ramban unequivocally makes two fundamental points:
(a) God is aware of everything;
(b) He rewards and punishes according to each person’s deeds.

Once this faith is firmly rooted in our minds and hearts, we can accept the Torah as the word of Hashem and grow from its commandments.

People of absolute faith see the hand of God in everything. Not that they understand why He dictated one course rather than another, but they know with certainty that He willed it to be and that He had a constructive, merciful purpose in doing what He did.

A thoroughly unanticipated election outcome, economic catastrophe, or medical result should have been enough to convince us that we are not in control. But that very seldom happens. Instead, people retreat to analysis, technology, and logic — refusing to acknowledge Divine will in what appears unpredictable.

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II. Introduction to the Unified Force

1. In Torah Judaism, the Satan is not a rival to God nor a force of independent evil. Rather, he is a malach (angel), a spiritual messenger tasked with fulfilling a crucial role in Hashem’s divine system of free will, justice, and personal growth.

2. The Gemara states:
הוא יצר הרע, הוא השטן, הוא מלאך המוות
“He is the Evil Inclination, he is the Satan, he is the Angel of Death.” (Bava Basra 16a)

3. This means a single, divinely-created angel plays all three roles: tempting (Yetzer Hara), accusing (Satan), and executing (Malach HaMaves).

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III. The Satan – Heavenly Prosecutor

4. “Satan” (שָׂטָן) means opposer. He is the heavenly prosecutor, not an enemy of God.

5. In the Book of Job, he appears before Hashem and must get permission to test Iyov — showing that he operates within divine authority.

6. His role is necessary for moral accountability and the framework of reward and punishment.

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IV. The Yetzer Hara – Internal Conflict

7. The Yetzer Hara is not evil — it is man’s drive toward ego, indulgence, and self-serving instincts.

8. Chazal say: “If not for the Yetzer Hara, a person would not build a house, marry, or engage in business.” (Bereishis Rabbah 9:7)

9. The Yetzer Hara is the internal form of the same angel, providing real temptation and struggle.

10. The Rambam teaches that moral greatness lies in resisting and mastering one’s inner drives.

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V. The Malach HaMaves – The Final Executor

11. The Malach HaMaves arrives at the end of the judgment process. He is not a grim reaper, but a servant completing a divine task.

12. First the angel tempts, then accuses, and finally executes. All one angel, from start to finish.

13. His presence reminds us that life is temporary and every choice is accountable.

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VI. The Satan in History and Language (Expanded)

14. The first historic introduction to Satan in the Torah is the snake who entices Chava (Eve) to eat from the Tree of Knowledge. This act introduces the Yetzer Hara into the human being.

15. Before this event, man was spiritually balanced. The inclination toward good or evil was external — a matter of correct action versus incorrect action.

16. But after Adam and Chava’s sin, the evil inclination entered human nature. Moral clarity became clouded, and man began to experience inner conflict.

17. From that moment, the role of Satan expanded. He no longer only opposes externally — he resides within man, influencing thought, desire, and choice.

18. This internalization of opposition was so profound that the Torah commands a special korban (sacrifice) on Yom Kippur — the scapegoat sent to “Azazel” — a gift of sorts to the adversary.

19. The nature of this ritual is mystical and difficult to fully explain. But its presence in the holiest day of the year shows how serious the spiritual opposition has become — and how deeply embedded it is in the human condition.

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VII. Theological Perspective – A Servant, Not a Rival

20. Satan is not an evil competitor to Hashem. He is a loyal servant with an unpleasant but necessary job.

21. “I created the Evil Inclination, and I created the Torah as its antidote.” (Kiddushin 30b)

22. Free will only exists when there is resistance. Satan’s job is to provide that resistance — and thus make reward meaningful.

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VIII. Man’s Battle and Responsibility

23. Each person lives in a moral battlefield. The Yetzer Hara seduces, the Satan prosecutes, and the Malach HaMaves concludes.

24. But we are given Torah, mitzvos, and teshuvah as tools to win the fight.

25. “Who is strong? One who conquers his Yetzer.” (Avos 4:1)

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IX. Reish Lakish’s Scriptural Proof

26. Reish Lakish says: “He is the Satan, he is the Evil Inclination, he is the Angel of Death.” (Bava Basra 16a)

a) Prosecutor: “And the Satan departed from before Hashem.” (Iyov 1:12)

b) Yetzer Hara: “Only evil all day long.” (Bereishis 6:5)

c) Angel of Death: “Only spare his life.” (Iyov 2:6)

Three stages. One entity.

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X. The Satan Slaughtered – End of Days

27. Succah 52a teaches: At the End of Days, Hashem will slaughter the Yetzer Hara.

28. The righteous will weep: “How did we overcome such a mountain?”
The wicked will weep: “How did we fall before such a thread?”

29. Michtav MeEliyahu explains: resistance strengthens temptation — the battle is real and progressive.

30. The wicked never fought at all. Their shame will be unbearable.

31. When Divine truth is revealed, the Satan’s job will be complete. He will joyfully step aside — mission accomplished.

32. Iyov is the proof. A human being can withstand suffering and conquer the Satan.

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Conclusion

The Satan, Yetzer Hara, and Malach HaMaves are one.

Not evil. Not rogue. Not in rebellion.

They are servants of Hashem, tasked with testing, accusing, and closing accounts — so that man can rise and earn his eternal greatness.

1. Words Are Cheap, Emunah Is Expensive

( Emunah= included Bitochan)

In every generation, the Yetzer Hara adapts. Today, he hides in spiritual language. In communities of Torah and chesed, people speak beautifully about emunah — about trust in Hashem, surrender, detachment from money, and living with clarity of faith. They quote the Chazon Ish, the Chovos Halevavos, and the Ramban on bitachon. Some even take pride in publicly declaring their belief that Hashem provides everything, and that one need not worry or chase wealth.

But when that faith is tested — not in theory, but in the real, raw moment when a fellow Jew approaches and asks for help — something happens. The same mouths that spoke of trust and generosity now shift to rationalizing why they cannot give:
“I’ve already given my ma’aser,” they say.
“I’m supporting other Torah causes.”
“I must save for future obligations.”

And yet, these very people have no hesitation to fund personal trips, remodel homes, buy new suits, or even donate large sums to prestigious Torah institutions — where their name might appear on a plaque or banquet journal.

2. Public Preaching, Private Withholding

Let’s be clear: ma’aser is a floor, not a ceiling. It is the beginning of a Jew’s financial responsibility, not the end. The true baal emunah doesn’t calculate his generosity to the penny while he lives in comfort. He gives because he knows it’s not his to begin with. He gives because he believes in the Giver of the wealth. And when he speaks of faith, it’s not a shield to deflect responsibility — it’s the wellspring from which his compassion flows.

There’s a dishonesty — even a betrayal — in loudly proclaiming faith and trust while living with excessive caution, self-indulgence, and rigid boundaries on generosity. If you truly live with Hashem, then when someone in pain stands in front of you, you respond as if Hashem is standing behind him — watching, listening, waiting to see what your emunah really means.

3. True Faith Is Proven in the Quiet, Costly Deed

The test of faith isn’t in the drasha. It’s not in the WhatsApp status with a quote from Rebbe Nachman or the Ramchal. It’s in the day someone you don’t owe comes to you, in need. And it’s inconvenient. And you already gave. And you don’t have a cheshbon ready. Then — if you dig into your pocket, your heart, and your comfort — that’s emunah.

It was the Novardoker Mussar giants who used to say: “A person who speaks emunah but clings to his money has built a palace with no foundation.” If your public image is built on words of faith, then your life must be built on acts of generosity. Otherwise, your words are noise — worse, they become falsehood.

4. Live the Way You Speak

If you’re going to speak about trust in Hashem, then live that way. If you encourage others to let go, then be the first to let go of your grip on your money. If you teach that Hashem will provide, then be that vehicle of Hashem’s provision when someone asks. The same people who talk about “letting go” often only do so when it doesn’t cost them. That’s not emunah. That’s performance.

Real emunah doesn’t need applause. It doesn’t need to justify. It gives. It helps. It acts.

5. Don’t Judge the Seeker — That’s Not Your Role

Even among those who speak often and beautifully about emunah, there is a troubling trend. They publicly encourage trust in Hashem, they inspire others to live with bitachon, and their words have uplifted many — and that’s a great thing. They should continue spreading that message.

But this chapter is here to remind them: when you preach faith, people will come to you. People in pain. People in need. And very often, people who also lack that very faith you’re encouraging. Some are broken. Some are destitute. Some are simply weak in emunah — but that’s why they’re coming to you. Because you claim to be strong.

And I heard a heartbreaking statement from one very wealthy man — a man known to give generously — who was approached by a Jew in need. The man dismissed the request by saying, “Why should I help him? Let him stay in Eretz Yisroel and work on his emunah.”

That is a perversion of daas Torah.

Yes, it is true that every Jew must strengthen himself in bitachon. Yes, we all must rise up spiritually. But you — the one with abundance, the one who is admired and emulated — you are not allowed to judge someone else’s spiritual level when he comes to you for help.

Chazal say clearly: “Al tadin es chavercha ad shetagia limkomo — Do not judge your fellow until you reach his place.”
And the truth is — you never will. You didn’t grow up in his home. You didn’t suffer what he suffered. You don’t live with his struggles, his education, his wiring, his loneliness, his traumas. You cannot speak as if you do.

Even if you give half your wealth to tzedakah, even if you’ve donated millions, even if you have an entire kollel learning in your name — if you can give $50,000 without blinking, and someone broken stands before you and asks — you don’t have the right to say, “He should have bitachon and not come to me.”

You are not Hashem.
And in that moment, Hashem may have sent him to you — to see if you believe in Him.

So many forget: Giving is not about the recipient’s worthiness. It’s about your faith. It’s not about whether the poor man is holy enough. It’s about whether you are.

Let us never forget that even our own acts of faith can become tests of pride. The more you talk emunah, the more you’re obligated to live it. With open hands. With a soft heart. Without judgment.

—

Conclusion: Faith Without Action Is Fraud

Emunah is not in your head. It’s in your hand, in your checkbook, in your time. It’s when someone cries out to you and your answer is “Hineni” — here I am, even if it’s inconvenient, even if no one will know. That is the faith that Hashem sees and cherishes. That is the faith that builds a nation.

The Torah Jew is not defined by eloquence or public persona. He is defined by his actions when no one is watching. When someone knocks on his door, or approaches him quietly after shul, or writes a letter with trembling hands — the test of emunah is not in the delay, not in the calculation, not in the percentage. It is in the immediate willingness to carry someone else’s burden.

Rav Yisroel Salanter said: “The material needs of another Jew are your spiritual responsibilities.” If you truly live with faith, that means you see your bank account not as your fortress, but as your mission. You see your extra not as luxury, but as obligation.

Stop judging. Start giving. Stop preaching. Start living. Speak less. Do more.

Because when you meet Hashem after 120, He will not ask how many times you quoted the Chazon Ish on bitachon. He will ask how many people walked away from you with dignity because you had the chance to help — and you did.

Everything else is just noise.

Chazal say in Pirkei Avos: “Aseh lecha Rav, u’knei lecha chaver.” This isn’t just advice — it’s a demand. You need a Rav: not a political figure, not a fundraiser, not a showman. A Rav is someone who fears Heaven, who holds himself accountable, and who tells you the truth even when it hurts. Without such a guide, even the brightest businessman is walking blind.

The Rav you choose must be a parnas — someone who shoulders the weight of his kehilla. He’s not just a speaker or collector; he’s a caretaker. He sees the pain of the widows and the pressure of the hardworking father who can’t pay tuition. A true Rav doesn’t throw money at headlines or let wealthy donors dictate priorities. He builds a board of wise, Torah-grounded men and allocates funds with caution, not emotion. Until the needs of his own community are met — food, shelter, basic dignity — he has no business giving elsewhere. That’s not leadership. That’s neglect.

The same standard applies to friends. People today surround themselves with others who live like them: same schools, camps, vacations. But Torah doesn’t measure friendship by similarity. If your closest companion is your travel buddy, tennis partner, or someone who helps you spend more — not grow more — he’s not a chaver. A Torah friend guards your soul, not your comforts.

Success only sharpens the danger. Once you’ve made money, the Yetzer Hara stops pushing you to steal — he starts pushing you to enjoy. And enjoy. And enjoy. Comfort becomes a god. Torah says: stop. Take what you need. Hand the rest to someone you trust — a Rav who fears Heaven and a friend who reminds you why you were given wealth in the first place.

Wealth isn’t evil. But unmanaged, unguided wealth becomes your test — and your downfall. Choose your Rav. Choose your chaver. Not the ones who want something from you. The ones who want something for you — in this world and the next.

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> רָאשׁ עֹשֶׂה כַּף רְמִיָּה וְיַד חָרוּצִים תַּעֲשִׁיר
“A poor man acts with deceitful hands, but the hand of the diligent enriches.”
(Mishlei 10:4)

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Chazal and the Alshich HaKadosh teach that this verse is not merely about working or being idle — it’s about what kind of work matters.

The Alshich explains: it’s not that the poor man is incapable. He chooses poverty, because he refuses to exert himself — not because he’s weak, but because he’s deceptive. He fools others and himself by claiming he’s too tired, too distracted, too anxious — yet when it comes to his own desires, he will endure any hardship, even destroy his body and soul to chase a dollar. But when it comes to Torah, to truth, to Avodas Hashem — suddenly he’s “too busy.”

This is what the verse means by כַּף רְמִיָּה — a “deceitful hand.” It’s not just laziness. It’s a life built on false definitions of effort and value.

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 But what is true laziness?

In today’s world, we praise the man who wakes up at 4:00am, goes to the gym, works 14 hours in finance, builds real estate portfolios, and sacrifices his life for “success.” But if that same man doesn’t daven with kavanah, doesn’t learn Torah, doesn’t raise his children with yiras shamayim — is that called hard-working?

No. That’s called running on a treadmill to nowhere.

Hashem doesn’t count hours on a time clock. He counts what a person does with his bechirah, with his soul. The one who conquers his yetzer hara, who bends his will to Hashem’s Torah, who sits through a blatt Gemara when he’s tired — that’s a harutz. That’s a diligent man.

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 The deception of gashmiyus-driven diligence

A person who kills himself to make more money isn’t necessarily diligent. If he neglects his ruchniyus, he’s lazy in the only realm that matters. Chazal call that a fool who thinks he’s wise. He appears “successful,” but he is spiritually bankrupt.

The Alshich says: a person willing to destroy his body for physical gain — and unwilling to lift a finger for spiritual growth — is living a lie. The Torah exposes this lie and calls it what it is: deception. Not “poor,” not “busy,” not “burnt out” — but רמיה, a deliberate avoidance of truth.

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✅ Who is truly rich?

> “The hand of the diligent enriches.”

Not the man who hoards wealth, but the one who enriches his inner world through Torah and mitzvos. Not the one who built a business empire, but the one who builds himself. That is the only lasting wealth — wealth in Olam HaEmes.

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✍️ Closing Thought

Today’s world has turned terms upside down. Diligence is measured by dollars. Success by material expansion. But the Torah recalibrates our compass:

> ❗ The one who sleeps through harvest (Mishlei 10:5) — that’s not someone who missed a financial opportunity.
️ It’s one who missed his moment to gather ruchniyus, to change, to teach his children, to grow in Torah.

Let’s not be deceived by society’s empty trophies. The only “hard work” that matters is what we bring with us beyond the grave. Everything else is temporary noise.

1. Background: Poverty and a Dilemma

Ilfa and Rabbi Yochanan, two great Torah scholars, were suffering from severe financial hardship. They made a joint decision:

> “Let us go earn a livelihood and fulfill the verse: ‘There shall be no destitute among you’ (Devarim 15:4).”

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2. The Wall and the Heavenly Conversation

While on their journey, they stopped to eat by a dilapidated wall. Two angels passed by. One said:

> “Let’s topple the wall on them—they’ve abandoned eternal life (Torah) for the fleeting life (business).”

The second angel replied:

> “Leave them. One of them is destined for greatness, and his time has not yet come.”

Only Rabbi Yochanan overheard the angelic conversation. Ilfa did not.

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3. The Turning Point

Rabbi Yochanan turned to Ilfa and said:

> “Let me return to Torah. I will fulfill the verse: ‘The poor will never cease from the land’ (Devarim 15:11).”

He accepted a life of material limitation for the sake of spiritual greatness. He returned to the yeshivah.
Ilfa continued on his business venture.

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4. Appointment and Reward

By the time Ilfa came back, Rabbi Yochanan had been crowned Rosh Yeshiva.

The people told Ilfa:

> “Had you stayed and studied, you would have been chosen instead.”

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5. Ilfa’s Challenge and Brilliance

Ilfa did not sulk. He claimed his Torah knowledge was still superior. He climbed to the mast of a ship and declared:

> “If anyone can stump me with a Baraisa that I cannot tie to a Mishnah, I will throw myself into the sea!”

An elder presented a case. Ilfa answered perfectly. He retained his greatness—but his moment of destiny had passed.

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Clarification: What Does “Poor” Really Mean Here?

This story is often misunderstood. “Poor” does not mean starving, homeless, or broken.

When Rabbi Yochanan says:

> “The poor will never cease from the land,”

He isn’t saying he will be a beggar. He’s accepting a life where:

He has what he needs, but not more.

He lacks excess, but lives with purpose.

He is dependent on Hashem, not on wealth.

In modern language, this “poverty” is better understood as material simplicity chosen for spiritual priority.

It’s not weakness—it’s strength.

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Core Message

> Torah greatness is not just about knowing—it’s about sacrificing.
Rabbi Yochanan gave up comfort to fulfill his divine mission.
Ilfa sought wealth and retained brilliance, but missed his hour.

In a world chasing more, this story teaches:

> If you have what you need to serve Hashem—you are not poor. You are truly rich.

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The path to exile began when even a man as great as Shlomo HaMelech thought he could decide without rebuke. The way back — the road to geulah — begins when we choose the opposite:

To live under Torah guidance

To make ourselves accountable

To accept rebuke with humility

To never trust our own brilliance over the will of Hashem

But here lies the modern tragedy: today’s galus is sustained not only by individual arrogance, but by communal silence.

The Tragic Immunity of the Powerful

In our time, many of the wealthiest and most influential individuals have become untouchable — not because they are above Torah, but because no one dares to tell them they’re wrong.

Why?

Because their money funds schools, institutions, kollelim, shuls.
Because their approval is sought.
Because even great rabbis — knowingly or unknowingly — feel the pressure of dependence.

> And so, no one rebukes them.
No one reminds them that wealth doesn’t excuse arrogance, or that influence demands greater accountability, not less.

These powerful figures should be role models for the generation — models of humility, responsibility, and Torah-true behavior. Instead, some of them live with the false illusion that their charity or community status absolves them from self-accountability.

A Silent Generation is a Lost One

If our leaders — both spiritual and lay — are afraid to speak truth to power, then the cycle of galus continues. Because once again, just like in the days of Shlomo, decisions are being made without rebuke, without oversight, without spiritual restraint.

And so the path forward is clear:

We must demand accountability from our leaders and ourselves.

We must rebuild a culture of mussar and honest rebuke, especially among those who lead with wealth and status.

We must remind the powerful that their merit comes not from their giving, but from their living.

> The day we break the fear of rebuking the powerful is the day we begin rebuilding Yerushalayim.

—

asked to Rav Avigdor Miller ztz”l — May 11, 1971

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Question:

Was the Beis Hamikdash destroyed because of sinas chinam—baseless hatred—among frum Jews?

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Answer (Rav Avigdor Miller ztz”l):

No, there’s no sinas chinam among the true Torah-observant Jews. Don’t let anyone twist the narrative. The sinas chinam described in the Gemara wasn’t about a disagreement over customs or halachic nuance. It was the deep, corrosive hatred of those who despised the Torah itself and the people loyal to it. The same hatred that burned in the hearts of the Tzedukim, the Notzrim, and those who couldn’t stand to see Jews living lives devoted to Hashem—that’s the hatred that brought about the Churban.

That spirit never left.

In modern times, it reappeared in the form of Jewish communists, socialists, and so-called secular Zionists who made it their mission to uproot Torah from the Jewish people. Not just apathy—but open war against mitzvos, yeshivos, and rabbanim. They didn’t merely separate from Torah—they tried to extinguish it.
The old Tzeduki became the Israeli cultural warrior. The ancient Notzri turned into the progressive politician. Whether it was Mapai, the early Histadrut, or modern-day Knesset members who spew contempt for Torah Jews, it’s the same spiritual force: hatred of kedushah.

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This hatred has kept us in golus.

Even in the Land of Israel, we remain in exile, because the Shechinah will not dwell where Torah is trampled and mocked. The presence of Jews in Eretz Yisrael doesn’t equal redemption when the ruling hand still tries to uproot Torah.

As long as there are Jews—especially powerful Jews—who fight Torah under the disguise of Judaism itself, we remain stuck in a spiritual standstill.
They use Jewish names, Jewish language, and Jewish symbols to fight against Torah. And that’s more dangerous than open enemies.

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Hashem will not rebuild the Beis Hamikdash under those conditions.

The return of the Shechinah is not political—it’s spiritual. Either we serve Him fully, without compromise, or we remain locked in this endless internal war: religious Jews attacked by secular Jews, Torah degraded by those who claim to speak for the Jewish people while rejecting its soul.

This is the sinas chinam that delays the Geulah.
This is the reason we are still in golus.
And it cannot be healed by speeches, slogans, or unity conferences.

It must be healed by unshakable devotion to Hashem and His Torah—by the masses of Jews choosing once again to say:

> “Na’aseh v’nishma.”

—

Until then, Hashem will wait.
And so will the Third Temple.

Not every Jew is gifted with the same intellect, background, or circumstances. Some have sharp minds and access to great teachers. Others struggle to understand even basic texts. Some have long hours to study; others must work to support families. Yet the obligation to engage in Torah remains equally binding on all.

The Torah’s command is not dependent on how much you know, but on how much effort you invest.

> “Assemble the people—men, women, children, and the stranger within your gates—so that they may hear and learn.”
(Devarim 31:12)

Same Torah, Different People, Equal Responsibility

The Chovot HaLevavot explains: the form of the exhortation is the same for the old and young, the wise and the simple. What changes is the practice and result that comes from each person’s effort, according to their ability.

One person may grasp profound ideas quickly. Another may need to review a single halacha ten times. But both are fulfilling the command—if they’re giving their all.

The Muscle Metaphor: Everyone’s 100% Looks Different

Think of vehicles:

A bicycle, a car, a truck, and a bus all travel at different speeds.

But each must push to its maximum to reach the destination.

A bicycle going 15 mph at full exertion is equal in effort to a sports car at 150 mph—as long as it’s going full force.

So too in Torah:

A working man learning 20 minutes with full focus may be on equal footing with a yeshiva bochur learning 8 hours—if his heart and mind are fully engaged.

Hashem Measures Effort, Not Talent

The world rewards output. The Torah rewards exertion. That’s why the sages say:

> “Yagata u’matzata ta’amin”
“If you toiled and succeeded—believe it.”
(Megillah 6b)

What you find in Torah is directly related to how much you push yourself. Your portion isn’t defined by brilliance—it’s defined by willpower and sincerity.

Conclusion: No One Is Exempt

Torah learning is not a privilege for the elite. It is a duty for every Jew—rich or poor, smart or struggling, young or old. We will not be judged against each other—we will be judged by whether we gave our personal 100%.

—

Despite the verse “God is good to all” (Tehillim 145:9), most people fail to recognize the Divine kindness that surrounds them. Our sages explain that there are three primary reasons for this spiritual blindness:

1. Obsession with Material Desires
People are preoccupied with wealth, status, and indulgence. No matter how much they have, they want more. They envy others and view their own blessings as insufficient. This obsession blinds them to the good that God is constantly providing.
“The wicked man in his haughtiness does not seek God…” (Tehillim 10:4)

2. Ingrained Ingratitude
From youth, people grow accustomed to comfort and blessing. Like a child raised in luxury who assumes it’s normal, many never consider how much has been done for them. They take everything for granted, neither recognizing the gifts nor the One who gives them.
“It was I Who accustomed Efraim to being taken up in his arms, and they did not know that I had healed them.” (Hoshea 11:3)

3. Resentment Toward Hardship
When difficulty arises, many see it as injustice rather than growth. They do not appreciate that hardship is often a gift meant to refine, discipline, and strengthen. Instead of drawing closer to God, they blame Him and retreat from Him.
“Happy is the man whom You discipline, O God, and teach from Your Torah.” (Tehillim 94:12)

The Clarifying Role of Torah
Torah is not just a set of laws — it’s a framework for understanding life. It teaches us how to view wealth, suffering, relationships, and purpose. The Mishnah says:
“If you have studied much Torah, do not take credit for yourself, for that is what you were created to do.”

We do not study Torah to earn praise. We study because that is the purpose for which we were created. Torah learning humbles the sincere student and protects the world. According to the Sfas Emes, only one who has studied much Torah realizes how little he understands. Shallow learners become arrogant; deep learners become humble.

Torah provides a middle path between the extremes of indulgence and asceticism. Man is torn between his physical cravings and his intellectual, spiritual yearning. The Torah guides him to live in the world, but not be consumed by it; to enjoy blessings, but never forget their source.

“Incline your ear and heed the words of the wise… for it will be pleasant when you keep them in your belly… that your trust may be in God…” (Mishlei 22:17–21)

Responsibility to Teach Others
If someone has learned Torah, they are obligated to teach it — especially to their fellow Jews. Whether a person is rich or poor, honored or invisible, they must be shown how to connect to Hashem. One must never be ashamed or afraid to approach others with clarity and care.

True Torah is not just about understanding. Torah must be taught. Torah that is not shared, that does not influence others, is not called true Torah.

Final Reflection: Torah Is the Bridge Between Body and Soul
Man is composed of body and soul. Without Torah, he will fall into either extreme: giving in to every desire, or abandoning the world entirely. Both paths are destructive. The Torah is the Divine tool that allows man to live a balanced, purposeful life — guided by truth, uplifted by wisdom, and connected to his Creator.

As the text explains:

“One should not take pride in his accomplishments in the study of Torah; its study and the fulfillment of its directives is his reason for existence… It is for this purpose that he was brought into the world.”

And therefore, one who has truly learned Torah has the responsibility to bring light to others. Especially in the three areas where people fail — desire, ingratitude, and bitterness — the Torah student must teach and guide. That is what it means to be a Jew.

The Torah must be studied. The Torah must be taught. The Torah must be lived.

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