Small tidbits and Sparks of wisdom

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.

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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.”

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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%.

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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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✉️ Letter to Parents

Dear Parents,

We are pleased to announce a new educational initiative at our school called the Derech Eretz & Daas program.

This unique program is designed specifically for 5th-grade boys (ages 10–12) and will provide them with the critical tools needed to navigate today’s complex world in a manner that aligns with Torah values and proper middos.

The program works in small group settings (3–4 boys) and includes periodic 15–20 minute discussions with a trained adult mentor. These sessions will be conducted during the school day and will focus on real-life situations, helping our boys develop internal clarity about:

Right and wrong

What is acceptable vs. inappropriate

Social boundaries

Respectful public behavior—at home, in school, and in non-Jewish environments

Topics include:

Derech eretz at home

Peer pressure and friendships

Public behavior and Kiddush Hashem

Technology and curiosity

Tznius and modesty for boys

Standing strong as a Torah Jew in the wider world

We believe this program will deeply enrich your son’s development, strengthen his internal compass, and empower him to make wise and proud decisions throughout his life.

We look forward to your support and partnership.

With blessing,
The Administration

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 Proposal to Principals and School Owners

To School Leadership,

We propose introducing a structured values-based mentorship program for 5th-grade boys aimed at helping them internalize core Torah values and social boundaries with emotional maturity and spiritual clarity.

The Derech Eretz & Daas program operates on a small group discussion model, with each session lasting 15–20 minutes, conducted once weekly. Over the course of the year, every student will participate in 3–4 sessions.

 Program Goals:

Create a space for guided Torah-based dialogue on real-world challenges

Strengthen clarity on derech eretz, respect, and personal boundaries

Build courage to say “no” to peer pressure

Train them to represent Yiddishkeit proudly and responsibly in the public sphere

Each session is led by a mature, Torah-observant mentor trained in child communication and moral development. The mentor uses real-life scenarios to guide boys toward developing self-awareness, inner strength, and communal responsibility.

The program is designed to be non-disruptive to the school schedule and can be rotated seamlessly during morning hours. We will coordinate all logistics and mentor training in advance.

We would be honored to pilot this program at your school and show how such mentoring can shape the next generation of strong, ethical, Torah-guided young men.

Respectfully,
Program Director – Derech Eretz & Daas

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Would you like an embedded contact form, sign-up form for parents, or a program interest form for schools added as well?

Chapter 1: Tzaddikim Value Their Money More Than Their Body?

In Gemara Chullin 91a, the sages comment on Yaakov Avinu’s decision to cross the Yabbok River alone at night to retrieve some forgotten small jugs:

> “מכאן לצדיקים שחביב עליהם ממונם יותר מגופם”
From here we learn that the possessions of the righteous are more precious to them than their own bodies.

At first glance, this sounds jarring. Could the righteous truly care more about money than life or health?

The answer is absolutely not. No tzaddik would risk his life for wealth. The Torah teaches clearly: “ונשמרתם מאד לנפשותיכם” — one must guard his life. Throughout Jewish history, righteous people fled cities and fortunes to save their families, abandoning all rather than perish for possessions.

So what does this Gemara mean?

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Chapter 2: The Deeper Meaning – Gift vs. Earned

The answer lies in understanding the difference between your body and your possessions:

Your body was given to you without your input. You didn’t choose to be born. You didn’t choose your form or faculties. That was a gift — from Hashem through your parents.

But your money and property, though ultimately decreed by Hashem, come through your actions, your choices, your journey.

The tzaddik cherishes his possessions not because they are expensive, but because they are the result of his moral and spiritual labor. Whether it’s a large estate or a small jar — it reflects his path, his merits, his interaction with Divine providence.

That’s why even a forgotten jar matters. It’s not materialism. It’s accountability. A righteous person doesn’t waste because he sees everything as entrusted by Hashem and earned through life’s decisions.

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Chapter 3: Yaakov’s Small Jugs and Spiritual Completeness

Yaakov, despite his great wealth, turns back for some forgotten “פכים קטנים” — small vessels. Why?

Because they too were part of his Divine lot. Hashem didn’t give them for no reason. Whether small or large, they were tools for holiness.

Later, when facing Esav, Yaakov gives lavish gifts and says:

> “יֶשׁ לִי כֹּל” – “I have everything.”

Esav replies:

> “יֶשׁ לִי רָב” – “I have a lot.”

Two men. Two fortunes. Two philosophies.

Esav’s “רב” means: “I have much, but I could have more.” He’s always missing something. He is a chaser, never full.

Yaakov’s “כל” means: “I have exactly what I need.” He feels complete. Whole. Blessed with his portion.

Yaakov’s return for the small jugs wasn’t a money grab — it was a spiritual declaration:

> “Whatever Hashem has given me — large or small — is part of my mission. Nothing is random. Nothing is waste.”

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Chapter 4: What if Esav Took Everything?

Yaakov understood that if Esav were to rob him of everything, he’d still be whole. Why?
Because his possessions are not his identity — they are tools, temporarily entrusted by Hashem.

He doesn’t say “יש לי כל” because he’s rich.
He says it because he is spiritually complete.

Whether he has only small jars or overflowing wealth, he views it all as tailored by Hashem — and thus “כל”, perfect.

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Chapter 5: The Chaser Mindset – When “A Lot” is Never Enough

Esav represents the mindset of lack — even with wealth.

> A man with $5 billion sits in a room with someone worth $35 billion — and he feels poor.

This is not about money. It’s about comparison, ego, and spiritual emptiness.

That’s why Esav says “רב” — he has a lot, but he’s never finished. He doesn’t know how to feel satisfied.

In contrast, Yaakov teaches: if you see your possessions as gifts and missions from Hashem, you feel whole, not hungry.

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Chapter 6: A Final Word — What Are Your Small Jars?

We all have our “small jars” — little things we overlook:

A minor opportunity to do good.

A habit we keep, even if others mock it.

A small item earned honestly and preserved faithfully.

The tzaddik doesn’t value money — he values meaning. He doesn’t worship wealth — he respects the Divine trust placed in what he receives.

That is the true meaning of:

> “חביב עליהם ממונם יותר מגופם”
“Their money is more precious to them than their body” —
Because it reflects their input, their effort, their spiritual path.

And so, whether rich or poor, the tzaddik always says:

> “יֶשׁ לִי כֹּל” — I have everything.
Because I have what Hashem meant for me. And that is enough.

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On the third day after his bris milah, in the heat of the desert sun, Avraham Avinu sat at the entrance of his tent—not for rest, but for mission.

> “And Hashem appeared to him in the plains of Mamrei as he sat at the entrance of the tent in the heat of the day.” (Bereishis 18:1)

Chazal tell us that Hashem made the sun unusually strong that day to prevent guests from bothering him. But Avraham was not looking for rest—he was looking to give. Even while recovering from circumcision and receiving Divine revelation, he was restless without the opportunity to do chesed.

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The Message of the Bris: You Come Last

When Hashem commanded, “His’halech lefanai veh’yei tamim” — “Walk before Me and be complete” — Avraham understood that becoming Hashem’s servant meant imitating Him. Just as Hashem gives without taking, a Jew must give before taking. A true eved Hashem puts others before himself, not out of weakness, but out of spiritual clarity.

This wasn’t false humility—it was God-like behavior. Hashem provides for all before “thinking” of Himself. So should His servant.

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Three Guests, Three Cows, One Tongue Each

When Avraham saw three wayfarers approaching—angels in disguise—he ran toward them, bowed, and begged to serve them.

He didn’t serve leftovers. He didn’t send Eliezer with a tray. He personally slaughtered three cows to serve each guest the delicacy of tongue with mustard, a lavish and costly act. Because to Avraham, wealth is not for comfort—it’s for kindness.

> Real giving means not giving what’s convenient, but what’s honorable.

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What Did Avraham Understand?

He understood the difference between what people want and what they need. True chesed doesn’t spoil—it uplifts. It doesn’t flatter—it fulfills.

He saw wealth as a tool, not a goal.

If you’re blessed, it’s because others need blessing through you.

If you’re strong, it’s because someone needs lifting.

If you’re rich, it’s because your money was never truly yours—it was a deposit held in trust for the poor.

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The Jewish Way with Money

Avraham’s behavior wasn’t extreme—it was foundational. It is the model of Torah economics:

Give the best, not what’s left.

Give with urgency, not delay.

Give with wisdom, not indulgence.

The Torah never tells us to chase poverty. But it warns us: comfort misused becomes spiritual poison. True Jewish wealth is directed outward—not inward.

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You Come First

Avraham Avinu’s tent was open on all four sides. No locked gates, no conditions. Everyone who came hungry, tired, or lost was met with full hospitality.

> He didn’t wait for them to ask—he ran to greet them.

This wasn’t just generosity. It was a declaration of mission:

> “You come first. I come last.”

Because the servant of Hashem doesn’t live for himself. He lives for the world.

And when a man lives like that, Hashem says:

> “Shall I hide from Avraham what I am about to do?” (Bereishis 18:17)
For a man who gives everything deserves to understand everything.

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