A Lesson from Ibn Ezra on Deuteronomy 11:26
“See, this day I set before you blessing and curse.”
(Deuteronomy 11:26)
On the opening word of this verse, “Re’eh” (See), the Ibn Ezra makes a remarkably concise yet profound comment:
“ראה – לכל אחד ידבר.”
“See”—Moses speaks to each individual.
Although the Torah is being given to the entire Jewish nation, the message is directed to every single person. The covenant is national, but the responsibility is personal. No one can claim that Torah observance belongs only to the community while he remains exempt. Every Jew stands before Hashem individually and is accountable for fulfilling every mitzvah that applies to him.
This teaches that Judaism is not based on the idea that, “As long as the community is religious, I am part of it.” The Torah rejects such thinking. Every individual has his own obligation to observe Shabbos, put on tefillin, study Torah, give tzedakah, speak honestly, and fulfill all the mitzvos relevant to his life. Each person is judged according to his own actions.
Yet the Torah does not stop there. Alongside personal responsibility stands another great principle: ערבות (Areivus)—the mutual responsibility of one Jew for another. Every Jew has an obligation not only to observe the Torah himself but also to care that his fellow Jew has the opportunity to observe it as well. If someone does not know the halachah, he should ask. If another knows, he should teach. Torah is a shared inheritance, and preserving it is a communal obligation.
This explains why Torah scholars dedicate their lives to learning every section of the Torah, including subjects that may never arise in their personal circumstances. They study the laws of the Beis HaMikdash, sacrifices, agricultural commandments, ritual purity, and many other areas that are not currently practiced. Why invest years learning laws that seem impractical?
Because Hashem did not give us only the parts of the Torah that happen to be relevant today. He gave us all of His Torah and expects it to be preserved in its entirety. Every generation must contain those who know the whole Torah so that every question can be answered and every area of Torah remains alive.
This is why the Jewish people have always valued full-time Torah study. It is not merely for the benefit of the scholar himself. He becomes a guardian of the Torah for the entire nation. Even if he never personally applies every law, he preserves Hashem’s wisdom so it will never be forgotten.
The message of this week’s parashah is therefore both simple and demanding. Every Jew, whether living alone or as part of a large community, is obligated to fulfill every mitzvah that applies to him. At the same time, every Jew shares responsibility for the spiritual growth and Torah knowledge of the Jewish people.
The Torah was given to the nation, but it speaks to the individual. Blessing comes when every person accepts that personal responsibility while recognizing that he is also responsible for helping others serve Hashem.
As Ibn Ezra teaches in just four words, “לכל אחד ידבר”—the Torah speaks to each and every one of us.
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Modern
Introduction
“You shall surely open your hand to him, and shall surely lend him sufficient for his need, whatever he lacks.” (Devarim 15:8)
This verse is the foundation of the Torah’s approach to tzedakah. Hashem commands us not merely to give charity, but to ensure that every Jew’s essential needs are met with dignity and compassion. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch explains that the Torah establishes a clear order of responsibility. Tzedakah is not left to emotion or public opinion; it follows a Divine system built upon three pillars.
1. Relatives First
The Gemara (Nedarim 65b) teaches that when a person falls into poverty, he does not immediately become the responsibility of the public. His relatives are obligated to help him first. Family members know his circumstances best and can often provide assistance quickly, privately, and with dignity. The Torah therefore places the first responsibility upon the family before anyone else.
2. The Community Second
If the relatives cannot provide sufficient support, the obligation passes to the community. The community also bears responsibilities that belong to it from the outset, such as ensuring Torah education for children from poor families. Rabbi Hirsch explains that these are communal obligations because they preserve the future of the Jewish people.
3. Individual Benevolence Third
Alongside family and communal responsibility stands the obligation of every individual Jew to perform acts of kindness. Many personal needs cannot be addressed through a public charity fund. Quiet, personal assistance often preserves a person’s dignity far better than public support. These acts of gemilus chasadim complete the Torah’s framework of compassion.
Tzedakah Is a Duty
Rabbi Hirsch emphasizes that tzedakah is not simply an emotional act of generosity. It is an obligation rooted in justice. One who has the ability to help and refuses bears responsibility before Hashem. Our Sages therefore established ma’aser as the minimum standard of giving, reminding us that our possessions are entrusted to us by Hashem and that a portion belongs to those in need.
Conclusion – The Missing Link
The Torah’s three pillars establish not only who is responsible, but also what comes first.
When relatives are unable to provide enough assistance, the responsibility passes to the community. At that point, the community’s highest priority is to ensure that families and individuals have their basic necessities—food, rent, utilities, clothing, medical care, and other essential living expenses.
This does not diminish the importance of Torah learning. Torah remains the foundation of Jewish life, and Torah institutions must continue to flourish. However, before expanding communal programs, free meals, special events, or projects that enhance the community’s image, the Torah requires that no family be left hungry, cold, or unable to pay its basic bills.
This may be one of the missing links in many communities today. Communities often excel at supporting institutions and worthwhile causes, while families quietly struggling with groceries, rent, utility bills, and other necessities remain unnoticed. Rabbi Hirsch reminds us that the first purpose of communal tzedakah is to care for people in need.
Final Reflection: Applying the Three Pillars in the Modern World
The Torah’s three pillars of tzedakah—family, community, and the individual—are timeless. Their principles never change, but every generation must ensure that they are applied according to the Torah’s priorities rather than personal emotion, social pressure, or human agendas.
The Family
Relatives must put aside old arguments, hurt feelings, jealousy, pride, and family history. Too often a wealthy brother, sister, cousin, or uncle refuses to help because of past disagreements. The Torah does not permit personal ego to override family responsibility.
Likewise, a wealthy relative should not excuse himself by saying, “I already gave twenty percent to tzedakah.”
If he is financially comfortable, spending large sums on home renovations, luxury purchases, expensive vacations, or other discretionary projects while close relatives struggle to buy food, pay rent, or keep the lights on, he has misunderstood the Torah’s priorities. The obligation to help needy relatives comes before increasing one’s standard of living. Technical compliance with a percentage of charitable giving does not replace the Torah’s first obligation to one’s own family.
The Community
The community must likewise guard itself against misplaced priorities. Its policies should never be determined solely by wealthy donors, personal agendas, public recognition, or ideological movements, however well intentioned they may be.
Even rabbis and communal leaders must continually measure every decision against the Torah’s priorities. The first responsibility of communal funds is to ensure that struggling families have food on the table, electricity, heat, rent, clothing, and other basic necessities. Only after those needs are met should additional communal projects, public programs, or enhancements receive priority.
The Individual
Every individual must also guard against judging others.
A person should never say, “I worked hard for my success. If he worked as hard as I did, he would not be poor.”
No human being truly knows another person’s opportunities, health, upbringing, abilities, emotional burdens, family circumstances, or the tests that Hashem has given him. We are not appointed to judge why someone became poor. We are commanded to help him.
Supporting Source – Ahavat Chesed, Part II, Chapter 20
The Chafetz Chaim reinforces this principle. Chazal established that a person should generally not give away more than one-fifth of his assets so that he himself does not become dependent upon others. However, the Poskim explain that this limitation was never intended for one who possesses exceptional wealth, nor does it exempt a wealthy person from fulfilling his obligations toward needy relatives.
א. איתא בכתובות נ. התקינו חז”ל בנושא: המבזבז – אל יבזבז יותר מחומש, שמא יצטרך לבריות; אם לא מי שהוא עשיר מופלג. ומשמע בפוסקים, דעליו לא היה התקנה (עיין בבבא קמא ט. בתוספות דבור המתחיל אילימא, ובחכמת אדם הלכות צדקה כלל קמ”ד סעיף י’). וכן לבזבז קודם מותו, שבזה לא שייך שמא יצטרך לבריות, גם כן מותר לבזבז הרבה (ביורה דעה רמ”ט סעיף א’ בהגהת פסק, יכול לחלק קודם מותו כמה שירצה).
ועיין באחרונים שהביאו, יש אומרים, עד שלישיתו או עד מחצה, ולא יותר, כדאמרינן (כתובות ס”ז:) במר עוקבא, שאמר קודם מותו, כשחשבונו בצדקה שעשה בימי חייו, אמר: אורחא רחיקתא וצידה קלה, ופלגיניה לנכסיה לצדקה (הדרך רחוקה והצידה קלה, וחלק את נכסיו לצדקה).
Closing Thought
The Torah’s system is remarkably balanced. The family comes first. The community comes second. The individual comes third. Each pillar has a unique responsibility, but all three must constantly resist human bias.
Families must overcome ego. Communities must overcome misplaced priorities. Individuals must overcome judgment.
Only when these three pillars operate according to the Torah’s order—not according to wealth, prestige, emotion, or public recognition—does tzedakah achieve its true purpose: ensuring that every Jew can live with dignity while building a society founded upon justice, compassion, and responsibility.A Modern Question for Our Generation
Another challenge in our generation deserves careful consideration. Modern tax planning, business structures, and credit card reward programs have created situations that earlier generations never encountered. Some business owners accumulate millions of airline miles, hotel points, cashback rewards, or other personal benefits through business spending. While these arrangements may be completely legal and may reduce taxes or provide legitimate business advantages, they raise an important question regarding tzedakah.
If a person enjoys substantial personal benefits that effectively replace expenses he would otherwise have paid from his own pocket, should those benefits also be considered when determining his charitable obligations? The fact that the IRS may not classify those rewards as taxable income does not automatically determine one’s obligations according to Torah law. Winning under the tax code does not necessarily mean one has fulfilled his responsibilities before Hashem.
This is an area that deserves serious discussion with a knowledgeable Orthodox rav who is well versed in the halachos of tzedakah and modern finance. A Jew’s responsibility is measured not only by what the government considers taxable income, but also by the blessings and financial benefits that Hashem has placed in his hands. Legal tax planning should never become a means of unintentionally reducing one’s obligation to support the poor. When in doubt, one should seek halachic guidance to ensure that financial creativity does not come at the expense of the Torah’s timeless command: “You shall surely open your hand to him.”
This is not presented as a definitive halachic ruling, but as a contemporary question that should be carefully evaluated according to Torah law. -
Zmanim are critical!
One of the profound insights of Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin in Nefesh HaChaim is that the yetzer hara rarely attacks Torah and mitzvos directly. Instead, it disguises itself as excessive spirituality. It whispers to a person that before performing a mitzvah or praying, he must first achieve perfect concentration, complete purity of thought, and lofty kavanah. The person delays, preparing himself for greater holiness, until the proper time for the mitzvah has passed.
At that point, the yetzer hara offers a second deception. It convinces the person that a mitzvah performed after its proper time—but with greater devotion—is more precious than a mitzvah performed on time with ordinary concentration. This is precisely the lie that Rabbi Chaim warns against.
The Torah places enormous importance on time. Every mitzvah has its appointed moment. Tefillah has its zman. Shofar belongs on Rosh Hashanah. Matzah belongs on the night of Pesach. Lulav belongs on Sukkos. Fasting belongs on Yom Kippur. A mitzvah performed outside its appointed time is no longer the mitzvah that the Torah commanded.
Rabbi Chaim illustrates this with a powerful example. Imagine someone sitting at the Pesach Seder, spending the entire night trying to reach a state of perfect holiness before eating the required kezayis of matzah. Dawn arrives before he eats. His lofty intentions have accomplished nothing. By contrast, the Jew who eats the matzah during the prescribed time—even without extraordinary spiritual feelings—has fulfilled the mitzvah exactly as Hashem commanded.
The danger goes much further than missing one mitzvah.
If this way of thinking becomes a habit, a person’s entire sense of Torah begins to unravel. Once he accepts that timing is secondary to his own spiritual feelings, he gradually becomes comfortable performing mitzvos whenever it suits him. Today he delays Shacharis beyond its proper time. Tomorrow he becomes careless about the times of Krias Shema. Eventually, the distinction between one holy day and another begins to blur. He may, figuratively speaking, blow the shofar on Pesach, eat matzah on Rosh Hashanah, fast on the wrong day, or shake the lulav on Yom Kippur. The Torah’s precise structure is slowly replaced by personal preference.
Rabbi Chaim’s warning is that this is not merely an isolated mistake—it is the beginning of abandoning the discipline of Torah itself. When mitzvos are no longer governed by the times and laws established by Hashem and Chazal, but instead by one’s own emotions and convenience, the authority of Torah is gradually weakened. Ultimately, a person can drift farther and farther away until he walks away from religious observance altogether.
This principle applies equally to prayer. The Gemara teaches (Berachos 31a) that prayer must actually be spoken with one’s lips. Thinking the words alone does not fulfill the mitzvah. Likewise, the Gemara (Niddah 23a) teaches that the essential part of every mitzvah is its actual performance. Pure kavanah certainly elevates a mitzvah and increases its spiritual impact, but it can never replace the mitzvah itself.
Rabbi Chaim therefore concludes that while one should always strive for greater kavanah, it must never come at the expense of fulfilling the mitzvah correctly and at its appointed time. Hashem commanded both how a mitzvah is to be performed and when it is to be performed. The highest service of Hashem is to perform the mitzvah faithfully within those boundaries, adding as much devotion as possible—but never sacrificing obedience for imagined perfection.
The lesson is timeless. The yetzer hara often succeeds not by convincing a person to abandon Torah immediately, but by encouraging small delays, small compromises, and small departures from the Torah’s prescribed order. Left unchecked, those small changes can eventually lead a person far from the path altogether. Therefore, true avodas Hashem begins with a simple principle: perform the mitzvah that Hashem commanded, at the time that Hashem commanded it, and then strive to fill it with as much kavanah as possible. -
From Devarim 15:7–8
The Verse 15:7
כִּי־יִהְיֶה בְךָ אֶבְיוֹן מֵאַחַד אַחֶיךָ בְּאַחַד שְׁעָרֶיךָ בְּאַרְצְךָ אֲשֶׁר־יְהוָה אֱלֹקֶיךָ נֹתֵן לָךְ לֹא תְאַמֵּץ אֶת־לְבָבְךָ וְלֹא תִקְפֹּץ אֶת־יָדְךָ מֵאָחִיךָ הָאֶבְיוֹן.
“If there will be among you a needy man, from among one of your brothers, within one of your gates, in the land that God, your God, is giving you, you shall not make your heart unfeeling and close your hand to your brother, the needy man.”
Rabbi Hirsch’s Commentary
1. The words כִּי יִהְיֶה בְךָ אֶבְיוֹן — “If there will be among you a needy man” can be said only to a community, for one cannot say to an individual concerning himself alone, “If there is a needy man among you.”
2. On the other hand, the words לֹא תְאַמֵּץ אֶת לְבָבְךָ — “You shall not harden your heart” and the statements that follow are directed primarily to the individual, as is evident from their wording.
3. Thus, the mitzvah addresses both the community and the individual. The duty of caring for the poor devolves equally upon the community and upon the individual, and it depends upon both.
4. This clarifies an essential principle of the mitzvah of tzedakah. There may be no other mitzvah that requires the continuous and simultaneous activity of the community and the individual in the same manner.
5. The requirements of this mitzvah cannot be met by the individual alone, nor can they be met by the community alone. Each must strive to outdo the other, and both must work side by side if the goal of this mitzvah is to be attained.
6. Signs on houses warning beggars to stay away because the occupants already contribute to public relief funds are not in keeping with the Jewish spirit that emanates from this mitzvah.
7. The words מֵאַחַד אַחֶיךָ — “as a result of one of your brothers being poor” teach that even if there is only one needy brother in your city or country, he is still considered to be among you, within the sphere of your responsibility, and you may not turn away from him.
8. The Halachah derives from the wording of the verse—אחיך, שעריך, ארצך—the order of precedence in receiving assistance.
9. Relatives have precedence over non-relatives.
10. The poor of one’s own city have precedence over the poor of another city.
11. The poor of Eretz Yisrael have precedence over those residing outside the Land.
12. The words לֹא תְאַמֵּץ אֶת לְבָבְךָ literally mean: Do not forcefully impose hardness upon your heart.
13. The implied assumption is that if Jewish hearts are permitted to give free rein to their natural impulses, they will do good. Only cold, calculating and selfish considerations can suppress these impulses.
14. Jewish hands, too, are by nature open to the poor. They can be closed only by unnatural selfishness. Hence the command: וְלֹא תִקְפֹּץ אֶת יָדְךָ — “You shall not close your hand.”
15. Again and again in this chapter, the needy person is referred to as אחיך — “your brother.”
16. Every needy person who stands before you—even if you do not know him—is your brother, a child of your Father in Heaven.
17. When he turns to you, he does so, as it were, with a letter of recommendation from God, Who is the Father of you both.
Part 2: Devarim 15:8
The Verse
כִּי־פָתֹחַ תִּפְתַּח אֶת־יָדְךָ לוֹ וְהַעֲבֵט תַּעֲבִיטֶנּוּ דֵּי מַחְסֹרוֹ אֲשֶׁר יֶחְסַר לוֹ.
“Rather, you shall surely open your hand to him, and you shall surely lend him sufficient for his need, whatever he lacks.”
Rabbi Hirsch’s Commentary
1. All the mitzvos of tzedakah appear here in an intensified form:
פָּתֹחַ תִּפְתַּח — You shall surely open.
נָתוֹן תִּתֵּן — You shall surely give.
הַעֲבֵט תַּעֲבִיטֶנּוּ — You shall surely lend him.
2. From the indefinite form of the infinitive, we derive that the act must be repeated without limit, even a hundred times.
3. The addition of the finite verb extends the obligation in other directions.
4. Thus, the duty applies not only at every repeated opportunity, but also to the poor of another city.
5. The mitzvah devolves not only upon wealthy people who can afford to give large sums, but also upon people of lesser means who can afford to give only small sums.
6. The mitzvah is fulfilled by large and small donors alike, so long as each person gives according to his ability.
7. According to the Sifrei, the repetition also extends to the manner in which the mitzvah is to be performed. Assistance must be adjusted in accordance with the requirements of each particular case.
8. The words וְהַעֲבֵט תַּעֲבִיטֶנּוּ teach that, according to the circumstances, one should support the needy person with a loan.
9. In Shabbos 63a, our Sages state that helping through a loan is a higher form of benevolence than giving charity.
10. A loan helps the borrower continue working to earn his livelihood, and receiving it does not cause him humiliation.
11. Our Sages further teach that if a person of means wishes to help someone earn a livelihood, he should invest money in the other person’s business and thereby acquire a share in it.
12. This is the highest form of benevolence, because the supporter treats the needy person as an equal, enables him to earn his own living and does not hurt the recipient’s feelings.
13. In general, the supreme task of one who engages in good works is to support another person so that he does not fall into poverty.
14. We were already commanded concerning this task in Vayikra 25:35.
15. In addition, the words וְהַעֲבֵט תַּעֲבִיטֶנּוּ teach that if the person who needs help is reluctant to accept a gift, it should be given to him in the form of a loan.
16. With the words דֵּי מַחְסֹרוֹ — “sufficient for his need,” the mitzvah of tzedakah reaches its highest point.
17. We are to provide fully what the person lacks.
18. The Sifrei teaches:
“You are not commanded to make him rich.”
Nevertheless, you are commanded to provide him with what he lacks.
19. The words אֲשֶׁר יֶחְסַר לוֹ — “whatever he lacks” teach that one must take into account the person’s individual circumstances and the habits he formed when his financial condition was better.
20. The mitzvos of פָּתֹחַ תִּפְתַּח, נָתוֹן תִּתֵּן, דֵּי מַחְסֹרוֹ, together with the warnings לֹא תְאַמֵּץ אֶת לְבָבְךָ וְלֹא תִקְפֹּץ אֶת יָדְךָ, have produced all the wonders of Jewish benevolence.
21. Because of these mitzvos and warnings, the dispersed children of the House of Yaakov have become one great charitable society.
22. Its activities are evident throughout the world, and Jewish homes and Jewish hearts have come to the aid of all those in distress and in need of help.
23. The duty to provide in every respect for the needs of the poor has made it necessary that the care of the poor be the concern of every Jewish community.
24. The community has the authority to compel its members to contribute from their material means toward these purposes, as stated in Bava Basra 8b.
25. However, the duty of the Jew does not end with the communal fund.
26. Individual acts of kindness and voluntary relief organizations are also required, for there are endless opportunities to perform charitable acts.
27. The task imposed by the mitzvah of tzedakah is so great and important that only a combination of three factors can accomplish it:
Communal responsibility, charitable organizations and private individuals.
28. Our Sages state in Nedarim 65b that when a person becomes needy, he does not immediately become dependent upon the communal fund.
29. First, his relatives are obligated to come to his aid.
30. Only if their support is insufficient is the community obligated to supplement their efforts.
31. The benevolence of individuals is especially necessary to help those who have become impoverished and are ashamed of their financial distress.
32. Individual assistance is also necessary in order to meet a person’s private and personal needs.
33. There are, however, needs that only the community can provide.
34. Among them is ensuring the Torah education of the children of the poor.
35. This has always been considered so much a communal responsibility that people commonly use the term Talmud Torah to refer specifically to the community’s obligation to provide Torah instruction for poor children.
36. The cultivation of the Jewish spirit of benevolence and the blessing it brings depend especially upon two principles.
37. In Jewish thought, benevolence—גמילות חסדים—is considered צדקה. It is not merely a voluntary gift, but a duty that devolves upon a person according to the principle of justice.
38. One who does not help the poor to the utmost of his ability commits a sin and bears a heavy burden of guilt before God.
39. This approach makes “doing good” independent of feelings of pity, which may change according to the donor’s mood.
40. Instead, tzedakah becomes a measured and obligatory duty.
41. The recipient is thereby spared the crushing humiliation of feeling that he is merely receiving charity.
42. In Judaism, the Jewish poor do not receive “alms”—a gift of mercy. They receive that which justice and duty require others to provide.
43. Our Sages also compared the law of tzedakah to the law of ma’aser ani, as stated in Ta’anis 9a, citing the Sifrei.
44. They established the minimum amount of tzedakah at one tenth.
45. A person must give to tzedakah one tenth of newly acquired capital and one tenth of the annual income produced by that capital.
46. As a result, every Jew regards himself as the administrator of a charitable fund—large or small—that has been entrusted to his care by God and consecrated to God.
47. He therefore rejoices when he finds an opportunity to perform a good deed with those assets, which are no longer entirely his own, but have been entrusted to him for charitable purposes. -
Devarim 12:20
“When Hashem your God enlarges your borders, as He has promised you, and you say, ‘I wish to eat meat,’ because your soul desires to eat meat, you may eat meat according to all the desire of your soul.” (Devarim 12:20)
At first glance, this verse appears to be nothing more than a permission to eat meat. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, however, uncovers a profound philosophy of self-control, gratitude, and the proper role of physical pleasure in Jewish life.
Meat Was Not Meant to Be an Everyday Necessity
Rabbi Hirsch explains that during the forty years in the wilderness, the Jewish people generally could not slaughter kosher domestic animals simply for personal consumption. Animals suitable for offerings first had to be brought as Korban Shelamim, and only afterward could their meat be eaten. Since the entire nation camped near the Mishkan, this requirement was practical.
Upon entering Eretz Yisrael, however, the nation would spread across the land. Traveling to the Beis HaMikdash each time one wished to eat meat would be impossible. Therefore, the Torah now permits ordinary slaughter for food.
This permission was born out of practical necessity—not because unlimited meat consumption became an ideal.
A Permission Introduced with Caution
The Torah’s wording is striking:
“If you say, ‘I want to eat meat,’ because your soul desires meat…”
The Torah could simply have stated that meat is permitted. Instead, it introduces the permission with careful language.
From this wording, Chazal derive (Chullin 84a) that meat is not presented as an ordinary daily food, but rather as something consumed when there is a genuine desire or need.
Rabbi Hirsch notes that the Torah deliberately avoids encouraging indulgence. Permission does not equal recommendation.
Desire Is Not the Enemy
Rabbi Hirsch makes a subtle distinction between two Hebrew expressions:
תאווה (Ta’avah) often describes an uncontrolled craving or lust.
אוה (Avah) generally refers to a legitimate and proper desire.
Thus, the Torah speaks of “אוה נפש”—a natural desire arising from a person’s genuine needs—not an uncontrolled passion that overwhelms judgment.
Judaism does not seek to eliminate physical pleasure. Rather, it teaches that physical pleasures should remain under the direction of the soul and intellect.
The Contrast with Kivrot HaTa’avah
Rabbi Hirsch further explains that this verse stands in deliberate contrast to the episode of Kivrot HaTa’avah (Bamidbar 11), where the Jewish people lusted excessively for meat despite already receiving miraculous sustenance from Heaven.
Their demand was not based on need but on uncontrolled craving. The result was tragedy.
Here, however, the Torah permits eating meat when it is approached properly—with gratitude, moderation, and self-discipline.
The difference is not the meat itself.
The difference is the motivation behind eating it.
A Timeless Lesson
Rabbi Hirsch’s insight extends far beyond food.
Modern society often teaches that every desire should be satisfied immediately. The Torah teaches the opposite. A person first asks whether a desire is justified, beneficial, and consistent with his higher purpose.
Physical enjoyment is not rejected, but it is never allowed to become life’s master.
The Torah permits pleasure while demanding self-mastery.
That balance transforms ordinary physical acts into acts of holiness.
Conclusion
Devarim 12:20 teaches far more than the laws of eating meat. According to Rabbi Hirsch, it establishes a principle that applies to every area of life.
Hashem created the physical world for human enjoyment, but enjoyment must always remain guided by wisdom, gratitude, and discipline. The Jewish ideal is neither asceticism nor indulgence. It is the sanctification of everyday life by ensuring that desires serve the soul, rather than the soul serving its desires.
In this way, even something as ordinary as eating a meal becomes an opportunity to elevate oneself and to serve Hashem. -
1. The Visible World Is Not the Entire Reality
Human beings naturally understand the world through their senses. We see objects, people, planets, stars, animals, buildings and movement. Because almost everything in ordinary experience has mass and occupies space, we instinctively associate reality with physical substance.
If something cannot be seen, touched or weighed, it becomes difficult for the human mind to imagine how it could be real, much less influence the physical world.
Modern physics has shown that this intuition is incomplete.
2. Beneath the World We See
What appears to us as solid matter is only the visible level of a much deeper physical structure.
Modern physics describes reality in terms of particles, quantum fields, energy, momentum and interactions. Many of these cannot be directly perceived by the human senses. We know of them because of the measurable effects they produce.
The universe we see is therefore not a complete description even of the physical reality that physics itself describes.
The visible world is real, but it is not the whole picture.
3. The Higgs Field
One remarkable example is the Higgs field.
According to the Standard Model of particle physics, the Higgs field exists throughout space. Certain elementary particles interact with this field, and through that interaction they acquire rest mass.
The Higgs boson is an excitation of this field, and its discovery provided experimental confirmation of an essential part of this theory.
The important philosophical point is that something we do not see as an ordinary physical object can nevertheless be fundamental to the properties of the matter that we do see.
The Higgs field itself is not a spiritual force, and it should not be confused with one. But it gives a modern person an important lesson: reality can operate through structures that are completely invisible to ordinary human perception.
4. Not Everything That Exists Has Rest Mass — What Does That Mean?
When physicists say that a particle has no rest mass, what does that actually mean in ordinary language?
Mass is one of the properties we normally associate with matter. A rock, a person, a planet, an electron and a proton all have mass.
Very roughly, mass is connected to an object’s inertia, meaning its resistance to having its motion changed. In ordinary life, mass is also connected to what we experience as weight when gravity acts upon an object.
A larger mass generally requires more force to produce the same acceleration.
But physics discovered that not every particle has rest mass.
The clearest example is the photon, the particle associated with light.
A photon has zero rest mass.
In simple terms, there is no situation in which you could bring a photon to rest, place it on a scale and weigh it as you would a stone or an electron. In a vacuum, light always travels at the speed of light.
But this does not mean the photon is nothing.
It does not mean it is imaginary.
It does not mean it has no energy.
And it certainly does not mean it cannot affect matter.
A photon carries energy and momentum. When photons interact with matter, they can transfer that energy and momentum to particles that do have mass.
Sunlight provides an ordinary example. The photons arriving from the Sun have zero rest mass, yet sunlight warms your skin, heats the earth, drives photosynthesis in plants, can generate electricity in solar panels, and can exert a tiny physical pressure on an object.
So we have something remarkable:
A particle with zero rest mass can produce measurable changes in an object that has mass.
Mass, energy, momentum, existence and the ability to interact are not the same thing.
Something does not cease to be physically real simply because its rest mass is zero.
5. Something Without Rest Mass Can Affect Something With Mass
This is perhaps the most important point.
Something need not possess rest mass in order to influence something that does.
Photons have no rest mass, yet they interact with matter. Light can transfer energy to electrons, heat physical objects, initiate chemical reactions, change electronic states within atoms and molecules, and transfer momentum to matter.
The object receiving the influence may possess mass even though the particle transmitting the energy and momentum has zero rest mass.
This means that the statement, “If something has no mass, it cannot affect matter,” is simply not correct.
6. Light Can Literally Push Matter
This is not merely philosophical language.
Electromagnetic radiation can exert pressure.
When photons interact with an object, momentum can be transferred to that object. The effect of ordinary light is usually extremely small, but it is physically measurable.
This principle can even be used in the idea of a solar sail.
A large reflective sail in space can gradually accelerate because radiation from the Sun transfers momentum to it.
The sail has mass.
The photons have zero rest mass.
Yet the massless radiation contributes to the movement of the massive object.
The thing doing the influencing does not itself need rest mass in order to produce a physical effect on something that does.
7. Reality Is Not Made of Billiard Balls
Our everyday intuition comes from objects colliding with other objects.
A hammer strikes a nail. A hand pushes a door. One billiard ball hits another.
From these experiences, we develop the idea that physical influence requires one solid massive object physically pushing another.
At the fundamental level, nature is considerably more subtle.
Modern physics describes interactions through particles and quantum fields. Whether one thing can influence another depends upon the laws governing their interaction, not simply upon whether both possess rest mass.
Mass, energy, momentum and interaction are related concepts, but they are not identical.
The physical world is not simply a collection of hard objects bumping into one another.
8. The Difference Between Invisible and Nonexistent
There is a tremendous difference between saying:
“I cannot see it”
and saying:
“It does not exist.”
Human eyesight detects only a small portion of physical reality.
We cannot directly see electromagnetic fields with our eyes. We cannot see individual photons. We cannot see neutrinos. We cannot see atomic nuclei with ordinary vision. We cannot see the Higgs field.
Yet physics investigates these things through their effects.
Science itself therefore teaches caution before identifying reality with what human senses immediately perceive.
The absence of direct perception is not the same as the absence of existence.
9. The Torah Describes an Unseen Order
This creates an interesting conceptual parallel with Torah.
Torah does not describe creation as consisting exclusively of visible physical objects.
It speaks repeatedly of malachim — מלאכים — usually translated as angels, but literally meaning messengers.
A malach is not simply another humanlike physical creature hiding somewhere where we cannot see it.
It belongs to an order of creation different from ordinary human physical existence and performs the mission assigned to it by Hashem.
The physical world that human beings observe is therefore not, according to Torah, the totality of creation.
There is the visible world, and there are aspects of creation beyond ordinary physical perception.
10. The Important Parallel
The comparison must be made carefully.
A photon is not a malach.
The Higgs field is not the spiritual world.
The Higgs boson is not an angel.
Physics has not discovered malachim.
A particle accelerator cannot prove the spiritual world described by Torah.
The parallel is conceptual.
Modern physics demonstrates that something need not possess ordinary visible material form, or even rest mass, in order to produce consequences in matter.
That makes it much harder to argue philosophically that something without an ordinary material body could never influence the material world.
11. Malachim and Influence
When Torah speaks about malachim carrying out the will of Hashem within creation, the modern person may ask:
How could something that is not an ordinary physical body affect physical events?
But that question assumes that physical influence must always originate from another massive, visible body.
Physics itself tells us that this assumption is false.
Within physics, massless photons can affect massive matter, and invisible fields are fundamental to the behavior of physical systems.
This does not explain how a malach operates. Torah and physics are discussing different categories of reality.
But it does show that the statement, “If it has no physical body like mine, it cannot affect my world,” is not a logical necessity.
It is only a habit of thought based on ordinary human experience.
12. The Visible Effect and the Unseen Cause
A person may observe only the final physical event.
Something moved.
An electron changed state.
Matter heated.
A chemical reaction occurred.
A plant grew.
Light struck a surface.
From ordinary observation, we see the result.
Physics investigates deeper and identifies particles, fields and interactions behind that result.
Torah takes the human being to another level of understanding.
Physical causation itself does not exhaust the meaning or structure of creation.
Behind creation stands the will of Hashem, and Torah describes malachim as messengers carrying out particular missions within that creation.
13. Faith, Free Choice, and the Limits of Human Understanding
Science and Torah ask different questions. Physics asks what particles are present, what fields interact, how energy and momentum are transferred, and what mathematical laws describe an event. Torah asks the deeper questions: Who created this system? What is its purpose? What is man’s obligation within it? How does Hashem govern His creation?
I believe that one of man’s greatest challenges is accepting with simple faith that the world was created by a Being completely beyond the limits of human comprehension. Hashem gave man the extraordinary gift of intelligence and free choice. But that very gift can also become man’s test.
Because man can reason, discover and create, he may begin to believe that everything must be understandable according to his own mind. He may try to rationalize creation until he concludes that the universe somehow created itself, or he may begin to see himself as the creator of his own destiny.
Yet the deeper science goes, the more reason there is for intellectual humility.
The Higgs concept does not prove Torah, but viewed from the right perspective it reminds us how limited human comprehension really is. Human beings once naturally associated physical influence with physical mass: one solid object pushes another solid object. Yet physics revealed a reality far more subtle than that.
A photon has zero rest mass and still carries energy, momentum and information. It can cross enormous distances and then interact with massive matter. It can heat matter, alter electrons and transfer momentum. Something without rest mass can therefore carry a message and produce a physical consequence.
That is a remarkable concept.
It means that even within the physical universe, the visible and massive are not the only things participating in cause and effect. There are invisible fields and massless particles whose existence and influence are known through what they do.
This should at least open the human mind to the possibility that creation contains further hidden layers beyond those presently accessible to us.
Torah takes that concept to another level. Torah teaches that the visible physical universe is not independent and self-governing. Behind it stands the will of Hashem, and Torah describes an unseen order of creation through which His will is carried out.
This also gives us a way of thinking about the tremendous importance Torah places upon speech, words, prayer and thought.
Even physically, a message does not require a massive object to carry it. Human speech ordinarily travels as pressure waves through air, while information can also be carried by electromagnetic radiation whose photons have zero rest mass. Radio, light and other electromagnetic signals can carry words, images and information across enormous distances and ultimately produce physical consequences when received.
Physics therefore demonstrates something important: a carrier does not need rest mass in order to carry information or influence matter.
Torah teaches something further—that words, prayer, intention and spiritual acts can have consequences far beyond the physical sound waves produced by the mouth.
Physics does not prove that a human thought by itself moves matter, nor does it scientifically explain miracles. That distinction must remain clear. But physics also gives us no basis for declaring that every possible level of causation in creation must be limited to what human beings presently understand.
When Torah tells us that Hashem split the sea, we are describing a miracle—the Creator of the laws of nature exercising authority over the nature He created. We should not claim that photons or the Higgs field explain the splitting of the sea.
The lesson is different.
If the Creator established the entire physical system, then He is not imprisoned within that system.
The laws of nature describe the regular behavior of creation. They do not place limitations upon its Creator.
The deeper idea is therefore:
The invisible can influence the visible.
Within physics, invisible fields and massless particles can influence massive matter.
Within Torah, the visible universe exists within a greater creation governed by Hashem, including dimensions beyond ordinary physical perception.
The two statements are not identical. One is a statement of physics and the other a statement of Torah and faith. But the first should make the modern person much more humble before dismissing the second simply because he cannot see or measure it.
Perhaps this is one of the gifts Hashem has allowed mankind to discover through modern physics: not a scientific proof of faith, but a demonstration of how little our ordinary senses tell us about the true depth of reality.
Man’s intelligence is a tremendous gift.
Recognizing the limits of that intelligence may be an even greater wisdom.
14. What Modern Physics Changes
The significance of modern physics is not that science has discovered the spiritual world.
It has not.
Rather, physics has destroyed the simplistic picture that reality consists only of little solid pieces of matter moving around empty space.
The physical universe itself contains a much deeper structure involving fields, particles, energy, momentum and interactions that human senses could never have discovered merely by looking at the world.
The visible world is real, but even within physics it is only the surface of a much deeper description.
15. Mass Is Not the Measure of Reality
Mass is one property of physical systems.
It is not the definition of existence.
Rest mass is also not the definition of the ability to influence something else.
A photon demonstrates this clearly.
It has zero rest mass, yet it carries energy and momentum and can produce measurable changes in massive matter.
Therefore:
No rest mass does not mean no existence.
No visible body does not mean no effect.
Invisible does not mean unreal.
Mass is not a prerequisite for influence upon matter.
16. A Framework for Understanding the Torah Concept
This gives the modern mind a useful framework for approaching the Torah’s description of malachim.
We are not saying that malachim are made of photons.
We are not saying that spiritual forces are quantum fields.
We are not saying that modern science has discovered the spiritual world.
Such claims would go beyond both physics and Torah.
Rather, we are challenging an assumption.
If a person says, “I cannot understand how something without an ordinary material body could influence physical reality,” modern physics itself gives reason for humility.
Even within the physical universe, reality behaves in ways that ordinary human intuition would never have predicted.
Why should our everyday experience of tables, stones, bodies and physical weight establish the boundaries of all possible existence?
17. What We See May Be the Result, Not the Whole Explanation
When we look at the universe, we see stars moving, light traveling, matter interacting, people acting and events unfolding.
We are looking at the observable result.
Physics tells us that beneath that observable world lies an extraordinary physical structure of fields and particles.
Torah teaches that creation has an order beyond the material description as well, and that Hashem governs all of it.
A human being sees the visible event.
He should be careful before assuming that what he sees constitutes the entire reality behind that event.
18. The Greater Lesson
The Higgs field and massless particles do not prove the existence of malachim.
That would be an improper scientific claim.
But they teach something more modest and philosophically powerful.
They teach us how limited ordinary human intuition is.
Something can be invisible yet consequential.
Something can lack rest mass yet carry energy and momentum.
Something without rest mass can influence something possessing mass.
An unseen field can be essential to the properties of visible matter.
Once we understand this within the physical universe itself, the Torah’s description of an unseen dimension of creation should not be rejected merely because our eyes cannot see it or our hands cannot touch it.
The mistake is not believing that the physical world exists.
The mistake is assuming that the physical world we immediately perceive is everything that exists. -
In this week’s parsha, the Torah begins its promise of blessing with a condition:
וְהָיָה עֵקֶב תִּשְׁמְעוּן אֵת הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים הָאֵלֶּה וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם וַעֲשִׂיתֶם אֹתָם
“If you listen to these laws, guard them, and perform them…”
— Devarim 7:12
A few pesukim later, the Torah gives an extraordinary blessing:
בָּרוּךְ תִּהְיֶה מִכָּל הָעַמִּים לֹא־יִהְיֶה בְךָ עָקָר וַעֲקָרָה וּבִבְהֶמְתֶּךָ
“You shall be blessed above all the nations; there shall not be among you a barren man or woman, nor among your livestock.”
— Devarim 7:14
The Ohr HaChaim explains ברוך תהיה מכל העמים in two ways. It can mean that no nation will surpass Klal Yisrael in blessing and stature. But it can also mean that the Jewish people will possess a special blessing beyond what is ordinarily found among the nations.
What is that blessing?
לא יהיה בך עקר ועקרה — there will not be among you a man or woman who is inherently unable to have children.
But what if illness later creates an obstacle to having children? The very next pasuk says:
וְהֵסִיר ה׳ מִמְּךָ כָּל חֹלִי
“Hashem will remove from you all sickness.”
— Devarim 7:15
According to the Ohr HaChaim, these pesukim form one continuous blessing. There will be no inherent inability to have children, and even when sickness creates such an obstacle, Hashem can remove the sickness. The blessing becomes visible, demonstrating that Klal Yisrael is blessed by Hashem.
But why is the Torah so concerned with removing anything that might prevent the birth of another generation? Why is this particular blessing given such prominence?
The Next Link in the Chain
Perhaps the answer begins with עקב תשמעון.
The blessing of having a next generation is connected to accepting responsibility for that next generation.
Judaism does not continue automatically.
From Har Sinai until today, Torah has survived because each generation transmitted it to the next. Parents received a way of life from their parents and teachers, lived it themselves, and then passed it to their children.
A Jewish child does not become committed to Torah simply by being born Jewish and being left alone. Children must be taught what Torah is, what mitzvos are, how a Jewish home functions, and what generations before them lived and sacrificed for.
Ultimately, every child has free will and will make his or her own decisions. But there must first be something meaningful from which to choose.
Torah must be taught. Torah must be demonstrated. Torah must be lived.
Father to son. Mother to daughter. Teacher to student. Generation to generation.
That is the chain connecting us to Har Sinai.
Seen this way, לא יהיה בך עקר ועקרה is more than a blessing of physical fertility. It is a blessing of continuity. If we accept the responsibility to build the next link, Hashem gives us the blessing and opportunity to have a next generation to whom that inheritance can be transmitted.
First, Build the Home
Before there can be a next generation, there must be a home in which that generation can be raised.
From the husband’s perspective, marriage should not begin with the question:
What am I going to receive?
It should begin with:
What am I prepared to give?
What responsibility am I prepared to carry? What kind of husband will I be? What kind of father? What kind of Jewish home am I prepared to build?
Marriage is not simply companionship. It creates the home through which the chain continues.
The Secret of the Home’s Blessing
The Gemara reveals a remarkable principle about where the blessing of a Jewish home comes from:
אמר רבי חלבו: לעולם יהא אדם זהיר בכבוד אשתו, שאין ברכה מצויה בתוך ביתו של אדם אלא בשביל אשתו.
“Rabbi Chelbo said: A person should always be careful with the honor of his wife, because blessing is found in a person’s home only because of his wife.”
The Gemara then concludes with Rava’s instruction:
אוקירו לנשייכו כי היכי דתתעתרו
“Honor your wives so that you may become wealthy.”
— Bava Metzia 59a
This is a powerful statement. The wife is not merely another person living in the house. Chazal identify her as the one through whom blessing comes into the home.
Men and women were not given identical roles and obligations. A man carries the formal obligation of Talmud Torah in a way that a woman does not. This does not make the woman spiritually secondary. Her role in building the home and forming the next generation is itself central to Jewish continuity.
There is a famous saying from an earlier thinker:
“Whatever you give a woman, she will make greater. Give her the seed of life, and she gives you a child. Give her a house, and she gives you a home. Give her groceries, and she gives you a meal. Give her a smile, and she gives you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her.”
The thought beautifully illustrates the words of the Gemara. A woman has an extraordinary capacity to take what enters the home, develop it, enlarge it, and transform it.
But that places a tremendous responsibility upon the husband:
What are you giving her to multiply?
If he brings respect, generosity, stability, Torah, kindness, responsibility, and love into the marriage, those become the materials from which a Jewish home and another generation can be built.
From the husband’s perspective, therefore, his role should not primarily be to take. He must work, give, honor, support, and build.
The Greatest Blessing
The sequence of the pesukim can now be understood on a deeper level:
עקב תשמעון — accept the responsibility to live the Torah.
ברוך תהיה — Hashem gives His blessing.
לא יהיה בך עקר ועקרה — Hashem gives the possibility of another generation.
והסיר ה׳ ממך כל חולי — even obstacles that might prevent that continuity can be removed.
But having children is not the completion of the blessing. It is the beginning of the responsibility.
The goal is to take the Torah way of life received from previous generations and place it into the hands of the next.
A person can accumulate wealth, property, honor, and accomplishments during his lifetime. Eventually they are all left behind. But when a husband and wife build a Jewish home and transmit Torah to their children, they create another link in a chain stretching back thousands of years.
From Har Sinai, to our parents, to us, to our children, and onward.
That may be the deeper meaning of ברוך תהיה.
The blessing is not simply that we will have children.
The blessing is that there will be someone to receive what we were given — and that the chain will continue. -
There is a fascinating paradox between wealth and poverty.
When a poor person is worried, unhappy, or depressed, the reason can often be understood. He may struggle to pay his bills, support his family, afford proper housing, obtain what he needs, or simply live without constantly calculating every expense. His lack is visible.
But when a wealthy person is unhappy, a deeper question arises:
What exactly is he missing?
He may have a beautiful home, financial security, access to excellent healthcare, the ability to travel, and enough money to purchase almost anything he reasonably wants. Yet wealth does not guarantee peace of mind. In fact, wealth can create an entirely different form of anxiety.
A poor person who is genuinely satisfied with his portion may possess something that the wealthy person is still searching for. When he receives something additional, he experiences it as a gain and a blessing. His happiness is not necessarily determined by the size of his bank account.
The wealthy person, however, often develops an entirely different set of expectations.( Two Types of Wealth
There are two very different experiences of wealth.
Generational wealth grows up with security already underneath it. The person may work hard and succeed, but he never experienced building financial security from nothing. His concern is usually preserving and managing what already exists.
Self-made wealth is different. Someone who grew up with little may initially enjoy every luxury and freedom money brings. But the same drive that lifted him from poverty can become a permanent chase—more investments, more growth, more returns.
Eventually, the wealth that was supposed to create security can create anxiety. Losses, poor returns, and missed opportunities disturb his peace even when he already has far more than he needs.
He escaped the anxiety of poverty only to acquire the anxiety of wealth.
Learning how to make money is one skill. Learning when enough is enough may be the harder one.)
Once substantial wealth exists, the money is expected to perform. Investments should produce returns. Businesses should grow. Properties should appreciate. Capital should not remain idle, and certainly should not decline.
A poor person may receive an unexpected $1,000 and feel richer than he was yesterday. A person worth hundreds of millions of dollars can lose several million—or simply receive a much smaller return than expected—and experience tremendous anxiety.
Objectively, he remains enormously wealthy.
Subjectively, he sees a minus.
And sometimes the anxiety becomes greater precisely because the numbers are greater. If hundreds of millions are being spent down without sufficient returns, the person may know intellectually that he has more than enough for his lifetime, yet emotionally he sees his wealth moving in the wrong direction.
Wealth therefore introduces the fear of losing wealth.
Capital also brings responsibility and constant decisions. Where should the money be invested? How much risk should be taken? Who can be trusted? What happens if the market falls? What if the business fails? What if an investment expected to return 10% produces nothing?
The poor person may worry about not having enough.
The wealthy person may worry about not keeping enough, not earning enough, or not growing enough.
This is why wealth and peace of mind are two entirely different possessions.
Chazal say in Pirkei Avos 4:1:
איזהו עשיר? השמח בחלקו
“Who is wealthy? One who is happy with his portion.”
The definition is remarkable. Chazal do not define wealth by how large the portion is. They define it by the person’s relationship with his portion.
If the definition of “enough” rises every time wealth rises, a person can become richer every year without ever arriving at wealth.
A poor person who possesses little but can sincerely say, “What Hashem has given me is enough,” has reached something extraordinary.
A wealthy person who possesses enormous wealth but continually thinks, “I cannot lose this, and what I have must continue producing more,” may still be running.
Bitachon Is the Key
The answer to both sides of this paradox is bitachon.
The poor person requires bitachon because he does not know where tomorrow’s needs will come from.
The wealthy person requires bitachon because wealth gives him the illusion that he already knows where tomorrow’s needs will come from.
Money provides choices. It can provide better housing, healthcare, travel, investments and independence. When the weather is uncomfortable, one can travel elsewhere. When one service is inadequate, another can be purchased. Money creates tremendous ability to manipulate circumstances.
That ability can quietly become a person’s security.
Then the possibility of losing wealth becomes frightening because he is not merely afraid of losing dollars. He is afraid of losing control.
Bitachon changes the entire relationship with money.
The wealthy person begins to understand: Hashem gave me this wealth. Hashem determines whether my investments succeed. Hashem determines whether markets rise or fall. My responsibility is to act responsibly, but my security cannot ultimately come from the number appearing on a financial statement.
And this leads to another great Torah perspective on wealth: tzedakah.
One of the greatest pleasures available to a wealthy Jew should be the ability to give away substantial portions of his wealth willingly and joyfully, while responsibly retaining what he needs so that he does not unnecessarily make himself dependent upon others.
Instead of seeing every dollar leaving his possession as a loss, he can experience giving as one of the purposes for which the wealth was entrusted to him.
The money is not merely accumulated.
It passes through his hands.
There are Torah priorities in giving. A person has obligations toward those closest to him, including relatives and those within his own community, and there is an order of precedence within tzedakah. Supporting poor Jews and supporting Torah and those who dedicate themselves to Torah occupy precious places within the world of Jewish giving.
The point is not simply to dispose of money. Torah requires responsibility and judgment.
The point is to change the relationship with wealth.
A person can possess enormous wealth without believing that every dollar must remain under his control forever. He can enjoy what Hashem has given him while understanding that part of the purpose of abundance is the ability to support others.
That may be one of the greatest tests of wealth.
Can I earn without becoming obsessed with the return?
Can I possess without living in fear of losing?
Can I enjoy without constantly needing more?
Can I give substantial amounts away and actually experience greater pleasure from the giving than from another acquisition?
The ultimate freedom of wealth is not having so much money that one never needs another human being.
The ultimate freedom is when money no longer owns the person who owns the money.
Then wealth becomes a tool rather than an identity.
The poor person needs bitachon to live without knowing exactly where tomorrow’s money will come from. The wealthy person needs bitachon to recognize that despite all his assets, investments and financial planning, tomorrow was never truly under his control either.
Both ultimately stand before the same Hashem.
איזהו עשיר? השמח בחלקו.
Who is truly wealthy?
The one who can enjoy what Hashem has given him without being tormented by what he does not have, and without living in fear that what he has will disappear.
And perhaps an even higher expression of wealth is the ability to look at abundance and understand:
What I responsibly need, I retain. What Hashem has given me beyond my needs brings with it obligations and opportunities. I am not necessarily the final destination of the wealth that Hashem placed in my hands.
That is when wealth, tzedakah, and bitachon come together.
A person can have little and live richly.
A person can have hundreds of millions and live with fear.
The difference is not merely the amount of money.
The difference is what he believes his money is, where he believes it came from, and Who he believes will provide for him tomorrow.The same principle applies to beauty, intelligence, talent, and every other gift.
A person may be handsome or beautiful yet internally feel unattractive and inadequate. Another person, with fewer natural advantages, may feel confident, grateful, and satisfied. In that sense, the first person possesses the gift but never truly enjoys it.
The purpose of Hashem’s gifts is not merely to have them, but to recognize them, thank Hashem for them, enjoy them properly, and use them for others.
The more a person has—wealth, beauty, intelligence, talent, influence—the more he /she must learn to rejoices in that portion.
Not only his money, but his entire portion in life. -
The essence of avelus is not simply sadness over something that happened in the past. True mourning begins when a person realizes that something precious is missing from his life right now.
A person cannot genuinely cry over a loss that he does not feel. Tears come only when there is a real sense of chisaron—an awareness that life is incomplete and that something essential is absent.
This is the purpose of mourning for the Beis HaMikdash.
We have lived in exile for so long that we have become accustomed to it. Life continues. People work, build homes, raise families, celebrate simchos, and enjoy many blessings. It can therefore appear that everything is basically fine.
But everything is not fine.
The Torah teaches us that the world without the Beis HaMikdash is not a complete world. The Shechinah is concealed, prophecy is absent, Klal Yisrael is scattered, and the knowledge of Hashem is not openly revealed. We have become so familiar with this condition that we no longer recognize it as abnormal.
That itself is part of the exile.
The Meaning of Avelus
Avelus means feeling that something is missing. It is not merely remembering that something once existed. It is understanding that its absence continues to affect us.
When a great person passes away, people mourn because the world has lost something. His Torah, wisdom, kindness, leadership, and good deeds are no longer present in the same way. The world is now a different world.
The mourner recognizes that the deceased was not merely one individual among many. He brought something unique into creation, and now that contribution is missing.
That recognition produces tears.
Without recognizing the loss, there can be no real mourning. A person may attend a funeral, sit quietly, or repeat the appropriate words, but genuine tears come only when he understands that the world has become poorer.
The same principle applies to the Beis HaMikdash.
The Beis HaMikdash was not merely a magnificent building in Yerushalayim. It was the center of the relationship between Hashem and Klal Yisrael. It was the place where the Shechinah was openly revealed, where korbanos brought atonement, where the Jewish people gathered together, and where the purpose of life became clearer.
Its destruction was therefore not only the destruction of a building. It was the concealment of an entire spiritual reality.
The Maharal explains that the Beis HaMikdash represented the spiritual center and unity of creation. Its absence reflects a world that has lost its proper order and completeness.
Rabbi Hirsch teaches that the Mikdash demonstrated how every part of human life could be brought into the service of Hashem. Family, wealth, food, work, society, and national life were all meant to be elevated. Without the Mikdash, that ideal remains hidden and fragmented.
The Kli Yakar frequently describes exile as a condition in which Hashem’s Presence is concealed and the Jewish people must search for Him through Torah, faith, and mitzvos. The nation continues to exist, but without the open clarity that once illuminated Jewish life.
Connecting Personal Pain to the Churban
One of the most powerful ideas of Tishah B’Av is that our personal suffering is connected to the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash.
Throughout the year, when a person faces illness, financial pressure, loneliness, family conflict, fear, or disappointment, he usually focuses on the immediate problem. That is natural. The difficulty is directly in front of him.
On Tishah B’Av, however, Chazal ask us to look beyond the individual problem and consider its deeper source.
Why is the world filled with so much confusion and suffering? Why do families experience tragedy? Why are righteous people taken away? Why do people struggle spiritually, emotionally, and physically?
The answer is that we are living in a world without the open presence of the Shechinah.
The Churban is not simply one tragedy among many. It is the spiritual source of the broken condition in which all other tragedies occur.
Rabban Gamliel once heard a poor woman crying over the loss of her husband and her two sons. He cried together with her. He did not see her suffering only as an isolated personal tragedy. He recognized that her pain reflected the deeper condition of Klal Yisrael in exile.
Why are Jewish people suffering in this way?
Because the Beis HaMikdash is no longer standing.
This does not minimize the individual’s suffering. On the contrary, it gives it a deeper meaning. Her tears were real tears over her husband and children, but Rabban Gamliel understood that behind her personal loss stood the larger loss of the entire Jewish people.
Every broken heart is another sign that the world is not yet complete.
The Purpose of Tishah B’Av
Normally, when people face difficulties, they try to remain positive. They seek encouragement, distraction, or practical solutions. That is usually healthy and necessary.
Tishah B’Av is different.
For one day, we do not immediately run away from the pain. We allow ourselves to recognize it. We think about what is wrong in our lives and in the world. But we do not stop with the individual problems. We connect them to their common source—the Churban Beis HaMikdash.
A person understands his own difficulties very well. They are immediate and personal. If he can take those feelings and connect them to the loss of the Beis HaMikdash, he may begin to understand what the Churban truly means.
He begins to realize that the Beis HaMikdash was not something belonging only to ancient history. Its absence affects him today.
His life could be better.
His family could experience greater peace.
His relationship with Hashem could be clearer.
The Jewish people could be more united.
The world could contain less cruelty, confusion, illness, jealousy, war, and suffering.
Something enormous is missing.
That recognition is the beginning of true avelus.
Mourning Is Recognition
The Gemara in Ta’anis 30b states:
“Whoever mourns for Yerushalayim will merit to see her joy.”
Why does the ability to mourn lead to redemption?
Because mourning proves that a person understands the loss. He does not accept exile as the final and normal condition of Jewish life. He recognizes that the present world is incomplete and longs for what should be.
A person who does not feel that anything is missing has little reason to desire redemption. He may say that he wants Mashiach, but his life already feels complete. There is no deep longing because there is no deep sense of loss.
The mourner is different.
He looks at the world and says: This cannot be the final form of creation. The world was meant to be holier, clearer, more peaceful, and more openly connected to Hashem.
That is why his tears are precious.
They are not merely tears over the past. They are testimony that he still believes in the future.
The World That Could Be
If we truly understood what the world would be like with the Beis HaMikdash, mourning would come naturally.
There would be a clearer awareness of Hashem.
Torah would be understood with greater depth.
Klal Yisrael would possess greater unity.
Human life would have greater direction.
Much of the confusion, loneliness, suffering, and spiritual darkness that now fills the world would be removed.
We often say that life is good, and indeed Hashem gives us many blessings. But even a blessed life in exile remains incomplete.
A person may possess health, family, wealth, and comfort and still be missing the central spiritual reality for which creation was formed.
The purpose of Tishah B’Av is to feel that absence.
Not to become permanently depressed, but to awaken.
Not to reject the blessings we have, but to recognize what we still lack.
Not merely to cry over a destroyed building, but to mourn a world that has not yet reached its proper state.
From Mourning to Joy
When the Beis HaMikdash is rebuilt, the word avelus will no longer describe our relationship to Yerushalayim. What was missing will have returned.
The Shechinah will be openly revealed.
The Jewish people will be gathered.
Confusion will give way to clarity.
Distance will give way to closeness.
Sorrow will give way to joy.
Then we will understand how much was missing during the long years of exile. We will look back and see that every sincere tear was an expression of faith—that the broken world was not permanent and that Hashem’s promise of redemption remained alive.
The person who mourns for Yerushalayim is not trapped in the past. He is the one who understands the future.
He feels the loss because he knows what the world could be.
And because he truly feels what is missing, he will merit to see it restored.
יהי רצון שנזכה במהרה לקיום דברי חז״ל:
כל המתאבל על ירושלים זוכה ורואה בשמחתה.
May we merit to witness the rebuilding of Yerushalayim and the Beis HaMikdash, במהרה בימינו, אמן. -
When we pray in Shemoneh Esrei, “V’liYerushalayim Ircha b’rachamim tashuv, v’tishkon b’sochah… u’vnei osah b’karov b’yameinu,” the order appears puzzling. We first ask Hashem to return and dwell in Jerusalem, and only afterward ask Him to rebuild the city. Logically, one first builds a house and then enters it. Why, then, do we ask Hashem to dwell there before the rebuilding?
The Ramban, in his introduction to Sefer Shemos, provides the answer. He explains that the redemption from Egypt was not completed when Bnei Yisrael left slavery, nor even when they entered Eretz Yisrael. The true Geulah was achieved only when the Mishkan was built and the Shechinah rested among the Jewish people. The defining feature of redemption is not physical freedom or national independence, but the revelation of Hashem’s Presence among His people.
This understanding explains our prayers. Before we ask for the physical rebuilding of Jerusalem, we first ask for the return of the Shechinah. A city of stone without holiness is incomplete. Only after Hashem’s Presence returns do we ask for the eternal physical structure of Yerushalayim. Spiritual restoration must come before physical restoration.
This principle also explains the famous Gemara in Makkos 24b. When Rabbi Akiva and the other sages saw a fox emerging from the site of the Kodesh HaKodashim, the sages cried while Rabbi Akiva laughed. They saw only destruction, but Rabbi Akiva saw the beginning of redemption. Once the prophecy of destruction had been fulfilled, he knew with certainty that the prophecies of rebuilding and redemption would also come to pass.
The book illustrates this with a powerful mashal. Most people who see an empty, weed-filled lot see only neglect and ruin. A builder, however, sees unlimited potential. Where others see emptiness, he sees the foundation of a future community. Rabbi Akiva viewed the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash in the same way. The spiritual void created by the Churban was an opportunity for Klal Yisrael to fill the world with more Torah, mitzvos, and hashra’as haShechinah.
The lesson is timeless. The final Geulah will not begin merely with buildings, political independence, or physical prosperity. It begins by bringing the Shechinah into our homes, our communities, and our lives. Every act of Torah, every mitzvah, and every increase in holiness prepares the world for Hashem’s Presence. When the Shechinah returns to dwell among us, the rebuilding of Yerushalayim and the eternal Beis HaMikdash will naturally follow.
