Small tidbits and Sparks of wisdom

One of the strangest teachings in Chazal comes from the Midrash on Yam Suf: even Datan and Aviram, those consistent rebels against Moshe and Hashem, merited the sea to split for them. The Torah records that they did not leave Egypt with the nation at first, and yet when they finally came to the sea, it parted for the two of them just as it had for all of Klal Yisrael.

This is puzzling. Why should men who fought Moshe from Egypt to the wilderness, who stirred up rebellion and refused to listen, deserve such a miracle? The answer is that they did not deserve it at all. Rather, they were carried by the collective merit of Israel. The miracle was not theirs; it belonged to the tzaddikim and the nation as a whole. They were simply swept along because Hashem redeems His people together.

The Principle of Collective Merit

The splitting of the sea teaches a profound lesson: Hashem’s providence attaches not only to individuals but to the collective of Israel. Even the antagonists are preserved—not out of their own righteousness, but so that the nation as a whole remains whole. This is why Moshe, in Parashas Eikev, recalls Datan and Aviram but not Korach: the nation saw with their own eyes how men who once walked through the parted waters, sharing in the miracle, were later swallowed by the earth for their insolence. Their survival at the sea was not a sign of personal merit but of Hashem’s covenant with all of Israel.

A Modern Parallel: Israel After the Shoah

History has repeated itself in our own times. After the destruction of European Jewry, waves of Jews came to Eretz Yisrael. Among them were gedolei Torah, tzaddikim, and simple Jews devoted to mitzvos. Alongside them came secular Zionists, socialists, and even anti-religious leaders who scorned Torah. Yet when the State of Israel was declared in 1948 and surrounded by enemies, miracles of survival occurred. Time and again—in 1948, 1967, 1973, and even in our day—the nation has been preserved against impossible odds.

Why? Not because of political brilliance or military genius alone. Those are only the garments. The true reason is the same as at Yam Suf: the merit of Torah and of the righteous within Israel sustains everyone together. Just as Datan and Aviram walked through the sea because they were attached to the people of Hashem, so too today the irreligious and even the antagonists of Torah are carried by the merit of the tzaddikim in their midst.

The Contrast

Here lies the eternal contrast. The tzaddikim live in open connection to Hashem; they are the reason the sea splits. The reshaim live off that merit temporarily, but their share is only incidental, borrowed from the collective. They receive miracles not because they deserve them, but because they are passengers in the same boat. Eventually, like Datan and Aviram, their own rebellion catches up with them. But in the meantime, Hashem protects the entire people as one body, for the sake of the covenant and the righteous within it.

Conclusion

The story of Datan and Aviram at Yam Suf is not a curious historical footnote; it is a blueprint for Jewish history. The existence of the State of Israel and the miracles of its wars are not testimony to the merit of secular ideologies but to the eternal covenant Hashem has with His people and the sustaining power of Torah. Just as the sea once split for rebels only because they were attached to the righteous, so too today every miracle in Israel’s survival flows from the hidden wellsprings of Torah and the collective merit of Klal Yisrael.

The Torah demands joy, yet life often brings sadness, melancholy, and even crushing depression. How are we to understand this tension? Is depression a sin, or is it an illness? Our tradition and the teachings of Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski z”l offer a framework that separates behavioral sadness from medical depression, allowing us to serve Hashem with clarity and compassion.

1. Torah’s Command of Joy

The Torah states: “Because you did not serve Hashem your G-d with joy” (Devarim 28:47). Rambam teaches that simcha shel mitzvah is itself an avodah (Hilchot Lulav 8:15). Mussar and Chassidut warn that atzvut (melancholy) is spiritually destructive. Tanya (ch. 26) calls it a tool of the yetzer hara that paralyzes a Jew’s service of Hashem.

From this perspective, indulging in sadness is a behavioral failure. One is commanded to cultivate joy and not allow oneself to be consumed by gloom or self-pity.

2. Depression as Affliction

Yet the Torah also recognizes sadness as an illness, not a sin:

• King Shaul was afflicted by a ruach ra’ah, soothed only by David’s music (Shmuel I 16). His servants sought therapy, not rebuke.
• Iyov cried out in despair, cursing the day of his birth. His suffering was treated as affliction, not sin.
• Mishlei 18:14 teaches: “A man’s spirit can sustain his illness, but a broken spirit — who can bear it?” A broken spirit is described as worse than bodily disease.
• Shulchan Aruch (O.C. 328) rules that mental anguish may classify a person as a choleh (ill person), permitting certain leniencies on Shabbat. This is clear halachic recognition of depression as illness.

3. Rambam’s Bridge

Rambam (Hilchot De’ot 1:4) describes destructive moods as machalot hanefesh — illnesses of the soul. Just as physical disease requires a doctor, so too do spiritual and emotional imbalances require healing. Here the line blurs: sometimes sadness is moral weakness; sometimes it is illness.

4. Rabbi Dr. Twerski’s Clarification

Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, z”l, a Hasidic rabbi and world-renowned psychiatrist, brought modern clarity to this ancient discussion. He insisted that:

• Behavioral Sadness: When sadness is a matter of attitude, habit, or negativity, Torah demands that we fight it. This is a matter of bechirah (free will).
• Medical Depression: When sadness is clinical, it is a disease of the brain, like diabetes or hypertension. One cannot simply “snap out of it.” In his words: “You cannot guilt a sick person into health. Depression is an illness, not a weakness of character.”

Twerski compared antidepressants to insulin: taking medication for depression so one can serve Hashem is no different than taking insulin to live a healthy life. Both are tools Hashem provided for healing.

5. The Integrated Framework

When we put Torah and psychiatry together, a balanced picture emerges:

• Behavioral Sadness → a moral failure if indulged; overcome with joy in mitzvot, gratitude, and Mussar.
• Medical Depression → not sin but affliction; requires therapy, medication, support, alongside spiritual strength.
• Overlap → sometimes habits of gloom evolve into clinical depression, or clinical depression worsens sinful attitudes. Discernment is required.

Conclusion

The Torah obligates joy, but it also recognizes affliction. Rabbi Dr. Twerski’s legacy is the clear separation: do not excuse laziness or negativity, but also do not condemn the clinically depressed. Each must be treated according to its nature. When sadness is behavioral, fight it. When it is medical, heal it. In both, Hashem provides the tools for recovery, whether through Torah, Mussar, or modern medicine.

Devarim 12:1–3: “These are the statutes and laws you must carefully keep in the land that Hashem, the God of your fathers, is giving you… You shall utterly destroy all the places where the nations served their gods… tear down their altars, break their pillars, burn their Asherah trees, and obliterate their names.”

This begs the blunt question: If Hashem is all-powerful, why not give Am Yisrael a fresh, empty land with no nations, no idols, and no resistance? Why inherit a place already thick with altars and corruption?

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The Conditional Covenant

Dwelling in Eretz Yisrael is conditional. The land is holy and cannot tolerate sin; when mitzvos are kept it flourishes, and when they are ignored it “vomits out” those who desecrate it. If Hashem had handed us an empty, neutral land, this clarity would vanish. Eretz Yisrael is not mere real estate—it is the public stage of the covenant. Blessing when Torah is upheld, exile when it is abandoned: that visible cycle itself is Kiddush Hashem.

Uprooting Idolatry

Hashem is not a local deity. He is the Master of every atom and force; there are no intermediaries. Therefore His people cannot retreat to a spiritual vacuum. They must confront the world’s epicenter of idolatry, cleanse it, and establish a Makom Kadosh where the Shechinah dwells. Smashing altars and planting Torah in their place proclaims, in geography and history, that Hashem is One.

The Spiritual Exercise

Strength only develops under resistance. A body without weights grows soft; a nation without challenge grows complacent. By placing us amid nations and temptations, Hashem built “spiritual exercise” into Jewish life. The pressure of foreign influence is the weight we must lift to maintain our Torah “muscle mass.” No resistance, no growth.

The Unified Vision

• The Covenant: The land is held on condition of Torah, forcing constant clarity and responsibility.
• The Resistance: The surrounding nations and their cultures provide the very struggle that forges strength.

Hashem could have given an easy gift. He chose instead to forge a living covenant: Israel purifies the most corrupt ground, withstands pressure, and turns the heart of the world into a dwelling for the One God. That is why the Torah insists we “carefully keep” its laws in the Land—and why our task began with tearing down altars and building holiness in their place.

Sinas chinam — baseless hatred — is one of the most misused concepts in modern Jewish discourse. People often repeat, without much thought, that the Beis Hamikdash was destroyed because of “infighting among the frum.” Some even blame Shammai, Hillel, or the religious community at large. But this is historically and theologically false.

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 Rav Avigdor Miller’s 1971 Speech (Tape #R‑55)

> Question: Was the Beis Hamikdash destroyed because of sinas chinam, baseless hatred, among frum Jews?
Answer:
No, there’s no sinas chinam among the Jews. Don’t let anyone tell you that. The sinas chinam the Gemara talks about means the causeless hatred of the type that comes from Avneri, the representative of the immoral in the Knesses today. He hates decent Jews. The communists there too, or the Mapai, they hate the Jews. That’s the sinas chinam — but decent Jews don’t have sinas chinam.

In the times of the Beis Hamikdash it wasn’t Shamai and Hillel and their talmidim who had sinas chinam. It wasn’t the Pharisees and the multitudes of the frum Jews who were their followers who were the problem. The sinas chinam was from the Tzedukim and the Notzrim. They hated the Sages and the frum Jews who sided with the Sages. And it was because they were Jews — it was their sinas chinam for which the Jewish nation suffered.

I understand that even some well-meaning writers and speakers have attempted to apply the accusation of baseless hatred to the frum Jews at the time of the churban, but it’s a serious error.

(Source: Rav Avigdor Miller zt”l, Tape #R‑55, May 11, 1971 — via Toras Avigdor)

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❌ Stop Blaming the Torah World

Many speakers today carelessly repeat that the destruction came from “Orthodox Jews fighting each other.” That’s not only a historical distortion — it’s dangerous misinformation.

Rav Miller makes it clear: the hatred that destroyed the Beis Hamikdash came from Jews who hated Torah — not from those who upheld it. The Tzedukim (Sadducees), Notzrim (early Christians), and others who rejected the Sages and hated those who followed Torah — they are to blame.

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 Internal Disputes ≠ Sinas Chinam

Internal disagreements among frum Jews — whether about how to serve Hashem, how to approach kiruv, or what lifestyle reflects yiras Shamayim — are not sinas chinam. These are sincere arguments among Torah-committed Jews, trying to define the right path — not hatred.

These are machlokos l’shem Shamayim — debates for the sake of Heaven. Such disputes are not destructive; they are signs of a vibrant Torah life. Passionate disagreement over how to serve Hashem is not a cause of churban. It is evidence that the nation is alive with fear of Heaven.

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 And Stop Blaming “The World” — Look at Today’s Politics

Even today, we see the exact same sinas chinam — not among frum Jews, but from those who hate Torah and hate Torah Jews. Look at the political landscape: members of Meretz and socialist parties, in Israel’s very own Knesset, openly say they don’t want a Jewish character for the Jewish state. They want a state without Torah. They fight to erase the religious identity of the nation.

Add to that: liberal Jews in America who have abandoned mitzvos, married out, and now speak out publicly against Torah Jews, simply because they are Torah Jews.

That is sinas chinam. That is the same hatred we saw from the Tzedukim and Notzrim. It’s not internal disputes. It’s not halachic debate. It’s anti-Torah hatred, plain and simple.

This applies today as well.

Even among Jews, there are categories:

1. Torah-loyal Jews – Those who strive to observe halacha, uphold the mesorah, and live lives of yiras Shamayim.

2. Pick-and-choose Jews – Those who claim to be religious but reject parts of the Torah. They want to modernize halacha, reinterpret mitzvos, or selectively ignore commandments. This is the modern-day version of Tzedukim — those who rebel while wearing the costume of observance.

3. Anti-Torah Jews – Those who fight the very idea of Torah, who lobby politically against Torah education, who attack the religious community in Israel and abroad. This includes open secularists, socialist ideologues, and liberal Jews who’ve intermarried and now rage against Torah Jews in the public sphere.

These last two categories — the pick-and-choose Torah-rejecters and the openly anti-Torah forces — fall under Rav Miller’s warning. They are not simply “Jews with another opinion.” They are the continuation of the same strain of destructive hatred that brought down the Beis Hamikdash.

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⚖️ Halachic Clarity: When Hatred Is Justified

The Chafetz Chaim (Hilchos Lashon Hara, Klal 4 and 8:5–6) brings a halachic framework:

> One may bear justified animosity — but only when:

He personally witnesses another Jew commit a notorious, public, and intentional sin,

The sin is a violation of clear Torah law, and

The feeling stems from pain for the Torah, not personal revenge.

This is not sinas chinam — it is a Torah-sanctioned reaction to public chillul Hashem. As the Gemara says (Pesachim 113b), it is permitted to hate a rasha b’farhesya — someone who desecrates the Torah publicly and unrepentantly.

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 Beware of Mislabeling

But this cuts both ways:

Don’t accuse loyal Torah Jews of sinas chinam simply because they oppose compromise or reform.

Don’t misuse the term “baseless hatred” to shut down passionate halachic disagreement.

True sinas chinam is when Torah Jews are hated — for being Torah Jews.

That is what destroyed the Beis Hamikdash then. That is what threatens us now.

 Final Word: Let’s Be Clear

Sinas chinam is when Jews hate Torah Jews — just because they are Torah Jews. That’s what the Tzedukim did, what the early Notzrim did, and what many secular radicals and anti-religious Jews do today. That is baseless hatred.

But Torah-faithful Jews arguing over Torah? That’s not sinas chinam. That’s Torah itself. We must not confuse loyalty and struggle for truth with hate. Doing so only weakens our generation’s clarity.

The world loves a certain kind of story: “I built this. I made it. No one helped me. I’m self-made.”

It’s the American ideal — the lone individual who rises from nothing by sheer grit and genius. Clean. Inspiring. And false.

Because no matter how polished the story is, no one is truly “self-made.” Not in this world. Not in real life. Not under the sovereignty of Heaven.

You Didn’t Choose to Be Born

Start with the basics. You didn’t choose your:

• Parents,
• Genetics,
• Country,
• Personality,
• Circumstances.

Even your drive to succeed — that hunger, that pressure — is inherited, absorbed, or triggered by life’s external forces. It’s not something you willed from a vacuum. It was handed to you through pain, need, ambition, or fear — all shaped by your environment.

So when a person achieves success, he’s walking a road paved by everything that came before him — not by himself.

Marriage: The End of the Self-Made Myth

If a man is married, the illusion collapses entirely. His life trajectory is shaped — constantly — by the values, limitations, needs, and pressures of his wife.

You wanted to go left. She wanted to go right. You adjusted. You made decisions not because they were pure strategy, but because of the home situation — her family background, your shared financial stress, her emotional or spiritual needs, or the children’s tuition.

Marriage is not just support. It’s shaping. Quiet. Constant. Determinative.

Case Study: The Brooklyn Father Who “Just Existed”

A man in Brooklyn. Simple computer programmer. Nothing flashy. He worked hard, lived modestly, had many children, and wasn’t chasing greatness — just survival.

Then his first child was born with Down syndrome. No school could accommodate him. So, out of desperation, the father opened a small school. He got licensed. One school grew into two. Then more. Then across multiple states.

Now he runs a major special needs network. Very successful. Very wealthy. But he says: “I didn’t build this out of vision. I built it because I had no other choice.”

“I just existed. Hashem did the rest.”

Compare: The Hustler Billionaire

Another story: a man builds credit, flips homes, becomes a real estate mogul. He says: “I did it myself.”

But who taught him? Who supported him? Who was his wife? What pressures shaped his grind?

Even here, he’s reacting to forces beyond his control. Not self-made — pressure-formed.

Hashem Hides in the Pressure

This is all Hashgacha Pratis — Divine Providence. Hashem pushes us through challenge and circumstance.

The Torah calls the wife an “eizer k’negdo” — a helper against him. Not just comfort. Sometimes confrontation. But always growth.

You’re Not a Free Agent. You’re a Responding Agent.

To be truly “self-made,” you’d have to choose:

• Your own parents,
• Your marriage,
• Your traumas,
• Your economy,
• Your nature.

You can’t. You’re not G-d. You’re a responding agent in His system.

The Real Response: Humility and Gratitude

The Torah warns:

“כֹּחִי וְעֹצֶם יָדִי עָשָׂה לִי אֶת-הַחַיִל הַזֶּה”
“My strength and the might of my hand made me this wealth.” (Devarim 8:17)

The proper response is:

“Yes, I made effort. But the path was carved by others. My wife, my child’s need, and above all, Hashem.”

Final Word

If you’re thriving — stop saying “self-made.” Start saying “Thank You.”

Textual Trigger: “If a Person Has Food in His House”

כיצד — אם יש לאדם מזונות בתוך ביתו ומבקש לעשות מהן צדקה…

Note the plain language: it speaks about present, tangible surplus—“provisions in his house.”
It does not talk about savings accounts, investment funds, or future reserves (e.g., weddings).
The obligation to give activates when there is surplus beyond current needs.

The Priority Ladder

1. Father (if both parents are alive, father first)
2. Mother
3. Brothers and sisters
4. Other relatives
5. Neighbors
6. Poor of one’s own city
7. Poor of other cities

If there’s a conflict, עניי עירך קודמין — the poor of your own city take precedence over others.

Relatives: Tzedakah or Basic Obligation?

Supporting certain relatives (especially parents, and—where applicable—children and close kin in genuine need)
is not merely “optional tzedakah.” It functions as a direct familial obligation, akin to
providing for your own household. Practically, this means:

1. Step 1: Cover your own basic needs.
2. Step 2: Cover the basic needs of obligated relatives (in the order above).
3. Step 3: Only then do you calculate discretionary tzedakah (ma’aser/chomesh) for those outside the family circle.

In other words, the funds used to sustain obligated relatives are treated as part of “your needs”,
not as part of the 10–20% discretionary tzedakah bucket.

The 20% (Chomesh) Guidance — and Its Limits

• Baseline: After Steps 1–2, allocate discretionary tzedakah: commonly 10% (ma’aser), up to 20% (chomesh) as a pious standard.
• Not a cap on relatives: If your parents or other obligated relatives cannot meet basic needs, you may and should exceed 20% to cover them, provided this does not push you into poverty.
• Emergencies: Life-saving or acute cases justify going beyond ordinary caps.

The Modern “Bottleneck” Problem

Today, many meet their needs, then lock all surplus into savings, real estate, or “future plans,” while relatives in real distress wait.
That is a halachic inversion. The present surplus is obligated now—first to family, then outward.
“I’m still saving” is not a blanket exemption when a relative stands before you with immediate needs.

Practical Playbook

1. Be honest about “needs.” Food, housing, utilities, basic schooling/healthcare—yes. Speculative upgrades and distant goals—no.
2. Check for obligated relatives. If a parent/sibling is short on basics, that is your first stop.
3. Handle dignity. Give privately and adequately; don’t nickel-and-dime obligated kin.
4. Only then set and fulfill your ma’aser/chomesh for non-relatives and communal causes.

TL;DR

Relatives’ basic support comes before tzedakah math. First cover yourself, then obligated relatives.
Only after that do you calculate 10–20% for others. Exceed 20% when necessary to meet relatives’ basic needs,
as long as you don’t endanger your own.

1 – Ma’aser to the Kehillah
If every truly wealthy Jew gave ma’aser kesafim faithfully, directing those funds to rabbanim and kehillos for public needs, the communal budget would be solid and capable of meeting real demands.

2 – Full Family Responsibility
Halacha obligates a person to first provide for himself, then his parents, children, and extended relatives. If every financially secure family covered the needs of their own — without pushing that burden onto communal tzedakah — the number of people dependent on public funds would shrink drastically.

3 – The Working Majority
Most people already earn their livelihood. Only a small percentage need general assistance. When Steps 1 and 2 are applied, the remaining few — such as gerim or those without relatives — can be fully cared for through communal funds.

4 – The Common Mistake About Charity
Many mistakenly believe that providing for one’s family, children, and relatives is an act of tzedakah. It is not. It is an obligation — just like feeding yourself. You do not measure percentages when meeting your own needs, and you should not do so with your close family.
Percentages like 10% (ma’aser) or 20% (chomesh) apply only to communal giving — money given to responsible rabbanim and leaders for the truly poor. These funds are not meant to support lavish lifestyles, but to maintain a modest, dignified standard consistent with the ways of the Torah.
If every person treated his family as himself — and then gave generously to responsible community leaders — there would be no need for endless emergency fundraisers and “crisis” campaigns.

Proven Models
The Persian and Syrian frum communities have shown this system works. Wealthy members take relatives into their businesses, help them start their own, or support them if they are learning Torah. They also give heavily to rabbanim who oversee tzedakah for those truly without means or family. The result: strong, united, self-reliant kehillos with little to no systemic poverty.

The Torah teaches that victory and survival are not about numbers, might, or human advantage. They rest on God’s promise and our loyalty. When facing enemies greater in number and strength, we are commanded:

לֹא תִירָא מִפְּנֵיהֶם (דברים ז:יח)

“Do not fear them.” (Devarim 7:18) Just as God brought Pharaoh and Egypt to their knees with miracles, so will He go before us in battle. He will even send terror and hornets to destroy survivors. But this conquest will not be instant — it will be gradual, “lest the wild animals multiply against you” (Devarim 7:22). God’s plans unfold with purpose and patience.

With this confidence comes an uncompromising command:

פֶּסֶל אֱלֹהֵיהֶם תִּשְׂרְפוּן בָּאֵשׁ לֹא תַחְמֹד כֶּסֶף וְזָהָב עֲלֵיהֶם (דברים ז:כה)

“The carved images of their gods you shall burn in fire; do not covet the silver and gold upon them.” Idolatry is not to be studied, collected, or admired — it must be utterly destroyed. Even its most beautiful parts are spiritually toxic.

Prosperity’s Spiritual Risk

After warning us about the enemies outside, the Torah warns of an enemy within — arrogance. When we enter the Land and live among its blessings, we must remember the desert: hunger, thirst, manna, serpents, the absence of water — all were deliberate tests. God provided daily bread from heaven to teach:

לֹא עַל הַלֶּחֶם לְבַדּוֹ יִחְיֶה הָאָדָם (דברים ח:ג)

“Man does not live by bread alone.” (Devarim 8:3) Our survival depends on God’s word as much as on physical nourishment.

The Land is described in rich detail:

אֶרֶץ חִטָּה וּשְׂעֹרָה וְגֶפֶן וּתְאֵנָה וְרִמּוֹן, אֶרֶץ זֵית שֶׁמֶן וּדְבָשׁ (דברים ח:ח)

“A land of wheat, barley, grapevine, fig, and pomegranate; a land of olive oil and honey.” (Devarim 8:8) Bread without scarcity, copper from the hills, iron from the mountains — abundance everywhere.

Yet abundance brings danger:

כֹּחִי וְעֹצֶם יָדִי עָשָׂה לִי אֶת הַחַיִל הַזֶּה (דברים ח:יז)

“My strength and the might of my hand made me this wealth.” (Devarim 8:17) This is the lie of overconfidence. Every blessing is from God, and forgetting that truth leads to ruin.

Collective Responsibility — Rav Hirsch

Finally, the Torah addresses not only personal conduct, but the moral duty of the entire community. In the sin of the Golden Calf, the Erev Rav were the loudest instigators, but the guilt spread far beyond them. Some were enticed knowingly, some passively, and many simply stood by in silence. Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch explains that such silence is not neutral — it is consent.

כל ישראל ערבים זה בזה — All Israel are responsible for one another.

“Even those who had no part in the sinful deed itself, who only looked on silently, without defending the honor of God, were included in the guilt. This silence made them sharers in the sin, and it became a national guilt. Thus, the punishment fell upon the entire people, for God regards the community as one body; the omission of one limb to resist evil is as if the whole body had sinned.”

This is a foundation of Torah society: sin is not only the act itself; it is also the refusal to oppose it. In God’s eyes, when evil is done in our midst and we stay silent, we stand with the sinner.

Conclusion

The Torah’s chain of teaching is clear:

1. Confidence — Trust God in the face of great odds.
2. Humility — Prosperity is His gift, not our achievement.
3. Responsibility — Silence in the face of wrong is itself a sin.

We are one people, bound by one covenant. Confidence brings victory, arrogance brings downfall, and silence in the face of wrongdoing makes us complicit. In God’s covenant, nothing is “someone else’s problem.”

Regulating the Calendar, The Majesty of Creation, The Symbol of the Jews’ Resurgence, The Jews as a Conduit of Holiness, and the Precision of the Molad

1. The Torah entrusts us with the sacred duty of sanctifying the beginning of each new month, marking the rebirth of the moon within its cycle. This is not merely a ceremonial act, but a profound alignment of human life with the heavenly order. Alongside this monthly sanctification, the Torah commands the institution of leap years in harmony with the seasons, so that the festivals are celebrated in their proper time and setting.

2. Each festival is bound to a specific month and precise date—moments that can only be determined after the first day of the month has been proclaimed. Yet identifying the month alone is not sufficient. The Torah requires that each festival also coincide with its proper seasonal backdrop: Pesach must fall in the spring, when the first grains ripen; Sukkos must occur in the season of ingathering, when the harvest is complete. Without adjustment, the lunar year of 354 days would fall out of step with the solar year, causing the festivals to drift through the seasons. To prevent this, the Jewish calendar employs leap years, periodically adding a full lunar month to restore alignment.

3. The precision of such a calendar requires astronomical skill of the highest order. For this reason, the Torah entrusted the authority for proclaiming new months and establishing leap years to the Great Sanhedrin in the Land of Israel. Witnesses would testify to the new moon’s appearance, and the court would sanctify the month accordingly. Even when such a proclamation was absent, the month would still be sanctified at its appointed time, though ideally it followed the court’s formal declaration.

4. The moment at which the moon begins its new cycle after its period of waning is known as the molad (rebirth). The time between one molad and the next is precisely twenty-nine days, twelve hours, and seven hundred ninety-three chalakim (parts). Since there are 1,080 chalakim in an hour, each minute equals eighteen chalakim; each chelek equals 3⅓ seconds; and 793 chalakim equal forty-four minutes and 3⅓ seconds. Given the 29½-day interval between molads, the new molad always falls on either the 30th or 31st day after the previous one, depending on the time of day it occurred. If it occurs in the early part of the day, the next molad will be on the 30th day, making that day Rosh Chodesh and the previous month a 29-day (chodesh chaser, abbreviated) month. If it occurs later in the day, the next molad will be on the 31st day, making that day Rosh Chodesh and the previous month a 30-day (chodesh malei, full) month.

> The Molad: Technical Precision and Spiritual Meaning

Astronomical / Technical Aspect Spiritual / Symbolic Aspect

Definition: The molad is the precise moment when the moon begins its new cycle after its waning phase—its “rebirth.” Represents renewal and the cyclical restoration of light after darkness, paralleling the Jewish people’s journey from exile to redemption.
Cycle Length: 29 days, 12 hours, and 793 chalakim (parts). Reminds us of the Creator’s exact and unchanging design of the cosmos, reinforcing the idea of divine order and reliability.
Measurement Units: There are 1,080 chalakim in an hour; each minute equals 18 chalakim; each chelek equals 3⅓ seconds; 793 chalakim equal 44 minutes and 3⅓ seconds. Symbolizes the fine-tuned precision of God’s creation—no motion of the heavens is random; every part is exact and purposeful.
Month Length: If the molad occurs early in the day, the next molad is on the 30th day (making the previous month a chodesh chaser, abbreviated month of 29 days). If later in the day, the next molad is on the 31st day (making the previous month a chodesh malei, full month of 30 days). Teaches that time itself is sanctified through human partnership with God, as the beis din declares Rosh Chodesh. The variability in month length mirrors the ebb and flow of life’s challenges and triumphs.
Function in the Calendar: Determines the exact days of Rosh Chodesh and thus the timing of all festivals. Embodies the mitzvah of Kiddush HaChodesh, through which Israel controls the holiness of sacred time—so much so that even the heavenly court waits for the earthly court’s proclamation.
Observed Phenomenon: Marks the invisible astronomical conjunction, not the visible crescent moon. Reinforces faith in what is unseen—just as the moon will reappear, so will God’s promises to His people be fulfilled, even when hidden from view.

5. Beyond its technical function, this mitzvah carries a spiritual dimension: by observing the movements of the heavenly bodies, we are reminded of the Creator’s unceasing governance. The perfect order of the cosmos—planets, stars, and moons in constant, precise motion—speaks to the reality of a divine Sustainer. The study and sanctification of the new moon (Kiddush HaChodesh) elevate our awareness, fostering humility before the grandeur of God. As King David wrote: “When I behold Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars which You have established, I wonder—what is man that You should remember him?”

6. The Jewish calendar’s lunar basis also rejects the ancient pagan deification of the sun. The moon, which reflects light rather than generating its own, is a reminder of dependence and humility. It waxes and wanes under the Creator’s will, mirroring the truth that the world is not self-sustaining but continually renewed by God.

7. For the Jewish people, the moon holds yet deeper symbolism. Just as the moon emerges from darkness to shine in full glory, so too will the Jewish nation, long obscured by the darkness of exile, be restored to its former splendor. The waxing moon is a quiet assurance of redemption—that decline is never final, and renewal is certain.

8. This role of sanctifying time also explains a subtle difference in our prayers. On festivals, we conclude blessings with the words, “Who sanctifies Yisrael and the festive seasons”—acknowledging that it is Israel, through the authority of the beis din, who determines the calendar and thus the holiness of the day. By contrast, the Shabbos blessing ends simply with, “Who sanctifies the Shabbos”, for Shabbos is fixed by God from Creation, independent of human action.

9. In this way, God has conferred upon Israel the power to sanctify time itself. Even the heavenly court awaits the earthly court’s proclamation before it begins its own judgments. Thus, Rosh Hashanah—the day of universal judgment—is held on the date set by the Jewish people. As Scripture states: “For it is an edict [made] by Yisrael, a [time of] judgment for the God of Yaakov.”

10. Through sanctifying the new moon, Israel affirms both the order of creation and the promise of renewal—testifying that time itself is in the hands of the One who made it, and that His people are entrusted to mark it in holiness.

שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל ה’ אֱלֹהֵינוּ ה’ אֶחָד — Hear, O Israel: Hashem is our God, Hashem is One — is the eternal declaration of the Jewish people, affirming complete loyalty to the Creator.

Rashi (Devarim 6:4) explains that in our current stage of history, only Israel recognizes Hashem’s Oneness. But in the future, after the final Redemption, “He will be One” — all nations will acknowledge Him. Although we experience Hashem in many ways — merciful, strict, kind, judging — these are not separate forces. They are all expressions of the One and Only God.

R’ Gedaliah Schorr likened this to a ray of light passing through a prism: it appears as many colors, but in truth it is one unified beam. Likewise, all manifestations of Hashem are unified in His essence.

The Torah scroll emphasizes this truth by writing the ayin (ע) of “שְׁמַע” (Shema) and the dalet (ד) of “אֶחָד” (Echad) larger than usual. Together they spell עד (ed, “witness”), teaching (Rokeach; Kol Bo) that by reciting the Shema, the Jew becomes a living witness to God’s Oneness.

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Shabbos — The Living Testimony

Shabbos is the weekly enactment of that testimony. Unlike months or years, the seven-day week has no astronomical basis — it exists only because Hashem decreed it at Creation. Its uninterrupted continuity is itself miraculous.

The Torah gives Shabbos two dimensions:

1. Creation – As in Exodus 20:11, Shabbos recalls that Hashem created the heavens and the earth in six days and rested on the seventh.

2. Exodus – As in Devarim 5:15, Shabbos reminds us that Hashem took us out of Egypt, showing His mastery over history and nature.

The Ramban (Shemos 20:8; Devarim 5:15) teaches that these two themes are inseparable: remembering Creation affirms Hashem as the omnipotent Creator; remembering the Exodus affirms Him as the active Redeemer. This is why the Friday night Kiddush calls Shabbos both זֵכֶר לִיצִיאַת מִצְרָיִם (“a commemoration of the Exodus”) and זִכָּרוֹן לְמַעֲשֵׂה בְּרֵאשִׁית (“a remembrance of the work of Creation”).

Rashi (Shemos 23:12) notes that just as we rest on Shabbos, so too must our possessions — servants, animals, and property — rest. This testifies that all we have is from Hashem, entrusted to us for His service.

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Faith in Action — Parashas Eikev

Once a Jew has aligned his Shema and Shabbos — understanding who he is, who the Creator is, and how deeply connected he is to Him — the Torah in Parashas Eikev moves to the next step: living that truth in daily life.

In Devarim 7:12–21, the Torah promises that if we keep Hashem’s ordinances, He will safeguard the covenant and kindness sworn to our forefathers: blessing our families and our land, removing illness, and granting victory over our enemies. Rashi (7:12) comments that even the “light” commandments, which people might “tread with their heels,” bring reward when observed with care.

The Ramban (7:18–19) reminds us to draw courage from the memory of the Exodus — the signs, wonders, and mighty hand by which Hashem redeemed us from Egypt. Just as He overthrew Pharaoh, so will He subdue the nations before us.

The Torah warns against arrogance. Rashi (8:17) cautions: when you succeed, do not say “My strength and the might of my hand have made me this wealth.” Remember it is Hashem who gives the power to achieve success. Even when facing nations “more numerous than you,” Ibn Ezra (7:21) advises to trust in Hashem’s presence and consider the enemy insignificant in the face of God’s greatness.

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The Complete Journey

The Torah’s sequence is deliberate:

The Shema — the creed, declaring Hashem’s Oneness (Rashi).

Shabbos — the visible, weekly testimony in action (Ramban).

Life in the Land — applying that testimony with humility, obedience, and trust (Rashi, Ibn Ezra).

Thus the Jew becomes the עד (witness) — not merely proclaiming God’s sovereignty in words, but embodying it in the rhythm of life, the sanctity of rest, and the moral conduct of a covenantal people.

Through the Shema, through Shabbos, and through a life lived in faith and humility, we stand as living proof of His Oneness, His creation, and His providence over history.