Rebecca gives birth to twins. They quickly develop into two distinct people. Jacob is a man of learning, who believes in delayed satisfaction while Esau lives for the moment.

Dvar Torah – Parshat Toldot

Isaac: The Bridge Between Generations

Now for a quick Dvar Torah.

This week’s parsha, Toldot, begins with the words, “These are the generations of Isaac, the son of Abraham.” Interestingly, however, the parsha does not focus primarily on Isaac. Instead, it concentrates on his two sons, Jacob and Esau.

Why is that?

We begin with Isaac and Rebecca, who have been married for twenty years but have no children. They pray to God, asking to be blessed with a child. According to the Midrash, there is even a question as to why they have been unable to have children. Could it be something connected to Rebecca’s family background? Could there be another reason? Whatever the explanation, they turn to God in prayer.

Eventually, Rebecca becomes pregnant, but it is not an easy pregnancy. She feels a struggle taking place within her. According to the Midrash, whenever she passes a house of idol worship, one of the children struggles to get out. Whenever she passes a house of Torah study, the other child struggles to get out.

Rebecca seeks an explanation and is told that she is carrying twins, but not merely two children. Two nations are struggling within her, and their futures will be very different.

When the twins are born, Esau emerges first. He is described as reddish and covered with hair, which is connected to his name, Esav. Jacob follows, holding on to Esau’s heel. He is therefore called Yaakov, a name connected to the Hebrew word akev, meaning heel.

And very quickly, we begin to see the differences between these two brothers.

Jacob is described as a man of the tents. According to our tradition, he studies in the academy of Shem and Ever. He is interested in learning, spirituality, and preparing for the future.

Esau, on the other hand, is a hunter, a man of the field. According to the Midrash, he associates with people of questionable character. He enjoys life and wants to experience everything it has to offer.

But there is a fundamental difference between them.

Esau lives for the moment. Jacob lives for the future.

Esau wants immediate satisfaction. He sees something he desires, and he wants it now. Jacob understands the importance of delayed gratification. He is willing to work, to study, and to sacrifice today for something greater tomorrow.

This difference becomes especially important in the famous story of Esau selling his birthright to Jacob for a bowl of lentils. We will discuss that story in greater detail in tomorrow’s podcast.

But for today, there is another important lesson.

Why does the Torah tell us comparatively little about Isaac? Abraham is a towering figure who introduces a new spiritual direction to the world. Jacob becomes the father of the twelve tribes of Israel. But Isaac seems to occupy a much quieter position between them.

The answer is that Isaac is the bridge between Abraham and Jacob.

His mission is not to create something entirely new. His mission is to preserve what Abraham established and make certain that it continues into the next generation.

And that is no small accomplishment.

Not every generation is called upon to revolutionize the world. Sometimes the greatest responsibility is to preserve what has been handed down, strengthen it, and ensure that the next generation is prepared to carry it forward.

Isaac understood that responsibility. He inherited Abraham’s spiritual legacy and made certain that it would continue through Jacob.

Jacob would eventually become the father of the Jewish people, but his journey would not be an easy one. He would face tremendous challenges before fulfilling his destiny.

And perhaps that is one of the great lessons of this week’s parsha: Success is not always measured by what we accomplish in our own lifetime, but by what we make possible for those who come after us.

Isaac’s greatness was not that he began a new journey, but that he ensured Abraham’s journey would continue.

Something to think about.

Abraham bought the Tomb of the Patriarchs. Jacob bought Shchem. And David bought Jerusalem. We inherited these from them. It is part of their legacy.

Now for a Quick Dvar Torah

Parshat Chayei Sarah — Standing on the Side of Truth

This week’s parsha begins with the death of Sarah and ends with the death of Abraham. In a very real sense, we are witnessing the passing of one generation and the beginning of another.

Yitzchak now becomes the spiritual leader of the family. He inherits not only Abraham’s possessions but, more importantly, his spiritual legacy and his mission.

Ishmael, on the other hand, receives gifts from Abraham, but he does not inherit the spiritual leadership of the family. And who was responsible for making sure that Yitzchak would be the inheritor? Sarah.

Sarah understood something that Abraham, with his tremendous loving-kindness, had difficulty accepting. She saw the problems with Ishmael. According to the Midrash, Ishmael was involved in behavior that made him unfit to inherit Abraham’s spiritual mission. Even though Ishmael was the older brother, Sarah understood that being the firstborn did not automatically make someone worthy of leadership.

And God told Abraham to listen to Sarah.

Now, isn’t it interesting that we find a very similar situation in this week’s Haftarah?

King David is approaching the end of his life, and the question arises as to who will succeed him. Adonijah, one of David’s older sons, attempts to claim the throne. But Batsheva reminds David of his promise that her son, Shlomo, would become king.

Like Yitzchak, Shlomo was not the oldest son. Nevertheless, he was the one chosen to carry on his father’s legacy.

The other brothers might not have been happy about it, but ultimately David’s decision prevailed.

There is another interesting connection between Abraham and David.

David began his reign in Hebron, the very city where Abraham purchased the Cave of Machpelah in this week’s parsha. Later, David conquered Jerusalem and purchased the threshing floor of Aravnah, which would become the site of the Beit HaMikdash.

Notice something important here. Abraham purchased the Cave of Machpelah. David purchased the site of the future Temple. And Yaakov purchased a parcel of land near Shechem.

All three made formal purchases, establishing their ownership of these particular places. They did not simply take the land. They paid for it.

And yet, despite these transactions being recorded in the Tanach, there are people today who deny the Jewish people’s historical connection to these places.

This brings us to another important lesson.

When we are first introduced to Abraham, he is called Avram HaIvri, Abraham the Hebrew.

What does Ivri mean?

According to a famous Midrash, Abraham stood on one side, while the rest of the world stood on the other.

Think about that.

Abraham lived in a world dominated by idol worship. Everyone around him believed in idols, but Abraham recognized that there was only one God.

He was willing to stand alone.

He did not change his beliefs simply because everyone else disagreed with him. He did not worry about being popular. He was concerned with what was true.

And that is a lesson we desperately need today.

We live in a world in which terrible accusations are made against Jews and Israel. Some accusations are based on misinformation, others on prejudice, and still others on deliberate distortions of history.

We have to be willing to challenge falsehoods with facts, even when doing so is unpopular. Serious allegations, including accusations of genocide, must be examined carefully and honestly, not accepted or rejected simply because they fit someone’s political agenda.

Unfortunately, there are also Jews who are so concerned about being accepted by their political or social circles that they hesitate to defend their own people when confronted with false accusations.

But Abraham teaches us something different.

Truth is not determined by popularity.

Just because everyone around you believes something does not make it true. And just because you are standing alone does not mean you are wrong.

Of course, standing for truth also means being willing to examine the facts, acknowledge uncomfortable realities, and correct ourselves when necessary. That, too, is part of Abraham’s legacy.

As observant Jews, our responsibility is not simply to observe the mitzvot. We must also observe what is happening around us. We must understand the world, recognize falsehoods, and have the courage to stand for what is right.

And above all, we must remember that our ultimate reliance is not on politicians, governments, or public opinion.

Our ultimate reliance is on HaKadosh Baruch Hu.

Abraham was called HaIvri because he was willing to stand on the other side.

Sometimes we, too, will find ourselves on the other side of an argument, perhaps even standing alone.

And that’s okay.

Because the important question is not how many people are standing with us.

The important question is whether we are standing with the truth.

Shabbat Shalom.

In this week’s parsha we have the deaths of both Sarah and Abraham. But we also have Isaac and Rebecca taking the mantle of leadership. That is the way that Abraham and Sarah’s legacy will continue.

Now for a Quick Dvar Torah

Parshat Chayei Sarah — Preparing the Next Generation

This week’s parsha begins with the death of Sarah and ends with the death of Abraham. In a very real sense, the entire parsha is about the transition from one generation to the next.

And that teaches us a very important lesson: One of the greatest responsibilities of a leader is to prepare the next generation to take over when he is no longer around.

Abraham and Sarah understood this.

There is a Midrash that teaches us that when Sarah died, certain blessings that had been present in her tent disappeared. But when Rivka entered Sarah’s tent, those blessings returned.

Now, Rivka did not replace Sarah. Nobody could replace Sarah. She was a great and righteous woman in her own right. But Rivka was able to continue Sarah’s legacy. She brought those blessings back into the family and ensured that everything Sarah had worked to establish would continue into the next generation.

And we see the same thing with Abraham.

Before Abraham dies, he makes certain that Yitzchak is prepared to assume leadership of the family and continue the covenant with God. Abraham understands that his mission cannot end with him. There has to be someone who will carry it forward.

And there is something very interesting at Abraham’s burial.

The Torah tells us that Yitzchak and Ishmael buried their father together. But notice something. Yitzchak is mentioned first, even though Ishmael was the older brother.

Now, Ishmael could have said, “Wait a minute! I’m the firstborn. I should come first!”

But he doesn’t.

Our Sages understand this as an indication that Ishmael had done teshuvah. He recognized that Yitzchak was the one chosen to continue Abraham’s spiritual legacy. Even though the two brothers had gone their separate ways, Ishmael accepted Yitzchak’s position.

And this is another indication that Abraham had succeeded in preparing the next generation.

Yitzchak himself was very different from Abraham and from his own son, Yaakov. Both Abraham and Yaakov traveled outside the Land of Israel. Yitzchak never did. He remained in the land his entire life.

He was, in a sense, the bridge between the generations. Abraham established the foundation. Yitzchak preserved it. And Yaakov would build upon it and become the father of the twelve tribes.

Each generation had its own responsibility. Each generation had its own strengths.

And that brings us to a very important point about leadership.

When Rav Moshe Feinstein passed away, people wondered, “Who could possibly replace Rav Moshe?”

And the answer, of course, was that nobody could replace Rav Moshe. He was a unique individual, a giant in Torah learning and leadership.

But other great Torah leaders stepped forward. They were not Rav Moshe, nor did they have to be. They had their own strengths, their own abilities, and their own responsibilities.

We see the same thing in the secular world.

Think about the founding generation of the United States. Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Hamilton, and the others were extraordinary individuals. When that generation passed from the scene, people naturally wondered who could possibly follow them.

The next generation may not have had the same extraordinary combination of intellectual ability and leadership qualities, but the country continued. New leaders stepped forward and assumed responsibility.

And that’s the point.

A leader’s greatness is measured not only by what he accomplishes during his lifetime, but also by what continues after he is gone.

Unfortunately, we sometimes see leaders, both in the secular world and even in the Torah world, who become so wrapped up in their own importance that they forget something very basic: they are not going to be here forever.

And if they do not prepare someone to succeed them, everything they worked to build may eventually disappear.

I was reminded of this yesterday at the funeral of Mike Smith.

Mike served for many years as the head gabbai of our shul. He was dedicated to the position and did a tremendous amount for the congregation. Eventually, when he married and moved to Riverdale, he stepped down from that responsibility.

Sadly, he was later afflicted with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, which ultimately took his life.

When Mike left his position as head gabbai, he left a tremendous void. Somebody had to step forward and assume that responsibility.

And somebody did.

It wasn’t me, by the way! I’m quite happy being lower down on the totem pole. I have no problem with that whatsoever.

But someone else stepped forward, took the reins, and became a very capable head gabbai.

And the shul continued.

That’s what is so important.

Nobody could be Mike Smith. He was his own person, with his own strengths and contributions. But the work he had done did not have to disappear simply because he was no longer there.

And that’s exactly what we learn from Abraham and Sarah.

They were extraordinary people. Nobody could replace them. But they understood that their mission was greater than themselves.

Sarah’s legacy continued through Rivka. Abraham’s legacy continued through Yitzchak. And the Jewish people continued from one generation to the next.

There is an old saying: “The cemetery is full of irreplaceable men.”

It’s a rather harsh expression, but there’s a great deal of truth in it.

We may think that nobody can possibly take our place. And in one sense, that’s true. Each of us is unique. Nobody can be exactly who we are.

But the world has to continue.

And if we have done our job properly, we will have prepared others to carry on the work after we are gone.

That is the real lesson of Parshat Chayei Sarah.

The greatest legacy we can leave is not simply what we accomplished, but what we enabled the next generation to accomplish.

Something to think about.

The Torah states that Isaac first married Rebecca and then he loved her. It is emphasizing that love should grow between a man and his wife. This happens when you recognize that your job is to make your spouse happy with no expectations in return.

A Quick Dvar Torah: Love That Grows

Parshat Chayei Sarah

In this week’s parsha, we read about the meeting of Yitzchak and Rivka and their eventual marriage.

As we know, Eliezer, Avraham’s servant, was sent to Charan to find a wife for Yitzchak. He devised a test to determine whether the young woman he met would be worthy of joining Avraham’s family.

And Rivka passed that test dramatically!

Not only did she offer Eliezer water, but she also volunteered to draw water for his ten camels. And as I mentioned yesterday, camels drink an enormous amount of water. This was no small act of kindness. Rivka demonstrated that she possessed the same quality of chesed, loving-kindness, that characterized Avraham and Sarah.

But now we come to something particularly interesting.

When Rivka arrives, the Torah tells us:

“And Yitzchak brought her into the tent of Sarah his mother, and he took Rivka, and she became his wife, and he loved her.” (Bereishit 24:67)

Notice the progression here.

First, Yitzchak brings Rivka into Sarah’s tent. Then he marries her. And only afterward does the Torah tell us that he loved her.

Why this particular order?

Let’s begin with Sarah’s tent.

According to the Midrash, while Sarah was alive, there were special blessings associated with her tent. The Shabbat candles remained lit from one Shabbat to the next, the dough was blessed, and a cloud of the Divine Presence rested above the tent.

When Sarah died, these blessings disappeared.

But when Rivka entered Sarah’s tent, the blessings returned.

What does this tell us?

Rivka was not replacing Sarah. Nobody could replace Sarah. But Rivka was demonstrating that she was worthy of continuing Sarah’s legacy. She possessed the same spiritual qualities, the same commitment to kindness, and the same ability to create a Jewish home filled with holiness.

And then Yitzchak married her.

And then he loved her.

Wait a minute!

Here in the Western world, don’t we do things in exactly the opposite order? First, you fall in love, then you get married.

But the Torah is teaching us something very important about the nature of love.

In the traditional Jewish approach to marriage, the first question is not simply whether two people have fallen madly in love. The question is whether they are compatible. Do they share the same values? Do they want to build the same kind of home? Can they communicate with each other? Do they have a similar sense of humor?

After all, it’s important to know whether your future spouse laughs at your jokes!

The Talmud teaches that a man should not marry a woman without first seeing her, lest he subsequently find something objectionable about her. In other words, compatibility matters.

But love is something that should continue to develop throughout the marriage.

There’s a wonderful story about a talk show host who was puzzled by the relatively low divorce rate he had heard about among Hasidic Jews.

He asked a Hasidic man, “How do you explain this? You go out on three or four dates, decide to get married, and somehow your marriages last. What’s your secret?”

The Hasid replied, “You don’t understand. Before I get married, I’m taught that my responsibility is to make my wife happy, without constantly asking what I’m getting in return.

“And my wife is taught that her responsibility is to make me happy, without constantly asking what she’s getting in return.

“So if both of us are spending our lives trying to make the other person happy, what do you think happens?

“Naturally, our love grows.”

And that’s the point!

Marriage is not supposed to be a situation in which two people fall in love, get married, and then spend the rest of their lives trying to preserve the feelings they had on their wedding day.

Their love should become stronger.

I don’t know how many of you remember the television series House. There was an episode involving a married couple whose relationship prompted a discussion about love and marriage.

The lesson I remember from that exchange was particularly meaningful.

A doctor was asked whether he loved his wife.

He replied, “I love her just as much today as I did on the day we got married.”

And the response was, in effect, “That’s your problem! You should love her more today than you did when you married her!”

Think about that.

If you’ve been married for twenty, thirty, forty, or fifty years, shouldn’t your love be greater today than it was on your wedding day?

You’ve shared a lifetime of experiences. You’ve celebrated happy occasions together. You’ve faced difficulties together. You’ve built a home, perhaps raised children, and supported one another through good times and bad.

All of those experiences should deepen your love.

And that is the beautiful lesson of Yitzchak and Rivka.

The Torah tells us that Yitzchak married Rivka and then loved her. It is not teaching us that affection is unimportant before marriage. Rather, it is reminding us that love is not merely the starting point of a marriage. It is something that we build, nurture, and strengthen throughout our lives.

The goal of marriage is not simply to love your spouse as much as you did on your wedding day. The goal is to love your spouse more with every passing year.

And that is a lesson from Parshat Chayei Sarah that all of us who are married should take to heart.

When choosing a wife for Yitzhok, Eliezer, Abrham’s servant looks for character, or not beauty nor wealth. He finds that Rivka has these qualities.

Voting and Parshat Chayei Sarah

A Quick Dvar Torah

This week’s parsha, Chayei Sarah, contains two momentous events that teach us an important lesson, especially today, Election Day.

The first is the death of Sarah. Interestingly, the parsha is called Chayei Sarah, meaning “The Life of Sarah,” yet it begins by telling us about her death.

Abraham realizes that he must find a proper burial place for his wife. He chooses Me’arat HaMachpelah, the Cave of the Patriarchs, in Hebron.

Now, remember something very important. God has already promised Abraham that the Land of Israel will belong to him and his descendants. Furthermore, Ephron the Hittite offers to give Abraham the burial property for free.

But Abraham refuses to accept it as a gift. He insists on paying for it, and he pays an outrageous price—400 silver shekels!

Why?

Because Abraham wants there to be absolutely no question about the ownership of this property. He wants it legally and permanently established as belonging to his family.

But there is something else happening here. Abraham is preserving Sarah’s legacy. Sarah was a remarkable woman whose character, deeds, and middot—her moral qualities—would serve as an example for future generations.

By purchasing this burial place, Abraham is taking care of the past, making certain that Sarah’s memory and legacy will be preserved.

But Abraham doesn’t stop there. He now turns his attention to the future.

He sends his servant Eliezer to find a wife for his son Yitzchak.

And what is Eliezer looking for?

Is he looking for the most beautiful woman? The wealthiest woman? Someone from an influential family?

No!

He is looking for a woman of character, someone with the proper middot to become part of Abraham’s family.

Eliezer devises a test. He will ask a young woman at the well for a drink of water. If she not only gives him water but also volunteers to water his camels, he will know that she possesses the qualities he is seeking.

And remember, Eliezer has ten camels!

Now, anyone who knows anything about camels knows that they drink enormous quantities of water. Watering ten thirsty camels is no small job. It requires considerable time and effort.

And what happens?

Rivka comes to the well. Eliezer asks her for water, and she immediately offers not only to give him a drink but also to draw water for all his camels.

She doesn’t ask what she will get in return. She doesn’t complain about the work. She simply sees someone in need and offers to help.

Eliezer recognizes that this is exactly the kind of woman he has been searching for.

Why? Because he is looking beyond outward appearances. He is looking at character.

And that brings us to today—Election Day.

As we know, politicians can be very impressive. They can give wonderful speeches, make exciting promises, and present themselves as exactly the kind of leaders we need.

But the lesson of this week’s parsha is that we must look beyond appearances.

We must examine character.

What kind of person is this candidate? What has this person done in the past? Does this person keep promises? Are their actions consistent with their words?

And perhaps most importantly, can we reasonably expect them to demonstrate those same qualities once they are in office?

We all know that politicians sometimes make all sorts of promises before an election. Then, once elected, some seem to forget those promises.

That is why we have to look carefully at their records, their actions, and their character—not merely their speeches or their public image.

And there is another lesson I want to emphasize: the importance of voting itself.

You may have noticed that I wasn’t here last Monday through Thursday.

Where was I?

I was in Israel!

And the principal reasons I went was to vote in an election there.

Think about that. I traveled thousands of miles, endured a flight of about thirteen hours—if you’re lucky!—just to exercise my right to vote.

Now, I did manage to spend a little time visiting friends while I was there, but voting was an important reason for making that trip.

And then I came back because I also wanted to vote here.

Why would I go to all that trouble?

Because I believe voting is not merely a privilege. It is a responsibility.

We have the opportunity to participate in choosing the people who will make decisions affecting our communities, our country, and future generations.

And that is something we should never take lightly.

Abraham understood that his decisions would affect generations yet unborn. When he purchased the Cave of Machpelah, he was preserving the past. When he arranged for Yitzchak to marry Rivka, he was preparing for the future.

And what was the essential consideration in choosing Rivka?

Character. Middot. The kind of person she truly was.

That is a lesson we should remember when we enter the voting booth.

Look beyond the speeches. Look beyond the publicity. Look beyond the promises.

Examine the character, the record, and the actions of the people asking for your vote.

And above all, exercise your right to vote.

Because just as Abraham understood that his actions would affect future generations, we too must recognize that the decisions we make today can have consequences far into the future.

That is one of the great lessons of Parshat Chayei Sarah.

The past teaches us what to value. Character helps us judge the present. And our choices help shape the future.

Something to think about.

Abraham buys the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Hebron. He could have taken if for free since he was promised the land of Israel by God, but he wanted that there would be no question of ownership of the land.

Parshat Chayei Sarah: Abraham’s Purchase of the Cave of Machpelah

A Dvar Torah on Honesty, Integrity, and the Land of Israel

This week’s parsha, Chayei Sarah, begins with the death of Sarah. Abraham realizes that he must find a proper burial place for his wife.

Sarah died in Kiryat Arba, which is Hebron, and Abraham decides to purchase the Ma’arat HaMachpelah, the Cave of the Patriarchs.

Now, why did Abraham choose this particular place?

According to the Midrash, Adam and Eve were already buried there. Abraham recognized the holiness of the location and wanted Sarah to be buried there as well. Eventually, Abraham himself, Isaac and Rebecca, and Jacob and Leah would also be buried there.

But what makes this story particularly interesting is the way Abraham purchases the property.

The owner is Ephron the Hittite. When Abraham approaches him, Ephron makes a very generous-sounding offer.

“Abraham, you’ve lost your wife. You’re grieving. I’ll give you the property. It’s yours. Take it as a gift.”

Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?

But then Ephron adds something very interesting.

“After all, what’s 400 silver shekels between friends?”

Hint, hint!

In other words, Ephron is saying, “I’ll give it to you for free, but if you happen to give me 400 silver shekels, that would be very nice.”

And 400 silver shekels was an enormous amount of money!

But Abraham doesn’t argue. He doesn’t negotiate. He simply pays the full amount.

And he does something else that is extremely important. He makes sure the transaction takes place publicly, in front of witnesses, at the city gate.

There will be no question about who owns this property.

But here’s the big question: Why did Abraham have to buy the land at all?

Remember, God had already promised Abraham the Land of Israel.

If God promised him the land, why should Abraham have to pay for something that was already going to belong to him?

To understand this, let’s go back to an earlier parsha.

Remember the dispute between Abraham’s shepherds and Lot’s shepherds?

Lot’s shepherds allowed their sheep to graze on land belonging to other people. Their reasoning was simple: God had promised the land to Abraham. Abraham had no children at that time, so Lot would presumably inherit everything. Therefore, they reasoned, the land already belonged to them.

But Abraham’s shepherds refused to accept that argument.

God might have promised Abraham the land, but that didn’t mean he could take property belonging to somebody else.

Until the land legally belonged to Abraham, grazing his sheep on someone else’s property would be stealing.

And that disagreement was one of the reasons Abraham and Lot separated.

Now we see that same principle in this week’s parsha.

Abraham knows that God promised him the land. But he also knows that a divine promise does not give him permission to ignore the rights of the people who currently own it.

So he pays for the Cave of Machpelah.

And notice the difference between Abraham and Ephron.

Ephron talks big. He makes grand gestures. He offers to give away the property. But when it comes down to it, what does he really want?

Show me the money!

Abraham, on the other hand, doesn’t make grand speeches. He simply does what is right.

Ephron is a man of words. Abraham is a man of action.

And that is one of the great lessons of this parsha.

Now, I want to share something personal.

When I served in the IDF, one of my assignments was guarding the Ma’arat HaMachpelah in Hebron.

Yes, I actually guarded the Cave of the Patriarchs!

And because of my military duties, I had access to places that ordinary tourists don’t get to see.

What most visitors see today is the monumental structure above the actual caves. The burial chambers themselves are underneath.

I also knew an Israeli archaeologist who told me a fascinating story.

Back in 1967, when he was a young soldier, he and several others managed to sneak into the underground area.

He told me that they discovered old inscriptions in Latin, dating, according to his account, to the Roman period, indicating directions to the burial places of Abraham and Sarah and the other patriarchs and matriarchs.

Now, I have to emphasize that this was his personal account to me, not something I can independently verify. There were no photographs that he showed me.

But it was a fascinating story, and it reinforced for me just how much history and tradition are associated with this extraordinary place.

There is another interesting aspect of Hebron.

The Chabad community has a long history of property ownership in the city, and own half of downtown Hebront that that community have been held through private ownership rather than the usual Israeli state-land arrangements.

That brings us back to Abraham.

He wasn’t satisfied with simply saying, “God promised me this land.”

He wanted a proper transaction. He wanted witnesses. He wanted the purchase to be recognized publicly.

He paid the money, and the Torah records the transaction in detail.

Of course, the legal and political questions surrounding land ownership in Hebron today are much more complicated. But the lesson of Abraham’s purchase remains important.

A promise about the future does not excuse dishonesty in the present.

Abraham teaches us that even when we believe something rightfully belongs to us, we must act with integrity, respect the rights of others, and do things properly.

And there’s one more lesson.

It’s easy to make promises. It’s easy to talk about generosity, honesty, and righteousness.

But what really matters is what we do.

Ephron talked about generosity.

Abraham demonstrated integrity.

And that’s the difference between words and deeds.

Something to think about, isn’t it?

While the Parsha is called The Life of Sarah, it discusses her death. That is because if we follow in her footsteps and practice what she stood for then she is not dead but alive through our actions.

Parshat Chayei Sarah — Keeping the Righteous Alive

Good morning, and now for a quick Dvar Torah.

This week’s parsha is Chayei Sarah, which literally means The Life of Sarah. Now, that’s a rather strange title when you think about it, because the parsha begins with Sarah’s death!

So why is it called The Life of Sarah rather than The Death of Sarah?

The answer is that, in a very real sense, Sarah never died.

You see, in Judaism, when we speak about the great tzaddikim, the righteous people who came before us, we don’t simply remember that they lived. We study their lives, their middot, their character traits, and their deeds, and we try to emulate them.

And as long as we continue to live by their teachings and follow their examples, they remain alive through us.

There’s a wonderful story that illustrates this idea.

A rabbi was once being considered for a rabbinical position in a small town in Eastern Europe. The townspeople were very anxious to convince him to become their rabbi.

They said to him, “Rabbi, you must come to our town! Do you know who is buried here? The Taz, the Magen Avraham, and Rabbi Akiva Eiger! Three of the greatest Torah scholars!”

The rabbi was tremendously impressed. Imagine living in a town where such great tzaddikim were buried! He accepted the position.

But when he arrived, he made a rather startling discovery.

None of these great rabbis was actually buried there!

The Taz was buried in Lemberg, Rabbi Akiva Eiger in Posen, and the Magen Avraham in Kalisz.

The rabbi was furious.

“You lied to me!” he told the townspeople. “You said these great rabbis were buried in your town, but none of them is buried here!”

The townspeople answered, “Rabbi, we didn’t lie to you.

“In Lemberg, where the Taz is buried, they study his Torah. His teachings are alive there.

“In Kalisz, they study the Magen Avraham. His Torah is alive there.

“And in Posen, they study the teachings of Rabbi Akiva Eiger. He, too, is alive through his Torah.

“But here in our town, nobody studies their teachings. Nobody follows their example.

“So, Rabbi, in our town, they really are dead and buried!”

Now, that’s a very powerful lesson.

If you want to keep a great person alive, study their teachings and put those teachings into practice.

And that’s exactly the message of Chayei Sarah.

Sarah Imeinu, our mother Sarah, may have physically died, but her life continues through us.

Every time we practice chesed, loving-kindness, every time we demonstrate concern for others, every time we follow the values that Sarah lived by, we are keeping her alive.

And the same is true of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Rebecca, Rachel, Leah, and all our great forefathers and foremothers.

We don’t study their lives simply to learn history. We study their lives to learn how we should live our own lives.

And as long as we emulate their good deeds, their values, and their middot, they continue to live through us.

That is why the parsha is called Chayei Sarah — The Life of Sarah. Because Sarah’s life didn’t end with her death. Her life continues in every generation that follows her example.

And perhaps that’s something we should all think about. What will keep us alive after we’re gone? Not our possessions, not our wealth, but the good deeds we performed, the values we taught, and the example we left for others.

Something to think about.

Sarah demands that Abraham send Ishmael and Hagar away because she sees in Ishmael a danger to the family. He is doing things that are against everything that Abraham and Sarah stand for. God tells Abraham to listen to her.

Dvar Torah – Parshat Vayeira

Loving-Kindness Must Be Balanced with Justice

Good morning.

In this week’s parsha, Vayeira, we come across a very interesting and troubling episode: the expulsion of Hagar and Ishmael from Abraham’s household.

Sarah tells Abraham that Hagar and Ishmael must be sent away. Abraham, understandably, is very upset. After all, Ishmael is his son, his firstborn son. How could he possibly send him away?

But Sarah sees something that Abraham does not.

The Torah tells us that Sarah saw Ishmael metzachek, a Hebrew word that can mean laughing, mocking, or playing around.

Now, what’s so terrible about that? Children play around all the time. Why should that be a reason to expel Ishmael?

But our sages explain that there was much more going on.

According to the Midrash, Ishmael was involved in idolatry and other serious wrongdoing. There is even a Midrash that describes Ishmael shooting arrows in Isaac’s direction and then claiming that he was only joking.

In other words, this was not innocent childhood mischief. Sarah recognized that Ishmael’s behavior represented a genuine danger to Isaac and to the future of Abraham’s household.

There was also the question of inheritance. Ishmael was Abraham’s firstborn son, and Sarah understood that there could eventually be a struggle over who would inherit Abraham’s spiritual legacy.

Abraham, however, did not want to send Ishmael away.

And this brings us to a very important distinction between Abraham and Sarah.

Abraham represents chesed, loving-kindness. Throughout the Torah, we see his extraordinary concern for others. He welcomes strangers into his home. He prays for the wicked people of Sodom. He goes out of his way to help people, even those who may not deserve his kindness.

But loving-kindness, when taken too far, can become a weakness.

Abraham was so committed to seeing the good in people that he had difficulty recognizing the danger that certain people could represent. And when it came to his own son, that difficulty was even greater.

Sarah also possessed loving-kindness, but hers was balanced by a very practical understanding of human nature.

She understood that there are times when kindness requires us to establish boundaries. There are times when protecting innocent people must take precedence over showing compassion to someone whose behavior threatens them.

And what does God tell Abraham?

“Whatever Sarah tells you, listen to her voice.” (Genesis 21:12)

God tells Abraham that Sarah is correct.

Now, this teaches us something very important, not only about Abraham and Sarah, but about how we should conduct ourselves.

We need loving-kindness. Without it, society becomes cruel and heartless. But loving-kindness must be balanced with justice and a realistic understanding of human behavior.

And this applies just as much today as it did in Abraham’s time.

We hear people making excuses for criminals. We are told that someone had a difficult childhood, that he came from a troubled background, that he suffered injustices, and therefore we should understand why he committed a crime.

There is a popular expression: “Hurt people hurt people.”

Now, there may be truth in that statement. People who have suffered sometimes go on to hurt others. Understanding someone’s background may help explain his behavior.

But explaining a crime is not the same as excusing it.

And this is where the Torah’s approach to justice becomes so important.

In Parshat Mishpatim, the Torah tells us that a judge must not favor a poor person in a legal dispute simply because he is poor. And elsewhere, the Torah makes clear that we must not favor the wealthy or powerful either.

Justice must be based on the facts and the law, not on sympathy for one party or prejudice against another.

The question is not whether the accused person had a difficult life. The question is whether he committed the offense, what the law requires, and how justice should be administered.

That does not mean that circumstances can never matter when determining an appropriate punishment. But compassion cannot replace accountability.

If we become so concerned about the person who commits a crime that we forget about the victim, we have turned justice upside down.

And if we consistently excuse wrongdoing in the name of kindness, we may actually encourage more wrongdoing.

That is not loving-kindness. That is a failure to recognize reality.

This is precisely what Sarah understood and what Abraham, in this particular situation, had difficulty accepting.

And there is another important lesson here.

Abraham and Sarah were both great people. Both were committed to serving God. But they had different strengths.

Abraham’s extraordinary loving-kindness needed to be balanced by Sarah’s judgment and practical understanding.

This is one of the reasons that a husband and wife can complement one another. One may see something that the other misses. One may emphasize compassion, while the other recognizes the need for limits.

Neither quality should be dismissed. We need both.

The Torah does not tell us to abandon compassion. Quite the opposite. Compassion is fundamental to Judaism.

But compassion without judgment can lead to injustice, just as justice without compassion can lead to cruelty.

The challenge is finding the proper balance.

And that, I believe, is one of the great lessons of the story of Abraham, Sarah, and Ishmael.

Be kind. Be compassionate. Help people whenever you can. But don’t confuse kindness with allowing people to do whatever they want without consequences.

Sometimes the most important act of kindness is knowing when to say no.

Something to think about.

Shabbat Shalom.

The most important thing that we learn from this week’s Parsha is that God hates evil. He destroys Sodom and Gomorrah because of the evil they do. But Lot is blinded by his wealth and refuses to leave. He is forced out. And then has a sad end,

Dvar Torah – Parshat Vayeira

The Danger of Choosing Prosperity Over Morality

Good morning.

I’ve recorded the last couple of Divrei Torah a little differently because I’ve been very busy here in Israel. But enough about me. Let’s get to the parsha.

This week’s parsha is Vayeira, and there are many important lessons we can learn from it.

We begin with the three angels who visit Abraham. One of them informs Abraham and Sarah that, despite their advanced age, they will have a son.

According to the Midrash, an angel can perform only one mission. One angel comes to announce the birth of Isaac, another is sent to destroy Sodom, and a third is sent to rescue Lot.

Now, we know that Abraham prayed to God to spare the people of Sodom. Why? Because Abraham was a man of chesed, of loving-kindness. He cared about other people, even people whose values were completely opposed to his own.

And the people of Sodom were the exact opposite of Abraham.

When they discovered that strangers were staying in Lot’s home, they surrounded the house and demanded that Lot bring the strangers outside. They wanted to sexually assault and brutalize them.

Remember, they had no idea these strangers were angels.

Lot tried desperately to protect his guests. He even offered his own daughters to the mob, a deeply troubling offer. But the people of Sodom were interested only in abusing the strangers.

This tells us something about the society in which Lot had chosen to live.

Why did Lot move to Sodom in the first place?

Because it was prosperous!

The land was fertile, the grazing was excellent, and the region was economically successful. Lot saw an opportunity to become wealthy, and he took it.

But there was one major problem.

Sodom had economic prosperity without morality.

And that is a very dangerous combination.

The twentieth-century economist Friedrich Hayek, who was himself an agnostic, recognized the importance of moral traditions and institutions in sustaining a free society. Economic freedom cannot survive indefinitely without a moral framework.

And that brings us back to Lot.

The angels warn Lot that God is about to destroy Sodom. They tell him to leave immediately.

But Lot hesitates.

He doesn’t want to leave.

Think about that for a moment. He knows the city is going to be destroyed, and yet he cannot bring himself to abandon it.

Finally, the angels have to take him and his family by the hand and lead them out.

They are given one very specific instruction: Do not look back.

But Lot’s wife looks back, and she becomes a pillar of salt.

Why did she look back?

Perhaps because she missed the life she had in Sodom. She missed her home, her possessions, her social position, and the prosperity she had enjoyed.

She could not let go of a society that was destroying itself.

And this is a lesson that has repeated itself throughout history.

Think about the Jews of Germany before World War II.

Many German Jews were deeply integrated into German society. They considered themselves Germans. Germany was a country of great culture, philosophy, science, and music.

Many could not believe that such a civilized country could descend into barbarism.

Even as the Nazis came to power and antisemitic persecution intensified, some continued to believe that things would eventually improve.

Of course, we must remember that many Jews desperately wanted to escape but were unable to find countries willing to accept them.

Nevertheless, the tragedy reminds us how difficult it can be to recognize that the world we have known is disappearing.

And we see another warning in our own time.

For years, there were people who believed that Hamas could be moderated, that economic incentives and political arrangements would prevent it from committing atrocities.

Then came October 7.

There is a particularly disturbing contrast between the Nazis and Hamas. The Nazis attempted to conceal much of their systematic murder of the Jews. Hamas terrorists, on the other hand, openly filmed and publicized atrocities committed during their attack.

The lesson is that we must take evil seriously. We cannot simply assume that people who openly express murderous intentions will never act upon them.

And that brings us back to Lot.

Lot should have understood long before the destruction that he was living in the wrong place.

He had chosen his neighbors because of their wealth rather than their character.

And those neighbors influenced him and his family.

Now look at how Lot’s story ends.

After escaping Sodom, he finds himself living in a cave with his two daughters.

His daughters, apparently believing that there are no other men available to continue the human race, get their father drunk and have relations with him. Both become pregnant.

Think about the tragedy of Lot.

He began as a wealthy man, living in one of the most prosperous regions of the world.

He chose Sodom because he wanted economic success.

But what did he end up with?

He lost his home. He lost his wealth. He lost his wife. And his family was left morally devastated.

Lot chose prosperity over morality, and in the end, he lost both.

That is the great lesson of this week’s parsha.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to be successful. There is nothing wrong with making money. Judaism certainly does not condemn wealth.

But wealth cannot be the sole consideration in deciding where we live, whom we associate with, or what kind of society we want to build.

We must look at the moral character of the people around us.

And when we see a society descending into evil, we must have the courage to recognize what is happening rather than pretending that everything will somehow work out.

Abraham understood that morality comes first.

Lot learned that lesson far too late.

And that is something for all of us to think about.

One of the most important lessons from this week’s Parsha is that in order to improve the world we must first improve ourselves.

A Quick Dvar Torah – Parshat Vayera

Changing the World Begins with Changing Ourselves

Good morning. And now for a quick Dvar Torah.

This week’s parsha, Vayera, begins with a fascinating story about Abraham.

Abraham is sitting outside his tent. According to our Sages, it is the third day after his bris milah, his circumcision, traditionally considered the most painful day. Abraham is 99 years old, and God has made the weather extremely hot so that nobody will be traveling. God wants Abraham to rest and recover.

But Abraham is distressed. Why? Because he has no guests!

Hospitality was so important to Abraham that even while recovering from surgery, he was upset that he had nobody to welcome into his home.

So God sends three angels, appearing as ordinary travelers.

Now, here’s where the story becomes particularly interesting.

God Himself is visiting Abraham. In fact, our Sages teach that God came to perform the mitzvah of bikur cholim, visiting the sick.

But then Abraham sees three strangers approaching his tent. And what does he do?

He essentially tells God, “Excuse me. I have some guests to take care of. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

Think about that for a moment!

You’re having a conversation with God Himself, and you put God on hold because three strangers are walking by and you want to offer them something to eat!

What an extraordinary lesson.

The Talmud, in Shabbat 127a, teaches that welcoming guests is even greater than receiving the Divine Presence.

And there are two important messages here.

First, we learn how important visiting the sick is. After all, if God Himself visits Abraham while he’s recovering, shouldn’t we follow His example?

Second, we learn that helping another human being can take precedence even over speaking directly with God.

But there’s another lesson here that I think is equally important.

Abraham was an extraordinarily holy man. He had a direct relationship with God. Yet he never withdrew from society.

He didn’t say, “I’m a holy person. I have no time for ordinary people and their problems.”

Quite the opposite!

He was actively involved in the world around him.

And that is a fundamental Jewish concept.

In some religious traditions, people seeking holiness withdraw from society. They become monks, retreat to mountaintops, meditate, and separate themselves from everyday life.

But that is not the Jewish ideal.

Judaism teaches us to live in the world, participate in society, raise families, work, help others, and make the world a better place.

And that brings us to another important idea: Tikkun Olam, repairing the world.

We hear that expression all the time today.

People talk about changing society, demonstrating for causes, and correcting all the problems they see around them.

Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with being concerned about society’s problems. We should care about the environment. We shouldn’t pollute. We should care about other people.

But there’s something that often gets overlooked.

Before you can change the world, you have to begin by changing yourself.

There’s a well-known story, often attributed to the Chofetz Chaim, that illustrates this beautifully.

When he was a young man, he wanted to change the entire world.

As he grew older, he realized that perhaps changing the world was too ambitious. So he decided he would change his community.

Later, he thought, perhaps I should concentrate on changing my family.

And finally, when he was an old man, he came to a realization.

The person he really needed to change was himself.

And that is an extraordinarily important lesson.

We spend so much time worrying about what everybody else is doing wrong. We worry about society, politics, the environment, and all the problems of the world.

But how often do we stop and ask ourselves a very simple question?

Am I a better person today than I was yesterday?

Am I more honest? Am I more considerate? Am I more patient? Do I speak more respectfully to other people?

And here’s something else.

When you improve yourself, you influence the people around you.

Let me give you a simple example.

Suppose you’re in a group of people who regularly use obscene language. But you make it a point never to use that kind of language yourself.

You don’t lecture anybody. You don’t demonstrate. You don’t tell everybody else how they should behave.

You simply set an example.

And you know what happens?

People begin to notice. Some may even become uncomfortable using that language around you. Without saying a word, you’ve influenced their behavior.

You’ve made your little corner of the world a better place.

And that brings us back to Abraham.

Abraham didn’t become holy by separating himself from humanity. He became holy by bringing holiness into everyday life.

He welcomed strangers. He fed the hungry. He cared about other people. And through his own behavior, he taught others how to live.

That is the Jewish way.

We don’t improve the world simply by telling everybody else what they should do.

We improve the world by becoming better people ourselves and setting an example for others.

So perhaps the lesson of this week’s parsha is very simple.

Before you ask, “How can I change the world?” ask yourself, “How can I change myself?”

Because when you become a better person, the world around you becomes a little better too.

And that’s where Tikkun Olam really begins.

Something to think about.