Yitzhak wanted to bless Esav but he was blind. Rivka knew that Esav did not deserve the blessing so she had Yaakov dress up as Esav. Rivka knew the true nature of her sons. Yitzhak was blinded by his narrative.

A Quick Dvar Torah: The Danger of Willful Blindness

Parshat Toldot

At the end of this week’s parsha, Toldot, we have the famous incident of Yitzchak giving his blessings to Yaakov instead of Esav.

The Torah tells us that Yitzchak had grown old and that his eyesight had become dim. He could no longer see clearly.

But there’s an interesting question here: Was Yitzchak blind only physically, or was he also blind spiritually?

You see, one of the great problems we face in life is that sometimes the evidence is right in front of us, but we simply refuse to see it.

Esav was not exactly the ideal person to carry on the spiritual legacy of Avraham and Yitzchak. He was a hunter, and according to the Midrash, he engaged in all sorts of questionable activities. He associated with violent people, and he married local Hittite women who caused tremendous grief to both Yitzchak and Rivka.

Rivka recognized these problems. She loved Esav. After all, he was her son. But she also understood that he was not the person who should become the spiritual leader of the family and carry on the covenant of Avraham.

Yitzchak, on the other hand, apparently didn’t see these things. Or perhaps he didn’t want to see them.

He saw the good in Esav. He loved his son, and he wanted to believe the best about him. But in doing so, he overlooked the evidence that was right in front of him.

And this is something that happens all the time.

We all know people who have friends who aren’t exactly the finest individuals in the world. They may do things that are dishonest or morally questionable, but we overlook those things because they’re our friends. We enjoy their company. We have a good time with them.

We don’t want to see their faults.

The same thing happens in families. Parents sometimes refuse to recognize the shortcomings of their children. They love their children, as they should, but love can sometimes blind us to reality.

And unfortunately, this also happens on a national level, sometimes with catastrophic consequences.

Think about Europe in the 1930s.

Britain and France pursued a policy of appeasement toward Hitler. They convinced themselves that if they gave him what he wanted, he would eventually be satisfied and there would be peace.

But Hitler had already made his intentions clear in Mein Kampf. His ideology and ambitions were there for anyone willing to read them.

Yet many political leaders preferred to believe their own narrative rather than confront the evidence before them.

And we know what happened.

We saw something similar in Israel before October 7, 2023.

There were warning signs about Hamas’s intentions. Israeli surveillance soldiers reported suspicious activities and preparations along the Gaza border. Yet their warnings were not given the attention they deserved.

Why?

Because there was a prevailing belief among important elements of Israel’s security establishment that Hamas was interested primarily in governing Gaza and improving its economic situation, rather than launching a major war against Israel.

That assumption proved disastrously wrong.

The evidence was there, but it didn’t fit the accepted narrative.

And that’s what we call willful blindness.

We become so attached to what we want to believe that we refuse to recognize what is actually happening.

Now, coming back to Yitzchak, the Torah is teaching us something very important.

One of the remarkable things about the Torah is that it doesn’t sugarcoat our forefathers and foremothers. It doesn’t portray them as perfect human beings who never made mistakes.

Avraham made difficult decisions. Yaakov made mistakes. And Yitzchak, despite his greatness and righteousness, may have allowed his love for Esav to prevent him from recognizing his son’s true character.

Rivka saw what Yitzchak could not, and she acted to ensure that Yaakov would receive the blessing intended for the continuation of the covenant.

The lesson is not that we shouldn’t love our children, our friends, or our country. Of course we should.

But love must never become an excuse for ignoring reality.

We have to be willing to look at the evidence, even when it makes us uncomfortable, even when it challenges our assumptions, and even when it tells us something we don’t want to hear.

Because sometimes the most dangerous kind of blindness isn’t the inability to see.

It’s the refusal to see what is right in front of our eyes.

And that’s something we should all think about.

Shabbat Shalom.

Envy Destroys, Building Helps Everyone – Abraham dug wells so that all who needed water could have it. The Philistines destroyed the wells out of jealousy. Yitzhak dug the wells again. Abraham & Yitzhak were builders for all.

Dvar Torah – Parshat Toldot

It Is Easier to Destroy Than to Build

In this week’s parsha, Toldot, we read about Yitzchak and the wells that his father, Avraham, had dug.

The Torah tells us something rather strange. After Avraham died, the Philistines filled these wells with earth, making them unusable.

Now, think about that for a moment. Water in that part of the world is extremely valuable. Without water, you cannot survive. You cannot grow crops, raise animals, or build a community.

So why would the Philistines destroy perfectly good wells?

After all, it doesn’t matter who dug the wells. Everyone could benefit from the water.

The Torah gives us an explanation. The Philistines were jealous of Yitzchak’s prosperity. Rather than appreciating what Avraham had accomplished, they chose to destroy it.

When Yitzchak reopened the wells, the local shepherds claimed that the water belonged to them. Twice there were disputes, and twice Yitzchak moved on rather than fight. Finally, he dug another well, which he called Rechovot, because there was no longer any dispute over it.

Yitzchak understood something very important: It is better to spend your energy building something than fighting over what others want to take away.

Interestingly, we can see a modern parallel in Gaza.

When Israel withdrew from Gaza in 2005, agricultural greenhouses and other infrastructure remained behind. The greenhouses were destroyed or looted. There was an opportunity to develop agriculture and create jobs.

Over the years, billions of dollars in international assistance have gone into Gaza. Yet Hamas devoted enormous resources to building tunnels, manufacturing rockets, and preparing for war against Israel.

Think about the contrast.

When Israel was established in 1948, it was a very poor country. Its people faced tremendous economic difficulties. They had to build homes, roads, factories, universities, and an agricultural economy, often under extremely difficult circumstances.

Today, Israel has become one of the world’s leading centers of technology and innovation.

That did not happen by accident. It happened because people worked, sacrificed, invested, and planned for the future.

And consider the irony concerning water. Israel, a country that once struggled with severe water shortages, developed advanced desalination technology and became a major supplier of drinking water, including to Gaza. International funding has helped support water infrastructure and supply arrangements.

Instead of concentrating on developing a prosperous society, Hamas invested heavily in weapons and tunnels.

There is a lesson here about jealousy.

Jealousy can be a very destructive force. When someone sees another person becoming successful, there are two possible reactions.

One is to say, “How did that person accomplish so much? What can I learn from him?”

The other is to say, “Why should he have something that I don’t have? If I cannot have it, I will make sure he doesn’t have it either.”

That second attitude is what we see in the story of the Philistines and the wells.

I remember a conversation I had shortly after September 11, 2001. A woman asked me why terrorists would want to destroy the World Trade Center.

I explained that one element of extremist hatred is resentment of societies that have achieved freedom and prosperity. Instead of learning from their accomplishments, extremists may seek to destroy what those societies have built.

We sometimes see a similar resentment directed toward successful individuals. People look at wealthy entrepreneurs and focus on what they possess rather than on what they have created.

Consider someone like Elon Musk. Whatever one thinks of his personality or politics, the companies he has helped build have created jobs and developed new technologies.

Success should inspire us to accomplish something ourselves, not simply resent the accomplishments of others.

And that brings us back to Yitzchak.

The Philistines were busy filling wells with earth. Yitzchak was busy digging them.

They were destroying sources of life. He was creating them.

There is a profound difference between those two approaches.

The Torah teaches us that our responsibility is to be builders. We should build businesses, strengthen our communities, support our families, create opportunities, and make the world a better place.

It is easy to tear something down. It takes patience, determination, and hard work to build something that will last.

Yitzchak did not allow the jealousy of others to prevent him from continuing his father’s work.

And neither should we.

The question we should ask ourselves is simple: Are we filling in wells, or are we digging new ones?

Something to think about.

Just as Jacob was willing to forgo instant pleasure for the future & Isaac dug the wells for all, we honor our Veterans for their service to our country.

A Quick Dvar Torah: Parshat Toldot and Veterans Day

Doing What Has to Be Done

In this week’s parsha, Toldot, we see a very interesting contrast between Esav and Yaakov.

Esav comes in from the field, hungry and exhausted. He sees that Yaakov has prepared a pot of lentils, and he wants some immediately. Yaakov tells him that he can have the food in exchange for his birthright.

And Esav agrees!

Think about that for a moment. He gives up his birthright, something of tremendous importance for his future, simply because he wants something to eat right now.

Esav is a man of instant gratification. What matters to him is the present. He’s hungry, and he wants food. The future can wait.

Yaakov, on the other hand, understands the importance of planning for the future. He recognizes that sometimes we have to sacrifice something today in order to accomplish something greater tomorrow.

We see a similar lesson later in the parsha with Yitzchak and the wells.

Avraham had dug wells, but after his death, the Philistines filled them with earth.

Now, think about how strange that is. Didn’t the Philistines need water too? Of course they did! But because Avraham had dug those wells, they didn’t want anyone benefiting from them.

So Yitzchak goes out and reopens the wells his father had dug.

But what happens? The Philistines claim the water belongs to them. Yitzchak moves on and digs another well. Again, they quarrel over it. Finally, he digs a third well, and this time there is no dispute.

He calls it Rechovot, recognizing that God has made room for them to prosper.

Yitzchak doesn’t give up. He doesn’t seek a confrontation simply to prove that he’s right. He understands that the important thing is to keep working, to keep building, and to secure the future.

And that brings us to something very important about today.

Today, November 11, is Veterans Day, the day on which we honor the men and women who have served in the United States Armed Forces.

And when you think about it, these veterans represent the very opposite of Esav’s attitude.

They understand the meaning of delayed gratification.

Trust me, military basic training is no picnic. These young men and women voluntarily submit themselves to tremendous physical and mental challenges. They give up their personal comforts, their freedom to do whatever they want, and sometimes even their lives.

Why?

Because they recognize that there is something more important than their immediate comfort. There is something worth sacrificing for.

Many of us have seen the HBO series Band of Brothers, which tells the story of American paratroopers during World War II.

Think about what those men went through, particularly during the Battle of the Bulge. They endured freezing temperatures, terrible conditions, hunger, and constant enemy attacks.

They weren’t doing it because they enjoyed suffering. They weren’t doing it for glory.

They did it because their country had been attacked, because freedom was threatened, and because somebody had to do the job.

And they understood that their sacrifices today would help ensure that future generations could live in freedom.

That is delayed gratification in its most profound form.

Today, we have an all-volunteer military. Nobody is being drafted. These young men and women choose to serve.

And somewhere in the world today, there is probably a young American soldier standing guard on some remote hill that most of us have never heard of and will probably never remember.

We don’t know that soldier’s name. We don’t know what sacrifices that soldier and the soldier’s family are making.

But that soldier is there, doing a job that has to be done, so that the rest of us can enjoy the freedoms we sometimes take for granted.

And that brings us back to Yaakov and Yitzchak.

Yaakov understood that the future was worth more than immediate satisfaction.

Yitzchak understood that even when others destroyed his father’s work or tried to take what he had built, he had to continue digging, continue building, and continue preparing for the future.

Neither was simply seeking glory.

They understood that there was a responsibility to fulfill.

And that is something we should remember on Veterans Day.

We honor our veterans not simply because they wore a uniform, but because they were willing to put something greater than themselves first.

They were willing to sacrifice their comfort today for the freedom of others tomorrow.

Esav asked, “What can I get right now?” Yaakov and Yitzchak teach us to ask, “What can I do today that will make tomorrow better?”

And our veterans have answered that second question through their service and their sacrifices.

Freedom doesn’t just happen. Somebody has to protect it. Somebody has to do the difficult work.

And very often, the people who do that work are not looking for recognition or glory.

They’re simply doing what has to be done.

On this Veterans Day, we owe them our gratitude.

Something to think about.

Esau was a hunter. He would go out and try to find prey, if he didn’t find it he went hungry. Jacob was a shepherd He would have to plan. He was into delayed gratification. That is one of the prime reasons we follow Jacob and not Esau.

A Quick Dvar Torah – Parshat Toldot

Esav and Yaakov: The Danger of Instant Gratification

As I mentioned yesterday, one of the fundamental differences between Esav and Yaakov was their attitude toward life. Esav was someone who wanted instant gratification, while Yaakov understood the importance of patience, hard work, and planning for the future.

Remember, Esav was a hunter. A hunter goes out into the field, finds an animal, kills it, and has his meal. He does not have to plant crops, wait for them to grow, or spend months preparing for the harvest. He wants results immediately.

Yaakov, on the other hand, was a man of the tents, and later we see him working as a shepherd. A shepherd must have patience. He raises his sheep, cares for them, protects them, and waits for them to produce wool or eventually provide meat. It is a long process that requires dedication and responsibility.

According to the Midrash, Esav was also involved in robbery and other wrongdoing. Again, we see the same attitude. Why work for something when you can simply take what somebody else has worked hard to earn? That, too, is instant gratification.

And this is a very important lesson for us today.

We live in an age of instant gratification. Think about the microwave oven. Years ago, preparing a meal could take hours. Today, you put something in the microwave, press a button, and within a minute or two, your meal is ready.

The same is true of communications. For those of us who grew up in the 1950s and 1960s, there was often a considerable delay between when something happened and when we learned about it. Today, something happens on the other side of the world, and we know about it almost instantly.

We have become accustomed to getting everything immediately. And unfortunately, we sometimes expect the same thing when dealing with much more complicated matters.

Take politics, for example.

In Israel, there was a movement called Peace Now. It still exists today, although it is a shadow of what it once was. Its very name reflected the desire for immediate peace. Peace Now! Why wait? Let’s make peace immediately!

But peace is not something that can simply be produced by pressing a button. The Oslo Accords were supposed to bring peace between Israel and the Palestinians. Instead, they were followed by tremendous disappointment, terrorism, and violence.

The fundamental problem is that peace requires two sides that genuinely want to make peace. One side cannot create peace by itself, no matter how much it wants it. Peace requires patience, realism, mutual commitments, and a willingness to do the hard work necessary to achieve it.

We saw something similar before World War II. Britain and France tried to avoid war with Nazi Germany through appeasement. They wanted peace, but Hitler had other plans. Instead of preventing war, their efforts failed, and Europe eventually found itself in a far more devastating conflict.

The same desire for immediate results appeared in the Russian Revolution. The revolutionaries promised a new society in which exploitation and poverty would disappear. They offered the dream of a better world, but the reality was very different. Instead of universal prosperity, the Soviet system brought dictatorship, repression, and tremendous suffering.

The lesson is that wanting something immediately does not mean that it can be achieved immediately.

And this applies not only to politics but also to our personal lives.

There is no shortcut to genuine achievement.

Think about someone who becomes an overnight sensation in music or entertainment. We call that person an overnight success. But what we don’t see are the years of practice, the countless hours of preparation, and the disappointments that came before that success.

The same is true in sports. A great athlete does not simply walk onto the field and become a champion. He spends years practicing, training, and developing his abilities. What looks effortless to us is actually the result of tremendous hard work.

And certainly, the same is true when it comes to studying Torah. You cannot become a Torah scholar overnight. It takes years of learning, dedication, patience, and perseverance.

This brings us back to Esav and Yaakov.

Esav lived for the moment. When he returned from the field hungry and saw Yaakov preparing lentils, all he could think about was satisfying his immediate hunger. He was even willing to sell his birthright for a bowl of food.

Think about that! He was prepared to surrender something of tremendous future value simply to satisfy an immediate desire.

Yaakov understood something that Esav did not. The things that truly matter in life cannot always be achieved instantly. They require planning, sacrifice, patience, and hard work.

And that is why we are called Bnei Yisrael, the children of Israel, the descendants of Yaakov, and not the descendants of Esav.

Because the Torah teaches us that real achievement does not come from instant gratification. It comes from putting in the time, doing the work, and remaining committed to our values even when the results are not immediate.

The easy way is not necessarily the right way, and the quickest result is not necessarily the best result.

That is the lesson of Yaakov and Esav, and it is a lesson that is just as relevant today as it was thousands of years ago.

Something to think about.

Esau was a hunter therefore he did not plan beyond the hunt. Jacob was a man who did plan for the future. This is the reason that Esau was willing to sell his birthright for a pot of lentils. He was hungry now.

A Quick Dvar Torah – Parshat Toldot

Esav and Yaakov: Living for Today or Planning for Tomorrow?

In this week’s parsha, Toldot, we see the beginning of the struggle between Esav and Yaakov. And we discover that these two brothers were very different individuals, not only in their personalities but also in the way they looked at life.

Esav is described as Ish Yodea Tzayid, Ish Sadeh — a skilled hunter, a man of the field. He was, in a sense, a hunter-gatherer. He went out looking for food, hoping to find something he could eat. He lived for the present. He was not particularly concerned about tomorrow.

Yaakov, on the other hand, is described as Ish Tam, Yoshev Ohalim — a man who dwelled in tents. According to the Midrash, these were the tents of Shem and Ever, where Yaakov studied Torah. Yaakov was someone who understood the importance of preparing for the future.

And nowhere is this difference more apparent than in the famous story of the lentils.

Esav returns from the field, apparently unsuccessful in his hunt. He is exhausted and hungry. Yaakov is preparing a pot of lentils, and Esav demands, “Give me some of that red, red stuff, because I’m exhausted!”

Yaakov responds, “I’ll give it to you, but on one condition. Sell me your birthright.”

Esav replies, “Look, I’m going to die! What good is the birthright to me?”

Think about that for a moment. Esav is willing to surrender something of tremendous importance, his birthright, for a bowl of lentils. Why? Because he is hungry right now.

And there is something else interesting here.

The Torah specifically emphasizes that the lentils were red. Now, red lentils, when they are fully cooked, generally lose their reddish color and turn yellowish or golden. The fact that Esav calls them red suggests that they may not even have been fully cooked!

But Esav doesn’t care. He’s hungry now. He wants to eat now. He cannot even wait a few more minutes for a properly cooked meal.

And that tells us something about Esav’s character.

Esav lived for the moment. Yaakov understood the importance of the future.

This difference would have consequences far beyond the lives of these two brothers.

Esav becomes known as Edom, and according to our tradition, Edom eventually becomes associated with Rome.

Now, the Romans were certainly great conquerors, builders, and administrators. But one of the recurring problems of the Roman Empire was the question of succession. What happened when an emperor died without a clear successor?

Very often, the result was a civil war. Rival generals and political leaders fought for power, sometimes tearing the empire apart.

The Romans could conquer vast territories, but they frequently struggled with the question of who would lead after the current emperor was gone.

We saw a similar problem in the old Soviet Union.

When Lenin died, Stalin eventually emerged victorious after a bitter power struggle, eliminating his rivals. After Stalin’s death, Nikita Khrushchev rose to power through another struggle within the Communist leadership.

The Soviet system had no reliable, orderly method of succession comparable to what we have in the United States.

And that is one of the great advantages of the American constitutional system.

If, God forbid, the president dies in office, we know exactly what happens. The vice president becomes president. And if the vice president cannot serve, there is an established line of succession.

Why? Because the people who established our system understood that government must be prepared for the future. A nation cannot depend entirely on one individual.

And this brings us back to Yaakov and Esav.

Esav saw a bowl of lentils. Yaakov saw the birthright.

Esav saw his immediate hunger. Yaakov saw the responsibilities and opportunities of future generations.

And that is a lesson not only for individuals but also for families, organizations, and nations.

We all have immediate needs. We all have things we want right now. But the question is whether we are willing to sacrifice something of lasting importance simply to satisfy the needs of the moment.

The Torah is teaching us that true leadership, and true wisdom, require us to look beyond today.

Esav asked, “What do I need right now?” Yaakov asked, “What will matter tomorrow?”

And perhaps that is one of the most important lessons of Parshat Toldot.

Something to think about.

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.