Insight of the Week

One year on the second night of Rosh Hashanah, my son turned to me and said, "These simanim , the special foods we eat on Rosh Hashanah, are horrible! "Don't we want to have a good year, a happy year? So why are we eating this terrible stuff????" "Moshe," I said, "you have to understand – we're eating these things in order to destroy our enemies!" "So let our enemies eat this!!!!" he protested. "Moshe," I explained, "the enemy is us. We're eating these foods to destroy the enemy within ourselves." When we pray on Rosh Hashanah for the demise of our enemies, we're not referring only to Hamas, Hezbollah, and their ilk. We're referring also to ourselves, to the bad habits and negative impulses that are so often our worst and most destructive foes. The Hovot Ha'levavot , in the Sha'ar Ha'bitahon section, teaches that there are three stages in the performance of any good deed: 1) the thought, or the inspiration, to perform the deed; 2) the decision to act upon that inspiration; 3) the actual execution. There is a critical distinction, the Hovot Ha'levavot writes, between the first two stages and the third stage. The first two stages are entirely up to us. Hashem does not help us with this. It is up to us to want to do the right thing, and it is up to us to make the firm decision to follow up on this desire. Once we've taken these first two steps, then – and only then!!! – Hashem comes to help us perform the mitzvah , or to make the change in our lifestyle. We have to get the process started by deciding we want to do the right thing – and then we earn Hashem's help to actually do it. The first of these three steps is pretty easy. We're all good people. We all sincerely want to do the right thing, to observe the mitzvot , to speak the right way, to be good spouses, parents, children and friends, to be the best version of ourselves. We all have the right values and the right idea of how we are supposed to live. The problem that we have – the "enemy" that we face within ourselves – is in regard to the second step. It is so hard to make the firm the decision to change, to tell ourselves: "I am going to do this no matter what. Nothing will stand in my way. Nothing is stopping me. I am resolute, and I am determined, and I am going to make this change." And the reason why this is so hard is that we like the wrong things we do. People find it hard to stop speaking lashon ha'ra because they enjoy the thrill of gossip. People find it hard to close their businesses on Shabbat because they enjoy that income. People find it hard to avoid anger because they enjoy the feeling of power that they experience when they scream at people. People find it hard to put down their phones and stop wasting time because they enjoy wasting time on their phones. People find it hard to go to shul in the morning because they enjoy sleeping in. Everyone has some bad habit that they can't kick because they just enjoy it too much. This enjoyment is the "enemy" that we are trying to fight during this time of year. We need to remember that we are strong enough to fight this enemy. We have the power to overcome these challenges. As we head into Rosh Hashanah and the Aseret Yemeh Teshuvah (Ten Days of Repentance), let us commit to wage this battle, to make the firm decision to change, and we will then earn Hashem's assistance in making these changes and living our best lives.

A quick review of the text of the Rosh Hashanah prayers shows us that the theme of this day is מלכות – Hashem's kingship over the world. This is the day when we crown Hashem as King over the universe, and we reaffirm our loyalty to Him as His subjects. Another theme that features prominently on Rosh Hashanah is עקידת יצחק – the story of Avraham Avinu's willingness to sacrifice his son in fulfillment of Hashem's command. We read the story of עקידת יצחק from the Torah, we mention it several times in our tefilot , and one of the explanations for the symbolism of the shofar is that it brings to mind the ram which Avraham sacrificed instead of Yitzhak (after Hashem told him not to kill Yitzhak). Furthermore, it is customary to eat meat from the head of a sheep on Rosh Hashanah, and one reason given for this practice is that sheep closely resemble rams, and we thus wish to invoke the ram of עקידת יצחק . How are we to understand the significance of עקידת יצחק on Rosh Hashanah, and its connection to the theme of מלכות ? Yitzhak represented Avraham's spiritual ambitions. His dream was to transmit his faith to his son, who then carry his legacy and form a nation that would represent Hashem in this world. This was Avraham's aspiration, his plan. But the moment Hashem commanded him to offer Yitzhak as a sacrifice, Avraham prepared to sacrifice this dream, to forego on his plan. It was very painful, and he didn't understand, but being Hashem's loyal servant means making difficult sacrifices for the sake of submitting to Hashem's authority and obeying Him. Too often, we want to have the best of both worlds. We want comfort and ease, and to then include Hashem. We want a lot of money, some of which we will donate to charity. We want to be very successful during the week so we can close on Shabbat without losing anything. We want to have amazing, well-behaved kids who are easy to raise and educate to be religiously observant. We want to do what Hashem wants – but in the way that we want. Being a faithful servant of Hashem means serving Him under conditions which aren't the way we want. Proclaiming Hashem as King means serving Him not only when we are in good health, but with whatever health He decides we should have. Proclaiming Hashem as King means serving Him happily even if we're struggling financially. Proclaiming Hashem as King means having a Torah home even with challenging children. On Rosh Hashanah, we draw our attention to עקידת יצחק because this is what crowning Hashem as King is all about – being willing to sacrifice, being willing to serve Hashem and obey His will under difficult conditions, when things aren't going our way. Crowning Hashem as King means turning to Him and saying, "Whatever it is that You want from me – I'm ready to do." And this is precisely the lesson of עקידת יצחק . The Gemara derives the details about the mitzvah of shofar blowing on Rosh Hashanah from the sounding of the shofar on the yovel (jubilee year). Every 50 years, the shofar would be sounded, proclaiming the release of all servants, setting them free. The Torah uses similar words in the context of the Rosh Hashanah shofar blowing and the shofar blowing on the yovel , indicating that the halachot that apply on yovel apply also on Rosh Hashanah. When we truly crown Hashem as king, we attain freedom – freedom from anxiety, from frustration, from anger, and from disappointment. When we see ourselves as servants of Hashem, and understand that we are here to live the life He wants us to live, and not the life that we think we want to live, then we will spare ourselves so much stress and aggravation. When life doesn't go the way we planned, we will just accept it as Hashem's will, realizing that He wants us to serve Him under the conditions that He gives us. There is no greater feeling than this mindset. When we live this way, we aren't worried about what may happen or not happen, because we know that everything that happens is Hashem's will. And we won't be frustrated or angry when things don't go our way, because we will understand that this is what Hashem wants for us. Let us take advantage of the precious opportunity Rosh Hashanah offers us to truly proclaim our loyalty to Hashem, so we can experience the unparalleled freedom of being His servants.

Parashat Ki-Tavo begins with the mitzvah of bikkurim – the requirement that a farmer bring the first of his fruits that ripen each year to the Bet Ha'mikdash , and present them as a gift to a kohen . The Torah commands, ובאת אל הכהן אשר יהיה בימים ההם – "You shall come to the kohen who will be in those days." Rashi explains that the Torah adds the words אשר יהיה בימים ההם – "who will be in those days" – to teach us אין לך אלא כהן שבימיך כמו שהוא – "all you have is the kohen in your times, the way he is." A person should bring his bikkurim to the kohen who is there in his time, even if this kohen is not of the same caliber as a kohen of a previous generation. Rashi makes a similar comment earlier in Sefer Devarim (17:9), in reference to the Torah's command that one bring his difficult Torah questions אל השופט אשר יהיה בימים ההם – "to the judge who will be in those days." In that context, too, Rashi explains that the Torah is emphasizing that even if the judge is not as great as the judges of earlier generations, אין לך אלא שופט שבימיך – "all you have is the judge who is in your times." The Ramban raises the question of how Rashi applies this to the context of bikkurim . After all, the kohen simply receives the bikkurim . He does not need to be wise, scholarly, or righteous. When it comes to judges and halachic scholars, it's understandable that one might be reluctant to bring his halachic question to a rabbi who is less impressive than the Rabbis of yesteryear. But why would a person feel this way about his bikkurim ? The answer given is that when a person gives something to someone, he wants to feel good about the recipient. A farmer is bringing the first fruits, which he worked very hard to produce, to give them as a gift to a kohen . If he sees that the kohanim in his generation aren't quite on the same level as the kohanim of earlier generations, he might feel uneasy about presenting them with this gift. The Torah therefore tells him, אין לך אלא כהן שבימיך כמו שהוא – all you have is the kohen in your time. These are the kohanim you have been given, so appreciate them, and support them. This is something which is relevant when it comes to family members. Many people, if not all of us, have issues with somebody in the family, or with several members of the family. It could be a spouse, a parent, a child, a sibling, a parent-in-law or a child-in-law. They think, "If only he wouldn't do that," or, "If only she wouldn't be weird in that way," or, "If only he wouldn't talk like that," or, "If only she didn't act this way." People seem to always be complaining about someone, or more than one person, in their family. We need to remember, אין לך אלא כהן שבימיך כמו שהוא – these are the family members that Hashem gave us. Yes, they aren't perfect, just like we ourselves aren't perfect, and just like all people on earth aren't perfect. Yes, they're a little weird in some way, just like we ourselves are weird is some way, and all people on earth are weird in some way. We have to accept them and love them for who they are. אין לך אלא כהן שבימיך כמו שהוא . The Gemara in Masechet Hulin (58b) tells what appears to be a very peculiar story about two small flies. The female fly got angry at the male fly, and stayed away from the male for seven years. The reason it was angry is because it once saw the male fly suck blood from a person, and did not inform the female fly so she could also have some blood. The Gemara questions how this could have happened, given that this was a special species of fly that lives only for a single day. How could the female fly have separated from the male fly for seven years, if they lived for only one day? The Gemara answers that the "seven years" refers to שני דידהו – their "years." Meaning, this refers to just a short while, the amount of time proportional to seven years in the life of a human being. What is the meaning of this seemingly bizarre story? One Rabbi explained that the Gemara here is talking not about one-day flies, but about us. So many families are torn apart over nonsense, just like this pair of flies. So many siblings are not on speaking terms because of some silly fight, because somebody got offended by something that the other person did. And if only they realized that they live for just "one day," that life is shorter than it appears, they wouldn't have made an issue out of it. Let us try to appreciate the family we've been given, the people we are blessed to have in our lives, flawed and imperfect as they may be. Instead of complaining, let us be grateful for everyone we have around us, and work to strengthen and enhance these relationships as best we can.

The story is told of a man who once approached a Rabbi and asked a question which we have likely all asked ourselves at one point or another, in some form or another. "Why does Hashem want me to perform mitzvot ?" he asked. "He already has angels, who are perfect, pristine creatures. I'm just a human being. I'm very flawed. I make a lot of mistakes. I do a lot of things wrong. What are my mitzvot worth?" The Rabbi replied by asking this fellow what he did professionally. The man said he was an artist, who drew paintings. "What's your favorite piece of art that you've produced?" the Rabbi asked. The artist explained that he painted a beautiful picture of the sunset over the ocean. It's considered an exquisite piece of art, and is worth an exorbitant amount of money. "What makes it so exquisite? Why is it so highly valued?" the Rabbi wondered. "Because it's perfect," the artist explained. "It depicts the ocean, the sun and the horizon in a manner that so closely resembles the real thing." "So tell me something," the Rabbi continued. "Why doesn't someone just take a good camera to the ocean and take a picture of the sunset? If he wants a perfect picture of the sunset, then surely a picture can provide a far more perfect replica than your painting, as good as it is." The artist smiled and explained that the whole point of art is to depict the subject as accurately as possible given human limitations. With a camera, there's no challenge, and so there's no achievement in producing a precise replica. The beauty of art lies in the ability to attain near-perfection within the limits of the human being's abilities. "This is precisely why Hashem wants us to serve Him," the Rabbi said. The angels' service of G-d is like the camera's depiction of the sunset. It's perfect and unflawed, without any struggle or challenge. Hashem created us flawed human beings so we can be "artists" – so we can create as beautiful a life as we can, with the understanding that we aren't going to be perfect. Religious life is an art, whereby we make ourselves as close to perfect as possible. Of course, we will never be perfect, and we should never expect ourselves to be perfect. We must, however, expect and demand of ourselves that we consistently work to get better. This month, Elul, is the time especially earmarked for growth. This is the time when we are to see how we can make our "painting" a little better, and bring ourselves closer to perfection. This is not the time to pretend that we can make ourselves perfect. This will never happen. If we see this month as the time to get perfect, then we'll likely end up accomplishing nothing. Instead, we need to commit to make ourselves better, to getting closer to perfection. And in order to do this, we must be willing to push ourselves, and to challenge ourselves to make real changes. The Gemara teaches in Masechet Sotah (21b): אין דברי תורה מתקיימין אלא במי שמעמיד עצמו ערום עליהן . This literally means, "The words of Torah are sustained only within someone who makes himself 'unclothed' over them." The Gemara here is telling us that in order to grow in Torah, we need to make difficult sacrifices. Needless to say, we don't have to actually give up all our clothing. We do, however, need to give up things that we have come to like, or we have come to look to for enjoyment. We should not expect ourselves to be perfect – but we must absolutely expect ourselves to work hard and to sacrifice in order to improve. If we are committing ourselves to Torah and mitzvot , then we cannot allow ourselves to act as we like, to go wherever we like, to watch whatever we like on our devices, or to speak however we like. We need to give up things which we know are wrong, even if giving them up is difficult. May Hashem help all of us this month to produce beautiful, exquisite "paintings," as we develop ourselves into the greatest people that we are capable of becoming.

I was once in a post office, and started chatting with the fellow working there behind the counter. Over the course of our conversation, he mentioned that he had served in the Marines. "The Marines?" I said. "Wow, that's amazing." He said that he spent some time in Afghanistan. I asked how much time he spent there, and he said that he was there for seven months. He had been a Marine for many years, but he spent only seven months serving in Afghanistan. "Why only seven months?" I then asked. His answer caught me off-guard. "Because complacency is no good." He explained that war is very dangerous, and very complex. In order to succeed, you need to be on high-alert at all times. At every moment, you need to be fully prepared, and completely focused. You need to make sure that all your equipment and all your ammunition is in tip-top shape and ready for action. And maintaining this level of alertness and preparedness requires the highest levels of motivation. The moment a troop falls even slightly, for a moment, into complacency, letting his guard down, he puts himself at great risk. In fact, this ex-Marine post-office worker said, there was a sign hung in his base in Afghanistan that read: Complacency Kills . This man, I believe, helps us understand what the month of Elul is all about. It is about taking us out of our complacency, it is about ensuring that we don't become the kind of people who sit back in our chair, pick up our feet, and take it easy. The month of Elul is meant to wake us up from our feeling of "whatever," of "I'm fine the way I am." It is about reminding us that we've been brought to this world to excel and to achieve, not to just sit back and relax. Every so often the yetzer ha'ra (evil inclination) puts a dream in my head – a dream where I just sit somewhere doing absolutely nothing, without my phone, without anyone around me, without any obligations or responsibilities. This is my yetzer ha'ra 's dream. And I hope I never have a single day like that in my entire life. I don't want to ever spend a day doing nothing, a day when I am not making the most of the precious time I've been given here in this world. The Midrash tells what appears to be a very peculiar story of a man who sat down along the side of the road to eat, and suddenly saw two birds fighting, with one eventually killing the other. The living bird then left and later returned with a leaf from a certain plant, which it placed on top of the dead bird. Miraculously, the bird came back to life. The two birds then flew away together. The man set out to find the miracle plant. He found it, and took some leaves. He then went around seeing how he could use them. He chanced upon the carcass of a lion, and he placed the plant on it. The lion came back to life – and immediately proceeded to devour the man. Rav Shmuel Pinhasi explains the meaning of this story told by the Midrash. The man was granted remarkable power – the power to restore life. He could have utilized this power to bring back Moshe Rabbenu, David Ha'melech, or Avraham, Yitzhak and Yaakov. He could have brought back his parents. This miracle plant presented him with so many precious opportunities. But instead, he used it to bring back to life a dangerous, violent animal, and he lost his life because of it. This is the mistake that so many of us make – we misuse, or fail to use, our capabilities. The very fact that we are alive proves that we have the potential to achieve, to do great things. If Hashem keeps us here in His world, it is because we are powerful, because we have so much to give. Elul is the time to ask ourselves, honestly, whether we are using these abilities to their fullest, whether we are achieving to our full potential, or if we have become complacent, preferring to "take it easy," to sit back and relax, rather than put in the work to maximize our potential. If we use our talents and capabilities for a "lion," for the wrong purposes, then we, like the man in the story, are hurting ourselves. In order to shine, in order to live life the right way, we need to avoid complacency, and make the decision to invest effort to be the best that we can be. And Elul is the time to make that decision, to stop being complacent, to stop accepting the way things are, to get up from our chair, and to resolve to go ahead and turn our lives into what they are meant to be.

Parashat Re'eh begins with Moshe Rabbenu making the following pronouncement to Beneh Yisrael : ראה אנוכי נותן לפניכם היום ברכה וקללה. See that I am placing before you today a blessing and a curse. The commentaries explain that every day, Hashem gives us opportunities. Everything He gives us is another opportunity to serve Him, to do something meaningful, and to attain greatness. Everything our community has been blessed with – its shuls, its schools, its programs, its close-knit nature – is an opportunity for us to do great things. Everything we have in our personal lives, too, is an opportunity. And yes, even the challenges that we face are an opportunity for us to grow by overcoming them and persevering. It is up to us to decide whether to turn everything we have into a ברכה or a קללה – a blessing, or, Heaven forbid, the opposite. Moshe here emphasizes that this opportunity is given to us היום , today, right now. Too often, we think to ourselves that only when such-and-such happens, when such-and-such problem is solved, or when something changes, we will be able to achieve and do what we know what we need to do. Moshe tells us that there is no reason to wait. אנוכי נותן לפניכם היום . Today, right now, whatever is going on in our lives, we have the opportunity to choose ברכה , to take all that Hashem has given us, and turn it into a blessing. I was once talking to friend toward the end of the summer, and I asked him how his summer was going. He lamented that he had been eating too much during the summer, and gained weight. "So what are you going to do about it?" I asked. "I'll go on a diet after the summer," he replied. This is the mistake that so many of us make. We decide to wait. We don't realize that already היום , right now, we can bring ברכה into our lives. We don't have to wait for the end of the summer, or for anything else to happen, to enjoy and take advantage of Hashem's blessings. Already today, no matter what is happening in our lives, we have precious opportunities to grow and achieve. There is also something else worth noting in this opening pasuk . The pasuk begins in the singular form, addressing the individual – ראה – but then immediately transitions to the plural form – לפניכם . The explanation might be that in order to find the opportunity for ברכה today, we need to look as individuals, at our own lives, without being distracted by other people's lives. ראה – we have to look by ourselves, individually. One of the greatest obstacles to capitalizing on our opportunities is a phenomenon known today as "FOMO" – the "fear of missing out." Once upon a time, this was something that teenage girls suffered from. But now, it seems, even adults experience FOMO. We see lots of cars parked near a home, and we right away realize that there's some event going on which we didn't know about – and we feel we're missing something. We hear of things happening, and we right away think we need to join. We're always looking around to see what other people are doing, thinking that we should probably be doing that, too. If we are going to live our best lives, then we need to focus on living *OUR* best lives. We have to be able to block out the noise, to ignore what other people are doing, and to focus our attention on the opportunities that Hashem has given us to shine and excel. We don't have to be doing what others are doing – we need to be doing the things that will make our lives the most meaningful, the most fulfilling, and the most accomplished that they can be.

n Parashat Ekev, Moshe Rabbenu commands the people that after they cross into the Land of Israel, they must remember what their lives were like in the desert. They must remember the miraculous existence that they lived – being fed by manna which fell from the heavens, drinking water supplied by a supernatural well which traveled with them, and wearing the same clothes and shoes, which never became worn. Moshe then warns the people that after they enter Eretz Yisrael , and after they till the land, produce large amounts of food, and amass wealth, they might grow arrogant, and think to themselves, כוחי ועוצם ידי עשה לי את החיל הזה – "My strength and the power of my hand made for me all this wealth" (Devarim 8:17). Instead of attributing their prosperity to Hashem, they will take all the credit for their success. Moshe commands us: וזכרת את ה' אלוקיך כי הוא הנותן לך כח לעשות חיל. You shall remember Hashem your G-d – that it is He who gives you the strength to attain wealth . (8:18) This section is among the most important sources in the Torah regarding the proper balance between hishtadlut (effort) and emuna (faith). We are told that it is perfectly acceptable, and even necessary, to work for a living, but we must also firmly believe that the success of our endeavors depends entirely on Hashem – כי הוא הנותן לך כח לעשות חיל . The analogy I like to give is one of a baseball player who steps up to the plate. When the pitcher throws a pitch, and it's in the strike zone, nobody would tell the batter not to swing the bat, and to instead trust that Hashem will help him get on base. The right thing for him to do is to swing – and to swing the best way he knows how, powerfully, to try to hit the ball squarely. But just before he swings, he must remind himself that the outcome of his swing depends entirely on Hashem. And after he hits the ball over the fence, and he's rounding the bases, he must realize that הוא הנותן לך כח לעשות חיל , that it was Hashem who made his swing successful, who sent the ball out the park. When I meet with older singles in our community, they often ask me about this subject, how much effort they should be investing in trying to find a shidduch . I tell them that they should take out a piece of paper, and make a list of everything they can do to find a marriage partner. They should think long and hard of what the maximum effort is, and write down every single measure that they can take to make this process work. This might mean contacting a certain number of shadchanim , attending a certain number of events, different ways to expand their social network, and so on. Then, after this list is complete, and they have written down everything they could possibly do, they should put the list away, and remind themselves that this process depends exclusively on Hashem, that it is He, and not their efforts, that will bring them their shidduch . After contemplating this for a few minutes, I tell them, they should pull their list out again, and do every single thing on the list, without any exceptions. They need to "swing" hard – but only after establishing in their minds that הוא הנותן לך כח לעשות חיל , that the outcome depends solely on Hashem. Returning to our parashah , this is why Moshe commands the people to always remember their supernatural existence in the desert. They must realize that just as Hashem cared for them during those years, when they had no ability to obtain food or water on their own, Hashem would be caring for them in the land, when they would be working to sustain themselves. There is no difference. Even though we are to invest effort to attain our needs, whatever those needs may be, it is Hashem who provides them. Every day, when we get a good "pitch," when we have an opportunity for parnasah , for a shidduch , for a cure, for whatever it is that we need, we need to "swing" as hard as we can. But just before we "swing," we need to remember that only Hashem determines where the "ball" lands.

n Parashat Va'et'hanan, Moshe Rabbenu recalls the event of Ma'amad Har Sinai , when Hashem spoke to Beneh Yisrael at Mount Sinai, and pronounced the Aseret Ha'dibberot (Ten Commandments). The final of these ten commands is לא תחמוד – "You shall not covet." This mitzvah forbids us from wanting what our fellow has and trying to obtain it. Let us, then, take a moment to talk about jealousy, particularly in today's day and age. There has never been a generation that saw so many pictures as our generation. And the vast majority of these pictures are fake, or give a fake impression. One Rabbi compared this phenomenon to artificial grass. Every "blade" is the perfect size, and the perfect color. Real grass, however, is never perfectly green, and never the perfect size. People today are like artificial grass. They project an image of perfection. They want everybody to see them as having the perfect life. We all, to one extent or another, "photoshop" our lives, both on social media and in real-life interactions. We make it seem like our marriage is perfect, our kids are perfect, our home is perfect, our portfolio is perfect, and our mental health is perfect. But we know the truth – that our lives aren't perfect, that we have our share of problems and struggles, that things aren't exactly the way we want them to be. We know that we're just putting on a show. And if we're putting on a show, that means that the people we're jealous of are also putting on a show. They make their lives look perfect just like we do – but the truth is that their lives aren't so perfect, just like ours isn't so perfect. This is true also about the way we tend to judge other people. We see people act a certain way, and we reach conclusions about them, as though we know the whole story. I was once giving a talk, and ten minutes into the talk, three women in the audience stood up and left. In my mind, as I was speaking, I thought to myself that they left because the introduction to this talk was the same as the introduction to a speech I had given around a month before, and these women heard that speech online, and thus assumed that I was giving the same talk now. I then realized that I had just done something very silly. I concocted an entire story about three people whom I know absolutely nothing about. I didn't have any idea who these women were, what they were doing there and why they left, but I created a narrative in my mind about them. And we do this so often. We see only the "tip of the iceberg" of a person's life, and then decide that we know all about the "iceberg," we know everything about the person, why he does what he does. And then we feel we can criticize him and look down on him. Not only do we see only the "tip of the iceberg," but even that "tip" which we see is fake. What we see isn't real. Why do we think we can judge other people, and why do we feel jealous of other people, if we know so little, if anything, about their lives? One Rabbi taught: "Judging favorably is the worst-case scenario. The best-case scenario is – it's none of your business." We have our lives, other people have their lives; they don't know about our lives, and we don't know about their lives. So there's no reason to feel jealous, and there's no reason to judge.

The Book of Devarim consists mainly of the speeches that Moshe Rabbenu delivered to Beneh Yisrael before his passing. In the first several parashiyot , Moshe reviews some of the events that took place after Beneh Yisrael left Egypt, placing particular emphasis on the sins that they committed. He speaks at length about the sin of the golden calf and the sin of the spies. He also mentions the instances when Beneh Yisrael complained in the desert, and briefly notes also the revolt by Korah. As Moshe prepared to leave this world, in his "farewell address," he reprimanded the people for the mistakes they made, so that they would not repeat these mistakes. The Midrash describes Moshe reprimanding the people by bringing a pasuk from the Book of Mishleh (28:23): מוכיח אדם אחרי חן ימצא ממחליק לשון . Literally, this means, "He who reprimands a person after Me will find more favor than a slick-tongued person." The Midrash states that this refers to Moshe, who reprimanded the people "after Me," in the proper way, and so his words – despite being critical – found favor in the people's eyes, more so than the words of somebody with a "slick tongue," who has mastered the art of rhetoric. Moshe, as we know, had difficulty speaking. He was not "slick-tongued." Nevertheless, his words of rebuke were effective, and he "found favor" with the people despite talking them harshly about the things they had done wrong, because he spoke to them אחרי – "after Me." The commentaries explain that אחרי refers to sincerity, intentions that are purely לשם לשמיים , for Hashem's sake. When we criticize, people can sense whether we do so sincerely, out of a genuine concern for them, or if we criticize with impure motives. They will feel if we are criticizing because we really care about them, or if we're just angry, or if we're just trying to feel superior to them by putting them down, by showing that we're better than them. They know by the way we speak to them if we are sincere or if we have some agenda. If we criticize אחרי , genuinely לשם שמיים , then we will "find favor," the person will be receptive and open to what we have to say. But if our intentions are insincere, if we are just angry, or looking to feel good about ourselves at somebody else's expense, then the person will notice, and is not likely to accept what we have to say. Instead, he will react with hostility and defend himself. Sincerity has power. When we are sincere, people feel it, and respond accordingly. We often feel the need to criticize the people around us – our children, our spouse, other family members, friends, employees, coworkers, etc. And, many times, it is indeed necessary to criticize. But our criticism will be effective and achieve the desired result only if we are truly sincere, if our only intention is to help the person improve, without any hostility, arrogance or agendas. If we speak with even a tinge of disdain, of disrespect, of gloating, of "gotcha," of "I'm better than you," the person is going to feel it, and will reject everything we say. When it comes to criticism, sincerity is everything. It is only when our sole intention is to help the person get better that there is a chance of our words being heeded.

The first section of Parashat Maseh lists all the different places where Beneh Yisrael encamped during the forty years they spent in the desert, from the time they left Egypt through their last station before crossing into the Land of Israel. The first pasuk of the parashah introduces this section as follows: אלה מסעי בני ישראל אשר יצאו מארץ מצרים...ביד משה ואהרון. These are the journeys of Beneh Yisrael, who left the land of Egypt…by the hand of Moshe and Aharon . We must ask why the pasuk emphasizes that the people were brought out of Egypt by Moshe and Aharon – literally, "by the hand of Moshe and Aharon." Why does this need to be said? How is this significant? The Ketav Sofer explains that to the people, it appeared that they left Egypt ביד משה ואהרון , because of Moshe and Aharon. They thought that it was their leadership that brought them out of slavery and into the wilderness. Therefore, the next pasuk says: ויכתוב משה את מוצאיהם למסעיהם על פי ה' – Moshe recorded the nation's journeys "in accordance with Hashem." Moshe taught the people that every journey they took, every place where they encamped, everywhere they traveled – was all arranged by Hashem. It was He who brought them out of Egypt, and it was He who led them to every station they passed through on the way to Eretz Yisrael . The same is true of our journey through life. Sometimes this journey seems random, and sometimes it is difficult. But we need to have emunah (faith) and trust that Hashem brings us precisely to where we need to be at all times. Whatever situation we find ourselves in is the situation Hashem intentionally brought us to for a specific purpose. I was once talking to a community member about an organization I'm involved with, asking for his assistance. I apologized to him for taking his time. "Don't be sorry," this fellow said. "Your organization does amazing work, and it is a privilege for me to be part of it. Thank you for including me." This man understood that when somebody asks us for help, when we are invited to a fundraiser, or when we are given an opportunity to contribute to a meaningful cause, it is Hashem – not the person in need, not the Rabbi who leads the organization, and not the person running the event – who is asking for assistance. Hashem is taking us to that situation so that we can make an impact, because we have an important goal to achieve. Somebody once told me the story of a certain person in Israel who missed his bus by just a couple of seconds. He was terribly upset. He had to call a taxicab, and then wait for the taxi to come, and pay a lot of money. He was visibly frustrated. A person who was there asked him, "Tell me, if that bus which you were supposed to be on gets blown up, would you be upset about missing it?" "Of course not," the man said. "I would be very grateful to Hashem for saving my life." "Well," the other fellow replied, "why do all these people have to be killed just for you to feel happy?!" This is not just a funny line; it's truth. If we live with emunah , then we realize that Hashem puts us where we need to be, even if the bus doesn't blow up… Whatever is happening, wherever we find ourselves, whatever situation arises, we must realize that Hashem brought us there for a purpose. Even when it seems that our journey unfolds ביד משה ואהרון , as a result of things done by other people, in truth, everything occurs על פי ה' . Rather than complain and feel frustrated and embittered, we should embrace every circumstance we face, recognizing that it presents us with an important mission that Hashem wants us – and only us – to complete.