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Jewish Thought of the Week

Dear Friend, 

In this week’s Torah portion, Miketz, Pharaoh tells Joseph about his strange dream. He saw himself standing on the riverbank as seven fat cows emerged from the water, followed by seven thin cows that devoured them.

This dream stands in sharp contrast to the dream Joseph had earlier in the Torah. In Joseph’s dream, he and his brothers were out in the field, actively binding sheaves of grain. Pharaoh’s dream shows him passively watching from the sidelines. Joseph’s dream shows him working, gathering, and creating.

The Rebbe pointed out that these two dreams represent two very different views of life.

Pharaoh’s way of thinking is like standing on the riverbank and letting life happen to you. You’re not involved or responsible; you just watch as events unfold. It might seem easier—after all, if you’re not in the field, you don’t have to deal with the effort, anxiety, or responsibility of working hard. But that kind of life lacks meaning and fulfillment.

Joseph’s way of thinking, on the other hand, is about stepping into the field. Life is work, but it’s the kind of work that gives you purpose. It’s about taking all the scattered stalks—the opportunities, talents, and challenges you’re given—and turning them into something whole and meaningful.

How This Connects to Chanukah
This idea ties beautifully into the message of Chanukah. The Greeks, like Pharaoh, wanted the Jewish people to live passively, enjoying the pleasures of life without thinking too deeply about meaning or purpose. They were fine with the Jews being “cultural,” as long as they didn’t live by the Torah’s values or see themselves as partners with G-d in creating something greater.

But the Maccabees chose Joseph’s way. They stepped into the “field,” taking responsibility for their faith, their identity, and their future. It wasn’t easy—they were vastly outnumbered, and victory seemed impossible—but their hard work and trust in G-d brought light into the world.

Thank You for Being Like Joseph
In a world that often encourages us to sit back and go with the flow, you are actively creating light, like the Maccabees. Whether it’s through learning Torah, helping others, or making time for family and community, your efforts bring meaning to the “field” of life.

As we light the menorah this Chanukah, let’s remember the power of stepping into the field, gathering our own “sheaves,” and creating a life filled with purpose. Thank you for all the ways you contribute to that light!

Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom and a bright, joyous Chanukah!
Rabbi Yitzi and Rishi Hein

Jewish Thought of the Week

 

This week’s Torah portion, Vayishlach, tells us about Jacob’s return to the Land of Israel. The Torah says, “He built for himself a house, and made sheds for his cattle” (Genesis 33:17). The Lubavitcher Rebbe explains that this teaches us a powerful lesson about priorities.


For himself—for what really mattered—Jacob built a house, a strong and permanent place to live. But for his cattle, his material possessions, he only made sheds—simple and temporary structures. Jacob understood that while material things are important, they’re not the main thing in life.


This idea reminds me of a story about the fifth Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Sholom DovBer (known as the Rebbe Rashab), and one of his chassidim (followers).


This chassid had started a business making galoshes—rubber boots to keep feet dry in wet weather. His business became very successful, and soon he was spending every moment thinking about it. Day and night, his mind was on the factory, the sales, and how to make more money.


When he visited the Rebbe, the Rebbe noticed how distracted he was and said to him, “I’ve seen people put their feet into galoshes. But I’ve never seen someone put their head into galoshes!”


The Rebbe’s point was simple but powerful. It’s fine to work hard and take care of your business, but your head—your thoughts, energy, and priorities—shouldn’t get stuck in material things.


Jacob’s example reminds us to think about what we’re building in our own lives. For the important things—our family, our connection to G-d, and helping others—we build a strong and lasting “home.” For the things that don’t last forever, it’s enough to build a “shed.”


It’s inspiring to see how much energy you dedicate to things that truly matter, whether it’s supporting your family, contributing to the community, or making time for spiritual growth. Your efforts remind us all to focus on the things that create lasting meaning and connection.


Thank you for being a shining example of building what matters most. 


Wishing you and your family a Shabbat filled with peace and purpose!

Rabbi Yitzi and Rishi Hein

Jewish Thought of the Week

 

Dear Friends,

 

This week's story in the Torah portion VaYetzei is one that we Jews in the Diaspora can take direction and empowerment:

 

It begins with the scene of Jacob trekking to Charan, fleeing his brother Esau, when he goes to sleep and dreams of G‑d’s reassurance that he would eventually return to Israel in safety. His dream began with the famous vision of the ladder, as the verse states:

And he dreamed, and behold! a ladder set up on the ground and its top reached to heaven; and behold, angels of G‑d were ascending and descending upon it.1

There are various interpretations of the symbolism of the ladder. Some say the ladder represents prayer. Jacob slept on the Temple Mount, the place where all Jewish prayers ascend to G‑d, and G‑d was showing Jacob the awesome power of prayer: its ability to connect heaven and earth.

Others explain that the ladder is a metaphor for Mount Sinai, the mountain on which the Torah was given, and the message to Jacob was that the Torah, the Divine will and wisdom, is the ladder that connects the person to heaven.

But why did Jacob need to see the image of the ladder specifically at this point in his life, on his way out of Israel, while fleeing to the morally debased Charan?

Rabbi Mordechai Hakohen, a 17th century kabbalist of Safed, Israel, explains that the ladder represents Jacob himself.

Jacob was leaving the comfort and holiness of the land of Israel and was heading to a land that was spiritually foreign to his way of life. On Jacob’s way, G‑d showed him the vision of a ladder in order to impart to him that he himself had the ability to connect the lowest parts of the earth to heaven. While his grandfather Abraham was commanded to leave Charan and migrate to Israel, Jacob would make the opposite journey. Jacob’s life’s mission was not to flee the negativity but rather to face it and challenge it head on.

Jacob, like all his descendants, is compared to a ladder. No matter where he might be, no matter how foreign the environment might seem, he was capable of erecting a ladder that would connect heaven and earth, he was able to build a bridge that would allow the epitome of holiness to affect even the most distant of places.

There is another dimension to the comparison of Jacob and the ladder.

The Kabbalah explains that each of the three patriarchs embodied one of the three primary emotions: Abraham represented the attribute of love; Isaac the attribute of awe and reverence; and Jacob the attribute of compassion.

The attribute of compassion, even more than love, is the ultimate bridge-builder. Love is a very powerful emotion, yet its reach is limited to a specific audience. A person loves that which is attractive to him or her. A person does not love everybody and everything; love is selective, it is awakened and attracted to specific people or objects that, for whatever reason, touch the heart in a specific way.

Compassion, on the other hand, can reach anybody. It may be a person whom you never met, whose language you don't understand, yet the moment you sense that the person is suffering, something in your heart will connect to the person with empathy and compassion.

In fact, compassion has the power to unleash love. You may have known someone for many years and felt no connection to him or her. Yet as soon as tragedy strikes and you feel compassion for the person, suddenly, you begin to see how wonderful the person is. You begin to feel a feeling of closeness and love toward the person. How does that happen? The love flows over the bridge created by compassion.

We each have a Jacob within ourselves, a Jacob that allows us to empathize with people who may seem very different from ourselves. The Jacob within us recognizes and connects to the soul within others, connecting heaven and earth.

Thank you to my friend Rabbi Menachem Feldman for sharing this idea with me.

Good Shabbos/Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Yitzi Hein

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