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Rabbi's Blog

Jewish Thought of the Week (05/29/2026)

 

Dear Friends,


How relevant are our private actions to anyone else?

This is a basic Jewish belief: nothing we do is truly isolated. Every mitzvah, every word, every choice—even one private thought—has an effect.

But how does that actually work?

Maimonides, known as the Rambam, teaches that a person should view himself—and the entire world—as perfectly balanced between good and evil. One action can tip the scale toward good and bring redemption to oneself and to the whole world.

At first, this sounds hard to understand. Can one private decision really matter that much?

This week’s Parsha, Nasso, gives us a powerful answer.

The Torah describes the dedication of the Mishkan, the portable Tabernacle in the desert. For twelve days, the leader of each tribe brought an offering to inaugurate the altar. The seventh day fell on Shabbos, and it was the turn of the tribe of Ephraim, a descendant of Joseph—Yosef.

Normally, a private offering in the temple does not override Shabbat. Only a communal offering does. Yet Ephraim’s leader was allowed to bring his personal offering. Why?

The Midrash explains that this was in the merit of Yosef, who kept Shabbos in Egypt even before the Torah was given.

But the Rebbe asks: how is this a reward? Yosef kept Shabbos, so his descendant was allowed to seemingly “break” Shabbos?

The answer is that Yosef’s greatness was not only that he remained righteous. He understood that his private choices were not really private.

Alone in Egypt, far from family, sold as a slave, and surrounded by corruption, Yosef could have said: “No one will know. No one will care.”

Yet when he was tested with Potifar’s wife to sin, he ran away.

The Talmud says Yosef saw the image of his father Yaakov. Our Sages teach that Yaakov’s appearance reflected Adam, the first human being. It was as if Yosef was being told: learn from Adam. One act can affect all of humanity.

That awareness gave Yosef strength. He knew his actions mattered not only to himself, but to the world.

Because Yosef lived with that sense of responsibility for the community, his descendant’s offering was treated like a communal offering. It was not a violation of Shabbos. It was an elevation of Shabbos.

This interconnectedness is the Jewish view of life.
Chassidus explains it this way: the world is like one living organism. Just as one part is not separate from the whole, one individual is not separate from creation. A small action in one part can affect the entire organism; in the same way, one mitzvah, one act of self-control, or one quiet moment of goodness sends spiritual energy through the world. Because G-d is the source of all life, everything is connected at its root. When one person brings more holiness into their own life, the larger world changes too.

The way we act when nobody is watching matters.
A kind word matters.
The content we consume matters.

Even choices no one else ever hears about leave a spiritual imprint.

A story: Reb Mendel Futerfas(1906–1995) was a Chassidic Jew who was sentenced to 9 years in the Soviet gulag for keeping religion alive in the former USSR. Being away from his family and community for so long, he would sometimes daven Mincha (afternoon prayer) alone in the forest. To strengthen himself, he would think: “This may be a place where no one ever prayed before. By praying here, I am bringing this corner of the world—and therefore the entire world—closer to redemption.”

That is the power of one hidden action.

The world is changed not only by public speeches and dramatic moments, but by quiet acts of integrity, courage, and holiness that nobody else may ever see.

Shabbat Shalom!
Good Shabbos!
Rabbi Yitzi Hein

Because that's where the people are

 

Dear Friends,

A journalist once asked a bank robber why he kept targeting banks.

 

 

The old bank robber just shrugged and said, "Because that's where the money is."

If you were G-d, which place would you pick to meet the Jewish people to give them the Torah?

There are so many beautiful, scenic, and majestic places in Israel that would seem like fitting backdrops for the giving of the Torah.
So why, then, was the Torah given in a barren desert, rather than waiting until the Jewish people reached a more comfortable environment?

The Rebbe offers an incisive explanation: the Torah was given in the desert because that is where the Jewish people were at that time. The entire purpose of the Exodus was to receive the Torah, and the desert was their very first stop after leaving Egypt.

The Torah is called Toras Chaim—a Torah of life. Life cannot be suspended, not even for a day or an hour. Regardless of one’s circumstances or level of comfort, the moment is more important than the place, the scenery, or anything else.

Seizing the moment is essential not only because of what we use it for, but because the moment itself is priceless and irretrievable.

This week’s Parsha, Bamidbar, means “in the desert.” It is always read before Shavuot, which commemorates the giving of the Torah in the desert—emphasizing that no time should be wasted.

We count the 49 days from Pesach to Shavuos to impress upon us the importance of time. Time, on one hand, is constant: each day consists of 24 hours, each hour of 60 minutes, and each minute of 60 seconds. Yet once it passes, it is gone forever.

On the other hand, we have the ability to make every day—and every moment—eternal by filling it with meaning and purpose.

A fascinating story is told of Rabbi Dovid ben Zimra (known by his acronym RADVAZ), who lived in the 15th and 16th centuries. In his long life, he authored many works, but he is best known for the thousands of responsa he wrote to seekers, scholars, and laypeople alike.

Here was a tragic letter he received: A Jewish man was imprisoned because he had fallen behind on rent payments. In those days, if you didn't pay up to the local landowner, you were imprisoned. This unfortunate Jew was told he would remain in the dungeon until the debt was paid. Unfortunately, this man had to stay there for a while.

The landowner visited him in prison one day and said: “I am a humane person, even though I had to imprison you. To prove it, I will allow you to join your Jewish community for one day. You may choose which day.”

The man wondered which day to choose. Perhaps Yom Kippur, the holiest day? Or Rosh Hashanah, to hear the shofar? Or maybe Purim, to hear the Megillah? He wrote to the Radbaz asking which day he should choose.

The Radbaz replied: choose the day you receive this letter.

The message is clear: by all means, set up the best arrangements possible. But if for any reason you find yourself in a “desert,” the Torah still guides and illuminates that very situation.

Please make sure to be in shul next Friday to hear the Ten Commandments and to receive special blessings for your life. Click here for our Shabbat Garden Party and Shavuot schedule.

Shabbat Shalom/Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Yitzi Hein

Jewish Thought of the Week (05/08/2026)


 

Hi Friends, 

 
Whether you were a frequent flyer on Spirit (I wasn't) or a frequent flyer at all (I am not that, either), you can't deny the allure that was in the Spirit ads. "$19 flights to Orlando!" The only thing they forgot to mention was that the seatbelt will cost you an additional $9.99, and using the restroom will cost you another $19.99...

Was Spirit Airlines good for the airline industry? The jury is still out. Some will claim that Spirit is to blame for all the ridiculous fees. Before Spirit, a flight included a free carry-on, free luggage, and, of course, refreshments. Now, in many airlines, basic tickets include basically nothing.

But I see it differently. Yes, all the fees are annoying. And yes, the airplane felt like a flying bus, but Spirit gave people who couldn't afford it before the ability to fly. The other airlines essentially told you: if you want to fly, you have to do it with all the bells and whistles. Spirit said otherwise: a hard chair on a plane is still a plane.

On a SpiritUal level (get it??), many people fall into the same trap as the traditional airlines. They view the connection to G-d as an all-or-nothing proposition. I've heard so many people tell me, "I will not put on Tefillin, I am not religious," or "Rabbi, I don't keep Shabbat, so I won't be coming to Shul," and so on.

If you are one of those, remember: flying is flying. And unlike the shabby airplanes of Spirit, every Mitzvah is beautiful, every Mitzvah makes your soul soar, every Mitzvah connects you to G-d in ways that will bring great joy to your life.

So, should you do one Mitzvah even if you are not ready to commit to all of them? Absolutely: that's the Spirit.

( Thank you  Rabbi Mendy Kaminker for sharing) 

Good Shabboos/Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yitzi Hein

Not too late — Dr. Edith Eger & Today's Little Known Jewish Holiday

Dear Friends,

This week, Dr. Edith Eger left this world. She was 98 years old.

But who was this well-known Jewish woman?

She was a teenager in Hungary when her family was put on a train to Auschwitz. On the very first day, her parents were taken from her. And that same night, she was forced to dance for the evil Dr. Josef Mengele!

While she danced, her mind went somewhere else entirely. She imagined herself on a stage. She heard music. She held onto something from before.  She knew exactly where she was. But there was one place inside her they couldn't reach, and she refused to let go of it.

She called it the space between what happens to you and how you respond to it. That space, she said, is where freedom lives.

After surviving the war, she went on to become a psychologist, spending decades helping thousands of people find that same place inside themselves — people imprisoned not by barbed wire, but by grief, trauma, and the stories they couldn't stop telling themselves. She wrote about it in her memoir, The Choice. (The title alone is the whole message!)

I never met her. But reading her works and after listening to interviews this week, something felt deeply familiar — like ideas I had encountered before, in a different language. And perhaps that's why in recent years she ended up speaking at dozens of Chabad Houses around the world.

The soul is untouchable. You are not your circumstances. You can choose how to react and live. These are essential ideas of Judaism and Chabad Chassidism teachings.

She lived to 98. And from what I understand, she never stopped teaching.


Today is the little-known Jewish holiday of Pesach Sheni ("Second Passover"). And I can't think of a more perfect day to be writing about her.

If anyone ever had the right to say, "I am a victim of circumstance," it was her. And yet she refused to live there. And yet she refused to live there. Not because she denied what happened — she spoke about it openly, painfully, honestly, much of her life. But she made a distinction that sat at the core of everything she believed: what happened to me is real. But what I become because of it is still open.

That is also the essence of Pesach Sheni (The Second Passover). 

When the Jewish people left Egypt, G-d instructed them to bring the Paschal offering on the 14th of Nissan. But there were those who were ritually impure — unable to participate through no fault of their own. And still they came to Moses and asked: does this mean we're left out? Is the story already written for us? G-d's answer was to create an entirely new holiday. One month later, a full second chance — Matzah, Maror, the whole thing.

While the practical Pesach Sheni was only observed in Temple Times, the Rebbe loved its timeless message and would repeat it again and again: it's never too late. You are not doomed to repeat. You are not stuck. (You can hear the Rebbe saying the words here)

We all have places where it feels like the story is already written. This is how I was raised. This is just my personality. This is the mistake I made.

I can't tell you how many times I've heard "Rabbi, it's too late for me." Too late to begin this particular Mitzvah. Too late to incorporate faith in my life.  Too late to become a certain type of spouse or parent.  Too late to join a strong Jewish community.  

Pesach Sheni was given to us specifically to answer that.

As a mentor once told me " There are those who debate whether the glass is half full or half empty. And then there are those who realize the glass is refillable!" Lchaim!

Today is the annual reminder that wherever you are, whatever you're carrying, whatever feels finished — it isn't!
Good Shabbos/Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yitzi Hein

Oh, and many have a tradition to eat some Matzah today :)

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