Feb 20, 2026 | Torat Devorah, Uncategorized
The construction of the sanctuary – or the Mishkan – is related to us in this week’s parshah, along with all the elements that were to be placed within it. We read of the very famous statement of God to Moses: “Make me a sanctuary for me to dwell in” (Exodus 25:8). Abravanel prefaces his commentary to the Sidra with many questions, and among them the following: Why did the Almighty command us regarding the construction of the tabernacle saying ‘I shall dwell among them’ as if He were a circumscribed corporeal being limited in space, when this is the opposite of the truth? For he is nor corporeal, He is not a material force, and He has no relation to place. Of God it is said in Isaiah 66:1: “The heaven is My throne and the earth My footstool – where is the house that you may build for Me? And where is the place of my rest?”
Solomon, likewise, said the following, regarding the building of the Temple: behold, the heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain thee; how much less this house that I have built?” (I Kings 8:27). These are evidently statements that contradict each other. Abravanel’s response to his question (as recorded in Nechama Leibowitz ‘Studies in Exodus’) is that the Divine intention behind the construction of the tabernacle was to combat the idea that God had forsaken the earth, and that his throne was in heaven and remote from humankind. To disabuse them of this erroneous belief, He commanded them to make a tabernacle, as if to imply that He dwelt in their midst – that they should believe that God lived in their midst and His Providence was ever with them.
This is the meaning of: “And I shall dwell amidst the children of Israel”, “who dwelleth with them in their defilement.” It is all a parable and allegory representing the idea of the immanence of His Providence and Presence. He commanded the installation of the laver and its base as if to warn them to “cleanse…remove the evil of your deeds”, the altar of the burnt offering, on which to burn your corporeal desires and evil impulses. The Temple contained the table, candlestick, and the altar of incense. These vessels symbolized the ministering to the King of the Universe, not that He – heaven forbid – need any of these things. Their purpose was to implant in their souls that God walked in the midst of their camp.
The Torah tells us that the lid of the ark should be made of pure gold, and that out of the lid, those who construct it should fashion the cherubs. The Alskekh explains that as we know, the material blessings in this world comprise three elements, i.e. children (physical continuity), life and livelihood. Concerning the acquisition of the life aspect, the ark has already become a symbol to him who desires life, who devotes himself to the Torah, to secure life both in this world and in the world to come. The Torah now suggests what man should do in order to have children. After having studied Torah, his next task in life is to marry and raise a family. This family too is linked to one’s Torah study. The figures of the male and female cherub on the lid of the ark represented the union of man and wife on the basis of Torah. As the Talmud in Yevamot 63 states, he who marries, his sins are forgiven. Such a union is to be pure from sinful considerations as the purity of the gold, the kapporet – lid – is made of. The letters yud and heh in the words ish and ishah respectively, are represented symbolically by the length and width measurements of the kapporet when measured in terms of handbreadths, instead of cubits as mentioned in the Torah.
This is a reminder that God must be part of such a union in order for such a union not to go up in aysh or flames –passion burning itself out, and leaving the marriage devoid of meaning. The intent when entering into the bonds of marriage is that one’s relationship becomes a spiritual one if the couple wishes to ensure that their children will be like the cherubs and reflect the innocence and purity of their parents. When all these factors are present, the children’s faces will face the lid, and the parents need not fear that they will lose their children during their lifetime. On an interesting note, subsequent to placing the tablets into the ark, God will come to Israel. Shemot Rabbah illustrates the point: As long as a girl was merely betrothed, her fiancé would visit her daily in her father’s home. Once they had become married, the bride’s father would visit his daughter in the home of his son-in-law. Similarly here – Once the tablets were inside the Holy Ark, God would manifest himself among the Jewish People and Moses would no longer have to climb the mountain.
~Devorah Abenhaim
Feb 13, 2026 | Torat Devorah
“Six days shall you accomplish your activities, and on the seventh day you shall desist… and your maidservant’s son and the sojourner may be refreshed.” (23:12)
Possibly one of the least understood areas of Shabbat observance is amira l’akum — hinting to a non-Jew to do something for a Jew that the Jew him or herself cannot do because of Shabbat. The basic premise of this prohibition is to preserve the other-worldly quality of Shabbat, for it would be all too easy to employ a non-Jew to continue one’s weekday activities without contravening a single Torah law. In other words, you could turn Shabbat into Saturday. For example, many people assume that if the circuit breaker trips and the lights go out at the Shabbat night meal one could hint to a non-Jew to turn them on again. This is not true. Except in certain specific cases, a Jew on Shabbat may not receive any direct benefit from the melacha (forbidden Shabbat action) of a non-Jew. There are many people who would never dream of allowing a cheeseburger to cross the portals of their dwelling (let alone the portals of their lips) but would cheerfully hint to the maid to turn the lights on, on Shabbat. Ignoring this prohibition, however, can lead to dire consequences — and not just in the world-to-come.
Rabbi David Ribiat relates the following story: Around the year 1800, there was a large fire in the city of Maerkisch-Friedland. Much of the Jewish quarter was destroyed and many homes had to be rebuilt. Rabbi Akiva Eiger, the rabbi of the city, issued a proclamation advising those rebuilding their homes to stipulate in their contracts with the builders that no work should be done on Shabbat or Yom Tov. The community was united in its observance of Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s degree, with one exception. The president of the community, who was extremely wealthy, wanted his house rebuilt as quickly as possible, and instructed his workers to work non-stop through Shabbat and Yom Tov. The protestations of the community and even the Rabbi himself fell on deaf ears, and the work proceeded unabated. Shocked by this flagrant breach of Halacha, Rabbi Akiva Eiger was heard to say that he did not expect the house to last very long. Not only was the president’s house the first to be completed; it was undoubtedly the finest of the new homes.
Not long afterwards, and without any previous warning, one of the beams of the president’s mansion suddenly crashed to the ground. A subsequent investigation revealed that the beam was riddled with timber decay. Not only this, but the wooden frame of the mansion was similarly affected and the entire structure had to be demolished. A check was made of all the other re-built buildings, but not one of them showed the slightest inclination to dry rot. The engineers were at a loss to explain why only this particular house, built at the same time and from the same timber supply, was affected. The Jews of Maerkisch-Friedland, however, were in no doubt about the answer to this puzzling enigma.
~Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 30, 2026 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s parshah, the Israelites are finally freed of the long arm of Pharaoh. Prior to their freedom, they did acquire two very basic mitzvot: the brit milah – circumcision, and the Paschal sacrifice. Observance of Pesach and performance of circumcision are a statement of affiliation with G-d and Israel. Beyond basic affiliation, what’s next? How does a Jew get started on the path of Torah?
The very first place in which Israel learned new laws was in Marrah, Sinai Desert. The Torah states that there “He placed a law (chok) and a statute.” Rashi writes that the law or chok which was beyond comprehension (as indicated by the word “chok”) was the law of the red heifer, that it purifies the impure and defiles the pure. The statutes they learned were about the various laws governing civil matters, as indicated by the word “statute-mishpat.” There is also indication in the next section of the Torah that they knew about Shabbas at that time. Elsewhere, Rashi indicates that honoring the father and mother were also taught at this juncture.
What is the source for Rashi that Shabbat and honoring the parents was taught here? In the version of the Ten Commandments found in Deuteronomy, they indicate that these two laws were not new but had been taught elsewhere. Since the Torah states in our portion that some laws were taught, we deduce that the laws taught were those mentioned in the Ten Commandments as having been taught, namely honoring Shabbat and parents.
Rabbi Yehudah Amital of Yeshivat Har Etzion of Israel was once asked, “Rabbi, we want to start doing Jewish things. Where do we start?” He answered that our parasha today holds the solution. Our first step in our renewal as Jews should be to enhance our performance of basic laws, honoring the parents and other rational laws which might think are not rituals, but which are in fact mitzvot. The second thing to do is a mitzva which is irrational, such as shaatnez, not mixing linen and wool, or kashrut. The third thing to work on is adding meaning to our Shabbat, because Shabbos is at the center of what Judaism is all about.
The Torah tells us that the children of Israel went up from Egypt ‘chamushim’. (13:18).The midrash explains that the word ‘chamushim’ comes from the root “chamesh”- five.” Only one-fifth (some say 1/500 or 1/5,000) of Bnei Yisrael left Egypt. Those who were rich and did not want to leave died during the plague of darkness. Another midrash says: “Why did God appear to Moshe from a thorn bush? Because just as the thorn bush is the toughest of all trees, so the enslavement in Egypt was the toughest of all exiles.” R’ Yitzchak Arieli (author of Einayim La’mishpat) observes: It would seem from these sources that only a small fraction of Bnei Yisrael were enslaved in Egypt. However, for those who were enslaved, the enslavement was bitter indeed. Those who led a good life in Egypt did not want to leave, and, therefore, they did not merit leaving. Those who suffered in Egypt and did want to leave merited leaving. Even Datan and Aviram who had tried to get Moshe killed – after they lost their wealth [see Rashi to 4:19] and felt the pain of the exile -wanted to leave and so they merited leaving. And so it is with every exile – those who want to be redeemed merit to return to the Land of Israel.
~Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 23, 2026 | Torat Devorah
Parashat Bo describes the dramatic conclusion of the exile in Egypt and the birth of the Jewish nation. The parsha opens with the final three plagues—locusts, darkness, and the death of the firstborn—which break Pharaoh’s resistance once and for all. The plague of darkness was not merely an absence of light, but a tangible, immobilizing darkness that left the Egyptians unable to move or connect with one another, while the Jewish people continued their lives in light. This contrast highlights the difference between a society steeped in spiritual emptiness and a people guided by Divine purpose. At the center of the parsha is the commandment of the Korban Pesach. The Jewish people are instructed to take a lamb—an Egyptian deity—slaughter it, and place its blood on their doorposts. This act was not for Hashem’s sake, but for theirs: a bold, public declaration of faith and a rejection of Egyptian idolatry. Through this mitzvah, Bnei Yisrael demonstrate that true freedom requires courage, identity, and commitment to Hashem, even in the face of danger.
One of the most striking passages in Parashat Bo is Hashem’s opening command to Moshe: “Bo el Pharaoh”—“Come to Pharaoh” (Exodus 10:1). At first glance, the wording seems unusual. Hashem should have said “Lech el Pharaoh”—“Go to Pharaoh.” Why does the Torah use the word bo, which implies coming together? The Zohar offers a profound explanation: Hashem was telling Moshe, “Come with Me.” Moshe was being asked to confront not merely a human king, but the spiritual force of arrogance and oppression that Pharaoh represented. This was not a mission Moshe could undertake alone.
According to the Zohar, Pharaoh embodied the deepest spiritual blockage in the world—a concentration of impurity and ego that resisted Divine truth. By saying bo, Hashem reassured Moshe that he would not face this power independently. Hashem would enter the confrontation with him, guiding and sustaining him. This subtle shift in language teaches that when a person is called upon to confront darkness—whether external or internal—it is only possible with Divine partnership. True strength comes not from personal courage alone, but from knowing that Hashem is present within the struggle.
This insight also reframes the entire Exodus story. Redemption does not begin with physical freedom, but with the willingness to step into fear while trusting in Hashem’s closeness. Moshe’s mission becomes a model for every Jew: when facing challenges that seem overwhelming, Hashem does not simply command us to “go,” but invites us to “come”—to move forward together with Him. In this sense, Parashat Bo teaches that the path to redemption is not walked alone, but hand in hand with the Divine.
A powerful moment in Parashat Bo is the commandment of Kiddush HaChodesh, when Hashem tells Moshe and Aharon, “This month shall be for you the first of months” (Exodus 12:2). The Sfas Emes explains that this mitzvah represents the essence of freedom. In Egypt, the Jewish people had no control over their time; every moment belonged to their masters. By giving them the ability to sanctify the new month, Hashem grants them ownership over time itself. Freedom is not merely the absence of physical bondage, but the ability to infuse time with meaning and holiness. Through Kiddush HaChodesh, the Jewish people become active partners in shaping sacred time, marking the transition from slaves reacting to commands into a nation consciously living with Divine purpose.
~Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 19, 2026 | Torat Devorah, Uncategorized
A number of commentators have raised the question of why the parentage and genealogy of Moshe is not mentioned until the early part of this week’s parsha. In parshat Shemos, we are only told that his father was a man from the House of Levi, and that his mother was a daughter of Levi. In this week’s parsha, Vaeirah, we are not only told their names, but are also presented with the lineage of both Moshe and Aharon. This presentation actually begins with a listing of the children of Jacob’s first three sons, Reuven, Shimon and Levi, and proceeds to trace the lineage of Moshe and Aaron from Levi. What is the place of this presentation in our parsha, and why wasn’t it given earlier?
Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, in his Torah commentary, explains that until this point, Moshe had been unsuccessful in his mission, both to his nation and to Pharaoh, and had complained to God that the nation’s suffering had increased since he spoke to Pharaoh. God reassured him that he would be successful, and charged him to proceed with his task together with his brother Aaron. Moshe thus was about to embark on the successful phase of his mission. In order to assure that he would not be perceived, in his role as liberator, as some kind of supernatural being, or deity, the Torah presents us with his exact lineage, to remind us that he was a human being, born of a man and woman.
Rabbi Joshua Hoffman explores the relationship between the Israelites and Moses. He cites the Sefas Emes who explains that Moshe’s ability to speak to the nation depended on the degree of their receptivity. Rabbi Hoffman believes that the nation perceived a sharp difference between Moses and themselves, and were, therefore, not willing to listen to him, at first. The rabbis tell us the tribe of Levi was not subjected to bondage, and that is how Moses and Aaron were always able to visit Pharaoh when they needed to deliver their message to him. Perhaps, he explains, this is what the Torah means when it says that the people did not listen to Moses because of shortness of spirit and hard work. They did not wish to accept Moses and Aaron as their leaders because, they felt, they could not appreciate what they were experiencing, since they were exempt from the enslavement. Perhaps Moses and Aaron, they felt, could live as free people, but how could they?
Rabbi Kook, in his commentary to the Pesach Haggadah, writes that the Egyptians, through enslaving the Jews, effected their self-perception. This is the meaning, he says, of a verse recited by the farmer, when bringing his first fruits to the Temple. Recapitulating the enslavement in Egypt, the farmer says, “Vayareiu osanu ha-Mitzrim,” usually translated as “And the Egyptians mistreated us.” (Deuteronomy, 26: 6). Rav Kook, however, explains it to mean that the Egyptians caused us to view ourselves as bad people. Moses and Aaron needed to assure the nation that they were indeed, worthy of being free people. It is for this reason, Rabbi Hoffman believes, that their lineage is given at this point, and as part of the general genealogy of Jacob’s family.
In The Garden of The Torah, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, explains to us the Hebrew word “Mitzrayim” – Egypt, which is related to the Hebrew word for “boundaries” or “limitations”: Mitrayim is a paradigm for what exile is and the essence of our spiritual challenge. The world was created as a dwelling place for Hashem and our souls are a part of Hashem. Yet, we often overlook this as we are caught in the exile of our material world and daily routine which shapes our thoughts. However, Hashem doesn’t allow this exile to continue indefinitely.
In Mitzrayim, Hashem revealed Himself through the plagues, thereby transforming the Jewish people’s thinking. But what about us? Hashem said “I revealed myself to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob”; Rashi comments “to the Patriarchs”. His comment, which seems redundant, is actually reinforcing that, by revealing Himself to our forefathers, Hashem make the awareness of His existence a fundamental element in their make-up (and the make-up of their descendants for all time). In every generation, Hashem sparks this awareness by performing acts transcending the natural order; some are obvious to us (e.g., the Gulf War, Entebbe, re-birth of Israel, the fall of Communism); others are not. By these acts, Hashem reveals Himself to us, allowing us to transform the limits of our “exile” and take in the awareness of His presence. We must open our eyes.
~Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 9, 2026 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s Parsha, the Torah says, “A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph.” There are two explanations of this Pasuk. The standard explanation is simply that the old king died. As it had been many years since Yosef’s rise to power and since Yosef was already dead, the new king no longer appreciated Yosef’s contribution to Egypt. Therefore, this new king had no problem with persecuting the Jews. The other explanation is not quite so simple but much more disturbing. Many commentaries say that in fact this was the same king that ruled during Yosef’s rise to power. So why does the Torah say the new king did not know Yosef? Of course this king knew Yosef.
It is explained that at this time the Egyptians were starting to fear the large number of Jews in Egypt, but could do nothing about it because the king, Pharaoh, was in obvious gratitude towards the Jews. Eventually the people became impatient and began to put pressure on the Pharaoh to make a bold move against the Jews. The Pharaoh soon caved in to all the pressure and essentially became a new king, one who did not know Yosef, he chose to ignore Yosef.
“Every son that is born you should cast into the river” (Exodus 1:22)
In order to curb the enormous population growth of the Jewish people, Pharaoh proclaimed this edict, sentencing any newborn baby boy to drowning in the Nile.The Gemara (Sotah 11) relates that when Pharaoh was unsure as to how to stop the Jews from growing more numerous, he asked three of his advisers for guidance. Bilaam, the first advisor, gave advice to throw the babies into the Nile. Iyov, the second, kept silent and Yitro, the third, ran away. As a result of these actions Bilaam was killed by Hashem, Iyov got tremendous suffering and Yitro merited children who sat in the Sanhedrin.
From here we learn the tremendous power of Tochacha (rebuke). Iyov, a G-d fearing man, kept silent rather than rebuke Bilaam for his advice. For this abstention of rebuke, Iyov got the worst sufferings in the world. (In fact, a whole Sefer of Tanach describes his tribulations.)Yitro, on the other hand, ran away, which is only a small form of rebuke, yet was immensely rewarded by having children who converted and became Torah giants and adjudicators in Sanhedrin, a great honor.Now it is clear the power of rebuke. If we see a friend sinning, we must realize that it is our obligation and a mitzvah from the Torah to tell our friend of the wrong they are committing. If we do not, as in the case of Iyov, terrible punishment may be the result. But if we do, then our reward will be great. May we all merit such honor and greatness as a result of fulfilling the Torah’s commandments.
~Devorah Abenhaim
