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Shiur · Rav Mordechai Burg

Bechukosai - Family Can Always Raid the Fridge

May 22, 202536 minTranscript
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In this shiur, delivered in Tomer Devorah, Rav Burg explains the inner connection between Ameilus B'Torah and Shemita.

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Automatic transcript; may contain mistakes, especially in Hebrew.

This week is a double parsha, Behar B'chu Kosay. We're going to focus on Psukim in B'chu Kosay. We know that these parshiyos are the parshiyos of the Tochacha. It can be very scary. The parshiyos of the Psukim of the Tochacha could be very scary. If you do the right thing, this will happen. If Chas Hashem, you do the wrong thing, and the Torah describes very serious punishments. So what's the right thing and what's the wrong thing? So the parsha begins in bechukosai teilechu veesmitzvai say teshmeru v'asisa moysan. If you follow my chukim If you keep my mitzvos and you do them, that's good. What does it mean? So I'm going to skip to the end of Rashi over here. Rashi says, what do the words in bechukosai teilechu mean? These are famous words. Rashi says shetiu ameilim b'tayra. That a person should be amel b'tayra. What is amelus b'tayra? Amelus b'tayra is different than learning tayra.

In yeshivas, there's a difference between a guy that checks the box and he comes to all of his slorim, and a guy who's amel b'tayra. I'm not saying that he learns more than anybody else. The nature of his learning is different. There's a passion. There's a toil. There's something like it's alive with him. You ever what I'm saying? Like there's a difference between a guy who shows up and he learns. He's smart. And a guy who's putting in his effort. We had a guy when I was in yeshiva many years ago. There was a guy that I was very jealous of. He was the top guy in sheer And he was an absolute genius. He was Russian. He came over from Russia in fifth grade. And in seventh grade, not speaking a word of English when he came over. In seventh grade, he won a statewide essay contest.

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Kid was an absolute genius, and he was a machine. He was a machine in learning. My rebbe would ask a question to the shir, and then he would just look at this guy, and they basically had a chevrusa during shir. It would bother me so much because I was killing myself to understand what my rebbe was saying. This guy was a passion machine. And my rebbe would come to the beis medrash. My rebbe Kalinahara is now ninety-seven years old. He should be zaychat to Rofush Leima, but at the time my rebbe was in his seventies. In his seventies, my rebbe was known as one of the great loamdim in America. Ruria and Mrs. Kaysman. Is she still in Ruria? I don't know if you know Mrs. Kaysman. So that's my Rebbe's daughter. Rabbi Parnas was one of the real, real great lohmedim in America. So at the time he was in his 70s, he couldn't come to the Beis Medrash a full morning. He would come to Beis Medrash at 11 o'clock. This Russian guy used to come to the Beis Medrash at 10:50.

At 10:50 he would come in. This way my Rebbe wouldn't know that he wasn't there all morning. It didn't matter. He was a genius. He had no amelus entirely. He didn't have to work hard for it. It was just natural to him. He was a genius. There's such a thing as a genius. This guy was a genius. That's not a melest b'taira. A melest b'taira is a guy who's not a genius, but he's gonna kill himself to understand. He's gonna work so hard. We had a guy in Sheer. I was very close with my rebbe, and I was zeicher to learn with my rebbe b'chavrusa. So every night we would learn together. We would prepare Sheer together. Of course, it's not like I was contributing very much. My rebbe was, as I said, one of the great loamdim in America. But my rebbe sort of had me. I guess it would be called a sheir assistant. So my rebbe would say to me, Mordechai, this guy in sheir, he doesn't understand the word that I'm talking about. Maybe tell him to leave and go to an easier sheir. He'll understand. I said, Rebbe, I can't tell him. I can't tell him to leave the sheir. I just can't do it. I can't tell him to leave the sheir. He works so hard.

So my rebbe would say back to me, Fakir, because he works so hard, doesn't he deserve to be in a sheir that he understands? I said, Rebbe, all he wants to be is in your sheir. That's all he wants. Just like. Please let him stay. We had this fight for months. Eventually, I think the boy had been in Sheer for two years. My daddy got on the phone with me one night and he said, "Mordechai, he said you were right." This boy today in Sheer asked a brilliant question. And slowly but surely, over time, it clicked for him. He didn't have the kishra and he didn't have the natural ability to excel in Sheer, but he worked so hard. He would record the Sheer, write the Sheer over, and write over his notes. He wasn't satisfied until he understood every single aspect of sheir.

It took him three, four times as long as everybody else, but he didn't care. That's called amelus b'tayra. Rashi says, 'What does it mean in bechukosai teilecha? What does it mean to do the right thing for Hakadosh Baruch Hu? The right thing is not limud hatayra. That's not what Rashi says.' The right thing is amelus b'taira. I'm stressing it now because in a couple of minutes, when we come to the end of this year, we're going to come back to this point. The idea that to do the right thing is not just to check a box. Girls, again, I'm not chassidish. I'm giving any mussar. Anybody could come. They could take one of those little cards off the table. They could give it in when they come. They could check the box. They could say, "I came to shear." There are people that come to shear, and then there are people that come to shear. Everybody knows the difference. There are people that come. And saying they're here, they're not here. They're here, they're not here. There are people that come, you see them, they're present, they're focused. It's not about taking notes. It's about their patuach. They're opened up to something. I really want to play you a voice note. I can't, but I really want to play you a voice. A boy who was in yeshiva over ten years ago left me a voice note today.

Talking about a she'er that he heard in yeshiva over ten years ago. And he was saying, Rebbe, at the time I was making fun of that shear. I didn't understand what you were saying. He said, Rebbe, today I needed that shear. Ten years later, I want to tell you, he might have been making fun of that shear, but I know this boy. He's a gevaldika boy. He's married now, Baruch Hashem, with kids. He's an amazing person. He was a guy who, when he came to shear, I don't care that he made fun of the shiur, but he showed up and he was patuach. He didn't show up with an airpot in. You know what I'm saying? He didn't show up talking to anybody else. He didn't show up to sit just to check a box. He came open. Amelus b'taira. Amelus b'taira means that you're present in what you do. By the way, it's a gift. Even though this is not what the she'er is about, I want to give you a gift in your life. If you put your passion into something, you'll be successful. It's so sad. We see people today; they're not passionate about life.

They're not passionate. They show up wherever they are. They're somewhere else. It's a tragedy. Wherever they are, there's somebody else. Nobody is in one place. Nobody knows how to be present. Nobody knows how to sit with their children. We don't have attention spans. We could talk a lot about why that happens. But there's a certain sense of dignity that exists when a person is totally present where they are. They're focused. They're focused where they are. And when you're focused where you are, that means you're somewhere. That's a gift. That's an ummel. It takes work. It takes work to be present. It's not a simple thing at all. Imagine being a parent with your children. Your kid is talking, and you're actually locked in and focused, and you're not thinking about what you have to do next.

It's a big thing because as parents, we know that we do have a lot to do next. We do have a lot of places to be. We know that there are things. Baruch Hashem, I have other parents in the room tonight, so I have people that can commiserate with me. I have a lot of things to do. I know that you want to talk to me right now, but I have 50 other things that I have to get done. How could I be locked in and focused? I'm present. I'm an amel in this moment. I'm an amel b'torah means I'm present in the Torah that I'm learning, and it's in this moment. It's my everything. To be an amel is a gift. To be lazy is a tragedy. To be somewhere and to be nowhere—that's a tragedy. Again, I'm not here to lay blame. I'm not here to say it's this technology's fault or that technology's fault. I'm not about that. But it's certainly true that if you have an escape hatch in your pocket, if every single time you need to escape from reality, it's accessible and it's right there. It's certainly true that we're going to train a generation of people that have no idea how to be on Maylor.

And it's painful. It's painful to watch guys grow up. They get a job. They can't keep their job. Why can't they keep their job? My boss wanted so much of me. He wanted you to be present. He wanted you to be present. I remember today. I don't even think they have this anymore. I remember when Facebook first came out. That there was a thing in offices that you couldn't have Facebook open on your computer. Because a person would come to work, they get paid to come to work, and they'd be putting in three, four hours of work a day max, all day long. They were sitting and posting on Facebook. This was when Facebook was cool, before it was for your parents. You understand? It was. Today, I think they call it Instagram or Snapchat or whatever it was. Back in the day, it was Facebook.

It's a crazy thing. You're getting paid to do a job. You're spending all your time doing something else. You're not an amil. You're not present. Everyone's going crazy. But after COVID, they let you work from home two, three days a week. Now they want you back in the office. It's terrible. They want us back in the office. Why do they want you back in the office? Because we know that if you're working at home, you're not working. We know if you're working at home, you're not working. So people want you back in the office because they're looking for a sense of amelus. What does it mean to serve Hashem? To be present, to be focused, to put your energy, and that's what it means to serve Hashem. Not to check a box. Rashi says it again: the imlo tishme uli v'lo tasu es kol ha mitzvah sa'ila. The pasuk says. If you don't listen to me, if you don't perform your mitzvot, what does Rashi say? If you're not an amel to understand what Chazal say, that's called not listening. Rashi is very clear. There's listening and there's not listening. Listening means focus. Not listening means no focus. It's a very simple equation. By the way, Rashi was well aware of ADHD. Rashi was well before Ritalin. He understood that people have attention issues.

But I want to tell you something. I have my master's degree. I did my master's degree thesis on ADHD. I want to tell you something, and this is a gift I can give for all the people that have the letters, and I include myself in this. I have the letters times a thousand. I have A D. You just heard from Rav Gav. You know what I'm talking about? A D, right? It's okay. It's my best friend. A D, five H's and then a D. I want to tell you something. If you have ADHD, it's a gift. It's a gift. You know why? Because you also have a gift called hyperfocus. If you ever want to see the most successful people, they're ADHD people. They just lock in. They get passionate about something. All of a sudden, they're amazing. We call these kids ADHD, and then we riddle them up the wazoo until they're walking zombies. It's criminal because those kids are going to be superstars. They're just not great in the classroom, but those kids have unbelievable focus. Don't think that those kids can't focus. They can focus. They just don't care what you're talking about.

And my daughter says all the time, she goes, 'I am paying attention, not to what the teacher is talking about. I could tell you a million things that are happening that the teacher doesn't know. I know very well what's going on in the class.' There's a level of impulsivity that's difficult. But again, if you focus it, it's an unbelievable kaiach. So Rashi is very clear. What is following Hashem, amelus. What's not following Hashem, no amelus. Clear as day. Sheer over. Not sheer over. You're not familiar. It's not the sheer. The sheer is not over. Who was it? Doesn't matter. It was a good one. We'll say it. There's only one problem with these Rashi's. It goes against what the Torah says. It's not what the pesukim say. The pesukim are very clear. What does it mean not to listen to Hashem? What does it mean to listen to Hashem? Listen to the pasuk.

Pasuk says, "As tirtza ha'aretz as shabsoseha kol yemei hashama ve'atem be'aretz lo veichem. As tishbas ha'aretz ve'aretz ve'hirtzas es shabsoseha kol yemei hashama tishbas es hasher lo shabso b'shabsoseichem b'shivtechem aleh." The land will be appeased regarding all of the shemitas that were not kept during all the days that it remains desolate. All the time that Klal Yisrael is thrown out of Eretz Yisrael, while the land is desolate, and you are in the land of your enemies and you were sent off into Galus, the land will rest, and thus it will appease all of the shemitas that weren't kept. It will rest during all the days that it remains desolate. Whatever it has not rested on your sabbaticals when you lived upon it. And Rashi makes a cheshb, but I'm not going to go through the Rashi. It's a big Rashi, but it's keday to see. If you have an opportunity, if you're doing shnayim mikra, if you're learning Rashi, it's a beautiful Rashi to see. I'm not going to go through the whole Rashi right now, but I want to read to you the words of Rashi. Rashi says, "Esasher lo shav." So, what does it mean that the land didn't have shemitah kept? Rashi says an unbelievable thing. Not once, from the time that Klal Yisrael entered into the land of Eretz Yisrael.

From the times of Yehoshua until the times of Galus Bavel, not once did Klal Yisrael ever keep shemitah. Not once. It's an unbelievable thing. The seventy times that they didn't keep Shmita and Yovel created the seventy years of Gullus after the destruction of the First Beis Hamikdash. That's what Rashi says. Arba meus u'shloshim shana, four hundred and thirty years. Four hundred and thirty years that they were in Eretz Yisrael. Not once did they keep Shmita. So why were we sent out into Gullus? Why were we punished? What's the reason? Because we didn't keep Shmita. Where in the world did Rashi get this thing of Amelus B'taira from? Where did Rashi get it from? Amelus b'tayr. Rashi says, what does it mean in b'chokos aitelechu? What does it mean to do the right thing? You toiled in Torah. What does it mean you did the wrong thing? You didn't toil in Torah. What does the Torah tell us? What's the reason for gullus? Nothing to do with amelus b'tayr. What's the problem?

The problem is you didn't keep shmita. So what does shmita have to do with amelus b'tayr? Where did Rashi get this from? You have a question or an answer? I have no answer. No answers yet. I still got to work a little bit. But tell me your answer afterwards. I want to hear you. Maybe we'll come up with the same idea. I want to share with you an unbelievable thing. We don't learn history. We should learn history more. One of the gifts of raising children in this country is our children in this country. They don't grow up learning American history. They don't grow up learning European history. That's not their history. What's their history? When you grow up in this country, you learn Tanach. That's your history. You learn history. They learn the history of Klal Yisrael. That's the history that's taught in this country. It's a very, very beautiful thing.

If we would learn history, you would know something unbelievable about Jewish history. It's a gift. If you learn history, by the way, and you should. Rav Olber writes in Oli Shor that a person should learn history. They could see the Yad Hashem working throughout time. It's an unbelievable gift to learn science. You could see the Yad Hashem in creation. The Rambam says it's a bad thing to be ignorant. It's again whatever. I'm not sure how it happened today that ignorance became something to be championed. But you should know that the gedolim were the curious people. They knew a lot. It's kedai to learn history in your life. We grew up. Probably most people in this room grew up thinking that Klal Yisrael in Europe. What language did we speak? Yiddish. But you know that wasn't the only time that Klal Yisrael developed its own dialogue. Anyone here from Iran? Yeah.

Your parents are from Iran. And what language do your parents speak? They speak Persian. What do they call that? Farsi. Do you know that Farsi is not Arabic? It's not. It's not Arabic. It's just the letters are the same. Correct. It's called Judeo Farsi. There's actually a language that was developed in those Middle Eastern countries called Judeo Farsi. It was a language like Yiddish that was specific to Jews. But there are people that speak Farsi that aren't Jewish. It's related to dialogue. It's like German and Yiddish have a lot in common, but they're not exactly the same language. There are people, there are Arabs that speak Farsi. There's a language called Judeo Farsi. It was spoken for generations by people from Iran. Judeo Farsi. It's its own. It has a lot of words from Arabic languages, but it's its own language. Do you know that in Hispanic countries, in Spanish countries, they spoke something called Ladino? Ladino wasn't Spanish. It was a Jewish variant of that language. We developed our own languages when we lived in countries. It's a fascinating thing. Why would anybody do that? Why would they develop their own language? If you're American, speak English. If you're Spanish, speak Spanish. Why do you have to develop Ladino? Why do you have to develop Judeo-Farsi?

Because something unbelievable happens in Galus. You're all touching upon it. You start to band together. It's an unbelievable gift that occurs. When you're surrounded by the outside, by enemies, you start to band together. I've seen this before, even in the Jewish world. There are certain institutions. I'm not going to say any names. It doesn't matter. Probably you could guess for yourself. But if you do guess, please don't say it out loud. It's not worth the lashon hara. But there are certain communities within Klal Yisrael that they're a little bit michutz la'machana. Like they're spoken about in a funny way. When I was growing up, I was part of a certain yeshiva. In my neighborhood, my family davened in a certain yeshiva. We were affiliated with the Rav of the yeshiva.

He was different. He was an interesting person. He was a different person. So a lot of people in the community liked to make fun of that yeshiva. They called the talmidim of that yeshiva by a certain name. I grew up in that yeshiva. People used to make fun of me in school. You're from this shul, and they would say the name of that. It wasn't a respectful name. You're a this. You're a this. I want to tell you something unbelievable. You know what happened to the chevra that grew up in that yeshiva, that davened and learned in that yeshiva? They became a family. They banded arms with each other. They held strong. It was them against the entire world. Something happens when you attack people. They congregate with each other and they protect each other. Klal Yisrael for generations has been in gullus, and it's an unbelievable thing that happens. Whenever we're in gullus, we discover each other. It's a gift. Exile is a gift.

When we go into exile, it's like you have to learn what it means to be a Jew. When you get comfortable in Galus, you start to assimilate. In America today, it's very difficult for us to think about assimilation because assimilation is so easy because the host country is so kind. It was much more difficult to assimilate in Stalinist Russia. It was difficult because they were against you. There were people that stood. They tell these stories about Mendel Futerfas. Zechesadik of Rachi was a big Chabad mashpia, and he fought them. He fought them like crazy. He went to the Siberian camps. He fought them. When you're fighting something, you discover your identity. We made our own languages because in exile they banded us together. Exile could be a gift. Exile could, of course, be a terrible tragedy also. But there's something beautiful about exile. When you're surrounded by wolves, you have to gather together to make sure that you're protected.

I want to tell you a new Yisod in Shmita. A new Yisod in Shmita. Shmita, everybody knows. In Shmita, we stop working the land because when we're working the land, it's like Kolchiv Otsam Yadi. Every seven years, we stop and we let the land lay fallow, and we say Hashem, this is for you. It's not because it makes the land more productive. That's not the reason we do it. Everybody knows this. I want to share with you a new way of looking at it, a beautiful way of looking at it. My mother has a best friend who lives in Far Rockaway. Her name is Hinda. I don't have any family left in America. I have my aunt. She lives in Elizabeth, New Jersey. I don't often go to Elizabeth, New Jersey. If I do, I'm happy to see my aunt. I don't really have a place to stay when I go to America because my parents made aliyah, my brothers made aliyah, my sister made aliyah. I don't really have any family left in America.

So when I go, if I need a place to crash, when you get off the plane in JFK. You feel like a mess. Baruch Hashem, I travel a lot. You feel like a mess. Nobody gets off the plane unless you travel first class, unless you travel business class. Those people get off the plane, they look well rested. For the rest of us that are like in steerage, like huddled together, you get off the plane, you feel disgusting. You want to relax. You want to take a shower. You want to get. You want to lie your head down. I go to Hinda's house. Hinda's house is my house. And she's my mother's best friend for God knows how long. I grew up in that house.

So Hinda always tells me she says, you don't need to knock. You know the code. Just come in. You know where the towels are. You know where the bedroom is. Send me a message when you're coming. It's fine. You don't need to knock. She sent me. I could probably find it. It probably could die for me to find real quickly, even though I'm in the middle of giving shiur and it's totally unprofessional to be on your phone in the middle of giving shiur. When you just spoke about being on your phone and being present, and I understand that this is a complete, I understand exactly what it is. I understand. I'm stalling right now to be able to pull this thing up, as you can probably tell. I want to share with you something that Hinda sent to me, if I can find it real quickly. And I'm not doing a good job finding it. Found it. Baruch Hashem. Listen what she wrote. Listen what she put on the door.

One day when my children are grown, I hope they still come through that front door without knocking. I hope they head to the kitchen for a snack and rifle through the mail looking for a magazine they always read. I hope they come in and feel the weight of adulthood leave them, for they are home. For my children, my door will forever be open. Above all else, I hope they know this without me telling them. Love speaks clearly enough. That was the message she sent me when I said to her, "Can I come over? You don't need to knock. This is your home. My home is your home. Just take a snack. You don't need to ask me." She's very sweet. She's a very sweet person. They're amazing, amazing people. I love that. I love the notion that family doesn't need to knock. My son-in-law knocked on the door the other day when he came in. I was a little upset at him. I said to him, "Please don't knock." Please don't knock. Come in. You can come in. It's your house. You're my son. You have two grandchildren of mine already. He's like, no, but just in case. I was like, Binyamin, you could just come in. I know he's very frum and he's very polite and he's a good boy. You could just come in.

In a certain sense, isn't that one way of looking at shmita? One way of looking at shmita is I can walk into anybody else's field and help myself. It's like walking into somebody else's kitchen and just taking a snack. I don't have to knock on their door. I just walk into their field. I walk into their refrigerator. I open it up. My mother does this. When I look at when I open the refrigerator, my mother goes, "What are you looking for?" I would say, Mom, if I knew what I was looking for, I'd already have it. I'm just perusing. You know how you go shopping in your mother's refrigerator? You're just there to look. What are you looking for? Love. It's not in there, but I'm still searching. You know what I'm talking about? There's something about walking into your mother's house and opening up the pantries. You walk into somebody else's field during shmita. You're saying, 'Your field, my field. We're all family. We're all family.' That's the unbelievable gift of shmita. You know why all loans are canceled in shmita?

Because who wants to make their brother pay back a loan? Forget about it. We're family. Don't worry about it. My money is your money. What do I care? I have money. You have money. It's all the same. We don't ask family to pay for things like that. It's every. You would go to your mother. Imagine if your mother couldn't pay back the loan. Imagine going to your mother and saying, 'No, where's the money?' We don't pressure a yid to pay us back because that's our family. These are not social laws. We make a mistake. We think they're social laws. We think that the Torah tells us let somebody else come to your field this way. The aniyim. It's not about that. It's about family. This is your identity. Shmita is a gift. It's a gift that says you're welcome in my house. You know what Shmita does? After the year of Shmita, you start to look at your neighbor a little bit differently. You walk by his field and you go, "Yeah, I'm not allowed to take this year because that would be theft." But I know that field is my field too. I know he invites me into his field. One of my favorite things during Shmita is you can pick your own srogam here.

It's a great thing. It was my favorite thing about shemitah. It felt so natural. I walked as parades right off the highway in Beit Shemesh. I went first night of slichos in the dark. I drove in. I had my flashlight out, and I just cut my own esrog. It was the most beautiful thing in the world. I want you to know. Every day I drive by that esrog party. I drive by every day. I think to myself, it's not my parades, but I can't wait until shemitah when I can go back into that person's refrigerator. I can't wait to. I can't wait. They had delicious refrigerator. I just want to go and I want to cut my own esrog again. It gives me a sense of family. This year, you let me take from your srogem. I can't do it every year, but it changes the nature of the way we relate to each other. That's what shmita is supposed to be. That's what galus does for us. Galus does for us the same thing that shmita does. It's a very interesting thing that Rashi says. 430 years, you didn't keep one shmita. That means you missed 70 shmitas. You get 70 years of galus. Seventy different times you had the opportunity to become a family and you missed it.

So Rashi says, 'Look, if you're not going to become a family this way, I'll make you into a family that way. If you want to be a family when you live in my land, no problem. You could be a family. You have to keep shmita. Then you'll know that you all love each other. But if you won't do it that way, then I'm going to send a goyim from outside, and then you're going to have to develop your own language. When you're surrounded by wolves, then you'll be packed together and you'll say, 'I stand with each other.' I want to tell you something. October seventh was an unbelievable tragedy. Unbelievable tragedy. October eighth was an amazing day. October eighth was an amazing day. And the months that followed were absolutely incredible. It's heartbreaking. It's heartbreaking for those of us searching for achdus. A chaver of mine, his name was Rav Aryeh Friedner. He just wrote a book on achdus. I haven't read it yet, so I can't tell you if it's kedai to buy. But I know Rav Aryeh, and I'm sure it's kedai to buy. He's sending me the book. I can't wait to read it. He wrote a book about Achdus. He's passionate about Achdus.

The idea that we let go of the Achdus that we had on this country in October 8th is heartbreaking. In October 8th, it didn't matter if you were Hasidish or Litvish. It didn't matter if you were Modern Orthodox or Charedi or Dati Lumi or Chiloni or which type of Charedi you were or which type of Dati Lumi you were. It didn't matter what you said. All you were was a Yid. Because when those animals came through the fence, they didn't care what type of yidden they killed. They didn't care if they were young, and they didn't care if they were old, and they didn't care what type of religious affiliation they had. And it's amazing. It's amazing because on October eighth, we stood together and we said, 'These are my brothers.' If we would keep shmita, the rebbeinu shalom would say, 'your family. That's all I ever wanted.' We don't need to go to gullus. We don't need to be attacked from the outside. If only we hold on to the lessons from the inside. I just want to be clear. I'm not saying why Hakadosh Baruch Hu does anything. I have no idea why Hakadosh Baruch Hu does anything, but I know what Rashi says. We go to gullis because we don't keep shmita. It's me that caneg and me. If you're a family on the inside and everything is going well

Then Hakadosh Baruch Hu doesn't need to send the enemies on the outside in order to make us into a family. What does all this have to do with Amelus B'taira? Fathers and sons. I want to tell you an amazing thing. I have a, you have fake ants. I'm talking about fake ants, fake uncles. It's like if your father has a best friend that's your uncle. If your mother has a best friend that's your aunt. You know what I'm talking about? Fake uncles and ants. I've got fake uncles and ants. I have a fake uncle and aunt. From my, it's my father's best friend. He's an amazing guy. I'll tell you the truth. There's no reason for me to love him. There's no reason for him to love me. It's not biological. You know what I'm talking about? Like your real aunts, your real uncles, they love you. It's biological. Here's my father's best friend. Why does he love me? And I know he loves me. I called the Mevaseret had a campaign this week And so I was calling to help guys for scholarship for next year. Baruch Hashem, the yeshiva was very matsliach.

And I called him up. He's a very big jokester. He's a very funny man. When I was 18 years old and I was coming to Mevaseret for the year, he was making fun of me because he said, 'I know what's going to happen to you. You're going to flip out, and you're going to become poor, and you're going to end up becoming a tzedakah collector. That's what you're going to be.' He wasn't so far off. And he was chaperoning me my whole senior year. He would say, "I know what you're going to do. You're going to flip out. You're going to be poor." And he would always tell me, "I'm going to believe in you when you become poor. Don't worry, I'm going to help you out." And he would tell me exactly how the people who come collecting for tzedakah, How they keep their wads of one dollar bills. You always have to have change. He gave me like all these klalim. He was like educating me my whole senior year. I guess he knew I was gonna flip out before I did. I show up in Mevaserah, my shana Aleph. We showed up at the end of August. September 8th is my birthday. September 8th, I get called to the office. You have a package.

I have a package. So nice. I guess I thought my parents sent me a package. It wasn't my parents. It was my uncle, my fake uncle. I come in, I pick up the package, I go back to my dorm. I'm so excited to see what it is. It's a map of the Kotel with X's of all the best places to collect tzedakah, and a hundred one dollar bills, a hundred one dollar bills just to get you started on your career. It's one thing to cheaper me my whole senior year. That's committing to the bit. That's a good commit to the bit. He's paying for it now because I called him up for the campaign. I said, "Listen, you got me started on my career. You have to help me out now for the scholarship campaign." Of course, Baruch Hashem, he donated. He's a very generous person. There's no reason to love me. He barely knows me. Why does he love me? He loves me because he loves my father.

If you love the father, you love his children. There's no such thing as loving Hashem if you don't love his children. You want to know the litmus test? It's not a cute thing to say. I love Hashem. You're not allowed to say that. That can't be like a thing that you say. I'm sorry. I don't mean to rip seminary girls, but it can't be just like a thing that you say. I love Hashem. You can't do that. Please don't do that. Please don't do it on a date. He'll dump you. It's not a good idea. Don't just say I love Hashem. That's a big thing to say. It's a big thing. You want to know if you really love Hashem? How do you treat another yid? Because if you love the father, you love his children. My uncle has no reason to love me. He loves my father. He's my father's best friend. He loved me the moment I was born. That's your son, so I love you. Of course I love him. And I love him because he's my father's best friend. There's something beautiful about that. Shetuah melem b'tayra. If you're focused and you're dedicated, not just checking a box. If you really love Hashem, so you toil over His Torah. You know what the litmus test is? How you treat another yid.

This is a beautiful line that I heard from my Rosh Yeshiva, Rabbi Bender Shlitah, who's the hashiva of Darke Torah. He quotes—it's always hard to remember who he quotes it from. It's an unbelievable line. He says, a Jew who can't close his gemara to help another Jew, then even when his gemara is open, it's really closed. And a Jew who knows how to close his gemara to help another Jew, then even when his gemara is closed, it's really open. If you really love Torah, if you're an Amel b'Torah, then when you see another Yid struggling, you run to help him. You run to help him. Torah's Chesed is not a joke. If you're an Amel b'Torah, it's not just checking a box. If you're an Amel b'Torah, it means you love Hashem.

If you're an Amel b'Torah, I'll take your questions at the end. If you're an amal privately afterwards. If you're an amal b'tayra, it means I'm not here to check a box. I'm not here to be a good girl. I didn't need to come to seminary this year so I could have something on my shidduch resume so that people could say, Takashi went to Talmud Ivora. I heard good things about Talmud Ivora. It's not why you came. If you came, that's you're checking a box. It's not a meilos b'tayra. A meilos b'tayra is I am working on my relationship with that kadosh baruch hu. What's the litmus test? How you treat your family. It's a big joke today. The word achdos gets thrown around. Achdos. I want to tell you. If you really love Hashem, we will figure out how to. What are we going to do? We have so many differences, and they want this to be recognized, and we want and we don't want women of the wall. How are we going to ever overcome these differences? We can't have achdus. I want to tell you something. If you really love each other, you'll figure out a way to overcome those differences. There's a very chashav a kylul here in Yerushalayim, a massive kylul, like and you have to be a real mitsuyon to get in. The Rosh Chayil is known.

I'm not going to say his name. The Rosh Chayil is known to be one of the biggest geniuses. He's holding in Kol Torah Kula on his fingertips. And in Yesholayim, when you say someone is holding in Kol Torah Kula on their fingertips, they mean it. The guy knows Shas and Pesach cold. His brother, and he's a Charedi, Charedi, Charedi guy. His brother, I'm not going to tell you where he's from. His brother is probably the most left-wing Orthodox rabbi in the world right now. He's diametrically opposed. Their lifestyles couldn't be more different from one another. One of the Avrechim and the Kylol went to this Rosh Kylol, and he said, "Rebbe, you going home for Pesach? You're going to go back to America for Pesach?" He said, "Yeah, I'm going." He goes, "Rebbe, I don't mean to pry, but what's it like? What's it like to sit at the seder with your brother? What's it like to be at a family barbecue with your brother?

This Rosh Kylol looked at this guy, this Avrech, like he was from the moon. He's like, 'He's my brother. What are you talking about?' He's like, 'Yeah, but like.' You know everything he stands for and all the public things that he said. Like he's like, he's my brother. What are you talking about? If he's your brother, you figure out a way to be ba'achtos. You don't have to talk about every single thing. You don't have to make a fight. Is this Reish Koyal and his brother, who's a Rosh Yeshiva? They don't come to these barbecues. Talking about all of the issues, they're just brothers getting together, sitting down, having a burger, sitting down and telling over the story of Sefer Yosef Mitzrayim. That if you're ba'achtos with each other because you have the same father, all of the issues go away. I'm not saying that the solutions are comfortable. I'm saying if you really care about each other, you'll figure out solutions. If you're an Amel B'Taira, your family.

If you're an Amel B'Taira, you keep Shmita. That's what Rashi is telling you. He says they didn't keep shmita. They didn't pour their heart into their lima b'tayra. Because it was for them intellectual. They learned, but it was intellectual. They didn't care about it like a son who wants to learn about his father. You get older. I know it sounds like a funny thing. When you're a teenager, you don't care very much what your parents have to say. You get older. You go to your parents for advice. Teach me. I want to learn from you. I care about you. I want to learn from you. We come to Hakadosh Baruch Hu and we say, Rebbeinu Shlom, I want to learn your Torah. I want to know about you. You care about me. You care about my children. Vada you keep shmita. Somebody's going to come into your field. You can feel like, Thank God you came. I've been waiting for you. I have so much. Please take. I can't eat it this year. Please come have. I can't sell it this year. The fridge is full. Please come take. We're family.

If you're not an Amel b'Torah, you don't keep shmita. If you don't keep shmita, the Rebbeinu Shlom says, Fine. If you're not going to be a family from within, then I'll make you a family from without. I'll send the enemies to turn you into a family. Are we tired? I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted. It's been so long since October 7th. I'm exhausted from this. I'm sick of all these enemies from without. I'm sick of having to rely on which way the wind blows in American politics to think about how the Rebbeinu Sholom is going to bring Mashiach. I'm so sick of this. I'm so tired of this. I don't want to be involved in any of these solutions anymore. I'm not interested. I'm not saying politics isn't important. It is, and I'm sure somebody is dealing with it. Baruch Hashem, not me. I'm so sick of all these things. I deleted all social media. I delete. I have no idea anymore. I'm done. I'm in utak. I'm cut off.

I'm interested in one thing now. I'm interested in trying to be brothers and with all of my brothers and all of my sisters. I'm just trying to be a family member. I'm just trying to be somebody who cares. And I'm asking if you'll join me in this. If you'll see another Jew and you won't look at the length of their skirt or the length of their sleeves or what they do or don't have on their head or what hashkafa they have or what they believe about this or what they believe about judicial reform or this or that. I'm so sick of these conversations. They're not bringing us closer to each other. This is not called amelus b'tayra. Shvus is the zman of keisha chad b'leiv chad. We only receive the Torah if we're standing in the Torah as one. If we're standing in Har Sinai as one, then we're zaychah to kabbalas the Torah. Bless Hashem, we should be zeicher to stand together as one, to let go of all these silly, funny labels. I've looked in the entire Torah; I never saw the word Orthodox, Conservative, or Reform. I haven't seen Labavich and Satmer. I haven't seen Visionitz. I've been looking. I promise, I'm looking hard. I've done Shnayimiker for a long time already. I didn't see Mir or Panovich. I didn't see Modern Orthodox or Chareidi. I didn't see any of these labels. I know that there's such a thing as a yid that stood by Har Sinai next to his brothers and sisters and received the Torah. Bless Hashem, we should be zeicher to receive the Torah together.

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