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Shiur · Rav Mordechai Burg

Parshas Vayishlach - The Vulnerability of Life, and Those Who Love Us Through It

Dec 6, 202239 minTranscript
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Everything the Torah tells us is to impart cosmic and timeless lessons. It is therefore all the more surprising that the Torah, seemingly out of nowhere, tells us about the death of Devorah, the wet nurse of Rivka. Why do we need to know about this? What is the significance of her being buried beneath a tree and the name of that place? In this shiur, delivered in Stern College, Rav Burg explains how we are all loved into being. The people that love us into being give us the courage to face life's vulnerabilities and show up authentically.

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Automatic transcript; may contain mistakes, especially in Hebrew.

I have very fond memories of those shirum as well. It's my first time in Stern. I know I didn't date a girl that went to Stern, so I didn't do the hang out outside awkward thing. It's a pasuk in this week's parsha. That seems to come out of nowhere. It doesn't have anything to do with any stories that we're reading. It's one line. The pasuk says, "vatamas devora menekes Rivka." Devora The wet nurse of Rivka Passed away. Vatikaver mitachas lebeisel, tachas alone. She was buried below beisel. Beneath the alon Va'yikra shmo alon bachus, and they named this place underneath this tree where she was buried Alon Bachus. Alon bachus means a tree of tears. The Torah tells us that Devorah dies, as if we know who Devorah is. But we don't know who Devorah is because her name has never been mentioned before. So the question is, where'd she come from?

If you go back all the way in Parshas Chayisara There's a conversation that takes place between Rivka and Lavan. Rivka has to make a decision whether or not she's going to go with Eliezer to return to the house of Yitzchak to marry Yitzchak. Vatomer Eilch. Rivka says to Lavan, "I'm going to go with Eliezer." The Yishalchu es Rivka achosam, so he sent Rivka, his sister, the es mei nikda And also along with Rivka, he sends a wet nurse. Question is, why did he send a wet nurse? Depends on how old you believe Rivka was. If Rivka was three years old, perhaps, though unlikely. Perhaps she was still nursing. Of course, this doesn't make so much sense because I don't know who leaves a decision like this in the hands of a three-year-old. I have young children. I've never asked them their opinion on whether they want to leave my family and go marry somebody.

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I have a 19-year-old daughter. I had that conversation with her. Baruch Hashem, she's now engaged. Watch this. Baruch Hashem, by you. It's a beautiful thing. You say to the boys, "Amir Hashem by you," they go, "Yeah." Different level of confidence, perhaps. Potentially, Rivka was thirteen years old. And if Rivka was thirteen years old, then it certainly doesn't make sense that they sent a nurse with her. So there's a targum Yonos and Ben Uziel. Targum Yonos and Ben Uziel says a fascinating thing. Something we're going to get back to later. He says, "Meinikda" actually means a teacher. So they sent with Rivka to the house of Yitzchak a teacher. The question obviously is why? What did they hope that she would learn? What were the lessons they were hoping to impart? Ostensibly, they knew that she was going to the home of Avram Avinu. We imagine that they taught much Torah there. So why did they need a special teacher who was going to accompany her on the journey?

Why are we being told about this now? Why now? What does this have to do with the story? Why are we being told now that Devora passed away? So Rashi tells us A Thomas Devora Ma'inyin Devora bebeis Yaakov. What connection does Devora have to the house of Yaakov? Because Rivka said to Yaakov, "I will send for you and bring you from there." Meaning, when Yaakov Avinu left because he was running away from Esav. So Yaakov Avinu was concerned, 'How will I know when to come back?' So Rivka said, "Don't worry, I will send for you someone to come retrieve you." So she sent Devorah to Padan Aram to tell Yaakov Avinu it was time to go. Omei Sabaderech And on the way back Devorah passed away. So there are a bunch of questions that come up over here. Yaakov needs to know when to come back. Rivka sends Devorah her me'nekes from when she was three or thirteen years old, the original person that accompanies her on her journey.

She tells this woman to go get Yaakov Avinu. Travel in those days was a perilous affair. And to send a woman in those days unaccompanied, especially an elderly lady who had been with Rivka all of these years, that's a very strange messenger to send. She could have sent anybody. She could have said, "It's okay to come back now." Esav, his anger has somewhat subsided. Why does she need to send Devorah? And this question is further compounded by the Chizkuni. The Chizkuni, if you take a look at the Chizkuni, based on the Medrash Agada The Chizkuni says that when Devorah got to Yaakov Yaakov didn't want to leave the house of Lavan. We always grew up. Yaakov decided it was time to leave, so he left. It seems that there was some hesitancy on the part of Yaakov. The Chizkuni doesn't say how long But ostensibly for a period of time, Devorah had to wait in that house. To convince Yaakov to leave the house of Lavan.

And ultimately to come back to Eretz Yisrael, the question is, what was going on in that conversation? This wet nurse, this teacher, this elderly lady travels on her own to go to the house of Lavan to tell Yaakov Avinu it's time to come home. And Yaakov Avinu says no I'm happy here in the house of Lavan. They have some sort of back and forth, but we don't know the back and forth. Chizkuni doesn't tell us what was the conversation. We don't know. But it took Yaakov Venu time until eventually he conceded and eventually he came back. What else is strange about this story? The Torah has no details that are extra. The Torah tells us, and this seems to be of great importance, that she was buried underneath a tree, and the name of the tree is Alon Bachus, the tree of weeping. Why is it called the tree of weeping? For here we have another Rashi, a beautiful Rashi And Rashi tells us the Agada.

Nisbasir Sham Yaakov was informed over there be'evil sheni. On that day, there was a second reason for Yaakov to be an avelus. Not only did Devorah pass away Shahu godlo alimo shemesa. It was on that day that he found out that Rivka had died. Rivka is the only person in the Torah that it doesn't tell us she died. Why doesn't it tell us that Rivka imenu died? Rashi says, "Alone, beloshin yevani acher." Alone, the word 'alone,' the word 'tree' here could also be understood to mean another, as in another person has died. And why don't we hear anything about Rivka Yemenu's passing? Ulefish haalimu esyal Moshe. The day of Rivka's death is concealed; it's hidden from us. Why? Shelo yikalu abrios. Kara sheyatsa Yemenu Esav afakas of lo persima. When Rivka Imenu died, they kept it a secret. Because people talk And if they heard that Rivka Imenu died, what would they have said? They would say Rivka Imenu died. It was Rivka Imenu who brought Esav into the world. Esav was a murderer. Esav was a person who pillaged and plundered.

And this was not a popular person in the world. So when Rivka dies, the world is going to say, 'Good that she died.' Cursed is her womb, because she brought Esav into the world. They kept Rivka's death a secret. And just like they kept Rivka's death a secret in those times, they also kept Rivka's death a secret in the Torah, and it's only alluded to by the fact that Devorah passed away on the same day. But again, We have a question: if the only reason we're not mentioning the death. Of Rivka is because of Esav So why does it help to mention it in the context of Devorah? What's the inner significance of the connection between Devorah and Rivka? Devorah was the mainekas. Is it just that it happened to be that they passed away on the same day, or is there perhaps an inner connection that the Torah is telling us about Devorah and Rivka that they passed away on the same day?

And why was this important? Why was this critical to Yaakov Avinu at this time? One last set of questions And then we'll try to get some answers. There's another Devora in Tanach. Much later Devora is a shofetess. Devora is a neviya. She's a prophetess. And Devora also sits under a tree. What's that tree called? The Tamar Devora. Tamar Devora. Devora's palm tree. Also located around the area of Beis El. And Devora, she sits, she passes Shilas, Devora, she prophesizes, and at the time of Devora's life The Jews were under persecution for 20 years. From the Canaanim And the Canaanim had a general. The general's name was Sisra. And the general Sisra was a very powerful general And Devora the Shofetess. She goes to Barak. The leader of the Jewish people at the time It's time for you to go battle the Canaanites. And Barak says to her, "I'll go to battle if you come with me." A very strange calculation.

And she says "I love this first, the first strong feminist person." She says to Barak, "I'll come with you, but be prepared, be ready." Because at the end they're going to say it's a woman who killed Sisera and not a man. So if your ego can handle it, I'll come with you. And Barak says yes, I want you to come with us. And she comes, and of course, Klal Yisrael wipes out the Canaanim. It's an unbelievable victory. Sisera manages to escape. He goes to a safe house, and through different machinations, they're able to kill Sisera, and Klal Yisrael is victorious. And then Devorah sings a shira, a very beautiful song, a very famous song, Shira's Devorah. And in the song, she sings something that everyone here is familiar with. The very end of the song, she sings about Sisra's mother. And she says, "Sisra's mother was sitting at home and she was waiting for Sisra to return with all the spoils of war."

And she's waiting, and it's taking a long time, and she's getting nervous, she's getting anxious. Where is my son? Those that are around Cicero's mother say he's probably fine. The Jews probably had so much spoils of war that it's just taking him so much time to collect all the spoils of war. Surely he will show up soon. He'll show up very soon, and he's going to share all the booty with you. But of course, Cicero's mother, being an intuitive mother, knows it's not right. A mother knows when something is off. And Cicero's mother says, "No, I'm telling you, something as terrible has happened." And ultimately, she finds out that Sisera passes away, and she cries mea colos. She cries one hundred colos, from which we get on Rosh Hashanah that we blow the shofar a hundred colos. That's the connection between Sisera's mother and the Rosh Hashanah shofar.

And again, we have many questions. Why was it that Barak said, "I'm not going to war without you"? A leader of Klal Yisrael, no doubt, but not a warrior? What was she going to contribute to the victory? And why, at the very end, does she write this song about Cicero's mother? What's that got to do with anything? I want to share with you an idea relevant to every person in this room, including myself. Life is exceptionally vulnerable. We do things in this world. Strange things. In order to feel safe in a vulnerable world. For example Klal Yisrael in Mitzrayim, le-maisa eighty percent doesn't leave. If you were in Auschwitz and you had the opportunity to walk out of the gates of Auschwitz Would you leave? I imagine everybody in this room says absolutely. I'd be the first one out. I'd be running for my life.

But in Mitzrayim, it wasn't true. In Mitzrayim, 80% stayed behind, and why? I shouldn't quote this movie. I won't quote it. But there's a movie. You'll figure out which movie it is if you know it. If not, it doesn't matter. But there's a movie. In the movie, it talks about these walls are strange. There's a person in jail. And he has the opportunity to go free, but the walls have grown on him. The walls of jail have grown on him, and it's hard to leave jail because in jail, maybe it's a terrible place. But there's a safety to its terribleness. There's a safety to it. There's a familiarity with it. Even if you're being abused, you know you're abusing. It's like I can do this every day. It's regimented. I know I have to wake up at this time. I know I'll get beaten if I do this. I know I won't get beaten if I do that. It's a terrible life.

But it's a safe life. We cannot possibly fathom what Mitsrayim meant. The Holocaust was a drop in the bucket compared to Mitsrayim. After 210 years of slavery Klal Yisrael didn't feel like they could leave. They had a slave mentality. To go free was a terrifying prospect. To go into the Midbar, Be'aretz Lozarua, where there's nothing, who's going to take care of us? To rely on miracles? So 80% of Klal Yisrael stayed behind, and even the 20% that left, every single time something happens in the Midbar, what do they do? We should have never left Mitzrayim. Mitzrayim was amazing. Can you imagine somebody leaving Auschwitz and saying, when they were in the DP camps, we should have never left Auschwitz. Auschwitz was amazing. But a person becomes accustomed to being a slave. And a person would rather be a slave than face the vulnerability of life.

Which is why today we are seeing so often that people will become enslaved to things that will destroy them. Rather than face the vulnerability of life. People don't do drugs. People aren't drinking. People aren't staying on their phone for insane amounts of hours for no reason. Nobody knows me better than YouTube. Nobody. For me, YouTube is a person. She's female. I'm in a deep relationship with YouTube. She knows me better than anyone. She says, after you watch this, I think it would be a good idea for you to watch this. Have you ever done this? Have you ever started off watching a video of the Lubavitcher Rebbe and then three hours later you're watching them blow up a whale on Farakway? You've seen that video. I love that video. I've seen that video so many times. Look at your screen time. Look at our screen time. What are we doing?

There's a reason we're on our phones as much as we're on our phones. It's because it's easier to be on our phone and numb out. Than face the harsh realities of life Than face rejection The feeling that I'm not enough. The inner negative beliefs that we all have—it's the challenge of dating. How many times can I keep putting myself out there? How many times can I keep getting that? It didn't work out. How many times can I? Because it touches that vulnerability, and to feel those feelings, to allow yourself to sit in front of those feelings and allow them to hit you like a truck. Is the hardest thing in the world. But of course, when you numb out the bad feelings, you numb out the good feelings too. And vulnerability is the birthplace of connection. So you have a choice. You can either numb out.

Do everything you can to distract yourself, remaining a slave to the thing that's killing you. Or you can choose to lean into the discomfort, pay attention to the really hard feelings, and have joy in your life. And have connection in your life. Those are the two options. You talk to somebody. You talk to a guy in yeshiva. That's what I do. Talk to a guy in yeshiva. He says, "I'll tell you the truth, Rebbe. The reason I'm not waking up in the morning is because I'm on my phone till four o'clock in the morning." Why are you on your phone till four o'clock in the morning? Because I have no idea. I want to stop. I've done all the things. I've asked my friend to lock my phone. I just somehow can't manage to stop. You talk to the alcoholic who's divorced from his wife, estranged from his kids, homeless, living under a bridge with no job and no prospects, and you say to him, "Put down the bottle." And he says, and he's right.

I can't. He can't put down the bottle. It's not because he doesn't want to. It's because putting down the bottle would force him to look at the vulnerability of life and say "I can handle this." He doesn't believe that he can sit in front of those feelings and allow himself to be okay. And so he has no choice but to take that medicine. The culture around marijuana today—people are marijuana—is the same as beer. It's not about whether or not marijuana is the same as beer or whether it's worse or better than hard alcohol. It's the question of how it is being used today. And there's no doubt that teenagers today are using it. They're using marijuana to numb out, rather than face the realities of how difficult it is to be a teenager. Do you remember when you were 16 years old? Do you remember what it was like?

I have five daughters. I want you to know. Whenever they come into ninth grade, I hold my breath. Because it. Do you remember that drama of ninth grade? That was funny. You all betrayed yourself very nicely just now. I want you to know, all of you that did this I saw you. Do you remember that I was friends with her in eighth grade, but now I'm not sure if we're friends anymore because she's hanging out with that group, and I don't know if that group really likes me. I don't know if that's where I belong. Do you remember that whole drama? Good. We're on the same page. I remember when my daughter, my oldest, came into my room and she was crying because there was one girl that wasn't talking to her. Now it was like, are all the girls not going to talk to me? Because boys just punch each other, so it's easy to know, right? And girls will freeze each other out, and it's really mean. Your species can be very mean.

Boys, I understand. I'm like, he punched you, so did you punch him back? It's like a simple thing, we understand. Especially in Eretz Yisrael, that's how we toughen them up. But you have to sit there and wonder if you're going to be okay feeling these feelings. You've just been frozen out by a friend. And allow yourself to move through that. The vulnerability of life is so exceptionally difficult. But there's only two choices: either pay attention to the feelings that you're having, or don't. It doesn't mean the feelings aren't there. How do we get the courage to confront vulnerability? Where does that come from? Everyone in this room has voices in their head. Voices that live inside of them. People that loved you into being. The people that told you were enough, no matter what. Everyone has a number of them. I'll share mine with you.

One of Baruch Hashem A number of wonderful voices that live inside of me. My grandmother was a second mother to me. She passed away during COVID. My grandmother was the nicest person I've ever met in my entire life. She never had a bad word. She was my hero. She became a balas tshuva at seventy years old. She started keeping Shabbos. She started keeping kosher. She became judgmental of all my non-Jewish cousins. She was super Orthodox. The harshest thing my grandmother would ever say to me and my brothers If we were really throwing each other around Simmer down now. That was the most intense I ever heard my grandmother And whenever I came to her apartment after I made Aliyah, I would come to visit her. She didn't just greet me with a smile. She wanted to give away every single thing that she had, and nobody needed it.

I don't know if you know this, but when your ba'ym or seminary teachers come to visit, we come with empty suitcases for all the Amazon stuff that we have to bring back to Eretz Yisrael. I used to tell my grandmother, "Grandma, I have no room left." She'd say, "You have room for this." She'd be emptying out her jewelry drawer. Your daughters are like this. She was giving me everything. She would buy donuts just in case I was in town, even if she didn't know when I was coming in. She always had donuts waiting for me. I could do no wrong in this woman's eyes. I could do no wrong. If I did something, she would say it was amazing. I heard your thing; it was amazing. She just loved me. It's vulnerable to be here right now in front of you. I don't know what's going to be tonight. I don't know if you're going to go back and go. It's vulnerable. But there's a voice that lives inside of me. It's my grandmother's voice. Every time I get up to speak in front of everybody, I hear her inside of me.

And she goes, "You're going to be great." She is like, and even though she passed away, she's so alive. It's not like a Labavitcher thing. She's really like, you know what I'm saying? She's real. You should know. For me, it was the biggest comfort in the world when I realized after my grandmother passed away, and it was so tragic. I couldn't be there for her levaya because I was in Israel and we were locked into the country. I couldn't say goodbye to her. She was in the hospital. I had no access to her. For a period of time, I was really broken. How was I not able to be there to say goodbye to my grandmother? This was Mamish's second mother to me. Until I found out She's right here. That's what gives you the courage to go out there and put yourself out there. My daughter asked me. She was dating this boy. And she said, "Abba, how do I know if I could do this?"

You're going to go out. You're going to meet this guy, and is it going to go? And is it not going to go? What happens if you do this? What happens if you do that? And I asked her I said Bracha Who are the voices that live inside of you that tell you that you can when you're not sure? And she made a list. And I said, "There. Before you go on that date, can you take a deep breath and call on those voices?" And after the date, she came to me, and I asked her, 'So which voices came up?' And she told me which voices came up, and it was a beautiful thing. As you're walking into that hotel lobby and you see him, and it's that magical parting of the seas. It's just you and him. That Hollywood moment. And you go and you sit down and you say, 'Hi, how are you?' What gives you the capacity to smile? What gives you the capacity to say "Hinei"? That's the hardest thing in the world.

Knowing that there's a possibility you might meet somebody and actually like them, and maybe it'll go, and maybe it won't. And worse, if it goes and then it doesn't, and you don't know why, and you're sitting there analyzing in a thousand different ways what happened, what went wrong. And then the courage to start again. How many times do I get that phone call? Rabbi? I can't imagine putting myself out there again. It's not even that I wanted to marry him. How many times am I supposed to do that? I hear it. And you're right. It's real. So where do you get the courage to start again? It comes from these people that live inside of you that loved you into being. I'd like to suggest that that's exactly the gift that Lavan gave to Rivka. Lavan said to Rivka, "You're a little girl" And you're going on a big journey, and you're traveling away from your family, and you're about to meet your new husband, and the pressure is enormous because Eliezer told you this is Yitzchak. You're going to become the mother of all of Klal Yisrael. How will you feel like you're enough?

So he said to her, "I'm going to give you a gift." The gift is Devorah. Devorah is going to be the one to remind you your entire life you are enough. You can handle this. Why Devorah? Because the word Devorah means bee. And a bee has two properties. A bee stings. But a bee also makes the sweetest honey. The vulnerability of life is the sting. Maybe you'll get hurt. But maybe you won't get hurt. Maybe you'll get that honey. Maybe you'll get that sweetness. Devorah is there not to tell you that it's not vulnerable. Devorah is not there to deny the realities of life. Devorah is there to say it's okay. It's just a bee sting. Unless you're really truly allergic, nobody dies from a bee sting. It just hurts for a minute. But on the other side of that, there's such beauty. There are such opportunities for connection. This is what Devorah gave to Rivka all those years ago.

So now Rivka says, "Don't worry, Yaakov. When it's time for you to come back, I'm going to send someone for you." But she couldn't just send any messenger because she knew that Yaakov would be afraid. What was Yaakov afraid of? He was afraid that Esav was going to kill him. And that was true? He shows up with 400 men, and Esav is about to kill him. It makes sense that Yaakov said, "I'd rather be a slave in the house of Lavan." In the house of Lavan, I know what I get. I work. It's true. He's b'keish l'akar as I call. Lavan was trying to destroy all of Yisrael. But la'maisa, I have my wives, I have my kids, I have a prospering business. It's true, I'm a slave to Lavan. But better to be a slave to Lavan than be free and murdered by Esav. It wouldn't be enough for Rivka to say, 'I'm going to send a messenger, any Tom, Dick, and Harry who's going to come and says, "Mommy says it's okay to come home now."' That's not going to be enough for Yaakov.

So who does she send? She sends Devorah. She sends her teacher. That's what a teacher is supposed to be. A teacher is not here to impart information. That's just the tiniest job of a teacher. The tiniest job of a teacher. Unfortunately, in today's world It's become that a teacher is there to impart information, and the relationship is secondary. And it's exactly the opposite. The truth of the matter is, if you think back to your educational career, how much do you remember? Very little, I imagine. But I bet you remember the nice word they said to you. I bet you remember the smile that they greeted you with. The kindness. My wife has a teacher. Her name is Mrs. Ziegler. Mrs. Ziegler and my wife were very close in high school. And now Mrs. Ziegler just reached out to my wife. When my wife was in America, she messaged me. She said, "You're not going to believe who reached out to me. Mrs. Ziegler reached out to me. I'm so excited to see Mrs. Ziegler. Why? Because she could remember any she'er that she gave."

My wife tells me She said Mrs. Ziger always called her by her full name, and she greeted her with a smile and warmth. That's what a teacher is supposed to be. That's what Rivka was. That's what Rivka had from Devora. And I'll tell you a secret. When you have that relationship, the Rebbe Talmidah relationship. It becomes one. One can't live without the other. Devora is Rivka, and Rivka is Devora. Rav Yochanan and Reis Shlakish. Rav Yochanan was the one that brought Reis Shlakish in from being abandoned, and he was makariv him, and he helped him become a baltshuva. But when Rav Yochanan stopped speaking to Reis Shlakish died, and Rav Yochanan died, because one can't live without the other. If the relationship is truly one, when one dies, the other one dies also. And that's why the Torah tells us we can't tell you that Rivka died because if we tell you that Rivka died, then people are going to curse her out because they're going to say that's where Esav came from.

But we can tell you in a different way. We'll tell you that Devorah died because on the day that Rivka died, Devorah died because Devorah's whole chayes Her whole life was to be able to give to her talmidah to say you are okay, you are enough. And that's exactly what she did for Yaakov Avinu. She went and she sat in the house of Lavan, and we have no idea. Maybe it was for months. Maybe it was for a long time. It was for even longer than. We don't know how long she was there, but we know one thing. We have no idea what was said. We don't have any record of the conversation, because could we possibly capture the words of what it means to sit and listen to somebody in pain? This is what women know that men don't know. When someone's in pain, you don't have to say anything.

When someone is afraid, and they say, "My life is at stake from my own brother" Devorah didn't have a strategy. She didn't plan it out. She didn't try to solve the problem. She just sat and listened to him, and she said, "It's okay to be afraid." It's a beast thing. It's okay to be afraid. That's where courage comes from. That's where beauty comes from. That's where connection comes from. And she sat and she listened to him. Who knows how many hours until he was ready And then he was ready. And under that very same tree that she was buried Many years later there was another Devorah. And she also sat and listened to Klal Yisrael in pain. And just like Yaakov was in the house of Lavan for twenty years, the Canaanim were attacking Klal Yisrael. And finally, Devorah says to Barak, she says, "Enough" Enough is enough.

You don't have to live this way. You don't have to live enslaved to the Canaanites. You can attack. And you'll be okay. So Barak says, "You're saying it'll be okay, but they're the mightier army. I'll go if you come." Because Klal Yisrael's army needed a mother to sit there and tell the troops You can do this. You're outnumbered, but you can do this. You don't have to live like this. That was the secret sauce of having her at the battle. It wasn't because she was a great warrior. It wasn't because she knew how to rally up the troops. When the troops walked by, Devora, they felt about themselves, "We can do it." That was the gift that she gave to every one of those people. And that's why in Shiras Devora, what does she say? She talks about another mother. A mother who's waiting at home. Sisra may have been a rasha, but Sisra was a great warrior. Where did Sisra get his coah from? There was a mother at home that said, "I know my son will be victorious." And she was waiting for him.

When you have someone who's waiting for you at home, how good a feeling is that? And when you don't have someone waiting for you at home, how tragic a feeling is that? For those that feel like when I go home it's awkward and uncomfortable, and there's a disconnect, and it's not safe for me to be myself. How exceptionally painful is that? Cicero was great because he had a mother who told him he was great. She had an irrational confidence in her son. And when he was coming home late, she was so in tune with him that when everyone was telling her no, it's because of all the spoils of war, she said no, it's not. I know my son. Something is wrong. I can just tell. I could feel it. And so she cried a hundred kolos. And on Rosh Hashanah we blow the shofar a hundred times because Rosh Hashanah is a very vulnerable time. We're coming to Hashem and we're saying we made terrible mistakes this year. Who amongst us can say that we didn't do averus? Every one of us did averus.

So we're coming to Hakadosh Baruch Hu with great vulnerability, and we're saying we messed up. But we call on those tears of Sisera's mother, and we say to Hakadosh Baruch Hu, 'Do you have irrational confidence in us? Like Sisera's mother had irrational confidence in him, like Devora had in Klal Yisrael, like Devora had for Rivka, like Devora had for Yaakov. Do you have that irrational confidence? It's the gift that every one of us wants to give to our own children.' My mother has a rational confidence in me. I love my mother, but she was the most naive mother of all the mothers that ever were. And I would tell my mother lie after lie, and that woman believed me every single time. Really, she was and she would like to defend me. And I never understood. Don't you know I'm lying to you? And she would say, it's not right what you're doing to my son. You don't know what a good boy he is. And the teachers said, are you talking about the same person? And there was one teacher who told my mother in tenth grade. He said, "You really need to get to know your son better."

And she was really hurt by that. And it was like Maybe she believed the lie. But it was awesome being her kid, not because I got away with murder But because I knew I had a mother that believed me no matter what. That's the gift that we all want to give to our children. I want to share with you a piece of advice. Take it or leave it, but if you do it, it's awesome. Make a small list, three or four people max. Who are the people that loved you into being? Who are the people that had irrational confidence in you? It could be anybody—parents, siblings, friends, camp counselors. It could be anybody. And call them. And I've done this with people before. I've called for myself. I called Richie Altobee. I called my mother. I called my father. I called camp counselors, and I said, "I just want you to know." If I'm anything in my life, it's because of you.

And it does two things. Number one, what a beautiful thing to be able to give to somebody else. It makes them feel like a million dollars. I gave this shiur, just same exact shear, a couple hours ago to the Mevaser guys. And I said, "Do this." And I got a WhatsApp from one of the guys, and he said, 'Rebbe, I just want to make some time to call you.' And I was so touched by that. Because this is one of my favorite guys of all time. But I never knew that he saw me like that. And it meant so much to me, but more importantly, it will mean something to you because these people are alive inside of us, but they're very often living in our subconscious. When you bring it into conscious being, it changes you. It gives you a sense of confidence, and confidence is attractive. When you show up somewhere and you say Hineni, people go, 'Oh, this is a person to contend with.' They believe that they have the capacity to do. I want you to know that the great people in life are not great because they're more talented. It's just they believe they can do things that they can't yet do.

And those people will accomplish tremendous things. And you can do that also if you pay attention to the people that have already told you you're enough. A friend of mine is a very famous therapist. His name is Keevi Perlman. Some of you have ever heard of Dr. Keevi Perlman? He's an old friend. We went to camp together for many years back in the day. So he said not that long ago, he said everyone wants therapy, but sometimes you just need to sit with a friend. Just sit with someone you love and talk it out. You don't need to run to therapy all the time. He's a therapist. He said it. He's allowed to say it. Everyone today is running to find a safe place, but you have safe places. And if you allow yourself to be vulnerable, I promise you that there will be people that show up in life, and they'll tell you it's okay to be who you are. And the gift of authenticity, when you have that relationship, it changes you.

There's a great rav in Beit Shemesh. Some of you know him, Rav Kluger. Heard of Rav Kluger? I see Judah Michel came and spoke here, so I'm sure you heard of Rav Kluger. There's a masech with two of my friends that they went to Rav Kluger, and they were sitting by him. And Rav Kluger said to them "You know, you guys are best friends, right?" And they said, "Yeah, we've known each other since we were three." And he goes, "It's a joke to think you're best friends. You don't even know each other." He said, Rebbe, what are you talking about? Of course, we know each other. He said, each one of you comes to me and tells me secrets that you've never told the other one. So how could you possibly say that you're best friends? And he told them to go for a walk in the forests of Beit Shemesh, and he said, I want you to tell each other everything that you've told me.

And they did. They went on an eight-hour walk. Eight hours. They walked through the forest of Beit Shemesh and they said everything, all the secrets that they'd been keeping from each other for all the years. These guys were best friends, and they walked out of the forest and they came back to Reb Kluger after eight hours. Rebbe, you changed our relationship. We thought we were best friends, and now we mamish are. We're real with each other, and it's such a blessing. I could finally say all the things that I've been holding inside that poison box with all the secrets. Not everybody gets to hear those secrets. Not everybody. But one person, two people, just the gift of authenticity—to know that you're okay—that's the greatest gift that we can give each other. Especially in these vulnerable times that we live in Where anti-Semitism—I don't know. This is the first time that I'm ever in New York or Los Angeles or Chicago, and I'm wondering. It's not so posh here.

I saw a video today. You're not the real Jews. We're the real Jews. Hitler was right. It's a vulnerable time for us And we have two choices. Most of us will engage in cognitive dissonance, not paying attention to what's actually happening, because it's really hard to pay attention. It's hard to watch those videos. It's hard to ask yourself what's going to be in this world. Or we could embrace the vulnerability And we could talk about it And we could say what it's like And we could be there for each other. And whenever we do that, we come a little closer to each other and we create a little bit of achdus. If we can be devora for each other If we can be a space where people feel comfortable to be themselves What an incredible gift that would be! Hirat zolfnei avinu shabas shamayim That we should have the opportunity to come closer to each other, to create space to be real. And bez Hashem to love each other into being.

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