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Shiur · Rav Mordechai Burg

Tazria-Metzora - Love vs Boundaries

Apr 17, 202643 minTranscript
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When the Torah sends the Metzora “outside the camp,” is it rejection or something far deeper? We don’t throw people away. So why does the Torah seem to? This shmooze, delivered at Mevaseret Mishmar, reframes the exile of the Metzora not as punishment, but as a precise, rehabilitative consequence. Lashon hara creates the illusion of connection while quietly destroying trust. A person can feel surrounded by others and yet be completely alone. Being sent outside the camp isn’t being cast out. It’s being shown the truth. Like Miriam (who was distanced, yet deeply cared for) the Metzora remains defined by his place in the camp. He is alone, but not abandoned. Removed, but not rejected. Sometimes, the only way to rebuild real connection… is to first confront the false one.

Transcript

Automatic transcript; may contain mistakes, especially in Hebrew.

It's it's good it's good to be back. It's not exactly the same. Without Shimon's guitar, there's something very much missing. And in a different way, there's something very much present. It's very raw. It's very unadulterated. It's very pure. It's very us. We can't be carried in a certain sense by you, and yet we're still carried. So it's a very It's a very interesting period that we're living in. I can't tell you how good it is to be back in yeshiva to start again. I know that because of the war, there's a sense of trickling in, like it's taking time for everyone to get back together. It makes sense, and yet we're not there yet. We're still missing the body. The soul is here, obviously, but the body is not yet complete. And blessed Hashem, by next week. When we're bringing together by Mitzmah Thursday night next week, Beis Hashem it'll be back to full strength, and not just here in yeshiva, but bechelaw. That's what we're learning. That's what we're yearning for in the world right now. We're yearning for everyone to be back to full strength. It's so hard.

How many people have said over the last couple of weeks about the anxiety, the ups and downs, what's going to be, the not knowing, and how challenging it is? To come back to this environment, I just want to say to all of you who came back and are, and to all who are coming back, that we're doing a very special thing by coming back to Yeshiva Dafka Yeshiva here in Eretz Yisrael, Dafka in this time, Dafka to be learning Torah together. This is such an incredible, special opportunity to be in this moment in time, in this particular place, and in this particular way. It's a very special thing. I missed you guys very much. It wasn't the same without you. So Baruch Hashem, we're back. I want to share with you tonight a small idea, but it's a very big idea. Sometimes the VayTorah is very complicated. There's a million questions.

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I'm going to put together eleven or twelve questions and one answer that will tie everything together. There's a time and a place for such a tirah. Sometimes there's a tirah that's just one question, maybe two. And what appears to be a small idea, but a life-changing idea. The pasuk in this week's parsha regarding the matzora says, "Baddad." Sorry, I'm getting old. I need to take my glasses off to read. I'm reaching that point in my life. That the matzora dwells alone outside of the camp. That's where he lives. There was a machlokus, not really a machlokus, but a machlokus many years ago. The machlokus was had in a very public way. A very serious Jewish educator wrote an article in one of these Jewish magazines. Suggesting that if a child is growing up in a home and he's having a negative spiritual impact on the other children in the home, this rav suggested that it would be appropriate to ask that child to leave the home.

To say this kid, we're taking him out of the house because we don't want him to have a negative influence on his siblings. I don't remember if it was the following week or the week after that, but very shortly after that. Rabbi Yaakov Bender, the Rosh Yeshiva of Darche, my Rashiva, when I was growing up, wrote a response article in that same magazine. And eviscerating that approach, saying Chas v'Shalom, the worst thing that you could possibly do is throw a child out of the home. He argued, and I think this has become the accepted Misora in Klal Yisrael. He argued that this is the worst possible message that you could send to a child. Is if you don't behave the way we want you to, you don't have a place in this home. So don't be worried about this kid who's gone off the derech, who's maybe not keeping Shabbos, and he's having a negative influence on the sibling. The worst possible influence on the sibling will be teaching that sibling. You only have a place in this home if you're shomer Torah mitzvos. So never ever throw a child out of the home. I'm simplifying the arguments, but basically the approach. Ever since that, at the time it was a very hot conversation.

Everybody was discussing who's right, who's wrong. In the end, I think today Rabbi Bender's approach is the approach that's accepted in Klal Yisrael. And today, even children who are struggling, our approach, our attitude is we never throw a child out of the home. Which brings us to an obvious question in this week's parsha: We throw the matzora out. It does seem like there is some precedent in the Torah for a person who's behaving in a maladaptive way, and we say, 'Sorry, you're not allowed to be a part of our ma'amin. You can't live with us. You're a destructive element in society. You have to leave.' Agav, it's interesting. Who has to leave? The person who says lashon hara. He can't be here. Obviously, my Rebbe is right. Obviously, Rabbi Bender is right. I don't think for one second that Rabbi Bender wasn't looking at these parshios when he said those words. I would like, with your permission, to try to understand this halacha of asking the Mitzvah to leave the camp. Since when do we throw Jewish people out of the camp? It's a very strange thing.

There's another question, and this is going to be the last question for the night. There is a famous mitzora. Who's the famous mitzora? The famous mitzora is Miriam Hanavia. And we know what happened. Miriam spoke lashon hara about Moshe Rabbeinu. Moshe Rabbeinu had separated from his wife because he was on such a state of kedusha that he needed to be prepared in any moment to receive nevuah from Hakadosh Baruch Hu, and therefore he separated from his wife. Miriam was confused, perplexed. There's no such halacha like that, really. She was a navi; she didn't need to separate from her husband. Aaron Komi was a navi; he didn't need to separate from his wife. And Miriam spoke lashon hara about Moshe Rabbeinu, and as a result of her lashon hara, she was punished, and she had to leave the camp. The Gemara tells us that Miriam, in Sota nine b, the Gemara says Amrivi Yitzchak Miriam himtina lemoishah shachas. Miriam famously waited for Moshe for an hour. When did she wait for Moshe for an hour? When Moshe Abinu was a little baby, and he was put in the yam. So Miriam, we know she accompanied him. She wanted to see what was going to be. She loved her little brother, and as a result, the Gemara says Lefichach Nesakulo Yisrael Shivas Yamin B'Midbar. And as a result, now Miriam and Aviva is expelled from the camp.

She's outside of the camp. Klal Yisrael won't move for seven days when Miriam is outside the camp. All of Klal Yisrael says we're not going anywhere. Miriam is outside the camp. Why would we leave Miriam behind? So Rav Yitzchok says because she waited one hour, all of Klal Yisrael waited seven days. I have two questions on this. Question number one is it seems a little extreme. Miriam was a tzaddikah, and obviously when we speak about the averas of the tzaddikim and the tzidkoneos of the generations, we're only speaking about in very small amounts. It's relative to their greatness. Miriam The Rambam describes how she was the one that raised Moshe Rabbeinu. She raised Moshe Rabbeinu. Ena Chanami, she said, whatever it means, a little bit of lashon hara. We threw her out of the camp for that. We throw her out of the camp. It seems extreme. Shimamish loved Moshe Rabbeinu. We're not talking about somebody who was out to get Moshe Avinu Chas V'Shalom. We throw her out of the camp for that. That's very strange. Number one, number two, everything in the Torah is Mida Kineged Mida.

I would have thought that since Miriam waited for an hour, how long should Klali Yisrael have waited? That would have been like she waited an hour, she got an hour. She waited an hour, she got seven days. That's very interesting. She waited one hour. She wanted to see what was going to be with a little baby brother. She loved him. Say there, I get it. It's a big deal because of that. All of Klal Yisrael wait seven days. Unbelievable. Has to be understood in a deep way. I want to throw my voice in the ring of a different conversation. It's a conversation. I'm not going to say any of the details. If you know what I'm talking about, great. If you don't know what I'm talking about, great. There was a conversation. I only recently became aware of it. There's a conversation that happened in Klal Yisrael.

And I really believe the conversation was 100% l'shem shamayim. There was an educational conversation. What should the approach be? What should the approach be? I'm not using any names. I'm not using any names of any institutions or any rabbanim. I'm just saying I'm talking about the idea. What should the approach be in Chinuch? Should the approach be just love them? No boundaries. Just love them. Anything you do is amazing and awesome. We celebrate every single part of who you are, and if you do something wrong, Beseder, we'll talk about it. But we're not getting anybody in trouble. There's no discipline in this Mahalach. That's not what we're about. We're about if a kid is behaving in a way that's inappropriate, it's only because he hasn't felt our love enough. So let's triple down, quadruple down on our love, and then you're going to see unbelievable changes from that kid. That's one Mahalach. There's another Mahalach, also I think an equally valid Mahalach.

And that Mahalach is no. We have expectations. We have standards. We hold people accountable. We say, "Listen, if you're going to violate the rules of society, there's going to be discipline." Anachanami, maybe not everything you do is amazing, and we're willing to have hard and difficult conversations to let a person know this behavior is not okay. You live in a society, and you have to learn that you can be great, and we're going to set a bar for greatness and expect you to meet it. I think some of us probably grew up in systems that are similar to that. Expectations, if you go to certain high schools, much more in the world of camp. Certain high schools, much more in the world of expectations. Certain extremes in Chinuch have become the norm. Where do we hold? Where are we in the world? Again, no names, no institutions. I'm not here to say anything negative. Chas v'shalom.

I think every approach is meaningful and valid, and obviously everything goes according to that kid and what that kid needs. I want to talk about an approach that I think is very much a mevasseret approach. And I hope that it'll be your approach in your lives because I think it's a very middle of the road type of approach. Our vision in yeshiva is very much based in this week's parsha. Our vision in yeshiva is not discipline. It's not what we're about. We're certainly not about punishment. And when I say punishment, I mean punitive. You do X, you get Y. I don't think that's what our yeshiva is about. We're certainly not about punishing people. You might use the word accountability. I think accountability is getting closer. But even accountability is not really a hundred percent what we believe in. I think we believe in something that's even a little bit deeper than that. The word that I would like to use—I know it's a strange word to use—but I would like to use this word is consequences that rehabilitate Rehabilitative consequences. That's what we're about.

That if a person does something There need to be consequences, but what type of consequences? Not just natural consequences, but consequences that are designed to take you to a higher place. That's a different vision of discipline. It's a different vision of punishment. As in, you did X, now you need to be punished. That's punishment. Accountability is: look, you did something wrong. I need to let you know that's not okay. What we're looking for is something more sophisticated, something more complex. If somebody does something that's not working There should be a consequence. The consequence isn't just natural. The consequence is to take them from point A to point B, to elevate them so that they can become the truest version of themselves. We're willing to have hard conversations. If somebody is behaving in an inappropriate way, obviously it goes without saying. Maybe they're missing a sense of connection. Maybe they're missing a sense of love. We certainly have to give that to them. But maybe there also needs to be a consequence. Not a consequence chas v'shalom that's going to push you away. A consequence that's going to build you up.

A consequence that's going to rehabilitate you in a certain way. It's going to bring you to the person that you're meant to be. I want to share something. It's a pretty subtle point, but it's something that I think we see all the time. There's something in our world. I don't know why. I've never really understood why. There's something very strange in our world. Lashon hara is gishmak. It is. It's gishmak. Obviously, it's not appropriate. It's not right. We shouldn't say it. But there's something. There's a certain sense, a chevr of guys sitting around and just mamish trashing a person. Three, four guys sitting in a dorm, and they're talking about Yenem, whoever it is, and they're like, yeah, he's this and he's that. There's a certain very perverse sense of pleasure. I don't really understand why it's pleasurable. There's something that's very gishmak. It's very gishmak. I don't know why.

I don't know why. There's there's a there's like there's a there's I like. I could understand like eating a cheeseburger. It looks delicious, no? It looks delicious a cheeseburger. I don't know why lashon hara is so gishmak. All we did is just mamish take a person down And there's something very like there's something. It doesn't feel good afterwards. We feel off about it, but while it's happening, there's something very gishmak about it. A person sometimes sits with a group of people. And they just mamish say the nastiest thing about a person. They mamish takes them down, And in that moment That guy who said lashon hara. And those people who heard that lashon hara, there's a sense it's not true at all, but there's a sense we're a chevra. There's a sense we're a chevra. We hear this click, this gang, this group. We're all together. I'm gang like that's why I say that. There's a sense this group like we're a real chevra.

We're real chevra. We trash other people outside of the chevra. We're a real chevra. I want to tell you something. It's not true. That chevrah of guys is the least chevrah. They're the least. They're the least close. They think they're close. They're the least close. Those four guys sitting in a room taking down another person. They're the least close people in the world. Because when you say lashon hara and when you listen to lashon hara and when you're makab lashon hara, you know what really is happening underneath the surface. You're eroding the basic bonds of trust. You're eroding the basic bonds of trust. The worst thing in the world is when you tell somebody lashon hara about somebody else. You may not realize this; it happens underneath the surface. You know what that person is thinking? One day he's going to say it about me.

One day he's going to say it about me. It's the least trusting thing in the world. That's why sometimes when you speak to a rebbe That rebbe might confide in you something about another talmud. That Rebbe, in a certain way, he might be saying, look how close we are. I'm sharing with you something about that other Talmud. If you're the Talmud in the room, when that Rebbe is talking to you about somebody else, you know what you're thinking, subconsciously, maybe consciously, but for sure consciously, you know what you're thinking. One day he's going to talk to somebody else about me. One day he's going to. It erodes the basic bonds of trust. These guys were all sitting in a room. What are they really thinking? One day, one of these guys in this room might do that about me.

We're not close at all. If in order to be close we need to push other people down, we're not close at all. Closeness means that guys can sit there. They could be real. They could be vulnerable. They don't need to talk about other people. There's such a deep feeling of trust. I could be myself. I could be totally vulnerable in this room. Knowing that the person sitting across from me is such a deep, real person, they would never say another word about me. I know that I could say it to them. Their word is their bond. What happens in this relationship stays in this relationship. So there's a real sense of trust. When you have a rebbe like that, when you have a parent like that, a sibling like that, a friend like that, you're a blessed person. If you could sit with the rebbe and you could say, "I'm going to tell you everything because I know you're not going to breathe a word about it to anyone," that's a rebbe that stays with you for life.

If you have a rebbe who maybe says a little bit, joking, messing around with another person, it erodes the bonds of trust. When friends sit around and they trash somebody, it's so gishmak until afterwards, when you're done, you know why? Because you realize at the end, what did we just do? We used our power of speech, our power of connection, to tear down another human being, and one day they're gonna do it to me. So we live in a world where sometimes people say lashon hara. They think I'm so close. I have such amazing friends. I said we all sat around and we said lashon hara. Look how close I am with this chevr. I have real friends. They think they're living in the camp. They're so far out of the camp. We want to help such a person, no? We want to help him. Imagine Ruven is living a life where he thinks I have the best friends. I came to yeshiva. I can mamish like sit with my friends for hours. I have the best friends. Ruven, you're living in the world of imagination. You're not living in reality. You think you have friends. You have no friends. You think you're part of our camp. You're not part of our camp at all. But you're walking around like you're the king. You're not the king. Nobody trusts you. Nobody trusts you because you talk about everybody.

You have no friends. You think you're close. You're not close at all. What do we do with such a person? We need to wake him up. How do we wake such a person up? We don't want to chas v'shalom push him away. We don't want to push him away. Since when do we throw children out of the home? We don't throw children out of the home. Listen, what we do. It's an unbelievable prescription that the Torah gives us. He needs to wake up. He needs to somebody needs to hold a mirror to his face, not just to give him a consequence, but so that he's living within the reality. So we say to him, "Dude You're not part of our camp. You think you're part of our camp? You're not part of our camp. You're outside of the camp. We tell him, 'Go live outside of the camp,' not because we're kicking him out, but because we're trying to tell him where he really is. You think you're living in this camp? You're not. You're on the outside of this camp. You think you know? I'm so good with him. I could tell Leo anything. I could tell Benny anything. I could tell Kobe anything. You don't understand. Those people don't trust you at all. You have no friends. You think you have a million friends. You have no friends. You're living outside of the camp.

We tell them to go live outside of the camp, not because we're kicking you out. I want you to understand that when you behave this way, this is the natural consequence. And a person who goes outside of the camp is sitting there going I never knew. I never knew that this is the way that people experienced me. I thought we were boys. I didn't realize that underneath that, you guys never trusted me because I was willing to talk about anyone. It's a wild thing that happens when he's outside of the camp. He's in a state of rehab. This is what was going on with Miriam. Of course, did Miriam love Moshe Rabbeinu? A million percent. Like the Rambam describes, she mamish raised him, and she waited for an hour. She waited for an hour because she had such love, such unbelievable love for her brother. Her brother was being sent in a basket down the river. She said, "I can't leave my brother. How can I leave my brother? This is my little brother." And by the way, Miriam was responsible for the fact that Moshe Rabbeinu was born. Amram and Yochanan were separated.

It was Miriam that went back to Amram and said, "You're worse than Pharaoh." You're worse than Paro. Because of you, no children are being born. And Amram got back together with Yochaveh, and they had a child. That child was Moshe Rabbeinu. She loved Moshe Rabbeinu. You know what she did? You know how much lashon hara she said about him? This much, the tiniest fractional amount. In general, in their relationship, it was amazing. But because she was such a tzedekes, listen what Hakadosh Baruch Hu did. He did Miriam the biggest favor in the world. He said, Miriam, I want you to have a real relationship. I want you to have a one hundred percent relationship with Moshe Rabbeinu. Not ninety nine point nine. I want you to have a one hundred percent relationship. This lashon hara that you said about Moshe Abinu, for sure it was coming from the best place.

For sure, Miriam never intended to hurt Moshe Abinu in any way. For sure, it was one hundred percent l'toelas. I'm sure of it. What was Hakadosh Baruch Hu sensing? A small amount of a disconnect between Miriam and Moshe. He said, Miriam, we got to rehab this. For this small disconnect, I want you to have 100% connection. I want the relationship between Miriam and Moshe to be 100% pristine. We have to recognize there is a percentage here where you guys are not connected. That's why you said that. You said that about Moshe Rabbeinu not because you don't love him, but because there is some disconnect. So Miriam, you have to go outside of the camp because your relationship with Moshe isn't 100. You're not living in the same home. You're not living in that same state of connection. So you need to go out. What happens? Kallah Yisrael says we're not going anywhere.

What's Miriam's experience when she's outside of the camp? The love that she has for Moshe Rabbeinu is the overwhelming experience. You waited one hour. You know what Kallah Yisrael says? We're waiting for you for seven days. The experience was 99.9% love. 1% she had to be outside of the camp. 1% she had to be outside the camp. Everybody in the camp, we're not going anywhere. You waited an hour. We waited an hour. You wait an hour. We wait seven days. Who loved Moshe Rabbeinu more than Miriam? Ninety-nine percent was love. Seven, seven days we're going to wait for one hour because we know that hour was like just so much gadolim for Moshe Rabbeinu. Of course, Miriam loved him. Of course. But there was a little bit. It needed a rehabilitative consequence, just to wake Miriam up a little bit on her level, which was obviously a tremendous sadekas to be able to say, not everything here is one hundred. When we ask somebody to leave the camp, it's an interesting thing. In the beginning, it sounds like,"Mamish, you're throwing a kid out of the home.

It's not true. Look at the words of the pasuk. The words of the pasuk are, 'Bada diyeshev.' They sit alone. Where? Where do they sit alone? Michutz laMachane Moshavo. What's their location? They're not kicked out. What are they? They're right next to the camp. They're alone, but their position is defined relative to what? Relative to us. This is not kicking a kid out of the home. You know what it's saying? It's saying you got to go to your room. You're outside. Outside what? Outside our home. Don't leave outside our home. We're all waiting for you. We're all together. You're outside right now because that's what you did. You positioned yourself as an outsider. But even though you're an outsider, you're not an outsider in the sense that you're not part of our family. You're sitting right now isolated. But where are you sitting? Right outside our camp. It's not like I'm throwing you out of our home. You're sitting right outside of our camp. So I think Rabbi Bender would say, if I could, I don't know, maybe it's a little bit gaiva for me to say what my rashi shiva was thinking

But I think my rashi shiva would like this. Lord, you're not thrown out of the camp. You're just staying outside for a minute. It's like you remember when you were a kid. Probably not you guys. You guys are all perfect. But at least for me, you ever get. Remember you get thrown out, and your teacher says you got to stand right outside the door. For the chaver that's raising their hands, you're my people. You stand right outside the door. There's a major difference between being told that you have to stand right outside the door and being told to go to the office. There's a major difference. Many years ago, I'll tell you a terrible story. Many years ago, there was a kid in yeshiva, not in Mevaser, a different yeshiva. Growing up, elementary school kid I'll never forget this. He was told by the rebbe to get out of the class and was not allowed in until the secretary of the school gave him his punishment.

The kid said, "Okay." He went to the secretary of the school. He was in sixth grade. He went to the secretary of the school and he says, "Rebbe Ploni says that I'm not allowed to come back to class until you give me a punishment." She says, "I'm a secretary. I'm giving you a punishment for it." The kid comes back to class and he goes, "Rebbe, I'd like to come back." He goes, "What punishment do you have?" He says, "No punishment. I went to the secretary. She said to tell you I'm a secretary. It's not my job to be a disciplinarian." The Rebbe turns to the kid and he goes, "Get out. I told you're not allowed to come back until the secretary gives your punishment." The kid doesn't know what to do. He ping-pongs back to the office and he goes, 'Please give me a punishment. I want to go back to class.' The secretary says, 'No, I'm a secretary.' The kid says, 'Great, I'm not going back to class.' This is nuts. Next day he comes into class. I was in the class. Next day he comes back to class.

This is a true story. So it's my own eyes. Next day he comes back to class. The rabbi says, "What are you doing?" He goes, "I don't know." Can I come back to class? He goes, "Did you do your punishment?" He goes, "She won't give me a punishment. She's a secretary." He goes, "Get out. You're not allowed to come back to class." Kid goes to the secretary. He says, "Rabbi won't let me back to class until you punish me." She says, "Well, then I guess you're not going back to class." Kid gets sick. Free period. He went, did whatever he did. I know exactly what he did. I just don't want to give too many details. I may or may not have been with him that day, but he went. He was thrown out. Next day he comes back to class. The rabbi goes, "You have a punishment." He goes, "She's a secretary. What do you want from my life?" This is day three. He goes, "Go to the secretary, get your punishment." When you get punished by the secretary, come back to class. He goes to the secretary, and the secretary says to the boy. She was fed up with the Rebbe, who for the third day in a row is making her into the disciplinarian. What do you want? She's a secretary in the yeshiva. She says, 'Fine. You want a punishment? Go clean the toilets.' Oh God! Ooh, that was not good.

By this point, the boy had enough. Three days, he's thrown out of class. He was disrupted. He was one of the vibrant boys, as neshama was way too big for his body. And he wasn't having that. He wasn't going to clean the toilets. He came back into the class screaming at the rebbe. Eleven-year-old boy, sixth grade, screaming at the rebbe. I'm not cleaning toilets. The rebbe didn't even know what was going on. He didn't know that the secretary came. He's screaming at the rebbe. I'm not giving. I'm not cleaning toilets. That was his last day in yeshiva. His parents pulled him out of the yeshiva. And I'll be honest with you, rightfully so. Rightfully so. If it got to the point where that was his. That's what was going on. It was no longer a healthy environment for him. And looking back on it, I think that was a failed moment in Chenech. I don't think the Rebbe meant badly by it. Maybe it was a product of the times that he was living in. It's one thing to say to a boy, "I think you need to take a break." I'm going to share with you a personal story. I don't mind. We're all friends here.

It's not like anybody listens to these shmuzin anyway. I'll share with you a personal story. When I was in elementary school, it's pretty well known that I was expelled from school in fifth grade, and I went to a different school. I went to Darche, and in Darche, my rabbi, Rabbi Krauss, was my fifth grade rabbi, a real tzaddik. He pulled me over on the first day of school. I'm a fifth grader. Think of it, guys. Realize fifth grade is very little. Fifth grade is ten. You're ten years old. He pulls me over. I'll never forget this. He pulls me over, a ten year old little boy, and he says to me, "I just want you to know" I have a policy in my class. Called an emergency fire drill. I said, "What's an emergency fire drill?" Sounds awesome because to a little kid, fire drill. Today we live in a sick world. It's like school shooting drills.

We have a free period. We have to prepare. What if one of us is an axe murderer? It used to be. What was the worst thing that was going to happen in school? A fire was going to break out. Not one of us was going to kill every other one. So we got excited. Fire drills are very exciting, no? Did you have fire drills going on? Yeah. Fire drills are very geshmack. Everybody has to walk side by side, in a neat line. And everyone goes out in an orderly fashion. They count everybody. It's very geshmack during a fire drill. By the way, I remember in seventh grade in Darche we actually had a fire. A radiator exploded. I remember the teacher said, 'Get out!' All of us went running. Everything. Everything we learned and all the fire drills we practiced in our life was out the window. I remember kids in my class running to other classrooms, going, "The school's on fire! Run!" Kids are tearing through the halls of Darche.

We all get out. We got such a mussar shmuza afterwards, "What happened to the fire drill? What do you think is going to happen? A fire drill man's going to go, 'Hey, we prepared for this. Everybody, finger on the wall.' It's not the way it works. Fire drill is very geschmack. I never knew what an emergency fire drill was. I thought every fire drill is an emergency fire drill. My Rebbe says to me, "Emergency fire drill is if I see you starting to get antsy, I'm gonna look at you and I'm just gonna go burg emergency fire drill, and then you get to take a break and you could just walk around the campus and you come back when you're ready." I was like, "Is this place real? I must be in paradise. This is the best school in the world." Because when I was little, I vibrated. I'm talking about some kids vibrate. Vibrating is like that kid, Joshua. You've never vibrated in your life. And I mean, you're a diligent person.

You're good. I hold the view. Like some kids, their legs are shaking the entire class. I was a vibrator. My mother would say when she came home from parent teacher conferences, your rebbe wants to know why you walk around the back of the class. Why is it? Some kids do this. They're in the middle of learning, and then it's like a compulsion. All of a sudden, a kid stands up and he's walking around the back of the class. Who told you could just walk around the back of the class? You know why that kid does that? His body compels him to. He's vibrating. At some point, the chair can't hold him anymore. Now he needs to walk. So when my rebbe saw that I was doing that, he said, "Berg, emergency fire drill." I want you to know I was the only kid in Darche that was prepared for that fire. I had so many emergency fire drills in my education. I almost knew what to do. It was such a beautiful thing. You know why? Because my rebbe wasn't throwing me out of the class.

He was giving me an opportunity to stay in. I loved my rebbe so much. This is probably not so many people know this. My first sleepaway camp experience was in Mosheva. That's right, boys. I'm a Mosheva boy. Probably didn't know. You look at me today. You didn't know I'm a Mosheva guy for sure. I'm Mosheva guy. I don't remember what Ada I was in, but I remember summer after fourth grade, I went to Mosheva. I only remember one thing about Mosheva. I growing up liked baseball very much And in Mosheva they told us we're not allowed to play baseball. We only played soccer because they were preparing us to make Aliyah. I was like, I'm from the Five Towns, sweetie. I don't think you know how this works. I just let me play baseball. The next summer, it would be a little weird for me to go back to Moshiachad. Darche wouldn't have said anything to me back then. It was the 80s. You could do whatever you wanted. My parents fundamentally were not Yeshivish. We weren't a black hat family. I was only in Darche because nobody else wanted to take me after I got expelled.

I wasn't going to go to Moshiachad because none of my friends were going to Moshiachad. I had new friends from Darche, more Yeshivish friends. I had to decide where to go to camp. I found out my fifth grade rebbe was the head learning rebbe in Magen Av. My parents said, "What do you want to do this summer?" I said, "I want to go to Magen Av." I didn't have one friend from Darche going to Magen Av. I went to Magen Av because Rabbi Krauss was there. My rebbe—I remember, guys—in one year, I went from being expelled to saying, "I want to go wherever my rebbe goes." At ten years old It was the hardest year. I think one of the hardest years of my life, fifth grade. Not only was I expelled. I have a little brother, three years younger than me. This is a whole story in and of itself. My brother Mamish could have died that year. He was terribly, terribly sick that year. My parents were running to doctors, specialists, hospitals, in and out of hospitals. My entire life was falling apart. I was expelled from school. My brother was sick. Everything was a wreck.

I had one very stable thing in my life. A kid who managed to vibrate, who couldn't sit still, my Rebbe figured out a way to get me out of the class, but it was to keep me in the class. We're not Hashem throwing a mitzvah out of the camp. That's the wrong way to read the psukim. He's isolated because he needs to understand that he isolated himself. Where should I go if I'm isolated? Go right outside. Go right outside. Sit with that reality that you created, so that you could rehabilitate yourself, so that you could come back in. Don't go too far. We're all waiting for you. We're not going anywhere. As long as you're outside, we're not going anywhere. Do we believe in consequences? Absolutely, we do. We need to hold people accountable. We need to teach them that way of being might not work for them. Do we have to love them infinitely? Every moment that Metzora is standing outside of the camp, you know what he feels? He feels Klal Yisrael's love, waiting to be brought back into the camp Waiting to come back. When he comes back, everyone goes, "Hey, welcome back, man. How's it going?" He's like, "I learned a lot in my time when I was out."

I learned a lot. I thought about the way that I was showing up in the world. I felt very isolated. I didn't realize that's what I was doing. I didn't realize that I was isolating myself. I didn't realize that I was isolating others with my behavior. When he came back into the camp, everyone welcomed him back. It was easy to forgive him. He was a sincere b'altuve. That big debate that was had: Do we believe in chinuch with just love, or do we believe with chinuch and accountability? You know what our answer in yeshiva is? Of course. We hold people accountable. Sometimes we have to say sorry, Charlie. That's not. The way you're behaving is hurting yourself. We have to be able to hold up a mirror, and at the same time, we have to be able to say,"Don't go anywhere. Just sit outside for a little bit, but don't go anywhere. We're going to be right here waiting for you when you get back." The love that he feels has to be infinite. The consequences have to be real Rehabilitative consequences. That's how you thread the needle.

So was my Rebbe right? Do we ever throw a child out of the home? Of course not. We never throw a child out of the home. Does that mean that our children don't have consequences? Of course not. We love our children. I want you to be the best version of yourself. I say all of this because First of all, I think you guys You're You're not that far from being fathers yourself. I know that sounds crazy, but in the next moment. Maybe not a main so fast. Maybe a little slower a main to that one. Unless there's a person we don't know about. By the way, you should know it's going to be quick for him. It's going to be quick because when you hit the market, everyone knows a very big balmidos. Who wouldn't want to be married to such a big balmidos? I'm not saying the name because I know who listens to these shirim and I don't want to start getting phone calls.

When I get phone calls for him, I'll get plenty of phone calls. I don't need to get those phone calls today. But I do want to say I do. I do very good, Joshy. I do want to say Joshy Rabitz is definitely somebody I get phone calls about. I do want to say in the next couple of years it's going to be funny. You're going to blink. You're going to be turning around. You're going to be by each other's chasnas. You're going to be turning around going whoa. Can't believe it! He's already a dad. You're gonna have a couple of children. So yeah, we have to talk in a real chinuch way about Beze Hashem, what your homes will look like. I say it not only to you guys because I want you guys to be great fathers. I say it also for yourselves. Not yourselves, ourselves. I say it for all of us. I say it for me too.

A lot of times we're very harsh with ourselves. We're very harsh. In a certain sense, there are people walking around. I'm referring to specific people, recent conversations that I've had. But if it applies to you, then it applies to you also. There are certain people who are so harsh within themselves. They throw themselves out of their own camp. They don't even belong in their own universe. They think to themselves, "I'm a piece of garbage. I really am. I'm a piece of garbage," and they call it accountability. They say, "No, I'm real with myself. Only I know my averes, Rabbi. You don't really know my averes. You think you know my averes. You think I'm a good guy. You don't know what I'm really doing. Rebbe, I'm mamish eshegitz." That's the way they that's the way they speak about themselves internally. Sometimes it comes out externally, but most of the time it's like a secret that I hold. Really, I'm a piece of garbage. Really, I'm a piece of garbage.

In you should know, such a person has thrown himself out of his own home. He's not standing next to the camp. He's a million miles away from the camp. He doesn't belong to himself because he mamish thinks he's a piece of garbage. Other times we don't hold ourselves accountable at all. Other times we say, "Eh, it's not such a big deal." I'm going to say something here. I wasn't planning on saying this. It just occurred to me right now that it's a good time to talk about the importance of accountability and responsibility in leadership. There's a thing in the world that exists today. It's terrible, mamish terrible. It's called roast culture. I'm very against roast culture. Roast culture is not nice. Roast culture is bad midos. It's just bad midos. There's no excuse for roast culture. You should know that in roast culture, people are feeling hurt, but they're too proud to say anything. They don't want to say ouch. There's a group of guys sitting around, mamish, saying the nastiest things to each other. It's not okay. It's not right. It's bad midos masquerading as cool. It's pusher, not nice.

And when we do it, somebody says, How could you say that? They go, relax. I'm just kidding around. Take a chill. We have to be so sensitive, right? So what did you do? You said I made myself. I made myself like the hero. Like I'm not a villain. I'm not holding myself accountable. We vacillate between these two things. Either we're not accountable at all, or we're like this fake accountability of mamish throwing ourselves out of the camp. In our own personal work, we have to hold ourselves accountable, but what type of consequences? Rehabilitative consequences. I made a mistake. I have to be able to say I made a mistake. But I also have to be able to say I made a mistake in such a way. I'm not irreparable. I'm a human being. I'm gonna be okay. I'm just a little bit right now. I have to face my reality. I want to tell you the biggest secret in the world. If you do this within yourself.

If you work on this, you hold yourself accountable in a really measured way. Accountable, I'm real with myself, but I'm not throwing myself out of the camp where I'm a million miles away. I'm just recognizing I'm a little bit michutz la'machene, but I'm standing right outside the door. If you do it with yourself, then you're going to do it with others also. A lot of times in relationships, we say I'm holding people accountable. You're not. You're smacking them around. That's not called holding people accountable. In your life, whether it's in your business, in your family, in your community, sometimes you're going to have to say a hard thing. But I want you to know that the way you say it is going to say a lot more about you than it is about the other person. If you want to hold somebody accountable, and you, in your own life, really hold yourself accountable appropriately, the way you hold other people accountable is going to be radically different. You're not going to scream at them. You're not going to yell at them. You're not going to call them names. You're going to talk about their behavior. You're not going to talk about them as a person. By the end of the conversation, they're going to feel more love, not less love. I love you enough that I want to say the hard thing.

If you have to call someone out and you go after them, you should know you haven't said a thing about them. All you've said is really about the way that you treat yourself. Treat yourself with kindness and compassion and healthy accountability, and you'll treat the people in your life that way too. Your children, your spouse, the people in your community, the people that work for you, the people that you work with—that's what we live in here becomes the life that we lead outside of ourselves. We're in a period now of Sviras Haomer. Sviras Haomer is a very serious period. It's a period of avelos. We recognize sinas chinam kills. Twenty-four thousand talmidim of Rav Kiva died because they were lonagu kaved zebuzet. They didn't treat each other right. There was a consequence to that. You want to hear a great line? Stam. This has nothing to do with the shmooz, but it's a great line. This is an ADHD moment. It's twelve o'clock at night. I'm on two and a half hours of sleep. You're getting an unadulterated bird. You literally had a shmooze about fire drills for a good five minutes of the shmooze.

You're coming with me on this one. You want to hear a great line? Absolutely. This line is from Rav Zevi Trink. He screamed: Twenty-four thousand Talmidim of Rav Akiva died. Twenty-four thousand Talmidim of Rav Akiva. Not one parent pulled their kid out of yeshiva. It's a great line, though. Imagine today what it would be like on the WhatsApp parents chat. I heard a couple thousand kids died. The moms are still complaining. For sure. 24,000 talmidim of Yeshiva died. They didn't leave Yeshiva. 24,000 talmidim of Yeshiva died. Interesting thing. We're living in a period now of avilos. This is a period where we're taking stock of ourselves. We're building up towards our Sinai. We're building up towards Matan Torah. Shvuas is coming. Shvuas is coming. It's a period of time where we're accountable. We ask ourselves: Am I part of this roast culture in Yeshiva? Am I lo nagu kavod zevazet? Am I treating other people with respect? When people are in my presence, do they feel loved? Is this a space of trusting, of bonding, or is this chas v'shalom the opposite? So I just want to remind us, as we sit here with no guitar, listening to all of us sing together, Baruch Hashem, so beautiful. I just want to remind all of us that in our work If we can thread the needle with ourselves, then Ba'ez Hashem will thread the needle with others. Mahalach of real authentic Moser, be'ez Hashem, will be zayicha as a yeshiva to a beautiful Lag BaOmer And be'ez Hashem to a beautiful Kabbalah Satur.

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