by Ner Tamid | Dec 27, 2025 | Sermons
About fifteen years ago, I was at the library with my oldest daughter, Tehila. She was a toddler and I was helping her pick out books. I hadn’t been to the children’s section in a library in decades, and I quickly realized something significant had changed. As I flipped through children’s books, I noticed that nearly every single book had incorporated mental health pointers into the plot. With the exception of Peppa Pig, [the one book I believe should be publicly burned due to their ridiculous depictions of fathers as bumbling fools,] the rest of the books all shared beautiful insights around self-awareness and mental health. One book taught toddlers to recognize their unique skillsets, another taught them how to understand their emotions, another taught them how to verbalize how they feel. And I remember thinking to myself, this is amazing, look how far we’ve come as a society.
When I was a child, the kid who couldn’t sit still in class was thrown out of class. The teen who was always sad, was told to smile. The preteen who had a crying fit because she was afraid to go to school for an unexplained reason was pushed out of her parent’s car and told to deal with it. We didn’t have a clue. I was thrilled to see that a new generation would be brought up with all the lessons and insights that would make their lives so much better.
But like all good things, sometimes too much of it is not good at all.
Over the course of the following decade, we went from not diagnosing people who suffered from mental illness to every single person getting a diagnosis. On TikTok today, you will find influencers who are telling their millions of followers that they’re not sad, they’re depressed. You’re not nervous, you are dealing with anxiety. Your misbehaving child has a disobedience disorder, and the slightly awkward teen is on the never-ending spectrum of autism. I remember reading an article that claimed that Yitzchak Avinu had Down Syndrome. Maybe he was, I don’t know. But if a therapist would diagnose someone after reading a mere eighteen pessukim that describe someone’s life that would be malpractice. Instead of ensuring that Yitzchak fit a very specific criteria for a diagnosis, the lazy author decided there was enough there to slap a label on a man he never met and knew almost nothing about. It was perfectly on-brand for what was going on in society. Every child who fidgets in class has ADHD, every difficult husband is a narcissist, and every teen who listens to Billy Eilish is depressed.
Then it got even worse, and this, I believe, is the real problem. Decades ago, mental health professionals created the DSM, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual. The DSM is the mental health ‘bible’ that gives a diagnostic criterion to help a clinician decide what their patient is experiencing. The objective of a diagnosis is not to label the individual but to help guide them to a treatment plan. But instead, we decided that a diagnosis is a label and a sentence. She’s an addict? Run for the hills. He’s a narcissist? There is nothing to do about it. This child is anxious? Let them skip school for the rest of their lives. We forgot that the purpose of a diagnosis was to guide them to living full and meaningful lives. We entered this new era of mental health awareness, and it was great, but ladies and gentlemen, we quickly lost the plot.
When I was looking into getting a degree in counseling, I remember hearing some rabbis say that the field of psychology is inconsistent with our Torah values. What they were referring to was Freud who was obsessed with sexuality. What they didn’t know was that the only time Freud is brought up in a modern classroom is to laugh at him because his theories have been (almost) entirely rejected. But now, I think those rabbis may have been on to something. Psychology, not when its used appropriately, but in its pop form of loose diagnoses and labels that limit, is entirely inconsistent with our Torah values.
Take the first sinner in the Torah – Kayin. He would serve as a great case study of mental illness. If I were a TikTok influencer, I would diagnose him with Intermittent Explosive Disorder – his reaction to jealousy was off was the charts. I would then diagnose him with Depression and Anger Attacks – he was shamed and reacted violently. And of course, I would diagnose him with our favorite diagnosis, Narcissism – he raged uncontrollably when he felt inferior.
Let’s say my diagnoses are correct. Undoubtedly, he was a very troubled man, he killed his brother out of jealousy. But you know what G-d says to this person who our modern society would so quickly write off? Im teitiv se’et – if you choose to do good, you can. Because YOU. CAN. CHANGE. That is the subplot to all of Judaism. We are not born perfect, “b’avon cho’lolti,” but we can change. Yes, Kayin may have all those diagnoses and they’re not going away, you don’t graduate out of a diagnosis. Im teitiv se’et means if you take responsibility, if you work tirelessly with the right tools, you can still live an incredibly good life.
That is the premise of the entire Yosef story. The million-dollar question throughout the entire episode is why does Yosef not let his father know that he is alive? Why doesn’t he just send a letter home letting Yaakov know he’s alive and well? Why does he play this insane charade? Why doesn’t he just say, “Hey guys, it’s me.”
The Ramban suggests that Yosef is intent on fulfilling his dreams and until his family comes to Egypt and bows to him submissively, his prophetic dreams will remain unfulfilled. Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch answers this question in an entirely different fashion. He suggests that Yosef did not want to just reunite with his family. He wanted to have a relationship with his family. The only way to do so would be to demonstrate to them that he had changed and for them to demonstrate to him that they had changed.
Yosef had to show his brothers that although they thought he was a power-hungry narcissist, he was able to still be benevolent and thoughtful. And although he thought they were “diagnosed” with Envy-Driven Aggression with Partial Inhibition (yes, that’s a real diagnosis), they were able to overcome their envy and aggression and put their lives on the line for their brother, Binyamin. Only when they demonstrated their developed behavior was Yosef ready to reunite. Then, and only then, could they have a healthy relationship. It’s a beautiful explanation with a very straightforward subplot – WE. CAN. CHANGE.
Reuven may be impulsive, he is still one of the shevatim. Yosef may be a narcissist, but even a narcissist can learn how to be kind. Yaakov Avinu sure sounds like he’s depressed in this week’s parsha, but he manages to live the best years of his life in Egypt. Yehuda may have a sexual addiction, I don’t know, but he faces his demons and deals with them. To be very clear, I don’t think any of the shevatim or avos are diagnosable. My point is that they had challenges, real significant challenges, that they overcame, and so can we.
It takes immense determination and really hard work to work through mental illness or even shades of mental illness and thrive, but it is more than doable. That is the message of the Torah.
Done right, the field of mental health is not only consistent with the Torah, it is a Divine gift – an entire field dedicated to helping us grow. Having tools to help us understand who we are is critical to personal growth, gaining insight into what we may be experiencing to assess if it is indeed diagnosable is incredibly valuable, and having good therapists available to help us thrive despite our limitations is a blessing. But a diagnosis is not a life sentence. WE. CAN. CHANGE.
Jonathan, I’m sorry. This is a really intense drasha for a Bar Mitzvah Shabbos. But I think this message is actually relevant to you. Hear me out.
You are a very talented young man. You are athletic, artistic, musical, and well-liked by everyone. You are easy-going and respectful and have a very strong moral compass. You are also a text-book model of all the good things that the mental-health generation has going for it. You see, usually when I meet with parents before a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, I ask them, what is your child good at? And often the child hears for the first time as their parents rattle off their talents and qualities. But before Rebecca and Yitzy had a chance to tell me all of Jonathan’s qualities, Jonathan told me all of them by himself. THAT is self-awareness. And that’s awesome.
You inherited many of these traits from your parents and you learned so much from them. But what I want you to pay attention to, something that I admire in your parents, is their ability to change, to grow, to not be held back by life circumstances. The past few years have been challenging for your family. Your parents would be justified if they curled up in a ball. Our society may even celebrate them for doing so. But your parents don’t stop. They have changed, they have overcome, and they have evolved. And that is even more awesome.
You’ve been blessed with so much natural goodness that you’ve been able to coast through life, and that is a real blessing. But there will be a point and likely many points where you will have a choice, do I continue coasting or do I break out of my old shell and recreate myself? I hope you look to your mother and father for inspiration.
I haven’t been to a library in a very long time. I’m not loving the messages that too many books in our society are selling us. But we have this amazing book, it’s called the Torah. It teaches us from the first page to the last and in every Torah book that follows that we are masters of our own destiny, that nothing is set in stone, that no matter how evil we may think someone else is or how evil we think we are, that no matter what diagnosis we may indeed have, it may be true and that’s okay, but with hard work, with genuine determination, WE. CAN. CHANGE.
Jonathan, I hope and pray that you, and all of us, never lose sight of that amazing plot.
by Ner Tamid | Dec 21, 2025 | Sermons
I’ll often hear from Jewish visitors to Baltimore about the strange looking shul at the corner of Fallstaff and Park Heights. The architecture stands out – the light pink Middle Eastern colors, the pointed arches meant to invoke Persian palaces, the shul is obviously a shul for Iranian Jews. The question I’m often asked is, why are Iranian Jews living in Baltimore and how did they get here? But what really puzzles visitors is who this Iranian shul is dedicated to. Across the front façade it reads, The Herman Neuberger Memorial Building. Herman Neuberger is the furthest thing from an Iranian Jew.
Herman Neuberger was born in Wurzburg, Germany. If you were to make a continuum of Jews of all denominations and stripes, you would have German Jews on one end, and Iranian Jews aaaaall the way over here on the other end. Modi likes to make fun of the differences between Ashkenazim and Sefardim, but Yekkes and Iranians, that is next level.
I remember the first Iranian wedding I attended – I came more or less on time. The bride and groom were not there yet. You go to a Yekke wedding on time and you are late.
At a Yekkish wedding everyone’s dancing in perfect rhythm, in a perfectly circular circle, music is calm. At a Persian wedding, it’s like a dance club with rabbis who are belly dancing…
They don’t even eat the same food. A German Jew eats chicken with three pieces of salt, not four. A Persian Jew’s chicken is buried underneath a mountain of rice, buried under turmeric, saffron, sumac, limes, tamarind, cumin.
Try taking seconds at a German Jews house, you get death stares. At an Iranian Jews home if you don’t take triples and take some home for later you have just insulted the host.
You say Good Shabbos to a German Jew, if you look really closely, you’ll notice that he is nodding his head ever so slightly. A Persian Jew? [kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss] SHABBAT SHALOM!!!
So why, ladies and gentlemen, is Ohr Hamirzach, a center for Iranian Jews dedicated to the memory of Rabbi Herman Neurberger, a quintessential German Jew?
One word answer and that is ‘achrayus,’ responsibility.
Whether we take responsibility or not is a key feature of who we are. In my humble opinion, there are two types of people in the world, those who take responsibility and those who do not.
And responsibility is also an exceptionally important value in Judaism. That is the only way to make sense of Yosef’s audacious action after interpreting Pharaoh’s dream. Yosef, a foreign slave, was brought out of jail to interpret Pharoah’s nightmare. Yosef masterfully does so, explaining that the dreams represent the Egyptian economy, bullish for seven years and then a seven-year collapse. But then Yosef goes ahead, pulls out his calculator, and starts to devise an investment plan. He’s pulling out power-points and spreadsheets. What is he doing? What a chutzpah! He was given a task, interpret the dream. Why is he now devising a plan of what needs to be done? That’s not his job?!
The answer is that Yosef was a descendent of Avraham Avinu who was told that Sedom was going to be destroyed. Avraham did not just accept that as a fact even though it came directly from G-d. Instead, he petitioned G-d to save them.
Because as Jews, we believe that we are not passive players in this world. We have achrayus, responsibility to do whatever we can to make the world a better place, whether or not you were asked to do so. So when Yosef, a great-grandson of Avraham, heard that Hashem was telling Pharaoh what He was planning to do, it was unfathomable that this information was shared just to inform Pharaoh. No. Hashem was telling Pharaoh so he could do something about it.
I don’t think we appreciate how radical this idea is. There are other faith groups that do not go to doctors and for good reason. If you believe that G-d is in control and made you ill, then you have no right to fight that. Even many Jews grapple with variations of this idea. They ask, should I not work so hard because I should have faith in G-d that He will provide? Or, as some like to frame it, when does my Hishtadlus end and my Emunah begin?
Now among the classical sources I believe there is only one Jewish source that suggest that we should not exert ourselves fully and instead we should believe in G-d. There are people who apply this to their work ethic and that is fine. However, if that is your philosophical approach you should probably be consistent. I have never heard anyone say, I am not going to go to such a good doctor because I have faith in G-d. Never in my life have I heard a Jew say that. And that’s because the more classical view is that we are expected to on the one hand believe everything comes from Hashem and at the same time believe that we are expected to exert ourselves to the fullest.
That’s why Pharoah is blown away by Yosef. No one in Egypt, in this pagan society would dream of overcoming G-d’s plan. If G-d said there will be hunger, who are we to argue? But Yosef says no, I have achrayus to do something about it.
And this is why Herman Neurberger’s name is on Ohr Hamizrach.
In 1979, the government of Iran was toppled. The Shah fled the country and the Jews were thrown into turmoil. How would they survive under the rule of the antisemitic Ayatollah?
Rabbi Herman Neuberger had forged some connections to Iranian Jews a few years prior. He also had friends in high places in the American government. And so, without anyone asking him to do anything, he made it his business to persuade the state department to accept Iranian Jews as political refugees and he oversaw the immigration of over 1000 Iranian Jews to Baltimore.
Getting the Iranian Jews out of Iran was often a matter of life and death. His children related how, while this was going on, one Seder night, he didn’t join them at the table. He spent the entire night on the phone. He took a quick break before midnight and had a piece of Matzah and then went back to making calls.
He was not related to these people in any way. No one asked him to do this. No one said this is your job. But he saw a problem and understood that he was responsible.
That was what Yosef was doing in Pharaoh’s palace. That’s what the Chashmonaim did when faced with Greek persecution. The Chashmoanim were priests in the Bais Hamikdash. These Jewish children’s books usually depict Yehuda Hamaccabi as a body-builder. He was probably a slightly overweight rabbi with a receding hairline. But he took responsibility. He and his family understood that when you see something, you have to do something. And they did. This past week, a small ray of light coming from the deep darkness of Sydney, Australia, were the heroics of Ahmed el-Ahmad, a Lebanese man who saw the terrorists and could have easily walked away. He didn’t. He ran to the fire. He saved countless lives. He too was a Ba’al Achrayus, a master of responsibility.
***
Did anyone here ask Ayala Pensak to update our bulletin weekly? I didn’t think so.
Did anyone ask Zev Pensak to make our kiddush every single Shabbos?
Did anyone ask Zev to make sure our heating systems are working? That our janitorial staff is on-task?
Did anyone ask the entire Pensak family to cook huge Shabbos meals for the entire shul every few weeks?
Did anyone ask Zev to be on site every day for months to make sure our front lobby came together the way it did?
The answer to all these questions is no. But the Pensak family, learned from their parents, and they are Ba’alei Achrayus. They are people who run into the line of fire, people who do for others, people who respond before anyone asks them to do so.
Shaya, today is your Bar Mitzvah. Aside from being a great brother, a good athlete, an amazing friend, you are curious – at a young age, you came to speak to me about deep theological questions, you are up with the news to know what’s going on in the world. And you are born into this special family of people who take responsibility. I hope and pray you take your many skills and use them as you take responsibility for the world around you.
Now I imagine all of us would like to believe that we should be counted as someone who takes responsibility. I imagine all of us would like to believe that if there was heaven forbid, a terrorist attack, we would be the one to charge the shooter. I imagine all of us would like to believe that if we lived under a tyrannical antisemitic regime, we would take up arms and fight back.
Well, you’re in luck, I created a little test for you to see if you are indeed such a person.
Earlier this morning, I came to shul before anyone was here, went up and down between the rows in this room and dropped tissues. Yes, tissues. Did anyone see them? Did you pick up the tissue you saw?
There are two types of people in the world; those who take responsibility and those who do not.
Yosef, the Chashmonaim, Bondi Beach, those things thankfully don’t happen very often. A ba’al achrayus is always looking around to see what they could do. Is there someone around me who could use a hand? A smile? A hello? Are there a group of people who I could support in some way? A ba’al achrayus does not wait to be asked; he or she steps in on their own.
And so the real litmus test of whether or not we are a person who takes responsibility is when we see something, something small, that is out of place, and instead of just walking by, we stop, we bend down, we pick it up. Next time you do so, please know, that you are walking in the footsteps of our great ones, and that you are a real ba’al achrayus.
by Ner Tamid | Dec 14, 2025 | Sermons
There is not a single element of Chanukah that is not confusing or hotly debated. For example, probably the most famous Talmudic debate of all times is, of course, the one between Shammai and Hillel – one candle on night one, two candles on night two, etc. or, eight on day one, seven on day two, etc. Going up or going down. This tradition of Chanukah debates continues through modern disputes such as, which one is better, latkas or donuts. I was watching a video the other day of such a debate (yes, this is a thing), and the donut defender stated that latkas are for old fashioned people and donuts are for modern Jews. The assumption being that latkas come from Eastern Europe where some of our grandparents ate variations of potatoes for breakfast, lunch, and supper, and donuts come from… Dunkin Donuts.
Now I am a little biased – I happen to be in the latka camp; savory, crispy, potatoes outweigh super sweet dough any day, but biases aside, the guy was totally wrong. The real donut story goes back to at least the 12th century. The Rambam’s father defends the custom of eating sweet fried dough on Chanukah and says it is an ancient custom not be belittled. Jelly donuts in puffy dough goes back to the 15th century. In the very first cookbook to ever be published in the printing press, there is a recipe for what is described as gefullte krapfun, which is apparently German for jelly donut.
Years later, the controversy continues here in Baltimore with an even more hotly debated question – sufganiyot made by Rosendorffs or Parisers?
…
It gets more complicated – If I were to ask you why we eat fried food you would all tell me because of the oil that was found in the Bais HaMikdash by the Maccabees. But even that is not necessarily the case. There is a theory, and brace yourselves, that the reason we eat food fried in oil on Chanukah is to remind us of the tragic and beautiful story of Chana and her seven sons. In Maccabees 2, a book written in 150 BCE, we are told of a woman and her seven sons who are brought before the Greek ruler who demands that they serve an idol. One by one the children refuse, affirming their faith in Hashem, and are subsequently killed by the Greeks. The seventh son, the youngest one, is killed in the most horrific fashion – he is placed in a tremendous pot filled with… burning oil. Dr. Malka Simkovich, a brilliant historian, wonderful human being, and friend, suggests that this story is the reason we eat sufganiyot or latkas on Chanukah. I know, I just killed your appetite.
Here’s another example of confusion – Were the branches of the Menorah rounded or straight? Most of us assume they were round. However, the Lubavitcher Rebbe made a very big deal about the branches being straight; Chabad chassidim take his view very very seriously and will defend this view at all costs. …
All jokes aside, the real genuine controversy of Chanukah, and an important one, is mai Chanukah. That is the question asked by the Talmud in Meseches Shabbos – Mai chanukah? What is chanukah? And the Gemara then shares the classic story that we all know, of Greeks who attempted to stifle religious behavior, of the Maccabees mobilizing the people to rebel against the Greeks, ultimately defeating them, establishing the Hasmonean monarchy, coming back to a desecrated Bais Hamikdash where they find one jug of pure oil that burns for eight days.
But being that it’s Chanukah, it’s much more complicated than that.
Yes, the Maccabees defeated the Greeks in 164 BCE, regained control of the Bais Hamikdash, and created a holiday shortly thereafter. But what that holiday is meant to represent is a mess of contradictory ideas. The following historical overview is also based on the scholarship of Dr. Simkovich. In 143 BCE, a letter was sent to the Jews of Egypt encouraging them to celebrate the holiday of Tabernacles in Kislev. Tabernacles is another word for Sukkos. It seems, that Sukkos could not be celebrated that year due to the Greeks control of the Bais Hamikdash and so every year after, the celebration was about the holiday of Sukkos being made up (eight days, full Hallel, and more). A few years later, another letter is sent to the community in Egypt, this time the holiday of Kislev is described as the Holiday of Purification. This is a little closer to our Chanukah story as it reflects the fact that the Temple was impure and the Jews made it pure. However, 20 years later, yet another letter is sent, this time the holiday of Kislev has nothing to do with the Greeks and Chashmonaim and is described as a holiday commemorating a miracle that took place in the times of Nechemia, some three hundred years prior to the Chanukah story! About 150 years after that, we find Josephus mentioning this holiday which he describes as the holiday of lights but… he doesn’t know why it’s called the holiday of lights!!! The first mention of the miracle of the oil does not appear until the Talmud is written a few hundred years later.
Now, this does not mean the miracle of the oil did not take place. If anything, Josephus supports the fact that there was a miracle involving lights. What it does mean is that many Jews celebrated Chanukah for an entirely different reason than we do.
One of the most notable differences is how the Talmud deemphasizes the military victory and the earlier generations of Chanukah celebrants most certainly focused almost entirely on the military victory of the Hasmoneans. And of course, the question is why? Why did the rabbis deemphasize the military battle and focus instead on the miracle of the lights?
There are many theories – of course. Some suggest the Jews, living under foreign rule, did not want to get in trouble by talking about Jewish military campaigns, some suggest it had to do with Christians who adopted the Chashmonaim as their own heroes and the rabbis wanting to distance themselves from the Christians. But probably the most straightforward explanation is – the Hasmonean dynasty was an epic failure.
Not only did they not maintain the spiritual stature of the first generation of Maccabees, but by the second generation of Hasmonean kings, two brothers were fighting over the throne, and one of them went ahead and invited the Romans to help him. The Romans came along, helped this Hasmonean brother out and then, within a very short amount of time, took over all of Judea, leading directly to the destruction of the Bais Hamikdash and the exile of the Jews.
The rabbis had to tweak the focus of this holiday because the sad and tragic story of the Chasmonai failure is the real Chanukah story.
Now before you accuse me of not only ruining all fried foods for you but also ruining Chanukah, let me tell you why I find the original Chanukah story with its horrific ending to be the most uplifting of all.
All Jewish holidays have a happy ending. Jews were in Egypt, they were freed, let’s celebrate Pesach. Jews were in a scary desert, they were protected, let’s celebrate Sukkos. The Jews were living in an immoral, backward society, they were given the Torah, let’s celebrate Shavuos. The Jews were going to be killed by Haman, they were saved, let’s celebrate Purim.
They are all beautiful stories worthy of celebrating, but almost none of them reflect our day-to-day experiences. Many of our personal life stories do not have happy endings. I was speaking to someone the other day who referenced a very popular podcast by Tzipora Grodko called Stories of Hope. This person contrasted her own life to the life of the guests on Stories of Hope, people with amazingly inspiring stories of overcoming odds and accomplishing great things. The woman I was speaking to did not have a hope-filled story. Now Tzipora Grodko is a gem of a person and it’s a wonderful podcast, so this is not a knock on her, but as I told this woman, I would like to create a podcast in competition with Tzipora’s called Stories of Hopelessness; sharing stories that do not have a happy ending.
I say this somewhat tongue in cheek, but I mean it. Not only because most of our lives are not inspiring. But because there is nothing in our Jewish tradition that suggests that in Olam Hazeh, in this world of exile that we live in, in this pre-messianic era, that our personal stories will have a happy Halmark ending. They don’t. There is nothing wrong with being inspired by stories of hope, but it’s important to remember that we cannot expect our lives to follow this trajectory.
What I personally find incredibly uplifting is our ability, as a people, to recognize this, to say that the Maccabean victory dissolved into a terrible mess, the temple is destroyed, we are exiled all over the world, and yet, we are still able to be connected to our tradition, to Hashem. That we can, in the cold months of the winter, when it’s dark outside, light a little candle, and say that despite all this impurity we are surrounded by, despite all the waves of history trying to extinguish us, we are still holding on. That. Is. Remarkable. And that can inspire me every day of my life, whether I brilliantly succeed or fail miserably; I have a Chanukah story, a tradition that reminds me to hold on.
I imagine many of you have seen the video that was just released; some footage found deep in a tunnel in Gaza of Hersh Goldberg-Polin, Carmel Gat, Eden Yerushalmi, Almog Sarusi, Ori Danino, and Alex Lobanov, celebrating Chanukah. Instead of a real Menorah they have makeshift cups. One of them jokingly asks, where are the donuts? And they joke around how they should have asked their captors to bring them a dreidel. But then one of them asks what Hersh is singing – he is singing Maoz Tzur. Hersh explains that each paragraph of the song describes a different enemy that tried to kill us and was unsuccessful. Eden comments that they should add another verse [to describe the war against Hamas.]
Hersh, Carmel, Eden, Almog, Ori, and Alex never made it out of those tunnels. But tell me their story is not an inspiration. Tell me, this group of strangers who bonded over their common heritage and destiny, to light a flame in the darkest of places, who believed in G-d and in the Jewish People even though they themselves would never see the light of day, tell me that is not the most uplifting, on-brand Chanukah story of all.
Mai Chanukah? What is Chanukah really? It is a story of winning the battle and losing the war, it’s a story of exile, it’s a story filled with confusion, and that is it’s greatness. When we light that Menorah, we can remind ourselves of those hostages who had faith in the darkness, who likely knew their story would not have a happy ending, and were still able to sing a song of faith. That is real life. And that is the real Chanukah story. And I find that incredibly inspiring.
Good Shabbos and Happy Chanukah.
