by Ner Tamid | Aug 17, 2025 | Sermons
I am so happy there is a Bar Mitzvah this week. You see, my job is to talk about the important things going on in the world. And if there was no Bar Mitzvah, my job would be talk about a whole bunch of depressing developments in the US and in Israel. Important topics but depressing. But since it’s a Bar Mitzvah, I get to talk about what’s important to 13-year-olds. And the most important thing for most kids between the ages of 7 and 13 is… Roblox.
Yes, that’s right. Roblox is the most popular video game for kids in that age bracket. While those of us who are blessed with children were rolling our eyes that our kids were wasting so much time on this app, what I should have done is pay attention to the fact that they loved it so much and invested in Roblox stock. In the past year alone, stock of Roblox had an increase of 250% and is now valued at 89.23 billion dollars.
Gabe, our Bar Mitzvah, is a huge fan of Roblox. Despite the fact that you swim, you sew, you draw, you have a great memory, you’re good at math, and you love to read, and despite all these talents and interests, you spend a lot of time playing Roblox. You, and 280 million other monthly users. Why?
So I spent my Friday morning doing a deep dive into Roblox. When your child asks you what rabbis do all day, you tell them, they spend their day reading about video games. And I concluded (with apologies to Forrest Gump,) that life, Jewish spiritual life, is like the game of Roblox.
How so?
Gabe happens to be a tech whiz who plans on being a hacker for the NSA. Gabe could probably write code to create anything he wants. Most of us regular people don’t have a clue how to create things using computer code. One of the things that makes Roblox so popular is something called Roblox Creator. Roblox creator allows people like me and you to make Roblox games.
There is a big debate as to what happens when we do Mitzvos, when we do good deeds. The rationalists suggest that the objective of Mitzvos is to transform our character. You do a good deed, you become a better person. But the Kabbalists believe that when we do a good deed, we are actually creating spiritual worlds. What they are saying is that there is a code being written every time we perform a good deed and that code is creating incredible things.
For example, we are all right now studying Torah. The rationalists will say that the outcome of our studying is that we become more knowledgeable and therefore more refined. However, the Kabbalists will tell you that behind the scenes there is code driving the entire universe, kind of like the Matrix, and when we learn Torah or do any Mitzvah, we are tapping into that code, rewriting that code, and refining the entire world. When we learn Torah over here in Baltimore that could be bringing more peace to Sudan. When we do a Mitzvah, it could impact the course of history.
Being Bar Mitzvah means that you are now a Spiritual Creator. Now, every time you say a blessing, every time you are kind – and that’s often, you are not just changing yourself, you are literally changing the world.
That’s one way that life is like the game of Roblox. But there’s more.
I used to assume Roblox was a single game, it’s not. I learned this the hard way. I was trying to be cool and told a teenager that one of my children likes Roblox, and the teenager asked, “Which game?” I said, Roblox. He asked, “Which game?” I again, said, Roblox. I subsequently learned there are 40 million games on Roblox and counting. When a child goes on the Roblox app, the opportunities before him or her are endless. And in some respects, this is a perfect metaphor for teenage hood. As we get older, the options open to us become fewer and fewer. But when we are young, the options are almost endless.
The Ramban in Parshas Bamidbar observes that when the Jewish People were counted, they were not allowed to count those who were from the ages of 13-20. And he explains that this is because there is a blessing given to Avraham that his children will be infinite. What he is saying is that the blessing of infinity, of endless possibilities, is specifically open to us during these precious teenage years.
Life is like a game of Roblox.
But there is a dark side to this analogy. And that is that Roblox is also a dangerous place to spend time. There are bad games, games meant to corrupt the minds of our youth, and there are also bad characters, horrible people looking to do bad things.
In Roblox, and really with all technology, our parents should take advantage of parental controls. It may be annoying to the child, but it is undoubtedly in the best interest of the child. In life, we have the 365 prohibitions of the Torah given to us by G-d. Following those restrictions can sometimes feel constricting but without a doubt, Hashem, our loving Father, gave them to us to protect our society and protect our soul. Those restrictions are in our best interest.
But here is where the analogy falls short. There is one flaw with Roblox. I believe this flaw is actually what makes it so attractive, and it’s also what makes it such a terrible metaphor for life. You see, Roblox is easy. Watch someone play Fortnite and then watch someone play Roblox. Fortnite guy is at the edge of his or her seat. Their face is scrunched up and they’re sweating. If they’re talking to a friend while they play they are yelling. This is how people play Roblox – lying back on their bed, casually chatting to a friend, Roblox is a chill.
And maybe that’s okay for a young and innocent child; life should not have to be so complicated. But as we get older, as we become a teen, life will inevitably get hard, and sometimes more than hard.
Those who believe in G-d, especially a loving and good G-d, are faced with a question. If G-d loves me so much, why does He make it so hard? To make matters worse, in the Torah portion we read today, G-d highlights the fact that He makes our life difficult. G-d describes in glowing terms how He made us live in a treacherous desert. Is that a good thing?!
This question comes up in so many parts of life. Every Passover we thank G-d for taking us out of Egypt. But don’t we also believe that G-d placed us in Egypt?! The same question can be asked about thanking G-d for healing us. Didn’t He also give us the illness in the first place?!
One way of addressing this question is as follows (Rabbi Leff): If someone were to walk over to you and break your legs. Then, they would pay all your doctor bills and visit you in the hospital. Would you be thankful to them? No, you’d think they were crazy.
But let’s say, a doctor walks up to you and notices that you have some form of disease and the only way to heal this disease is for your legs to be broken. Then they break your legs, they pay your bills and visit you in the hospital. And now when you are done at the hospital you are healthier than ever. Of course you would thank them.
G-d says in our parsha, “V’yadata im l’vavecha, and you should know in your heart, ki kaasher y’yaser ish es b’no Hashem Elokecha m’yas’reka, like a parent disciplines their child, that is why I put you through hardship.” (Devarim, 8:5) A loving parent pushes their child, not out of anger, out of love, out of a deep recognition of the child’s potential. But the only way to attain that potential is through a struggle.
This is why we thank G-d for taking us out of Egypt. It wasn’t a punishment. It was G-d’s way of pushing us to get to the core of who we were. And we thank G-d for healing us because we believe that maybe just maybe that illness was somehow given to us to push us to a higher level.
When your mom pushed you to lein, Gabe, it wasn’t easy, but she did it because she believed in you. When your mom pushed you to change schools for next year, Gabe, it won’t be as easy as this past year, but it’s being done because you have potential that is waiting to be unlocked.
The popularity of Roblox is a sad commentary on society; a society obsessed with comfort and an aversion to any friction. A few years ago, the New York Times published an article titled, the Age of Anti-Ambition. Life as a game of Roblox, life as a big comfortable, cozy chill is a travesty. Because that means we’re losing out on so much of our G-d-given potential.
Life IS a game of Roblox in that our good deeds are writing code that is changing the world in ways we cannot even imagine. Life IS a game of Roblox in that the options before us are endless, especially in our teenage years. Life IS a game of Roblox in that there are dangers, and restrictions are there for our benefit. But life is NOT like a game of Roblox in that life can be challenging, and that’s a good thing. Some of the great difficulties we deal with in life is G-d, our loving parent, helping us actualize our potential.
Gabe, you’ve already learned this important lesson, you and your parents have a lot to be proud of. But now that you’re Bar Mitzvah, the game, the real game, has just begun.
by Ner Tamid | Aug 10, 2025 | Sermons
A very, very, very long time ago, when I was growing up, there was virtually no funny Jewish video content being produced. It’s hard to believe but there was a time before Reggie_Torahshorts and Dovi Neuburger were producing daily content. There were a few, very few, exceptions – some Jews who were a little ahead of their time – who made videos like, Stuff People say on Pesach (I still watch this video every year before Pesach, and it still cracks me up). The other prehistoric video content from that era was Shtick People say at Shiva Houses. The genius of these videos is that for the most part, they were just saying things people say on Pesach or at Shiva homes. They weren’t making jokes, they were just highlighting how insane we sound, and when it comes to shiva houses, how tactless people can be.
People ask things like, “So… how did he die?” Or “Stop crying, she’s with her husband now.” Or “I think the chair you’re sitting on might be a little too high. Should we measure it?”
Let’s be honest, shiva houses can be quite awkward. What do I say? What do I say? What do I say? “Uh, I love the wallpaper!”
And because they’re so awkward, people tend to do one of two things, they don’t show up at shiva houses, or they speak about weather, world news, pickleball, anything except the deceased.
There are two Shiva house halachos that are worth reviewing. One, we wait for the mourner to speak first. And what if they don’t speak? That’s. Okay. We just sit there.
The other rule is that we are supposed to speak about the deceased; about their accomplishments, about what they did in their lives, about their legacy.
Both these halachos are encapsulated in the term we use for visiting a mourner – Nichum Aveilim. It’s translated as comforting the mourner, but what this term Nichum really means, explains Rav Samson Raphael Hirsh, is to shift one’s attention, to turn. And that’s because what we are doing when we visit the broken and lonely mourner is we are trying to shift their attention. Not to distract them with small talk and jokes. Not to remove the pain, there is no way to do so. Rather, they are feeling utterly alone, and by being there, even if we do not say anything, we are conveying to the mourner that they are not entirely alone, that there are people in the community who are with them. We say yes, you’re in pain, you’re alone, AND we are here with you.
They feel like their loved one is gone forever, and by reflecting on the deceased’s life, we remind them that their loved one also left behind a rich legacy that can be perpetuated by all who knew them. We say yes, they are gone, AND they accomplished so much.
We don’t need to be afraid of a shiva house. It’s cliché but I know from all the many mourners here that it is true – the greatest present is your presence. And you don’t need to be a great conversationalist to make a shiva call. “Tell me about your loved one.” And then sit back and listen.
Nechama, comfort, does not take place by ignoring pain. It comes about through a shift in perspective.
The reason I bring this up is, well, it’s critical that we visit people who are visiting shiva and we ensure that the visits are meaningful. But also, because this Shabbos is known as Shabbos Nachamu. It’s that same word – comfort, but also to shift perspectives. A week ago, we sat on the floor and mourned all the losses we experienced over two thousand years; the Batei Mikdash, the terror, the inquisitions, the Holocaust. And today, a mere six days later, we are supposed to celebrate. Shabbos Nachamu is supposed to be a joyous day. In our Haftorah, Yeshaya soothingly proclaims, “Nachamu, nachamu, ami! Be comforted, my people!”
How can we be comforted? The Bais HaMikdash is still unbuilt, the Jewish People are still not unified, there are still hostages in Gaza. Comfort? Really?
And the answer is yes. The sad realities have not changed, but G-d is asking us to now shift our gaze as He tells us, “I will one day redeem you. I may seem so distant, but I have not forgotten you.” On this Shabbos, G-d is performing Nichum Aveilim to us; He’s reminding us to not despair, to choose to look at the survival of the Jewish People and not the sacrifices, to choose to see how much we’ve progressed as a people and not how far we still have to go, to choose to see the fulfillment of so many positive prophecies even though some have yet to come true.
And this is not a one-day exercise, it takes place every day. Because there are two types of Jews in the world; Tisha B’av Jews and there are Nachamu Jews.
Tisha B’av Jews are always focused on what’s broken, on what’s missing, on all the things that have not gone their way.
Nachamu Jews are not those slightly-annoying-everything-is-awesome-let’s put-on-a-fake-smile-type of person. No. Nachamu Jews do not pretend that every story has a happy ending, or that the Jewish People are perfect, or that their spouse or children have no flaws. No.
Nachamu Jews say, yes, there are issues AND I chose to focus on what is good, on what is beautiful, on what I have. I could complain, it’s easy to complain, criticism is far more clickable than compliments, but I chose to focus on the good.
In our kitchen, we have a magnet on our fridge. Literally, one magnet. Some people deck their fridge in tens of magnets and pictures and notes, but we are minimalists (some may call it a neurosis) and the front of our fridge has nothing except one magnet. On the magnet it says, “Liftoach mikarer, zeh olam um’lo’o, to open a refrigerator, it’s the whole world.”
These words were uttered by Eli Sharabi, a husband and father of two daughters, who was kidnapped from Be’eri on October 7th. He spent almost 500 days in captivity. When he returned, he looked like he had just been liberated from Auschwitz. He spent most of his time in captivity chained by his leg. He ate almost nothing and lost 66 pounds, or 40% of his body weight while in captivity.
As bad as that was, nothing prepared him for the devastating news that he learned when he was released. Shortly after exiting Gaza, he was informed that his wife and two daughters were murdered by Hamas on October 7th.
This man lived through a modern-day Tisha B’av and yet, he was and is a Nachamu Jew.
When asked about learning the horrific news about his family, he said he was grateful for the 18 years that he had with his beloved wife, Lianne. When asked about the starvation, he said, yes, it was horrific, and now I open my fridge ad it’s filled with food, “Liftoach mikarer, zeh olam um’lo’o, to open a refrigerator, it’s the whole world.”
The Bais Hamikdash is still destroyed, our family members get on our nerves or worse, our friends don’t always support like us they should, and G-d feels like He is ignoring us.
Those are all 100% true.
And yet, we can decide to be a Nachamu Jew, not only this Shabbos, but every day.
To choose to look at the positive trends in Jewish history and say I am so proud to be a Jew.
To choose to see the incredible qualities that our family members possess and embrace them.
To choose to see G-d in our every waking breath.
To be a Tisha B’av Jew or a Nachamu Jew, the choice is ours.
by Ner Tamid | Aug 3, 2025 | Sermons
In the year 500, the Himyarites, a Yemenite kingdom, ruled over much of the Arabian Peninsula. The Arabian Peninsula consisted of modern Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Oman, The UAE, Bahrain, Qatar, and Kuwait. It was an exceptionally powerful and wealthy kingdom, dominating the trade routes in the ancient world.
They were ruthless leaders and had no tolerance for any other faith groups in their empire. The first thing they did when they conquered any land was burn the churches and massacre the Christian population. We have historical records of the Himyarites killing thousands upon thousands of Christian civilians.
If we had lived in the year 500, I imagine, I hope, if we were to see evidence of such atrocities, we would respond fiercely, condemning the Himyarites for their actions. If we were to find out that they did indeed kill innocents, that they did indeed destroy all places of worship, we would be outraged.
But there’s a detail I forgot to share with you – the Himyarites were a Jewish kingdom. In the year 400, Abu Karib, their king, converted to Judaism. Inscriptions from that era throughout the country make it clear that the ruling class and likely many others were practicing Jews.
And with that, our reaction changes. We become a little more compassionate, curious. Maybe there’s more to this story? Maybe the Christians were persecuting the Jews first, and this was a reaction? Maybe it’s an exaggeration?
I know that was my reaction. When I learned they were Jews I saw them in a more protective light.
Someone hearing this may accuse me of having double standards.
And to those accusers, I say, yes, I have a double standard. I think about my fellow Jews in a different fashion. And I’m not ashamed of it.
If someone told me that my child committed a crime, heaven forbid, I would not hide my child from the authorities. But I would certainly not post criticisms against the child on social media. If there was a protest outside my child’s home, do you think I would join the protest? Of course not. It’s my child. And they may be guilty, but I also have a moral obligation, at the same time, to look out for them.
You probably know where I’m going with this –
Are there children in Gaza who are starving? Likely.
And even though this war was started by Hamas and is still going on because of Hamas, could the Israeli government do things differently that could help alleviate the situation, even though it’s not their fault? No one knows for sure. The news is dizzyingly confusing and has lost any shred of credibility. But is it possible that there are missteps or worse on the part of the Israeli government here? It is certainly possible. Jews are not perfect. Be it the Himyarite Kingdom or the Modern State of Israel, Jews are capable of doing horrific things.
But does that mean we should go ahead and write articles or write open letters criticizing the Israeli government?
To me, this seems to be the equivalent of protesting outside your child’s window. We have a moral obligation to protect our family. Your standing there protesting may be used by the prosecution against your own child. Which is exactly what the enemies of Israel are doing.
“Look at all the Jews who are calling this out!”
“We’re not antisemites! There are Jews who are saying the same things we are!”
And before you know it, the UK, France, and Canada, rally behind Palestinian nationhood and encourage Hamas to stop negotiating.
Public statements can possibly encourage antisemites around the world to attack Jews. Public protests can possibly encourage Hamas to hold on to power and not let the 50 hostages go to freedom. I would be petrified to speak out for the chance that my statement contributed in one small way to the death or prolonged captivity of one of my brothers or sisters.
To be clear, I am not saying that we should pretend Israel or the Jewish community is perfect and cover up our crimes. I am not saying that we should pretend issues do not exist in our communities, as some do say, “to prevent a Shanda.” If you are aware of a crime, if you are aware of someone who is a danger to society, even if it is your child, you must tell the authorities. But this is not that.
Was there a private letter sent to the Israeli government, or did it go straight to the press? Do we really know definitively what is happening in Gaza? And it really boils down to one question – if this was my son, if this was my daughter, would I be so quick to condemn?
***
But let’s now talk among ourselves – we’re here among family. Is the Israeli government perfect? No.
Is the desire to stay in power something that might influence the decisions made by political leaders? Yes.
Are there elements in Israeli society and the Israeli government who would like to remove all Arabs from Israel from the river to the sea? Yes, there are.
Does spilling blood, even when entirely justified, erode our sensitivity to life? Yes, sadly, it does.
Among ourselves, among family, we can and we must be honest.
Read Matti Friedman’s piece in the Free Press. Matti Friedman, for those who don’t know him, is one of Israel’s greatest defenders, and he is quite concerned about what Israel may be doing wrong in Gaza.
The Himyarite Kingdom is a cautionary tale – the one time we had power in the last 2000 years, we abused it. Today’s Haftorah is another cautionary tale of many – “Your princes are rebellious; they are companions of thieves,” roars Yeshaya. “Everyone loves bribes and runs after payments,” he screams. “They ignore the orphan and widow.” Power, warns Yeshaya, is the most intoxicating and addictive drug.
This is not to say that power is intrinsically evil. The idea that anyone who is in power is evil is a perverse and illogical idea that has taken the Western world by storm; it is one of the idiotic philosophies that fuels antizionism. Judaism does not believe power is evil. But it does believe that power is fraught with danger. Rav Soloveitchik, a fierce defender of the State of Israel, once wondered out loud what would have happened if the Jewish People had a kingdom in Medieval Europe. Would we have been different than our neighbors, or would we join the Christians and Muslims in their blood orgies?
The antisemites of the world do not need our help. Our brothers and sisters in Israel do. We need to think twice and three times and four times before publicly saying anything that can harm our family. But among brothers and among sisters, we must be honest with ourselves; we are fighting a just war, going above and beyond, but that does not mean we are perfect. We cannot allow ourselves to be infatuated with our strength nor self-righteous over our just cause. A healthy people are devastated by the death toll in Gaza, exaggerated or not. A healthy people introspect and recognize the blinding force of being in power.
***
Yeshaya finishes the prophecy we read this morning with one piece of hope – Tziyon b’mishpat tipadeh. That Zion will be redeemed with justice. Justice means to not abuse our power. And justice – as defined by Jewish ethics – also means to love our family fiercely, not to the exclusion of, but before we love others.
