by Ner Tamid | Mar 22, 2026 | Sermons
Those of you who come here regularly know that I like to talk about current events on Shabbos morning. One of the fundamental ideas that I learned from Rabbi Moshe Hauer zt”l is that the Torah is a Toras Chayim, a living Torah. Yes, it was written thousands of years ago, but it was written by G-d who transcends time. And therefore, if there is something going on in the world, the Torah, by definition, has something to say about it. The parsha of the week, in my opinion, is not the portion we read in shul; the parsha of the week is what is on people’s minds, and we turn to the Torah to give us some much-needed perspective and guidance.
There are some weeks when there’s just not a lot going on in the world, and so I struggle to come up with a topic. There are other weeks when there is so much going on that the challenge is to figure out which one of the many big issues on people’s minds I should focus on. This week falls in that second category. Continuously escalating antisemitism in the US putting us all on edge, our brothers and sisters in Israel running endlessly back and forth between their beds and safe rooms, the downfall – we hope and pray – of our greatest enemy, Iran. All of those are worthy of a full-fledged talk. And then there is the stress that so many in this room are dealing with – the pressure of an expensive and labor-intensive holiday. For some, the anxiety around a holiday that is supposed to be filled with family, love, and laughter, and instead is filled with loneliness. That also needs our attention. And then there’s the silly stuff that bounces around my head, like the fact that your rabbi’s favorite hockey team, the Montreal Canadiens, are doing really well, and being that the Safren family lived in Canada for a while, I thought it would be a great time to teach you all about the greatest sport on earth.
Despite all those being appropriate options for the parsha of the week, I will not be speaking about any of them. Instead, I want to discuss the actual parsha of the week, a parsha that is known to be the most boring, most skipped-over, most ignored, most misunderstood of all, Parshas Vayikra, the parsha that Ami just read so beautifully.
I’ll share with you a little trade secret. Rabbis love the fact that the book of Vayikra falls out in such a busy time of the year. Most of the Torah, the books of Bereishis, Shemos, Bamidbar, are filled with great stories. The book of Devarim is filled with beautiful and practical ideas. But not Vayikra. It is really difficult to share meaningful messages about Korbanos, animal sacrifices, something we barely understand and certainly don’t relate to. It is really difficult to share thoughts about Tzara’as, the overwhelming and confusing details of leprosy. And it’s downright boring to discuss the laws of purity and impurity when almost none of it is relevant to us in a world without a Bais Hamikdash. So instead, rabbis will discuss Pesach, the four paryshiyos, hockey, really anything, as long as we are not forced to talk about Vayikra. And honestly, it’s a mistake. If I could be so bold as to say, ignoring the book of Vayikra is rabbinic malpractice.
***
There is an ancient custom recorded in the Yalkut Shemoni (Tzav) still practiced in many day schools that when children begin learning Chumash, they begin with the book of Vayikra. The first words of Chumash that I learned in kindergarten were, “Vayikra Hashem el Moshe.”
Why is that?
In the Warsaw Ghetto, it was forbidden for Jews to gather to pray. If Jews were caught in a minyan, they would be executed. Nonetheless, Jews being Jews did exactly that. Under the machine guns of the Nazis, there were many groups that gathered to daven and learn Torah. One such group would gather around Rav Kloynamous Kalman Shapira, known as the Aish Kodesh, every Shabbos morning. And every Shabbos morning, he would deliver a sermon, a drasha, to inspire the people that gathered around him.
I’ve often wondered to myself, what message would share in such a circumstance? Would I talk about the antisemitism of the Nazis? Would I talk about the debilitating fear they were experiencing over rumors of the crematoria? The starvation? Would I talk about the loved ones they lost?
Rav Shapira chose to talk about none of that. Yes, there were hints and allusions to what was going on around them. But his message, week in and week out, were straight Divrei Torah. He spoke about the parsha. He spoke about G-d. He spoke about what it means to be a Jew. What it means to grow spiritually.
He wasn’t being naïve or putting his head in the sand. He was a brilliant educator and leader. He understood that all day and all night, his followers were surrounded by starvation, beatings, fear, pain. And so, for a few minutes every week, he led them into a sacred space of serenity, of meaning, of G-dliness. He created a space of holiness for their tired souls in the darkest depths of hell.
Some may cynically describe this as escapism. I would describe it as the purest mikvah, giving these broken people a moment of elevation and healing.
The Yalkut says that the reason we teach young children Vayikra before any other section is because “children are pure and the topics of Vayikra are pure.”
I don’t know about you but since October 7th I go to sleep doomscrolling as I read article after article about Israel and national politics. I wake up and, after saying Modeh Ani, I immediately open Times of Israel to make sure that my loved ones are okay. It’s heavy, and it’s draining.
Vayikra is a reminder of a pristine reality. It reminds me that the world is not divided between Republicans and Democrats; it is divided between tahara and tumah, light and darkness. It reminds me that the most important building in the world is not in Washington; it is a Temple that we yearn for; the Western Wall, not the East Wing. It reminds me that behind the smoke of cluster bombs, there is a cloud of glory; that there is a G-d and He runs this world.
Yes, the Torah is a Toras Chayim, it has what to say about everything happening in the world, it can help us navigate these difficult times. But it also has the ability to lift us beyond this world, to remind us of a pure and spiritual reality untainted by current events. The book of Vayikra is a pure Mikvah in a very dirty world.
***
That’s very nice and poetic, you may say. But what about the fact that the laws of Vayikra are so impractical? What if I study these parshiyos and I just don’t get anything out of it?
A little while ago, Yedidia Safren shared with me something profound. Yedidia, Ami’s father, is part of our Amud Yomi chabura. We were listening Meseches Eruvin at the time, and there are some very difficult gemaras. Yedidia admitted to me that he doesn’t always understand sections of the Gemara we’re learning. So why bother, I asked him. Why do you spend the time every day to learn a page of Gemara that you don’t understand? And he explained that it’s the experience of learning Torah that he was after, not the content. What a precious idea.
Too often, we get stuck in a myopic view of Judaism. We focus on the details of Halacha, which are all critically important. However, sometimes those details prevent us from seeing the big picture. Why are we doing these Mitzvos? Who stands behind these Halachos? Because of G-d. Because we are trying to connect to Hashem. That is the big picture.
We may be cleaning for Pesach, and it’s stressful so we get upset at a child, at a spouse, at a friend. Why? Because they’re getting in the way of our Pesach cleaning. Is that really what G-d wants from us? Of course not.
This is not to say the details of Halacha are unimportant; they are critical. It’s that we cannot let them get in the way of the bigger picture. This is why the Rema begins his glosses to the Shulchan Aruch with the words, Shvisi Hashem l’negdi samid. “I place G-d before me always.” He is begging us to not lose sight of that.
And that’s what Yedidia was telling me. It is precisely when we do not connect to the narrative or do not apply the law that we can transcend the text of the Gemara and connect to its Author. In other words, when he listens to the shiur, he’s not listening to me teach, he is not learning the laws of an Eruv, he is sitting together with G-d.
I just celebrated my 18th wedding anniversary. When we were first married, Hindy and I decided to carve out time every evening to study Torah together. Being that I was young and foolish, I chose an impossibly difficult text to study – the Vilna Gaon’s commentary on Megillas Esther. Highly not recommended. To make matters worse, I approached our study session like a regular study session with one of my chavrusas. Hindy would say something and I’d argue and tell her how she completely misunderstood the text. It’s a miracle we made it through that first year… I was young and dumb, and I completely missed the point that those study sessions were a unique opportunity to connect with one another.
We are also celebrating the Aufruf of Chanan Oshry and his upcoming marriage with Chana Herzog. Mazel Tov! This message is for you and all of us who are blessed to be married. In a loving relationship, it’s not about the ideas you share with one another, the places you visit, or your accomplishments. It’s the fact that your loved one was at your side. That you were together.
The book of Vayikra, this highly technical, mostly foreign book, begins with the words, Vayikra Hashem el Moshe. Rashi comments that the word Vayikra is a lashon chiba, a term of endearment. Those words are meant to give context to the entire book. As so as we sit through these next weeks of texts we don’t necessarily understand, instead of saying who cares? We can remind ourselves that I am sitting with G-d. G-d is calling out, not only to Moshe, but to each of us, and saying, “I see you. I care about you. I want you.”
***
Ami, you are a very bright individual. You won the pie competition in OCA (as in 3.14, not apple pie), you are a finalist for the Chidon HaTanach, you are a Rubik’s cube wiz, and in the high track for Gemara – those skills will get you far in life. Thank G-d, you have incredible role models, your parents, Malka Bracha and Yedidia who are sincere, growth-oriented, family-centered, and have worked on themselves continuously to not be caught up in external trappings. They’ve taught you to be sincere and authentic.
Ami, you are becoming a full-fledged member of the Jewish People at a very precarious time. It’s hard to envision what the future has in store for you and for all of us. No matter what happens, I hope and pray that you never forget the message of your parsha – that there is purity, goodness, in the world even when it seems to be caving in, and that if you listen closely you can hear your own personal Vayikra, the voice of Hashem calling you – you, and each and every one of us by name, because He loves us and wants us to spend some precious time together. That is what it’s really all about.
by Ner Tamid | Mar 8, 2026 | Sermons
Does G-d love you? Does G-d, who knows exactly what you did and did not do, who knows what you are capable of and how far you are from where you should be, does He still care about you? Or is He just so disappointed that He has moved on? That’s a question I recently received from a non-Jewish therapist.
He was not asking for himself; he claimed to be agnostic. This therapist, we’ll call him Brian, was asking me this question because he has many Orthodox clients who believe in a G-d that gave up on them. They believed that G-d has seen their dark side and wants nothing to do with them. And so, Brian wanted to know: “Does Judaism only believe in a punitive G-d, or do Jews also believe in a loving G-d, and if so, can you please share sources?”
“Yes,” I explained to him, “contrary to what Christian literature may have you believe, Judaism most certainly believes in a loving G-d and there is no shortage of sources.”
In Devarim (14:1), Banim atem laShem Elokeichem. “You are children to Hashem.”
In Yirmiyahu (31:2), Ahavas olam ahavtich. “My love for you is eternal.”
There is a debate in the Talmud (Kiddushin, 36) if we are still considered G-d’s beloved children when we sin, with one opinion saying that G-d’s love is conditional and the other, Rabbi Meir, arguing that G-d’s love is unconditional. (See Maharal, Netzach Yisrael, 11, who explains that this dispute is about individual sinners.) The Rashba, one of the most influential scholars of the Middle Ages, rules like Rabbi Meir (Shu”t haRashba, 1:194). Yisrael af al pi she’chata Yisrael hu. “Even if you sin, you are still considered a Jew.” We are G-d’s children. No. Matter. What.
But after rattling off a few sources, I stopped. “Brian, do you really think that the reason your clients don’t believe that G-d loves them is because of theology? Like if I just overwhelm them with sources that will change everything?!”
He acknowledged that most of these clients had a parent figure who was domineering, who was unforgiving, who did not know how to show them unconditional love. And so when they think of their Father in heaven, they end up thinking about their father who made their lives a living hell. Of course they had a negative image of G-d. How could they not?
And now I was curious because I too hear from so many people who believe that G-d hates them or wants nothing to do with them, and I was hoping he would have some insight. “How do you reprogram such a person?” I asked him. “How do you spend twenty years of your life being told explicitly or even implicitly by a parent that you are not good enough – that if you want my love you have to earn it, and then be expected to believe that there is a Being out there who loves you no matter what?”
It’s not a new question. It’s a question that, according to Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (Likutim Chadashim, Ki Sisa, h/t Rabbi Rael Blumenthal), G-d Himself grappled with when we first became a nation. Hashem took the Jewish People out of Egypt, He gave them the Torah, He protected them from the elements and from enemies. But you could imagine these Jews thinking to themselves at every step along the way, “What if we mess up? What if we stop obeying His Torah? Will He still love us?” It’s like the child who comes home every week with an A+ on his test. He wonders to himself if his parents will shower him with the same love if he comes home with a B- or a D. It’s only when he does come home with a bad score, or even better, when he comes home one day after getting into a car accident, and his parents still show him how much they love him, it’s only then that the child knows that the love is real.
Suggests Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, that is exactly what happened with the Golden Calf. G-d caused the Jewish People to sin with the Golden Calf (see Avoda Zarah 4b) to teach them this lesson. That’s right. He knew they were anxious (they’re Jewish after all). He delayed Moshe from coming down the mountain, He confused them, He set them up to sin. Why? So that they could know that they are deserving of annihilation for their terrible sin, and then He could then embrace them and say, but I forgive you. But I still want you. Not only that, but I will build a Mishkan, a home together, even though you’ve strayed so far. In other words, for G-d to convey His unconditional love they needed to experience it, through failure and subsequent embrace, which they did through the episode of the Golden Calf.
Which is all very nice if you lived in the Sinai desert three thousand five hundred years ago. What about this therapist’s clients who believe that G-d is out to get them? What about the many people in this room who grapple with this question – does G-d love me even though I am falling short of what He expects from me daily, if not hourly?
I don’t know how I would have answered that question a few years ago, or even a week ago, but I know how I would answer that today:
There was not a single Jew who did not acknowledge that the infighting among the Jewish People, and the State of Israel’s arrogant complacency contributed to the tragedies of October 7th. That’s why the slogan for the war was b’yachad nenatzeiach, we will win, but only if we are together. That’s why there was such an awakening of spirituality over the past two years. Everyone knew it – we needed more faith in G-d and we needed more unity.
Tragically, not only did it not last; it completely fell apart. Over the past few months, we have witnessed extreme infighting over the Charedi Draft with fatal consequences. Two weeks ago, for reasons completely beyond me, someone decided it would be a great time to bring up one of the most divisive issues in Klal Yisrael – the usage of the Kotel by groups that are not Orthodox. As Rabbi Gil Student pointed out, you could not have chosen a worse time. We forgot the lessons we just learned and fell into old patterns of hate quickly and deeply.
I don’t know about you, but when the US started flooding the region with warships and planes, I was shocked by the confidence of Jews all over the world. The memes that were already celebrating the downfall of Iran, the cavalier attitude of so many Israelis. Personally, I was petrified. Yes, it’s great to have the support of the strongest army in the world. But I thought to myself, are we deserving of victory? Are we, who remind ourselves every year on Tisha B’av how Jerusalem fell over infighting, we, who before the dust had settled from one of the rudest reminders of this terrible lesson already forgot it, are we really worthy of G-d assisting our armies to fight our most powerful enemy in the region?
No, we are not.
We are not deserving. And yet, Ayatollah Khameini, the evil architect of so much bloodshed and evil was eliminated on the first day of battle.
We are not deserving and yet, the campaign against our primary enemy for the past three decades is finally happening and has been wildly successful.
We are not deserving and yet, the casualties in Israel are miraculously low.
We are not deserving and yet, for the first time since King David, we not only have sovereignty, but we have military dominance over all our enemies. There are virtually no enemies left!
If I were to take one message out of the incredible success of this past week it would be that no matter how undeserving I am, He still values me. He still wants to have a relationship with me. G-d loves me, and you, no matter what.
Some of us may have received this message from our parents. Some of us may have not. And that’s terribly painful. It could take a lifetime of internal work to learn how to accept ourselves. But we do not need sources to tell us this truth, we do not need to go back 3500 years to see Hashem’s eternal and unconditional love. What we need to do is recognize that our generation has been chosen, like the generation that left Egypt, to be told through events unfolding right now in the Middle East, that no matter how undeserving we may be, G-d still loves us. All we need to do is open our eyes.
by Ner Tamid | Feb 22, 2026 | Sermons
Contrary to popular belief, ‘what does not kill you makes you stronger,’ was not first coined by Kelly Clarkson. It was Nietzsche who argued that adversity and challenges, while they could be debilitating, can also bring out our greatest strengths. As a people, we have experienced this time and time again; in the aftermath of persecution, there has always been an explosion of creativity and brand-new spiritual horizons. October 7th is no exception. Over the past two years, there has been an awakening among Jews who never practiced Judaism or acknowledged their heritage in public. Led by the likes of Michael Rappaport, Montana Tucker, Jerry Seinfeld, and Gal Gadot, Jewish pride is trending. You see more Magen Dovid necklaces than ever before. More Israeli flags and pins. More Jewish college kids attending Hillel and Chabad. More public high schoolers starting NCSY JSU clubs in their schools. There is a Chabad rabbi on social media who publishes pictures of himself wrapping with celebrities like the rapper, Lil Dicky, the actor, James Franco, the billionaire, Bill Ackman, and the influencers, the Nelk Boys.
All of this is beautiful. But it’s also very public. Much of what has been publicized is, understandably, forward-facing Judaism, Jewish practices in the public sphere. What I’d like to talk about today is Judaism in the private sphere, more specifically, the characteristics of a Jewish home. The Torah places a premium on spiritual practices that are done in private. Public acts can be motivated by public approval; private acts are authentic. Rav Chaim Vital writes that when G-d will judge us on our interpersonal relationships, He will only judge us on how we acted in the confines of our home; because how we act at home is who we really are.
So what does a Jewish home look like?
(If you drive through Pikesville, you would say a Jewish home means ripping down the old home and building something twice the size but that’s not what we’re talking about…)
Allow me to give you a tour of the Jewish home by giving you a virtual tour of the very first Jewish home, the Mishkan.
As you enter, you will notice a table – the Shulchan and on it, loaves of bread. This is actually one of the most radical ideas that Judaism brought into the world. Zoroastrians believed that there was good and evil. Christianity adopted that same binary thinking demarcating between spiritual and physical. But Judaism posits that good and evil all come from the same source, that the physical realm is not evil, it is actually where we have the greatest opportunity for spiritual growth. And so, in Judaism, food becomes a central part of faith. On Shabbos we are commanded to eat and eat well, and every day of the week, we are instructed to work and to use our physical belongings to create a better world.
The dining room table in Judaism is holy. It’s where meaningful conversations are supposed to take place, it’s where mothers express their love through cakes and roasts, and most importantly, it’s where we make space for those outside our family and invite them in and make them feel “like members of our household.” I’ve shared with you before how in certain parts of Germany there was a custom to use one’s dining room table as one’s coffin, as if to say, let this table testify to how I used the material world and my material gifts to serve my fellow Jew and to serve G-d.
On the right is a Menorah. Like in every culture, this candelabra represents the intellect. Whereas in Greek culture, the philosopher walks the streets with the lamp of inquiry, in Judaism, the lamp of intellectual engagement is in the home. V’’dibarta bam b’shivtecha b’veisecha. Rabbi Sacks would often quote Isadore Rabi, winner of a Nobel Prize in physics, who was once asked how he became such an accomplsihed scientist. He replied, “Every other child would come back from school and be asked, ‘What did you learn today?’ But my mother used to ask: ‘Izzy, did you ask a good question today?’ That made the difference. Asking good questions made me a scientist.” In a Jewish home, there is no question that should ever be off-limits. Curiosity and intellectual honesty are hallmarks of our peoplehood.
Even before you see it, you will smell the next piece of furniture in the Mishkan. Further down the corridor, centered between the Table and the Menorah is the small altar on which daily incense was burned. Every home has a smell. I don’t mean that the house smells musty or like someone likes to pour an entire bottle of Tide into the laundry. What I mean is that there is an intangible energy in every home. In some homes you walk through the door and you feel at ease, like you belong there. In other homes, you feel on guard.
To make Ketores, incense, one had to be exceptionally precise; there was little room for failure. One extra kernel of the wrong spice would throw off the entire batch. And the same is true for the emotional energy in a home. Last week we hosted a beautiful roundtable on education. Dr. Schorr talked about the intangible smell of the home but she used a slightly different metaphor – temperature. She encouraged us to constantly take the temperature of our home. Does it feel stuffy right now, like everyone’s walking on eggshells? Does it feel volatile, voices are all climbing in pitch? Adjust the temperature. And if you can’t adjust it, then take a break. One of the silliest pieces of marriage advice I hear people give is never go to sleep angry at your spouse. Did you get the same advice? What if the temperature is at the boiling point, are you sure you want to have a conversation now? No, you do not.
We need to accustom ourselves to taking the temperature or taking a whiff. How does my house smell? The intangible energy of a home is impacting you and everyone inside. If it feels warm, smells inviting and loving, amazing. If it doesn’t and you could change it, great. If not, open a window, take a break, go to sleep, and start over again tomorrow. The avodah beings anew every day.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, we move on to the master suite, the most important room in G-d’s house. The Kodesh Hakadoshim where the Aron resided. It’s a beautiful room, it has the most intricate furniture, but it all revolves around one thing – the Torah, the two tablets and a Torah scroll. And that’s because the true hallmark of a Jewish home is the bookcase filled with Jewish books.
The bookcase in a Jewish home is not a piece of furniture, it is where the past, present, and future of Judaism merge. Dusty books with broken spines inherited from a grandparent. Tear-filled Siddurim into which you poured your greatest dreams. Books with underlines and sticky-notes and pages turned over. The messier the bookcase, the more beautiful; it’s a sign of them being used.
The truth is that even the books never cracked open carry their own quiet beauty. My children sometimes ask whether I have read every volume lining my shelves. Of course not. But books are not only records of what I know; they represent my aspirations. Rabbi Moshe Hauer z”l kept a book about overcoming anger on his desk; he said he never read it, yet its presence alone reminded him to keep his cool. I dream of the day when I have the time to fully immerse myself in the worlds waiting on my shelves, but until then, those books gently call me toward the person I hope to become.
Over the past two years, while many celebrities were powerfully expressing their Judaism in public, many of you were powerfully expressing their Judaism in private. I think it’s safe to say that most of your bookcases have grown these past two years; more volumes of the Talmud, Mishnayos, books like Understanding Your Prayer and Living the Blessing are now on your shelves. And whether you understood or remembered or even read every word, they represent who you want to be. You have transformed your home and in doing so, you have transformed yourself.
Once again, thanks to the vision and determination of Ari Weiss, we are launching another initiative of daily learning. This time we will be studying a beautiful book called Living Chessed. There are flyers that will be handed out during Mussaf that have a QR code on them and after Shabbos, you can order your own copy at the highly subsidized price of $10. I look forward to learning together, to growing together, and to growing my Jewish bookcase, making my home a replica of G-d’s home.
***
Before there was a Mishkan, there was a Jewish home. In Egypt, on Seder night the Jews were instructed to bring an offering but there was no communal temple. Instead, the “doorposts were the altar,” the home was the sanctuary. At the table sat family, friends, and also individuals who had no family and perhaps not too many friends. This was the original Shulchan.
At that table sat children who asked questions, whose curiosity was encouraged, who were not ignored by the adults, but were listened to. The original Menorah.
We can just imagine the tension in the air; the screams outside from the Egyptians, the anxiety around leaving Egypt the next morning. And yet, the parents held it together, ensuring that the environment was loving and warm. The very first expression of Ketores.
And of course, that meal, those children’s questions, the parents calm energy, all became part of the Biblical story, finding a special place in the Aron, and eventually onto the bookcases of our Jewish homes.
by Ner Tamid | Feb 15, 2026 | Sermons
Mazel Tov Sheina on your Bat Mitzvah! We are all so happy for you and excited for this new milestone in your life.
Anyone who knows Sheina’s family knows that they are Lubavitch. Like, very Lubavitch. So, you may be wondering what a Lubavitch girl is doing at Ner Tamid. Let me explain:
You may not know this, but Ner Tamid is actually a crypto-Lubavitch shul. It may look a little different than your typical Chabad house but dig a little deeper and you’ll see what I mean.
According to ChatGPT, in Lubavitch shuls there is a strong emphasis on children’s programming, a wide range of observance levels, and exceptional warmth. Is that not a good description of Ner Tamid?
There’s more.
In Lubavitch shuls the men farbreng. At Ner Tamid, the men go to Kiddush Club.
In Lubavitch shuls, davening on Shabbos morning starts at 10:30 AM. At Ner Tamid, most people believe that davening starts at 10:30 AM.
The Rebbe of Lubavitch lived on President’s street. The rabbi of Ner Tamid lives on Lincoln Ave.
In Lubavitch shuls they have a big picture of their former rabbi in the lobby. At Ner Tamid, we also have a big picture of our former rabbi in the lobby.
In Chabad, we all know the women run the show. And at Ner Tamid, yeah, that’s probably the case as well. Although the sheitels here, for those who wear them, do not reach the women’s ankles.
In Lubavitch shuls, the men look like they just rolled out of bed. Ner Tamid is the only shul where people will literally show up in pajamas.
So basically, this is a Chabad house.
There is actually real history connecting our shul to Chabad.
The very first Lubavitch minyan in Baltimore was established in 1896. They bought a building on 132 South Caroline street and called themselves Agudas Achim Anshe Lubawitz Nusach Ari Congregation. Until 1922, when Tzemach Tzedek opened, this was the only Chabad shul in town. In the 1969, with the changing demographics of downtown Baltimore, the shul merged with a newer shul in Pikesville known as Ner Tamid Greenspring Valley Synagogue. That’s right. Our shul is truly a Lubavitch shul.
For the vast majority of the time that Agudas Achim Anshe Lubawitz Nusach Ari Congregation was in existence the rebbe was the sixth rebbe of Lubavitch, Rav Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson. His son-in-law, Rav Menachem Mendel Schneerson, is the man we all know so much about. I’d like to spend a few minutes this morning talking about the sixth rebbe, Rav Yosef Yitzchak, otherwise known as the Rebbe RaYatz.
Rav Yosef Yitzchak was probably the most arrested Jew in history. He was sent to jail seven times in his life for his promotion of Judaism and support of the Jewish People. The first time was at the age of ten. A Jewish butcher was being beaten by a police officer and Rav Yosef Yitzchak stepped in to defend him, causing him to be thrown into a dark cell for the day. Future arrests would be far more serious.
Shortly after the Bolsheviks took over, they created a police force dedicated to eradicating Jewish life from the USSR. The saddest feature of this group was that it was organized and led by Jews. At the helm was a man Shimon Diamenstein. At one point he had studied in the great Eastern European Yeshivas and got ordained by Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzinksi, the leading Torah scholar of the time, but eventually he left his faith and became an enemy of the Jewish People.
Though the laws against the practice and study of Judaism were initially mild under Communist rule, Rav Yosef Yitzchak saw the writing on the wall, and decided to do something about it. The first thing he did was create very small networks of melamdim, teachers who would study with young children and adults in secret. By decentralizing the system, he ensured that if one person got caught, the damage would be limited. He would use trade schools or farms as a cover for these mini-yeshivas. He sent his followers to build underground mikvahs, baked matzah in secret that was widely distributed, and ensured that there would be shochtim, people able to slaughter meat so Jews could keep kosher.
If anyone was caught engaging in any of these activities, they would be sent to Siberia at best, very often, they would be executed. But Rav Yosef Yitzchak was not only a great manager, he inspired his followers, impressing upon them the importance of their mission, letting them know that the future of Jewry rested on their shoulders.
Most famously, in 1927, he was arrested and accused of espionage. At one point in the interrogations, a Soviet officer pointed a gun at him and threatened: “This toy has made many people talk.”
The Rebbe replied: “That toy can intimidate only a man who has many gods and one world. I have one G-d and two worlds.”
He was sentenced to death and only due to international pressure was he ultimately released and sent out of Russia, eventually immigrating to the United States. Though he was no longer living there, his network remained. Rav Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson’s passion, strength, and vision ensured the flame of Judaism would survive in the cold environs of communism.
Sheina, you were supposed to have your Bat Mitzvah last week, parshas Yisro. That is an exciting parsha – literally lightning and thunder and the greatest spiritual spectacle in history as the Jewish people gathered at the foot of Har Sinai. This week’s parsha is probably the most boring of all. Laws. A whole lot of laws. But that’s precisely the point. A people transformed by a single overwhelming experience can be inspired. A people shaped by daily law can endure. Parshas Yisro is the kumzits, the spiritual high, the euphoria. Parshas Mishpatim is where Judaism transforms from inspiration to implementation and becomes culture. Too many of us get burned out of Judaism because we don’t feel constant excitement. But constant excitement is not real. Har Sinai took place once in history; Mishpatim, the intricate laws of Judaism, is the vessel in which that fire can be contained.
Your Rebbe, the sixth Rebbe of Lubavitch, understood this. When we think of Chabad, we think of the Shlichim who are willing to go to the farthest places on earth to inspire Jews and we give credit to the seventh Rebbe. I would argue that the culture of self-sacrifice really began with Rav Yosef Yitzchak. He understood that communism would last for decades, but that didn’t dissuade him. Because he also understood there needed to be a process, a difficult and long road, but eventually, there will be light. When one of the men he sent to start a small yeshiva complained to him that it was futile, he replied: “You dig a hole and plant seeds, and I will water it with my tears.”
Sheina, you have boundless talents, qualities, and skills. You are a musician, you excel at math, your siblings adore you. You have dreams of using those skills to help children in the future and I am sure you will. Those are all great. But you also have a legacy. You were brought up on a steady diet of perseverance, of overcoming obstacles, of the steady commitment to Judaism. Just last week, I saw your mother as she came into shul. The weather was freezing, your mother looked like she was travelling through the North Pole. But she was here; to daven, to connect, to grow. That was the Chabad legacy coursing through her.
Although we have a lot in common with Lubavitch, one area in which I hope we can grow as a community is the Lubavitch joy and passion. Walk into any Chabad school, shul, yeshiva, it’s in the air. It didn’t start with farbrengins. It started with the cold Russian soil. It continued with individual seeds. It was watered with an endless stream of tears. And today we see how those seeds have blossomed.
The seventh Lubavitcher Rebbe in his talks on Tu B’shvat would often quote the verse from Devarim, “כי האדם עץ השדה.” Man is like a tree. He would remind his followers that most of the tree’s development takes place underground, indiscernible to the naked eye. Sheina, you were born on Tu B’shvat. I hope you and all of us take this legacy, your legacy, our legacy, to heart.
by Ner Tamid | Jan 31, 2026 | Sermons
In honor of Jesse Sipple’s Bar Mitzvah, being that his family has Yekke minhagim, customs that are unique to Jews from German descent, I’d like to spend our time this morning discussing some of those customs with a brand-new gameshow. I am going to describe a custom and the ‘contestants,’ that’s all of you, are going to have decide if it is a genuine Yekke custom, or not. The game is called Yekke or… Shwekey.
Yes, Shwekey, as in the Jewish Orthodox singer, Yaakov Shwekey. Let me explain. You see, Yaakov Shwekey’s mother is Ashkenazi, just regular plain old Ashkenazi. His father is Sefardi, Syrian Jew, who grew up in Egypt. Yaakov Shwekey lived in Israel, went to a Chafetz Chaim school in Rochester, New York, then studied in the Lakewood Yeshiva and now lives in Deal. When he sings, he vacillates between sounding like an Israeli with a TAF and a yeshiva guy with a SAF. In other words, he represents all Jews that are not Yekkes. So yes, Yekke or Shwekey.
I know, it’s not great. But the alternative words that rhyme with Yekke that I could come up with were Becky, Techie, and Keki, which apparently is a Japanese cake. So I’m kind of stuck and we’re just going to go with it. Also, it’s cold outside, my family is in New York for Shabbos, and I’m trying to find any way to avoid talking about ICE on a Bar Mitzvah Shabbos, so cut me slack.
Let’s do a practice round –
Coming on time to a Jewish wedding. Yekke or Shwekey?
That was a trick question. Yekke’s actually come early.
But you get the point. Right? Here we go –
Wrapping the Torah with an oversized scrunchy and an impossible-to-link repurposed belt loop from the 19th century. Yekke or Shwekey?
You may have noticed, if you were actually inside during Hagbah and Glilah, that today, our Torah was wrapped with a very long linen cloth that was designed beautifully by Jesse’s cousins. This Yekke wrap is called a Wimpel.
The custom of the Wimpel is traced back to the Maharil, a 14th century German rabbi who the story goes, was once at a Bris when the Mohel realized he forgot to bring a cloth to wrap the baby’s wound. Whoops. Brace yourself – The Maharil, realizing the baby was in danger, instructed the Mohel to take the wrap from the torah scroll and use it as a bandage for the baby. This somewhat bizarre incident evolved into German Jews placing a linen cloth under the baby who is getting a Bris Milah. I kid you not.
Actually, this baby grew up and wrote a memoir about his experiences. He called it, Diary of a Wimpel Kid… Sorry.
After the bris, they beautify the cloth with all sorts of designs, and on the child’s 3rd birthday, the child is brought to shul wrapped in the wimple and together with his father, they use it for Gelilah. The wimple is then used for the child’s Bar Mitzvah, like we did today, and again, at his Aufruf, which we look forward to celebrating. Weird backstory. Beautiful minhag.
I find it kind of poetic that the most famous Jewish German custom revolves around tying something up really tight. Sort of like the Jewish German personalities…
Fun fact: The name Motzen comes from a German village where my family probably originated from. Don’t kill me. I’m one of you.
Okay, here’s another one: Waiting 3 hours between a meat meal and a dairy meal. Yekke or Shwekey?
My daughters have already informed me that they will be marrying German Jews so they don’t have to wait so long between meat and milk. Where does this custom come from?
The Talmud tells us that after eating a meal of meat, you can only eat dairy at the next meal. Now for most people in the ancient world, they had two meals and there were approximately six hours between those meals. Hence, the six hour wait time that most of us Shwekey’s wait between meat and milk.
In Germany, they had different meal habits. In Germany, there were five meals a day. It would start with fruhstuck, breakfast. Continue with, please bear with me, zwischenmahlzeit, some form of an in-between meal. Then they’d have mittagessen, lunch. Then they’d have kaffe and kuchen, which is… coffee and cake. And then they’d have abendbrodt, dinner. Do the math. There were five meals with approximately three hours between each meal. This is why Yekkes only wait 3 hours.
While my ancestors were living in poverty, eating potatoes and meat for brunch and potatoes and milk for dinner, our German friends were eating like kings five times a day! And they’re the ones who get the 3-hour wait time. Talk about white privilege.
Next question – Not wearing Tefilin on Chol Hamoed. Yekke or Shwekey?
This one is fascinating and rather controversial.
There is a Biblical obligation for men to wear Tefillin every day with the exception of Shabbos and holidays. There is no Talmudic source that says Chol Hamoed, the days between holidays, is included in the no-tefillin days. On the contrary, it is quite clear that one should be wearing Tefilin on Chol Hamoed. But there is a book, one of the most influential books in Jewish literature known as the Zohar, and in the Zohar we are instructed not to wear Tefillin on Chol Hamoed.
What do you do when there is a contradiction between the Talmud and the Zohar?
It depends. It depends on how you perceive the Zohar. The Zohar is a book of Jewish mysticism. Its main thesis is trying to balance our belief in a G-d that is completely beyond our comprehension with a belief in a G-d who has a personal relationship with each and every one of us. It’s a beautiful, deep, and inspiring work.
The Zohar purports to be written by Rav Shimon bar Yochai, a student of the famous Rabbi Akiva, and who lived in the second century. And yet, it was only first published in the 13th century. The reason for this gap is that the Zohar was meant to be a secret collection of teachings that were passed on orally from teacher to student. It was deemed unfit for the masses as there are complicated ideas in the Zohar; ideas which flirt with heresy, and ideas that if misused can lead the masses astray. The most well-known example of this is the false Messiah, Shabtai Tzvi, who corrupted many ideas found in the Zohar to lend himself legitimacy, and caused an incredible amount of harm to the Jewish People.
The thing is that not everyone believed that the Zohar was written by Rav Shimon bar Yochai. Some argued that not only was it a forgery but many ideas found in the Zohar were incorrect and incompatible with Judaism. One such person wrote a book that analyzed the Zohar chapter by chapter, demonstrating how certain ideas could not possibly have been written in the 2nd century, could not have been written in Israel where Rav Shimon bar Yochai lived, and that many of the ideas found in the Zohar are just plain wrong. The author was a man by the name of Rav Yaakov Emden, probably the leading Torah scholars of the 18th century, and as you may have guessed by now, a German Jew.
And so, German Jews, do not adopt customs that are found in the Zohar, certainly not ones that contradict something found in the Talmud. German Jews will therefore wear Tefilin on Chol Hamoed. Most of the rest of us Shwekeys will not wear Tefilin on Chol Hamoed.
Last question – Overly serious, never smile, judgmental, and never exhibiting any emotions. Yekke or Shwekey?
They say Yekkes don’t bottle up emotions, they file them away in labeled folders.
And this is where Jesse Sipple and his family come along.
Jesse Sipple, who has a Wimple and waits three hours between meat and milk and will wear Tefillin on Chol Hamoed, he creates games. Fun games. Yes, they have a lot of rules. But there is a good chance sometime in the next decade you will be playing a game made by Jesse Sipple; you’ll be sitting around with family and friends and laughing and having a good time. And that’s exactly what goes on in the Sipple home all the time. If you ever see the Sipple children they always have a genuine joyful smile on their face because they live in a home with rules, yes, but also a beautiful sense of joy.
There’s more – Although the Sipple family, in good old Germanic fashion, had this Bar Mitzvah planned for quite some time, the entire plan was almost disrupted. Last week I received a frantic call from a family who often davens here, who were planning on having their Bar Mitzvah in Israel. Only that between the fear of an Iranian attack and an insane storm disrupting flights, it did not look like this would happen. They called me asking if they could have the Bar Mitzvah at Ner Tamid. I explained to them that we already have a Bar Mitzvah planned, but I offered to ask the Sipple family what they thought. I sent a message to Naomi and Ian and a little while later I got the reply: Jesse said that he would be very happy to split his Shabbos with this other boy to allow him to have a Bar Mitzvah.
It was beautiful but I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t surprised because anyone who knows Jesse knows that he is one of the most thoughtful, kind boys you will meet. But also because his parents are the most thoughtful and kind people you will meet. As one small example – whenever there is anyone looking for a meal for Shabbos or Yom Tov, I know I could always count on the Sipple’s to host them.
So thank you, Jesse and the whole Sipple family, for destroying those German stereotypes with your joy and warmth.
***
The Medrash teaches us that when the sea split, it actually divided into twelve separate lanes. Each tribe was given their own lane to travel. This wasn’t just done to enable better traffic patterns, it was done to symbolize that there is more than one legitimate path in Judaism. The Mei’am Loez adds a fascinating detail – the walls between the different tribes were translucent. What this teaches us is that each Jew recognized they had their own path in Avodas Hashem, and at the very same time, they saw and appreciated that other Jews had their own different path in serving G-d that was appropriate for them.
So whether you are a Yekke, a Shwekey, a Beckie, or a techie, there is a path for you, a path for each and every one of us.
Jesse, we hope and pray that you find yours, and that we all find ours, and that all of us to learn to appreciate the path of others.
Good Shabbos. Shabbat Shalom. And as they say in Germany, a guter Shabbis.
