by Ner Tamid | Nov 15, 2025 | Sermons
Welcome to the most boring Shabbos of the year!
Hear me out –
We are in the month of Cheshvan. Some called this month Mar Cheshvan, bitter Cheshvan, because in contrast to every other Jewish month, there are no inspiring holidays, no special rituals. Inspiration dies in Cheshvan. Some may say bitter, I prefer boring.
We just read a parsha of which the bulk consists of Eliezer traveling to find a shidduch for Yitzchak. The Torah reports this story not once, but twice, in painstaking detail. Booooring.
And then the main character of the story is Yitzchak. Avraham is the brave and kind revolutionary, Yaakov is the man who overcomes every conceivable challenge, and Yitzchak… Yitzchak does nothing.
He is passive in the Akeidah; he obediently allows his father to bind him up. When it comes to dating, he doesn’t even bother swiping to the right or left, he just sends his servant, Eliezer, to do all the work for him. In next week’s parsha he digs a number of wells – that almost sounds exciting, just that the Torah goes out of its way to inform us that the wells he digs are actually the same exact wells dug by his father. Bo-ring.
You know what else is boring?
Ner Tamid is boring.
There is a new shul opening every few months in Baltimore. And there is something exciting about being ‘new.’ In our backyard there is a minyan called the New Minyan. I heard there’s another shul opening next month called, the Even Newer Minyan (joking). But there are so many new and fresh and exciting Jewish projects and institutions all over this city – which I happen to think is wonderful. Compared to them, an institution that has been around for 70 years – we’re the old minyan, the really old and boring minyan.
So yes, this is the most boring Shabbos of the year, focused on the most boring character, with the most repetition, during the most boring month, in the most boring shul.
Our Sages have a profound take on boring.
There is a Tannaic debate found in the introduction to Ein Yaakov – what is the most important verse in the Torah? One Tanna says it’s Shema, another says it is the verse that speaks of man being created in G-d’s image, yet another says, love your neighbor like yourself. Shimon Ben Pazzi, not a very well-known Tanna, says that the most important verse is, “You shall offer one sheep in the morning, and a second sheep in the afternoon.” What is known as the Korban Tamid, the daily offering. Compared to shema, tzelem Elokim, and loving your neighbor, I would consider a daily sheep as the epitome of baaa-ring. (Sorry)
After quoting the different views, the author of Ein Yaakov declares the opinion of Ben Pazzi to be correct – the most important verse in the Torah is the one that speaks of an offering brought consistently every single day. It is not just the most important verse; it is the essence of Judaism.
Rabbi Sacks explains: “Much of Judaism must seem to outsiders, and sometimes to insiders also, boring, prosaic, mundane, repetitive, routine, obsessed with details, and bereft for the most part of drama or inspiration.”
We can all relate to this. How often do we struggle with Judaism because it doesn’t give us the high and excitement we’re yearning?
Rabbi Sacks continues: “Yet that is precisely what writing the novel, composing the symphony, directing the film, perfecting the killer app, or building a billion-dollar business is, most of the time. It is a matter of hard work, focused attention, and daily rituals. That is where all sustainable greatness comes from.”
Yitzchak may not be a revolutionary or face terrible challenges, but it’s actually much harder to maintain momentum when there is no adrenaline. There may be a lot of repetition in this week’s parsha but the Korban Tamid – which represents repetition – is how we develop new skills and behaviors. Cheshvan may be a month without any special days, but it’s the daily grind that brings out our greatness.
This Shabbos, we are celebrating the engagement of Chana Herzog and Chanan Oshry, we are celebrating the recent birth of a baby girl, Gavriella Esther, to Kochava and Joey Kallan, and the birth and naming of Nova Shiri to Pini and Adrienne Zimmerman. Mazel Tov! All very exciting. These milestones are wonderful and worthy of celebration. But the real joy of marriage is not the exciting engagement party or wedding, it’s the day in and day out, it’s sitting next to your spouse in silence and feeling content, it’s running a household together and always being there for one another. The real joy of parenthood is not the birthday parties. It’s the relationship that develops over years of ups and downs, of hugs and fights and hugs again. Relationships may begin in the state of excitement, but they survive if the parties involved learn the special beauty of boring.
The same is true for a shul. When a shul is around for seven months, that is exciting, but when a shul is around for 70 years, that makes it real. To overcome the inevitable dips of attrition and not fold, to allow for new cultures and social trends to slowly shape a community, to not lose sight of the goal – of being a center and community for Jewish growth for that many years, Ner Tamid like the Korban Tamid speaks to the essence of Judaism.
Before I joined Ner Tamid I would alternate between 4 or five shuls. Sometimes I wanted a little more singing, I went to shul A, sometimes I wanted a more inspiring sermon, I went to shul B, sometimes I didn’t want to see anyone I knew, I went to shul C. It kept things exciting. But for the past 12 years, I have gone to Ner Tamid almost every day of my life, day in and day out. One could argue that it’s boring being part of the same shul for so many years.
But I would disagree.
Though we have maintained the same character over the years, the shul has more than doubled in size over the past few years. At the same time, we have held on to that sense of community, and even family, and that is something I deeply value.
Far more importantly, though we continue to focus on the core values that we focused on 12 years ago, the spiritual engagement has tripled, quadrupled, and more. Weekday minyan is no longer a struggle. From one weekly class to many daily classes, from a handful of people studying Torah to a majority of the congregation doing so daily. The davening gets more and more energized by the month. I have grown together with the shul community and I feel like it’s a part of who I am.
It may be boring to be a member of the oldest shul in the area, it may be boring to be in the same shul for so long, it may not feel as exciting as being somewhere else. But boring, our sages teach us, is where greatness is found. I am grateful to be here every day of the year, I am grateful that each and every one of you have been a part of this, a part of something so exceptionally great. And I am excited to continue to grow our beloved shul together for many years to come.
As you know, tomorrow is our big fundraiser. Ner Tamid has been a rock in the lives of so many, good times, bad times, and everything in between, providing consistent reminders of our values and what we should aspire to. So if I could ask each and every one of you to participate in whatever way you can – even a few dollars. Let’s invest in our beloved shul ensuring that this boring old place will continue to inspire, comfort, and lead for decades to come.
by Ner Tamid | Nov 8, 2025 | Sermons
In the early 13th century, a fire erupted in the Jewish world. Not a literal fire, but a controversy that led to name-calling, attempted excommunications, and the banning of books. The debate revolved around the philosophical bend of the Rambam, Maimonides. Eventually though, the machlokes reached such a pitch that actual book burnings took place in France. Jews, who were opposed to the Rambam, turned to the Christian authorities, claiming his books were heresy, and in 1233, in a public square in Paris, wagonloads of Moreh Nevuchim, the Rambam’s masterful work, were gleefully burned by Dominican monks.
In the late 18th century, a different controversy rocked the Jewish world. An upstart movement, Chassidus, began to sweep across Europe. Many were vehemently opposed to the practices and ideology of this new movement and felt that it was a grave threat to the continuity of Judaism. Once again, name-calling led to excommunications, which led to Jews informing the authorities. At the height of this controversy, opponents of the Chassidim turned to the Russian government, claiming that Rav Shneur Zalman of Liadi, one of the leaders of the Chassidim, was involved in illegal activity and had him thrown in jail on trumped-up charges.
Today, it’s honestly hard to imagine how these movements and ideas were so controversial. The books of the Rambam are found in every Yeshiva. Chassidim and non-Chassidim are best of friends. What happened? How did these groups, who at one point were ready to burn books and throw people in deathly jails, move on and make peace?
There are many factors, and I don’t mean to oversimplify a complex historical process. But there are two people who I’d like to highlight who should receive the lion’s share of credit. The first is Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, the Ramban. He stood between the breach, lobbied both sides of the Moreh Nevuchim controversy, the rationalists and the mystics, and eventually got everyone to appreciate the concerns of the other side. His diplomacy led to a thaw in the dispute and with time, it faded into the history bin. The second was Rav Shnueur Zalman of Liadi himself. Despite being thrown into jail, he held his followers back from retribution, met with leaders of the other opposition, and within a generation, Chassidim and Misnagdim, were marrying their children to one another.
Today, our Orthodox world is being rocked by a new controversy. It is thankfully not here in the US, but our Orthodox brothers and sisters are fighting bitterly over the question of the Charedi draft. Both sides see the other as an existential threat. Last week, 100,000 Chareidim took to the streets, some of them employing forceful language, and bringing parts of the country to a standstill. The response, much of it from the Daati Leumi community, was fast and heavy. As students of Jewish history, we know how dangerous rhetoric can be.
Who will be our Ramban to negotiate a resolution? Who will be our Rav Shneur Zalman of Liadi to calm his respective side?
Rabbi Moshe Hauer was attempting to bridge that divide. But he is no longer with us.
I can only speak for myself when I say, I have no grand ideas. I can only speak for myself when I say that I struggle mightily to understand the Chareidi position. I can only speak for myself when I say that my heart breaks a thousand times over for the families who have been impacted so devastatingly by the war, and I am filled with infinite gratitude to those who serve. In my humble opinion, every able-bodied individual in Israel should serve in the army or in national service; a wholesale exemption to an entire community is impossible for me to wrap my head around. I also believe the State of Israel must do a better job accommodating the religious needs of the Charedi community – something they have failed to do repeatedly. And I also believe that there must be a group, a limited group, of Torah scholars, made up of Chareidim and non-Chareidim, based on some objective criteria, who are given the opportunity to study Torah undisturbed, because that is a critical component of our Jewish identity.
How do we get there? How do we overcome the entrenched views, fortified by politics and years of mistrust? I don’t have a clue.
But I do know that I have a choice.
I could choose to add fuel to this fire. I could write and post about the flaws of Chareidi society and add hatred to this inferno.
But when I think of the great leaders of our people, the Ramban, Rav Shneur Zalman of Liadi, Rabbi Hauer, I don’t think that’s what I am supposed to be doing.
Instead, not as a resolution, but as a tiny step forward to ensuring the continuity of Am Yisrael, I’d like to share what I admire about Charedi society. This is not in any way an explanation for not serving in the army; not at all. But I hope that if we, especially those of us living outside of Israel who don’t have the same skin in this fight, are able to appreciate the other side just a little more, maybe just maybe by walking in the footsteps of our great leaders, our grandchildren will be able to look back at this time, and as crazy as this may sound, they too will wonder, what was this controversy all about?
So here are a few things I admire:
- I admire their family size. Bringing children into this world is one of the most mind-blowing gifts that G-d gave humankind. While Halacha allows for birth control, Charedi society places a premium on large families. They choose to bring children, a lot of Jewish children, into this world. While those blessed with the ability to bear children in the rest of the Orthodox world weigh considerations like finances and other priorities before having more children, this society is willing to live in two-bedroom apartments, with limited means, so they could bring more life into this world. That’s a choice they make, and it’s a noble one.
- I admire their modesty standards. Two weeks ago, Hindy and I were in Israel, walking on Shabbos from one side of Jerusalem to the other. Invariably we got lost. Many times. Much of our walk took us through Charedi communities. When we stopped a man for directions, he addressed himself to me. When we stopped a woman for directions, she addressed herself to Hindy. That is not my approach to modesty, it is not demanded according to the Shulchan Aruch, and yes, there is an underbelly to some of these practices. But there is certainly what to admire in a group of people who recognize that the sexual mores in the rest of the Orthodox world are far from ideal and who instead strive for greater modesty.
- I admire their aversion to the outside world. I would not be able to handle it. But if I was being honest with myself, I really have to wonder, who is better off, the cultured, news-immersed, me, or the individual, yearning for purity, who refuses to get a smartphone?
- Lastly, I not only admire, but I am envious of their attrition rates. According to some studies, 94% of those raised Charedi identify as being Orthodox whereas 54% of those raised Daati Leumi, Religious Zionist, remain Orthodox. For all the flaws, and there are many, they are doing something right.
There is a puzzling section in our parsha. Lot, Avraham’s nephew, the man who rejected Avraham’s way of life, is saved from the city of Sedom. He is instructed by angels to run to the mountains where he will be safe. Lot refuses. לֹא אוּכַל לְהִמָּלֵט הָהָרָה. I can’t do it. Why not? His life is on the line. Why can’t he make it to the mountain?
The Medrash Rabbah shares a frightening psychological insight. When the angels encouraged Lot to run to the mountain, it wasn’t just any mountain. They were directing him to return to Avraham who lived on that mountain. And of course, Lot could have made it to the mountain. But Lot said to himself: “As long as I live away from Avraham, I could feel good about myself. I am a good person compared to those who live around me. But with Avraham, the great and righteous Avraham, I feel small. I am reminded of all the areas that I am failing in.”
“I know that my life is on the line, but living with Avraham, seeing that commitment to G-d that I don’t live by, I can’t do that. I rather take my chances.”
I have what I’d like to believe to be rational and objective issues with the Charedi lifestyle. But is it possible that part of what fuels my feelings towards this society a little bit of Lot’s discomfort? Is it that I feel judged, not by them, but by myself, because when I see them, it reminds me that I could do more, and I’m not?
I do not plan on changing my lifestyle drastically. I firmly believe in our way of life. It is guided by the Torah and guided by a firm tradition in Jewish thought, and we should not be ashamed of the way we live; we should be proud. But I have room to grow, I have things to learn from Charedim, and I think I, and the world would be better off, if instead of highlighting all the flaws, my Shabbos table and conversations with friends, instead focus on the things we admire.
Rav Yaakov Kaminetsky was one of the leading American Torah scholars of the last generation. Towards the end of his life, he visited Israel. He was quite old and very frail. He was invited to speak in many institutions, but he turned them all down. But there was one place he wanted to speak in, a small, unimportant yeshiva by the name of Kol Yaakov. I never heard of this place, I only know of its existence because Rabbi Frand once shared this story. Apparently, Kol Yaakov was the first yeshiva in Israel to allow both Ashkenazim and Sefardim to study together in a way that respected both of their traditions.
When he got up to speak, he shared the following message:
“My entire life I wanted to greet Moshiach. I now feel that I won’t have this merit; I don’t feel that I’ll live much longer. But if I cannot greet Moshiach, at least I want to be among a group of people that I know for sure, will be among those who greet Moshiach. I know that this Yeshiva will be among those that will greet him.”
We may not greet Mashiach, we may not live to see peace between the different segments of Jews living in Israel, something which I hope our children or grandchildren will merit to see. But if we cannot greet Mashiach, let’s at least be among the group of people who helped pave the way.
by Ner Tamid | Nov 2, 2025 | Sermons
On November 4th, New Yorkers will be going to the ballot box, voting for their next mayor. As I’m sure you all know, this is not your regular election. A few days ago, a letter was circulated, it was signed by over 1000 rabbis from all over the country who strongly encouraged New Yorkers to not vote for the leading candidate, Zohran Mamdani. They stated that “safety and dignity of Jews in every city” were endangered by Mamdani’s rhetoric. They were referring to many comments that he has made, such as, “We have to make clear that when the boot of the NYPD is on your neck, it’s been laced by the IDF.” Or his refusal to condemn Hamas or even to acknowledge that Hamas should put down their arms.
As the New York Times reports, in response, “a coalition of left-wing American Jewish groups critical of Israel released its own letter rejecting the “attempts by some legacy Jewish institutions” to silence “progressive and anti-Zionist voices” within the Jewish community. Another set of rabbis signed a third letter noting that Islamophobia is also on the rise and “Jewish safety cannot be built on Muslim vulnerability.” A video recently went viral, consisting of four people wearing ‘Rabbis for Mamdani’ t-shirts.
I’ve been trying to wrap my head around this phenomenon. Without simply being dismissive of a good percentage of the Jewish population, can we convey our concerns about electing Mamdani with an attempt to understand and to persuade, and not just to dismiss and denigrate?
When we speak stridently, we strengthen our base, but we do not change anyone’s mind. The Maharal writes that early on in Avraham’s life, he would debate people over their belief in idolatry, he would, as the famous Medrash teaches us, break the idols of his neighbors. It didn’t get him anywhere; monotheism did not take off using that approach. It’s only when he opened his tent, it’s only when he engaged people in dialogue, it’s only when he cared for others, that Hashem’s Name became known to the world.
In that spirit, I’d like to share an open letter this morning to our brothers and sisters who plan on voting for Zohran Mamdani. While no one in this room is voting in the New York city elections, this message is not limited to New York. There is a growing rift in our community, growing wider every day. We need to figure out how to have a healthy dialogue, and this is my small attempt at doing so.
Dear Jewish Mamdani Supporters,
I write this letter to you clouded with emotions. It is impossible for me to talk about Israel and the safety of the Jewish people without emotion, especially as the dust from the October 7th attacks have not yet settled, especially as the bodies of some our family members are still in Gaza.
I know that you too cannot have this conversation without emotion. You have seen imagery of the devastation of many Gazans who were caught in the crossfire of a war they did not want. While we will argue about whose reports to believe and how may actually died, there is no doubt that innocents were killed, and that is tragic.
I commend your care and concern for people beyond your immediate circles. These values, such as every human life is precious, or that we should care about all of humankind – not just those in our immediate circles, are born out of our shared tradition. The notion of Tzelem Elokim and Tikkun Olam are values that we both inherited from our shared ancestors. Your universalism is something I admire. It’s an area that my community can learn from you and grow in.
However, that same shared value system, our Torah, also teaches us about priorities. If a person cares about their neighbor and not their own brother or sister, that is a moral failing. While all people are equal before G-d, we are responsible for our family before we are responsible for others. When Avram was informed that his nephew, Lot, was a captive of war, Avram did not first dispassionately analyze who started the war. He heard his nephew was in danger, he immediately armed himself and rescued him. Mind you, Avram and Lot did not get along, but Avram taught us and the Torah later codified, that family comes first. If you were being attacked, even though you and I likely do not agree about many things, I would drop everything and come to your defense, and I hope you would do the same for me. Because that’s what family does for one another; that is the value system of our heritage.
It would be nice if we could care about everyone equally, but in the real world, life gets messy, and we have to make morally complex decisions. Will innocent Gazans die when Israel defends itself against Hamas? Yes. But the alternative is Hamas remaining in power and, as they have publicly stated, endless October 7th attacks. Our tradition teaches us that we are first responsible to family.
Right now, our family, whether it is our Israeli cousins who are being ostracized by the international community just because they have an Israeli passport, the young Jew on campus who is afraid to acknowledge her faith publicly, or the Jew on the street who is forced to look at his surroundings before walking down the streets of New York – our family needs us right now, our family is in danger.
My dear brothers and sisters, I understand that you may be bothered, maybe even embarrassed by Zionism, the notion of self-determination that is expressed in a Jewish state. Mamdani does not believe such a state should exist; it’s undemocratic. And while Israel is one of the safest places for Muslims to live freely in the Middle East, it is true, that by ensuring that there remain a Jewish majority, there is something undemocratic about the State of Israel.
But let’s make a few things clear – if the solution to the conflict in Israel is a one-state solution, there is no doubt that it will not remain a democracy of any form. Look at Gaza, look at the West Bank. Does it make sense to be antizionist and bring Israel down for the sake of an Islamic state?
But more importantly, and more close to home, what is the alternative? I know that Mamdani may not get this, but you and I who share a history know how precarious it is to be a Jew. Where do we go when the next country turns its back on us? A pure democracy is great, but as a Jew with a rudimentary knowledge of Jewish history, my survival is far more important. Zionism is not an ideology; it’s a matter of survival.
My brothers and sisters, I imagine you are wondering to yourself, what’s the big deal that Mamdani is an anti-Zionist? He has made many statements committing to the safety of Jewish New Yorkers and has spoken out strongly against antisemitism.
I agree with you – criticizing Israel and Israeli policies is not antisemitic. If it were, half of Israel would be considered antisemites. We too fight tooth and nail over what the State of Israel should and should not do. I too struggle to define what is and what is not an antisemitic remark.
What troubles me about Mamdani’s remarks, and frankly, what scares me, is the absurd double-standards that he and so many others have when it comes to Israel, what troubles and scares me is the myopic view of the conflict that ignores so much history.
Why not the Uyghurs? Why not the Sudanese? Why not anyone else?
And why are we only focusing on what happened on October 8th and forgetting what precipitated the response? Why are we ignoring the Israeli governments who offered to help establish Palestinian states twice in the past twenty years and both times were rejected by Palestinian leaders? And yes, why are we ignoring our connection to the land that goes all the way back to the year 1949 BCE when Avraham started living in the land of Israel?
The Soviets, who came up with this antizionist antisemitism split, claimed that they were not one and the same. We hate Zionists they told us, not the Jews. I don’t think there is anyone who still believes that the Soviets were not rabid antisemites. How do we keep falling for the same trick?
You know who does not fall for this trick? The thug on the street does not stop the Jew he is about to beat and ask him his views on Zionism. They understand very clearly that when people paint Zionists as evil it simply means Jews.
And it’s not just words. Again, I don’t expect others to understand this, but I hope you, my brothers and sisters, do. Our great-grandparents, after being exiled from our homeland, Israel, two thousand years ago, traveled the world. Sometimes the countries that hosted us treated us pretty well. Some of our greatest collective memories took place under Islamic rule. But for much of those two thousand years, we were persecuted, exiled, executed, and massacred. And one lesson we learned is that violent acts do not happen in a vacuum. There is a process. It may start as something benign, but it evolves into something that is deathly. As Heinrich Heine ominously wrote, “In a place they burn books, they will also burn people.” When one group of people is singled-out time and time again, when they are continuously vilified, the leap to violence is a small one. We are seeing this, day in and day out, on the streets of New York.
And so my brothers and sisters, this is not about politics. I don’t care if you vote Democrat, Republican, progressive, liberal, independent, or conservative. This is not about Islamophobia; I share with you a dream of world peace, especially with our Arab neighbors, our cousins. But I also share with you a history that can and must inform us. I also share a destiny that will forever bind us. I am concerned about you, I am concerned about us, about the short and long-term implications that your vote will have on New York Jews and Jews across the country. Though I have absolute faith in G-d’s promise of the eternal existence of our people, we have a responsibility to look at for our family, in Israel, and here in the United States. The stakes are far greater than housing and affordability. Your vote will directly impact the Jewish People’s future, your future, our future.
Regardless of what happens this week, I look forward to continuing our conversation.
With a broken and hopeful heart,
Yisrael Motzen
by Ner Tamid | Oct 26, 2025 | Sermons
Thank you to the entire congregation for all your care and concern this past week; it is deeply appreciated. Many of you have asked me to share reflections on Rabbi Hauer’s life, which I hope to do, but not today. One of the most profound lessons the community learned this past week, not from Rabbi Hauer, but from his wife, was from her decision to not let the community know about his passing until after Simchas Torah. There is, as King Shlomo taught us, a time to mourn and a time to celebrate. This Shabbos is a time to celebrate. We have not one, not two, not three, but four people in our congregation who are celebrating their upcoming weddings. I’d like to wish a Mazel Tov to Meir Soskil and Brianna Loshin, Levi Lowenstein and Vicki Dina. Mazel Tov to Bentzion Shamberg and Itta Werdiger, and Mazel Tov to Leizer Seppa and Dani Michanie. Mazel Tov! What a joyous day indeed.
…
I think many of us take marriage as a given, which speaks to the values that many of us grew up with, but especially on a morning like this one, it’s worth highlighting how counter-cultural marriage is. As you all know, the rate of marriages has dropped significantly over the past few decades. In 1949, 79% of Americans were married. Today, approximately, the number has dropped to 47%.
I’m not a sociologist and I’m not going to claim to explain why that is. But in a world flooded with people who do not want to get married, who scorn marriage, I want to highlight some of the values that our tradition stands for that we learn from our parsha.
Value #1 – The purpose of life.
As a child, I was always bothered by the ark. There were so many ways G-d could have saved Noach and the animals. He could have sent him to some distant place away from the floodwaters. He could have told Noach to go home, lock the door behind him, and G-d would ensure he would survive. Let’s be honest, fitting the entire animal kingdom into a ship was nothing short of miraculous, and if that’s the case, why make Noach have to work so hard, feeding the animals for a full year?
There is a beautiful explanation that suggests we are mistaken when we think the purpose of the teivah filled with animals was to save the world. G-d could have done that in any way. The purpose of placing all the animals in this ark was to rebuild the world. “Olam chesed yibaneh, the world is built on kindness.” The world had become corrupt, self-centered, the mighty taking advantage of the weak. To rebuild the world, humankind had to be reminded why we are here; we are here to serve others.
Rabbi Hauer would often quote the words of Rav Chaim Volozhin who used to rebuke his son whenever he saw him focusing only on his own needs, even his own spiritual needs. He would remind him, “Man wasn’t created for himself but to serve others in any way he or she can.”
Abraham Maslow famously describes the hierarchy of human needs and placed self-actualization at the top. His theory, which deeply impacted our society, places my own needs and my own growth at the center of life. In Judaism, that is a step along the way. The highest rung of growth we can attain is not self-actualization, but self-transcendence, when we live our lives dedicated to others.
G-d placed Noach in a teyvah with all these animals so that he could care for them, give to them, live for them, and in doing so recreate what it means to be a human.
The verse that speaks of marriage, “V’hayu l’basar echad, and they will be one flesh,” means, according to the Seforno, that a husband and wife act as one, they become one unit. They live their lives for one another. Inasmuch as every human being will always have their own inner world, to be married means to go from being me to we.
This idea is not only countercultural, it’s really hard. Maybe to live this way for a while, but for a lifetime? A lifetime of giving? It’s exhausting.
Noach himself eventually ran out of steam. He couldn’t maintain this other-focused living. He eventually planted a vineyard and drowned himself in a drunken loneliness. He could no longer care for the animals and he could no longer care for his family.
Which leads us to countercultural idea #2. Judaism teaches us that commitments are more or less forever. Yes, there is a place for divorce, there is a place to cut someone off, but those situations must be so incredibly rare. Avraham, who our sages use as a foil to contrast with Noach, had a nephew, Lot, who he fought with, who he parted ways with, but when Lot needed him, Avraham was there. Dedication, commitment, family is “for keeps.”
I play a little game with my children sometimes – it’s a strange game, I know. I ask them, “What do you think will happen if you do something wrong? Like if you spill all the drinks on the floor. Do you think I will still love you?” Then I up the ante, “What if you burn the house down? Will I still love you?” And then I assure them that yes, I will love you no matter what.
In a world where people cannot talk to one another because they vote differently, in which marriages are no longer until death do us part but until we get bored, Judaism teaches us through models like Avraham, and through G-d Himself, who tells us that no matter what you do, I will love you no matter what.
Countercultural idea #3 – Who comes first?
When the Torah introduces Noach, it states, “These are the children of Noach,” and then instead of listing his children, it speaks of his good deeds. Only in the next verse does it tell us who his children were. Some see this as a praise, but I wonder if the opposite is true. Perhaps, perhaps, the Torah is subtly hinting to the fact that he placed his own accomplishments before his family. Whereas Noach is described as a Tzadik, Avraham is described as a father. Avraham Avinu. Family comes before all.
And this is something I also learned from Rabbi Hauer. He was, hands down, the busiest person I knew. Pick the biggest issues facing the Jewish People, he was at the forefront giving it his all. I would travel with him at the end of a long day, and he would be drained. At the shiva house, a rabbi asked Rebbetzin Hauer how the stress manifested itself in their home. And she said, “You’re not going to like my answer.”
“We didn’t see it,” she said. “He came home and was ecstatic to see us.” His children related that they felt like they were the most important in the world to him. And they were. I watched time and time again, as he would interrupt an important meeting to call his mother in Israel for a daily check-in. I helped him figure out his schedule, how can I be in Israel to moderate a complex issue, in Washington to testify, and yet, be there for my family. I was shocked how he would take calls from his children throughout the day even if they were calling to say hello.
I would wonder, there are weighty issues that need to be dealt with, there are people who are depending on him with global ramifications, is it really right to miss these meetings so he could be home for dinner?
And he would remind me, “There is only one person who is my wife’s husband, there is only one person who is my child’s father. Everything else could be done by other people, except to be there for my family.”
And so he put the world on hold to be a good father, to be a good son, to be a good spouse.
To all those getting married in the upcoming weeks, we wish you Mazel Tov. To all those looking to get married, we pray with you that you find your spouse. To all those who are already married, we hope and pray that we maintain and deepen our relationships. It’s not always easy, it goes against the cultural tides, but our Torah teaches us that living for others is the purpose of life, unbreakable commitment is G-dly, and that family always comes first. “Tzei min hateiva, go out of the Ark,” G-d tells us, “And go rebuild the world.”
by Ner Tamid | Oct 12, 2025 | Sermons
The timing of the hostage release is a gift from G-d. Not only the fact that this war is wrapping up on its two-year anniversary, but the fact that we are already saying Hallel this week is nothing short of historic poetry. “Eim habanim s’meicha, the mother of the children is happy.” Can you imagine the ecstasy Silvia Cunio will experience when she embraces her boys, Ariel and David? Can you imagine the tears of joy that have been withheld for two years by Talya Berman, that will come pouring forth when she sees her twin boys, Gali and Ziv?
“Mei’eis Hashem haysa zos, hi nifla’as b’eineinu, this is from G-d, and it is wondrous in our eyes.” People are literally rubbing their eyes; is this for real? Are they really finally coming home?
And as a sign of these incredible times, the State of Israel gave a uniquely Biblical name for the operation to bring the hostages home. It is a verse from the book of Yirmiyahu, V’shavu banim ligvulam, the children will return to their borders. That’s what we’ve been waiting for, for the children of Israel, the innocent residents of Kibbutzim, the innocent young men and women dancing, the innocent and peace-loving defenders of Israel, to return to their borders and to their loved ones.
We are indeed living in Biblical times.
But if that is the case, it behooves us to read the rest of these Biblical passages.
Yirmiyahu, in that same chapter, describes the Jewish People uniting; how the tribes of Yehuda and Ephraim, two tribes who represented radically divergent worldviews, who split apart and fought often, will be like one, a united Am Yisrael. That prophecy has not yet been fulfilled.
Yirmiyahu, in that same chapter, describes the Jewish People not needing to teach one another Torah, because everyone will be so well-versed in the word of G-d. That prophecy has not yet been fulfilled.
Yirmiyahu, in that same chapter, describes a fully rebuilt Yerushalayim, a place in which the Beis Hamikdash, the Temple, will stand, a city dedicated entirely to G-d. That prophecy has not yet been fulfilled.
Yes, these are Biblical times, and that is worthy of celebrating. But it’s important that we do not lose sight of how far we are from our true destination.
A few years ago, our family drove to Orlando. Despite me telling them that there would be no bathroom breaks the entire drive, Hindy persuaded me to stop the car. We stopped at a rest-stop with a gas station, part of chain called Buc-ee’s Have you ever been there? It’s not a convenience store. It’s a mall. It’s a restaurant, it’s a Home Depot, it’s a Walmart, it’s a gift shop, and seven-11 all wrapped into one.
My kids were in heaven. They were going up and down the aisles, looking for food despite Hindy packing all of Seven Mile into our car, they were looking for gadgets they didn’t need, and for souvenirs from the glorious state of South Carolina. I couldn’t get them to leave. “Aba, do you see that snack selection? We need more time. This is epic!”
And what they could not understand is that if they did not get back in the car, we would never get to the Air BNB with the swimming pool and Kosher restaurants and Disney World. They were so enamored by Buc-ee’s that they didn’t realize that we were not yet at our real destination.
Ladies and gentlemen, we are not there yet.
A united people?! A time when Jews stop fighting with their fellow Jews?!
A learned people?! A time in which all Jews learn Torah and observe the Mitzvos?!
A moral world order?! A time in which the sanctity of life and common decency are part of the fabric of every society?!
A spiritual world order?! A time in which G-d and soul are not weird words that only Evangelical Christians use, but they are a fundamental part of our life?!
We need to get back in the car. We have ways to go.
And it’s not easy to get back in the car. It’s not easy because this current reality is so good; Baruch Hashem, this nightmare seems to be over! But if we are being honest with ourselves, it’s not easy because many of us do not really believe in a Messianic Era. Do you really believe in Mashiach?
I’m not even talking about the fantastical Midrashim about flying shuls, and trees that give forth whatever you wish for. The Rambam rejects a literal reading of those prophecies. What many of us do not believe in and should believe in is that this world can transform to such a degree; that we can have unity, that the world can acknowledge there being one G-d, that there could be world peace and a spiritually-centered civilization.
If I was given the opportunity to name this operation, I would choose a different verse from that same chapter in Yirmiyahu. Ki fada Hashem es Yaakov, u’g’alo miyad chazak mimenu. Those are words that are said daily as part of a blessing – Baruch ata Hashem go’al Yisrael. Blessed are you, Hashem, who redeemed Israel.
There is a law that we are not allowed to interrupt between the blessing of Go’al Yisrael, and the silent Amidah. Many explanations are given as to why that blessing, thanking G-d for redeeming us is juxtaposed with Shemoneh Esrei. Rashi suggests the following: We must remind ourselves first of all past redemptions; from Egypt, from the Greeks, from the Persians, from the Romans, from the Crusaders, from the Nazis, and from too many Arab states to count. We must remind ourselves how this little tiny nation has defied all odds and survived. Not just survived but thrived. That we have a state – a strong and spiritual state. And we say, thank you, Hashem, for redeeming us, for getting us this far! We reflect on our history, both past and present, we deepen our faith in G-d’s abilities, look how far we’ve come! Baruch ata, Hashem, go’al Yisrael! And then after all that reflection – then we pray. Because now that we’ve reflected on our history, we know, and we believe what G-d can do. We ask Him for health, for wealth, and we don’t stop there. We ask him to rebuild Jerusalem, to bring back the Davidic line, to return the shechinah to Tziyon.
We don’t pause between the blessing of Go’al Yisrael and Shemoneh Esrei because we need those reflections of our past to power our faith and allow us to ask G-d for more.
That’s a message I hope to reflect on this coming week; to see what’s unfolding before my eyes, to strengthen my belief in His abilities, and then ask G-d to keep it coming. And I invite you to do the same. Meaning,
When we see secular Jews and Chareidim hand in hand celebrating at Hostage Square, we will say, thank you G-d for bringing us close. Now bring us closer.
When we see so many nations agreeing to the parameters of this peace plan, we will say thank you G-d for giving us a taste of peace. Now give us a world of peace.
When we see politicians quoting the Torah, we will say, thank you G-d for bringing the Torah into our national consciousness. Now bring Torah into our kishkas.
When we see thousands of Jews gathering at the Kotel, we will say, thank you G-d for giving us the Har Habayit. Now give us the Bayit.
When we see mothers reuniting with their sons, we will say, thank you G-d for bringing them home. Now bring us ALL home.
Baruch ata Hashem, go’al Yisrael.
