Cheshbon Hanefesh: A SWOT of Ner Tamid

by Ner Tamid | Sep 21, 2025 | Sermons

In 1812, a small Jewish book was published by Rabbi Menachem Mendel Levin, titled, Cheshbon Hanefesh, Spiritual Accounting. It became a classic, studied in many yeshivos and beyond, really anyone looking to develop their character and track it, would turn to this small guide. He acknowledges in his introduction that it is not an original method, and he “borrowed” it from someone else, but he does not tell us who. It turns out the man behind this method is none other than Benjamin Franklin. Though Franklin was a deist and did not believe in an all-knowing and caring G-d, he still believed in taking stock of who we are and how we are doing morally and ethically.

I’ve never read the book, but I do love its title – Spiritual Accounting. Life is so busy, so distracting, that it’s hard to stop and assess if we’ve grown or if our spiritual stock has gone down, if we’re closer to our life goals or if we’ve lost sight of them. Most of us rarely do a spiritual accounting. But G-d in His infinite kindness gave us a season for Cheshbon Hanefesh. These next weeks are a special time for introspection.

Now Cheshbon Hanefesh is exceptionally subjective and personal; one person’s growth is another person’s failure. But there is also a collective spiritual accounting that should take place every year. We should ask ourselves, as a nation, how are we doing? Which way are we trending? And it’s also important to do as a community, and that’s what I’d like to do this morning, to make a Cheshbon Hanefesh for our shul, for Ner Tamid. How are we doing? Which way are we trending?

In the corporate world, there is a simple assessment, far simpler than the one promoted by Benjamin Franklin, called a SWOT. You review the Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats – SWOT.

So let’s start with STRENGTHS: One of the greatest strengths of our shul is its friendliness and warmth; people come here and feel seen, feel accepted, and that is precious. It’s one of the things that makes our shul so attractive. However, and here we venture into WEAKNESS territory, as the shul grows, as there are more and more people here on a Shabbos morning, it gets harder to say hello to every new person.

As you can see on the front of our bulletin, 35 membership units joined this year. Half of those units are families, half of those units are singles. Half of those units are older than 40, the other half are younger. I would describe that as exceptional growth. Baruch Hashem! And yet, I was just speaking to someone who told me he came to the shul twice in the past two months and I totally missed him. I don’t think I’m the only one. We are all missing people every Shabbos who are new to the shul or almost new to the shul. If what attracted us to this shul was its warmth, if what makes us proud of our shul is the friendliness, then we really need to strengthen our great strength.

I was just speaking to a colleague who was commenting on how important kiddush is. We have such limited human interaction these days and kiddush is the few minutes every week that people have a chance to just shmooze. It makes so much sense that we want to get together with our friends and catch up. But can we take two minutes every Shabbos before we join our friends to look around and say hello to a stranger?

Being a diverse, welcoming, caring, come-as-you-are shul is so rare these days. We have something so precious going on for us. We can also do better. And so I asked Jeff to order many more red cups. If you are new to the shul, and for this Shabbos only, if you joined the shul anytime in the past year, please pick up a red cup. And everyone else, you know what to do. Let’s find those red cups and give our new friends a proper Ner Tamid welcome.

Le’s now move on to our Weaknesses.

Two years ago, if you were to ask me what a weakness of the shul is, I would say, Torah learning. There was not too much of it going on, it was just not our strength. The past two years have been mind-blowing. The amount of men, women, and teens, learning in our shul daily is off the charts. Show of hands, who learned more these past two years than they have over the past decade?

Each of you have elevated the shul immeasurably; the collective knowledge base of the shul – the questions I’ve been getting the past two years have really made me sweat! (I never learned Zevachim! Stop asking me questions on the daf!) The model for the children watching adults study. It is nothing short of a spiritual revolution in these walls. Torah learning is no longer a weakness; it is a strength!

But there is a weakness I do want to focus on. Last year, on Rosh Hashana, I spoke about prayer. I put my heart and soul into writing a sermon on the topic. The takeaway was, we are going to work on prayer as a community; louder davening and more heartfelt prayer. I even committed to writing a weekly piece on prayer. I stopped a few weeks in and you know how many people reached out to tell me they missed it? Zero. That’s not your fault, that is my fault. The entire initiative flopped.

More people come to services but that’s not what I was focusing on. The energy level, the participation, the sense of connection to the tefilos does not feel very different than it was last year.

I’ve been wondering why. Why when we encouraged people to learn Torah, which takes a lot of brainpower and time, so many people jumped in, and when it came to increasing the energy for davening – which you’re here for anyway! it fizzled.

Recently someone told me about a fascinating book called, “Change or Die”. The book opens with the example of individuals suffering from serious and terminal diseases that had been brought on by lifestyle choices that they can still change – but they don’t. Their doctors tell them, “If you want to stop the course of your heart disease before it kills you, then you have to stop smoking, stop drinking, stop overeating, start exercising, and relieve your stress.” But very few do. Even two years after bypass surgery, 90% of the patients have not changed the lifestyle that brought on the disease. Facts, fear, and even force do not get people to implement lasting change.

There is one thing that works. If they join a group committed to the same goal they succeed.

That’s the magic sauce. Joining a group of people committed to the same goal.

There is a delightful and sometimes annoying WhatsApp chat for our shul in which people post when they learn. For example, on Thursday, Gabe Lewin, David Maine, Marc Berman, Bruce Blumenthal, Ilene Heneson, Howard Elbaum, and Gavi Deppin posted that they learned a page of Zevachim for Daf Yomi, Ken and Susan Besser posted they learned the Daf, Nach Yomi, and Live the Blessing, Tova Friedman, Max Shapiro, and Adina B, posted that they did Amud Yomi. People like Sandra Burstyn, Adam Plunka, Joel Carter, and Tamar Frydman always make the rest of feel like we could do better as they list DY, AY, MY, NY, and LTB. There are more people, but you get it.

The point is that we are working together as a group, we are part of something, and as all the research indicates, when you do something together, your chances of success are so much higher.

So allow me to do public teshuva. I tried to enhance the davening of our shul last year and I fell short. Let me try again and present to you an opportunity of a lifetime.

To pray with real intention is not easy. They say a story about the Baal Shem Tov, the founder of the Chassidic movement, how his followers once approached him. There was a new rabbi that everyone was talking about, they said he was a miracle worker who had solutions for everything. They asked the Baal Shem Tov how to test him to see if he was legit. The Baal Shem Tov said, “Ask him for a method to have perfect kavannah, perfect intention during prayer. If he says he has a method, he’s a fraud. There is no such thing.”

It’s hard but we often make a mistake and think that if we can’t focus, if we don’t understand all the words, or don’t know when to stand or bow, or we do but we have a hard time concentrating, then davening is not for us. That is false.

Prayer is described as avodah she’b’lev, it is the service of the heart, and every one of us have a heart. The highest level of prayer is to pour our hearts out to G-d, with sincerity. We all have the capacity. What we need are reminders to nudge us along. What we really need is a community of people doing the same thing.

So here’s the opportunity. With a big thank you to Ari Weiss, the new book that we are going to be studying as a shul is not about Lashon Hara or about making peace. It is about prayer. Some pieces will speak to you, others won’t. It doesn’t matter! The main thing is that it will give you a little nudge. The books are free and the new cycle starts Rosh Hashana. And then, after Shabbos, I beg of you, join our whatsapp chat and post when you learn. Because when we do this together, it will work.

To round out our analysis, I am supposed to share a threat. But there is none. The Medrash (Shir Hashirim) records G-d as saying to us, “P’sach li p’sach shel machat, open a small tiny hole in your heart, the size of a needle, ve’Ani potei’ach lachem petachim shetiheyu agalot nichnasot bo,” and I will rip your harts so wide open that wagons can travel through them.” There is nothing standing before us; we just need to take one small step in the right direction. G-d will do the rest.

We have what it takes. The proof is Neilah; when everyone sings along and davens so beautifully. We don’t have to wait until then. Whether you have a great voice or not, sing with the chazzan! It lifts us all up! Imagine if already on Rosh Hashana, everyone is really singing along. How powerful would that be!

The truth is, we don’t have to wait until then – let’s open that heart of ours just a tiny little crack right now…

Life is Like a Game of Roblox Parshas Eikev

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.

Tisha B’av Jews, Nachamu Jews, and How to Make a Shiva Call Parshas Va’eschanan

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 7^th. 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 7^th.

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.

The Perils of Power, The Need for Justice Shabbos Chazon

by Ner Tamid | Aug 3, 2025 | Sermons

Chevron and Yerushalayim Parshas Pinchas

by Ner Tamid | Jul 20, 2025 | Sermons

For the past few years, our shul has conducted an auction on Simchas Torah. Though it was new for our shul, the custom of auctioning honors on Simchas Torah goes back hundreds of years and is fairly standard in many shuls. What is not so standard, and something that I believe is unique to Ner Tamid, is that in addition to auctioning off honors, we also auction off the opportunity to choose a sermon topic for one Shabbos. This year, the highest bidder for choosing a sermon topic was Rabbanit Ahava Schachter-Zarembski.

After Simchas Torah, she told me she purchased it for her son, Meshullam, who is eight years old. Last time a parent bought this opportunity for a child, the sermon topic I was given was Marvel vs. DC, which is a far more controversial topic than I ever realized. So Meshullam comes to my office, we make some small talk, and then I ask him, what should I speak about? I’m wondering to myself which videogames he’s into, maybe he’s a sports fan, maybe fantasy books.

Meshullam says, “Can you please speak about Chevron?”

Chevron the superhero or do you actually mean Chevron the ancient city in Israel?

Yes, Chevron the ancient city in Israel.

Well, Meshullam and his brother and mother are moving to Israel in a little over a week, and so it’s time for me to follow through and give a sermon about Chevron. Are you ready, Meshullam? Here we go.

In 1929, one of the most vicious pogroms took place in Israel. Israel was never a safe place for the Jewish People and every now and then, there were attacks on Jews. But as Zionism gathered steam, the Arab population grew quite nervous about the growth of the Jewish community in the Holy Land. On August 24, 1929, a rumor was spread that the Jewish People were trying to take over the Temple Mount. At 8:30 AM, as many men were making their way to shul for Shabbos morning davening, a terrible massacre began. I will omit the details due to the age of the crowd, but 69 Jews lost their lives that day. There had been a Jewish community in Chevron for over 800 years, but after this massacre every single Jew left.

Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook was the chief rabbi of Israel at the time. When he heard what was taking place he immediately ran to the British High Commissioner, Sir Harry Luke, begging him to send his troops to intercede. The High Commissioner refused. A few days later, the High Commissioner came to visit Rav Kook and put out his hand to greet him. Rav Kook, who was known to be the most loving and forgiving person, refused to shake his hand, stating that he would not shake a hand covered in Jewish blood. (Rabbi Simcha Raz)

Rav Kook gathered the Jewish community together for a memorial service and shared the following message: “The holy martyrs of Chevron do not need a ‘memorial’ service,” he announced. “The Jewish people can never forget the holy and pure souls who were slaughtered by those murderers and vile thugs. Rather, we must remember and remind the Jewish people not to forget the city of the patriarchs. Am Yisrael must know what Chevron means to us.”

He continued: “We have an ancient tradition:‘Maaseh avos, siman lebanim—The actions of the fathers are signs for their descendants.’ When the weak-hearted meraglim, the biblical spies, arrived at Chevron, they were frightened by the fierce nations inhabiting the land. But Calev quieted the people for Moshe. “We must go forth and conquer the land,” he said. “We can prevail!” (Bamidbar, 13:30).”

Concluded Rav Kook: “Despite the terrible tragedy that took place in Chevron, we hereby announce to the world, ‘Our strength is now like our strength was then!’ We will not abandon our holy places and sacred aspirations. Chevron is the city of our fathers and mothers, of Mearas HaMachpela [where our forefathers are buried] … It is the city of King David —the cradle of our sovereign monarchy.  עוד תבנה—it will yet be rebuilt—Jewish Chevron will be built again, in all its honor and glory!”

For almost 40 years Rav Kooks’ words rang hollow. Despite the rich history of the city dating all the way back to Avraham Avinu, despite the many whose parents lived in that holy city for over a thousand years, Chevron did not have a single Jewish resident. Until 1967.

After the Six-Day War, Chevron was under Jewish control. However, the government and army prevented any Jews from entering the city. Not to be deterred, a woman by the name of Sarah Nachshon could not be held back. She led a group to the outskirts of the city and established a new Jewish city called Kiryat Arba. But this holy and determined woman was not satisfied. So a little while later, she and a group of women and their children slipped into Beit Haddassah, a deserted hospital in Chevron, and refused to leave until the government allowed them to live in Chevron. The government assumed that after a while the women would give up and leave. But they didn’t. And after a full year of living in this hospital, the government relented and allowed for the Jewish community of Chevron to be rebuilt.

While she was leading this sit-in or live-in in Beit Hadassah, Sarah Nachshon gave birth to a son. And she thought to herself, how can I be so close to the burial place of Avraham Avinu, the first Jew to ever have a Bris, and not have my son’s circumcision in Avraham’s burial place, the Mearas Hamachpeilah? Sure enough, their son, Avraham Yedidia, was circumcised in the Tombs of the Patriarchs.

Tragically, a few months later, this son died. Sarah Nachshon was determined to bury the baby in Chevron’s ancient Jewish cemetery. The government adamantly refused. It would cause an uproar among the Arabs living there. The army was instructed to block the road to the Jewish cemetery knowing that she would try to bury her son. Sure enough, she showed up, carrying her deceased infant in a tallis. The instructions from Tel Aviv were to prevent her from going through. But the soldiers refused. And Avraham Yedidia Nachshon was buried by his mother, Sarah, in the ancient Jewish cemetery of Chevron.

Rav Kook was right. It is a city of strength. And it was a city that would ultimately be rebuilt. Sarah Nachshon, following in the footsteps of King David, in the footsteps of Calev, in the footsteps of Avraham, rebuilt the city of Chevron.

But the question is why? That’s Meshullam’s question. Why have Jews always been so obsessed with this city? Why did Sarah Nachshon go to such great lengths to resettle the city? Why did a small population of Jews live in a predominantly Arab city for centuries? Why did King David need to go there to start his monarchy? Why did Calev pray there? Why did Avraham go to great lengths to bury his wife there? You would imagine all of this should have taken place in Jerusalem. Is that not our holiest city? What is the significance of this city of Chevron?

Here’s where we get a little more mystical, so buckle up. The root of the name Yerushalayim is shalom, which means peace and harmony. The root of the name Chevron is chibur, which means joining together. Both cities represent Divine connection, but that’s where the commonalities end.

Yerushalayim’s most famous structure, the Bais Hamikdash, stood atop a mountain. Chevron’s most famous structure, the burial place of our forefathers is a cave, Mearat Hamachpeila, literally the double cave. It’s called a double cave because it is a cave within a cave. One city’s center was open and elevated, the other city’s center is hidden deep under the ground.

Another contrast – We know of the many prayers said in Yerushalayim, by King David, by King Solomon, by Ezra. But in Chevron, there is mysterious silence. Avraham goes there to eulogize his wife, but the Torah makes no mention of what he says. We know that Calev goes there to pray for strength, but his prayer is only subtly alluded to the text and nothing more.

Rav Moshe Wolfson suggests that while Yerushalayim and Chevron are both cities of connection, Yerushalayim represents an overt and tangible connection to the Divine, whereas Chevron represents the hidden connection.

This idea, I believe, is alluded to in a rather strange passage in the ancient Medrashic work, Yalkut Shimoni. It relates how Adam was looking for a place to bury his wife, Eve. He walked by Chevron, and he smelled a smell that he recognized from the past; Chevron smelled like the Garden of Eden. The Medrash tells us that he started digging so he could reach Gan Eden, but an angel made him stop.

This story represents the essence of Chevron. In Jerusalem you would hear the music of the Leviim and see the beauty of the Temple. In Chevron, you would hear silence and stare at a rocky terrain. The angel prevented Adam from digging all the way to Gan Eden, because Chevron is needed to remind us that there is a form of spirituality, I would argue a more elevated form of spirituality, that remains hidden away.

We live in an era of extreme superficiality. Whether it’s social media which filters away our flaws, or it’s the unprecedented materialism that we both enjoy and are overwhelmed by. In a world of so much externality, we crave for something deeper. Most people will tell you the antidote to superficiality is being authentic, being real, saying whatever is on your mind, sharing and over-sharing until there is nothing hidden at all.

But Chevron tells us that is wrong. And I’ll share personally here – as someone who tries to share their inner world with others, you, I will tell you that I often second-guess myself. I do find value in sharing my inner experience but sometimes it leaves me depleted, empty.

We are not supposed to dig all the way to Gan Eden; we need to appreciate the rich spiritual world that lives inside.

Those feelings of intense emotions that you cannot articulate, the small joys that no one else will understand, the deep pain which no one can relate to, the yearnings for G-d and for growth, as fleeting as they may be, Chevron reminds us to savor them, to swish them around in our mind and our heart, to allow them to breathe in their natural hidden habitat. That’s where real spirituality lives and thrives; hidden away. I used to think it was a tragedy that there are parts of us that can never be understood by others. But I was wrong. Chevron teaches us that this part of us, that cannot be shared, is a gift from G-d.

Meshullam, I imagine you chose this topic of Chevron because someone you know quite well embodies these ideas – your mother. Like Calev, she is a fighter and able to hold her own. Like Sarah Nachshon she yearns to live in holiness as difficult as it may be, and that’s why you and your family are making Aliyah. And like the city itself, she has a deep and powerful inner world. We have had the opportunity to learn from your mother – she has given numerous classes in our shul during your short time here. Thank you for giving us a taste of Chevron here in Baltimore. And we wish you so much success in Israel.

We are in the midst of the Three Weeks. It’s a time we mourn for the loss of the Bais Hamikdash, that holy edifice in Yerushalayim, that was destroyed. There is only one ancient building from the times of the Temple that has not been destroyed, and that is – Mearat Hamachpeila in Chevron. Being authentic and ‘putting it out there’ may feel strong, but it’s depleting, and ultimately, it is susceptible to destruction. Our inner world, our precious yearnings and feelings, our Neshama, our hidden connection to G-d, like the city of Chevron, is unbreakable and can never be destroyed.