Rabbis' Blog

This weekend, I have the pleasure of being in New York for the annual International Conference of Shluchim. Chabad rabbis from every corner of the world are gathered to gain inspiration and share ideas about how to carry out our mission of bringing Moshiach by saturating the world with goodness. I heard ideas in workshops and in conversations between sessions that I look forward to bringing home to El Paso. One theme we kept coming back to was how much a single mitzvah can accomplish.

In this week’s parsha, Chayei Sarah, Avraham sends his servant Eliezer to find a wife for his son Yitzchak. Eliezer brings back Rivka, who grew up in a home known for dishonesty, and leaves it to join a family whose home was permeated with faith and kindness. The Torah tells us that Yitzchak brought Rivka into his mother Sarah’s tent. Our sages explain that when she entered, a miracle that had happened during Sarah’s lifetime returned.

Each Friday, Sarah lit candles to welcome Shabbat, and they remained lit until the following Friday. It was reminiscent of the miracle that would take place many generations later on Chanukah. After Sarah passed away, Avraham and Yitzchak continued to light Shabbat candles. They were doing the mitzvah, and their candles burned for as long as the fuel ordinarily lasted. When Rivka lit the candles at the age of three, they burned for an entire week.

Think about who was lighting those candles. Avraham and Yitzchak were two of the greatest spiritual giants in our history. Yet a three-year-old girl lit candles that filled the tent with light all week. The spiritual stature of the person doing a mitzvah tells us very little about how far its light can reach. Sometimes a small child can accomplish through a single mitzvah what even the greatest of the great could never accomplish.

This teaches us something very powerful about how to view Mitzvah action. When a little girl lights her Shabbat candle for the first time, it is easy to think about what the experience will mean for her as she grows up. Rivka’s candles focus our attention on the impact of the child’s Mitzvah right now!

Maimonides declared long ago that we should see ourselves and the entire world as evenly balanced between good and evil. One mitzvah can tip the scales and bring redemption to the world. We usually have no way of seeing how far the light of a mitzvah travels. But the mitzvah that tips the scales may be the one a small child does this Friday, as she lights her Shabbat candle.

When we think about our relationship with G-d, we usually think about prayer, Torah study, or an inspiring spiritual experience. Eating lunch, getting enough sleep, and caring for someone’s physical comfort seem to belong to an entirely different category.

These things are necessary, of course. But what do they have to do with faith?

Abraham and Sarah’s legacy offers a powerful answer. As the founders of the Jewish people, they devoted their lives to teaching the world about the one Creator. We might imagine them spending their days delivering lectures or gathering students for philosophical discussions.

Yet much of what we know about their lives centers on hospitality. Their home was open to travelers. People who needed food received a meal. People who needed rest found a comfortable place to stay. Abraham and Sarah devoted themselves to the practical details of making others feel welcome.

This was how they spread awareness of G-d. After eating, guests would naturally want to thank their hosts and offer payment. Abraham explained that their gratitude belonged to G-d, the source of everything they enjoyed, and guided them in reciting a prayer of thanksgiving instead of paying for their meal. When a guest refused, Abraham would present a bill reflecting the cost of providing food in the desert, which encouraged the traveler to reconsider and acknowledge G-d.

But why connect such a profound message to something as ordinary as a meal?

Because the connection itself was the message. G-d is the Creator of the entire world. Our bodies, our hunger, the food that nourishes us, and the people who help us are all part of G-d’s creation. Recognizing G-d’s oneness means recognizing that nothing exists independently of G-d. A traveler could discover G-d through the very meal that satisfied his hunger.

This changes how we understand our own relationship with G-d. Preparing dinner for our family, caring for our health, helping someone find somewhere to sleep, or offering a tired person a chair can all express our devotion to G-d. The ordinary details of life provide countless opportunities to recognize G-d and fulfill our divine purpose.

It also changes how we share Judaism. Before explaining, we can offer help. Before speaking, we can listen. By responding to someone’s needs, we make Torah's goodness tangible.

Abraham and Sarah taught that faith belongs wherever life happens.

Our task is to recognize G-d within the world and help others experience that connection. Sometimes, the opportunity begins with a prayer book. Sometimes, it begins with a plate of food and a warm, sincere welcome.

Over the past few weeks, I have been discovering the extraordinary capabilities of artificial intelligence. Friends are sharing how these tools are transforming their businesses and helping them accomplish in minutes what used to take hours, or even days.

It is exciting. It is also unsettling. If a computer can write, analyze, organize, and solve problems faster than we can, where does that leave us? Will people lose their jobs? Will relying on technology weaken our ability to think critically and work through challenges ourselves?

These are serious questions deserving serious attention. I am not offering solutions to all the economic, educational, and social challenges this technology presents.

But I know one thing with certainty: human beings will always be essential to this world.

In this week’s parsha, the Torah introduces G-d’s instruction to Avraham: “Lech Lecha.” Leave your land, your birthplace and your father’s home, and travel to the land I will show you.

Avraham was seventy-five years old. By then, he had already accomplished enough to fill a remarkable biography. Our sages describe how he discovered the Creator, challenged the idolatry surrounding him, and persuaded others to recognize the one G-d. He demonstrated extraordinary intelligence, courage, and leadership, risking his life for the truth.

Yet the Torah does not begin its account of his mission by cataloging these achievements. It begins with G-d telling him what to do.

Why? Because the foundation of life is something deeper than human achievement.

Until this point, Avram’s spiritual accomplishments reflected his own initiative and understanding. He recognized a truth, devoted himself to it, and inspired others to follow.

With “Lech Lecha,” something new happened. G-d communicated His desire, and Avraham responded.

This is the meaning of a mitzvah - an action G-d asks us to do. When we put on tefillin, keep kosher, observe Shabbat, learn Torah, or give tzedakah, we are responding to Him. Through that response, we express and strengthen our relationship with our Creator.

And that relationship explains why we are here.

G-d did not create the world simply to produce the greatest possible volume of work. Divine purpose is not fulfilled by the most sophisticated systems cataloging information, crunching numbers, and making discoveries with flawless efficiency. G-d wants us: a relationship with human beings who receive instruction and choose to respond.

While a machine might help arrange a charitable donation, it cannot be the person choosing to fulfill G-d’s command. A program might organize an entire library of Torah teachings, but it cannot take our place in devoting ourselves to learning Torah. Because our essential value was never our processing speed.

This does not make every concern about AI disappear. Industries will change, new opportunities will emerge, and people will need support navigating those changes. But our purpose remains secure even as the workplace evolves.

And the time these tools save presents an opportunity. If a task takes twenty minutes instead of two hours, what will we do with the time we have gained? Perhaps we can learn some Torah, help a neighbor, or give a mitzvah the attention we previously felt too rushed to offer.

Technology can create space in our schedules, but we must choose what fills it.

The Rebbe repeatedly emphasized that one mitzvah can tip the scales for the entire world and bring redemption. Think about that when a computer finishes your next project in seconds. Its impressive accomplishment may have freed you to do something whose significance cannot be calculated: one more mitzvah.

The tool has completed its task. Now we have more time to fulfill our purpose.

This week’s Torah portion, Noach, tells the story of a world overwhelmed by corruption and given a new beginning. G‑d brought a flood upon the earth, saving Noach, his family, and representatives of the animal kingdom inside the ark.

The Torah describes how, in the six hundredth year of Noach’s life, the fountains of the great deep burst open and the windows of heaven opened.

As with every passage in Torah, these words carry layers of meaning. Beyond describing the Flood, they offer a remarkable glimpse into humanity’s future.

The Zohar, the foundational work of Kabbalah, connects this verse to the opening of two sources of wisdom: wisdom from above—the Divine wisdom of Torah—and wisdom from below—knowledge of the physical world. It associates this outpouring with the year 5600 on the Jewish calendar, corresponding to 1839–1840.

Consider the extraordinary scientific and technological developments happening during that time. The Industrial Revolution was transforming manufacturing, transportation, and communication. Scientific discoveries were dramatically improving our way of life, health, and hygiene.

At the same time, Chassidus was bringing the inner teachings of Torah to an ever-widening audience. Beginning with the Baal Shem Tov in the eighteenth century and continuing through the Chabad Chassidic masters, they taught, published, and made profound spiritual ideas accessible to ordinary people. The heavenly and earthly wellsprings were opening together.

Why does this prediction appear in the Zohar? Kabbalah is the inner dimension of Torah, and Torah is the blueprint of creation. It follows that the inner dimension of Torah reveals creation's inner workings - including your own. By studying Kabbalah, we gain a deeper understanding of ourselves and the world around us.

These two parallel streams of wisdom continue to expand. In recent times, the internet and social media have transformed how we communicate and learn. Today, artificial intelligence is opening another extraordinary chapter. Alongside the concerns it raises, AI offers powerful opportunities to make knowledge more accessible.

And this week, as we read Parshas Noach, these two streams are meeting in a particularly meaningful way.

The newly launched CHABAD.AI brings artificial intelligence together with a vast collection of Chabad teachings. It offers tools to explore questions, locate sources, and discover connections across generations of Chassidus. I encourage you to visit the brand-new site, bring a question, and discover a teaching that speaks to your life.

I also invite you to explore this wisdom with me through the upcoming JLI Fall Course “Kabbalah and the Hidden Architecture of You.” This six-week journey explores foundational Kabbalistic teachings as they apply to the human psyche, helping us better understand ourselves through the Torah’s inner wisdom.

We begin on Tuesday, October 27, and meet in person at Chabad or on Zoom, Tuesdays, 7:30–8:45 p.m., for six weeks. All are welcome! Learn more about the course at chabadelpaso.com/you

The floodgates are open. Let’s allow this wisdom to enter our lives, shape our choices, and inspire us to bring more goodness and G‑dliness into the world.

A man was once walking through a dense forest. Paths stretched in every direction, and every few feet brought another fork in the road. Signposts stood everywhere, but they offered little help. He could read the path names; he just didn't know which would lead him out.

He walked from one trail to another, becoming increasingly tired and confused. As the forest grew darker, his hope began to fade. Perhaps, he thought, he would remain lost forever.

Then someone approached him and handed him a book.

“This is your guide,” the stranger explained. “It contains a map of the forest and instructions for reaching the other side. Follow it, and you will find your way to safety.”

The man was overwhelmed with relief. He held the book close, kissed it, and began to dance. Just moments earlier, he had felt helpless. Now he had a way forward.

But after a few minutes of dancing, he realized that holding the guide wouldn't bring him home. To leave the forest, he would have to open the book, study its directions, and follow them.

This story captures the meaning of our celebration this past Sunday, Simchas Torah.

On Simchas Torah, we conclude the annual Torah reading cycle and immediately begin again. Yet the central celebration is dancing with the Torah. We embrace the scrolls, sing, and rejoice together.

Why do we dance? Finishing a novel usually doesn't inspire us to dance with it. Completing an academic book may bring satisfaction, but we generally return it to the shelf. What makes Torah different?

The answer begins with the word's meaning. “Torah” means instruction or guidance. Although often referred to in English as the Bible, Torah is much more than a book to be read. Its stories, laws, and teachings form a guide to life.

Torah is the map that helps us navigate reality. It teaches us why we are here, what matters, and how to respond to the choices before us. Like the traveler in the forest, we encounter countless paths. There are opportunities, pressures, competing voices, and decisions whose consequences we cannot always foresee. In a world that can feel increasingly dark and confusing, Torah offers direction rooted in something greater than our changing circumstances.

That is why we dance. We rejoice because Hashem has given us a guide.

But the dancing is only the beginning.

After Simchas Torah, we must open the Torah and learn. Our goal is more than discovering an interesting idea or gaining knowledge. We approach Torah with a personal question: What is this teaching asking of me? How should it shape my choices, my relationships, and my actions?

This week, we begin Bereishis, the Torah's opening portion. Its account of creation reminds us that the world has a Creator and a purpose. Our lives are part of that purpose, and we have the privilege of serving Hashem within His creation.

To fulfill that privilege, we need to learn.

Let us each find a practical way to deepen our Torah learning: read a Torah book, listen to a Torah podcast, join a class, or set aside a regular time to study.

Let’s make this year a year of Torah.

I will admit that on Tuesday night, around midnight, I was still awake when someone alerted me that something major was happening involving Israel.

My heart dropped.

I did a quick search and read initial reports that a FlyDubai flight from Dubai to Tel Aviv may have been hijacked. The story was still unfolding, and the media was only beginning to understand what was happening.

I knew I had a busy day ahead, and there was nothing I could do but say a prayer. So I did that, and went to sleep with tremendous foreboding, wondering what news I would wake up to in the morning.

When I woke up, it was over.

Everyone was safe. Everyone was coming home.

What struck me was that by morning, most of the world had already moved on. Many people were not even aware of the magnitude of the miracles that had taken place during those terrifying hours. Even the headlines, and the legacy media and social media discussions about it, lacked the dramatic, deep emotions that would typically accompany such an epic event.

So many miracles happened to that flight. The passengers were able to overpower a terrorist who was attempting to destroy them and stabilize and land the plane in the most unpredictable ways. Perhaps the greatest miracle was the fact that the aircraft did not break apart during the drastic nosedive and that everyone survived unscathed. I believe everyone agrees that detail is almost beyond comprehension.

182 lives were saved, and what could have evolved into a catastrophic event for Jews all over the world ended swiftly and fairly undramatically - compared to what could have been.

Huge miracles deserve huge celebrations!

Tonight we begin one of Judaism's most joyous holidays: Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah. It is a time to celebrate our connection to the Torah and G-d’s connection with us through it. What better way to express that profound connection than by gathering together in gratitude and joy?

Before we take out the Torahs and dance with them in the traditional celebration of Simchat Torah, we recite verses that prepare us for the joy of completing the Torah and beginning it anew. One of those verses, from Tehillim, says: “Give thanks to Him (G-d) who alone performs great wonders, for His kindness is eternal.”

This Simchat Torah, we have a special reason to give thanks to G-d Almighty for the tremendous miracle we have witnessed: that this was not a long, drawn-out, terrifying ordeal; that it was relatively quick; that those who sought to harm us were swiftly overpowered; and that, despite our enemies’ attempts to destroy us, we emerged triumphant.

May this miracle, another in the long chain of miracles our people have experienced throughout the centuries, be the final miracle before the greatest miracle of all: the coming of Mashiach.

Shainy’s grandmother, Mrs. Itu Lustig (“Bubbe Lustig” to all her grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren), passed away yesterday. She was 97.

I was privileged to know her for 16 years and have learned so much from her remarkable character and her life story of faith, sacrifice, and perseverance. Although she was a Holocaust survivor with a tattoo from Auschwitz, I rarely heard her dwell on the horrors of the past. In fact, her most common reference to the Holocaust was to state proudly that every special occasion in the family, whether it was a Bris, Bar or Bat Mitzvah, or wedding, was her personal revenge on Hitler. She even came to El Paso for our son Menachem’s Bris when she was 84 years old.

Instead of crushing her, the memories of the past fueled her passionate love and dedication to her family. She was an involved mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and great-great-grandmother who knew all her descendants by name and kept tabs on every one of them.

She was born in Strimtera, Romania, in 1928, where her father, Rabbi Tzvi Kahana, was the town’s rabbi. On Passover of 1944, all the Jews of the town were rounded up and deported by the Nazis to Auschwitz. Her entire family was murdered. Miraculously, she and her brother Zanvil survived. She eventually came to the United States, married, and raised a tribe that was her pride and joy.

Like many survivors, she only started speaking publicly about her story fairly recently, and in the spring of 2020, she shared her story with our community via Zoom for over an hour. Watch the recording here.

Although you can listen to her story directly from her in the recording, I’d like to share one anecdote that encapsulates what is most inspiring to me about her.

When she spoke of the infamous numbers the Nazis sadistically tattooed on the concentration camp inmates, she described the pain as “like giving you fifty shots in your hand without any protection.” Then she would say, “They wrote on me what G-d wanted to happen to me. They wrote  Chai, which means Life!”

Her number is A-7443. The sum total of all four numbers is 18 (7+4+4+3=18), which in Jewish numerology spells out the word “Chai - Life.” I’m so moved by the fact that the scar, which is perhaps the most visible and inescapable part of her excruciating suffering, came to embody what she felt was her mission in the aftermath of it all.

Although she did not explicitly say this, I would like to add that that number also embodies the ultimate destiny of the Jewish people - “Am Yisrael Chai.”

Yesterday, she passed away peacefully after attending the Bris of her great-great-grandson, two days after Purim. The holiday which celebrates G-d’s everlasting kindness to our people in protecting us from all the Hamans, Hitlers, and Khameneis who seek to destroy our nation in every generation.

In 1944, fifteen-year-old Itu Kahana needed unfathomable faith in G-d to believe she could survive the concentration camps and continue living. In 2026, 97-year-old Mrs. Itu Lustig proved to the world that “Am Yisrael Chai” is not a catchy slogan. It’s a scientific fact.

May her memory be for a blessing. But most importantly, may we all learn from her story and continue that unbreakable chain of life, proudly and joyfully.

Bubbe Lustig participating in Menachem's Bris in El Paso, 2013.

On Sunday, the world went dark. When I heard what happened in Bondi, at one of the world’s first public menorah lightings for 2025, I was crushed. Anger, grief, sadness, and oh so many questions came crashing all together inside of me. But there was no time to process. I knew what needed to be done. I knew we had to move forward with our celebrations and public menorah lightings. But the jarring realization that the “festival of lights” had just gone dark, and a holiday of joy had been shattered by unimaginable sadness, made it feel so surreal.

The rest of the week continued in the same way. As more details of the tragedy emerged, my personal sadness intensified, but our efforts in spreading the message of light and joy of Chanukah reached peak success. In the span of two days, three new public menorah displays were arranged and installed in the El Paso County Courthouse, El Paso City Hall, and at El Paso High. Dozens of Jews have reached out to procure menorahs and candles, and based on the news coming out of Australia and around the world, public menorah lightings are happening like never before. How does this make sense?

Although I have learned and taught the Chanukah story for years, and projected its message of light overcoming darkness and goodness overcoming evil countless times, this week I finally understood what it is all about.

The central observance of Chanukah, the nightly kindling of the Menorah, commemorates the miracle of the one-night’s supply of pure olive oil that burned for eight nights in the seven lamps of the Menorah of the Holy Temple. However, there are fundamental differences between the way we light the menorah today and the way it was done in the Holy Temple.

In the Holy Temple, the same number of lamps were lit in the Menorah every day, well before nightfall, inside the sanctuary. On Chanukah, we light an increasing number of candles each night, specifically in the evening, by a door or window to project the light outward.

The reason for these differences is that the two menorahs represent two different eras. The Holy Temple represents a time when the Jewish nation experienced independence, success, peace, and tranquillity. The eight, ever-increasing flames of our Chanukah menorahs emerged from an era of persecution, terror, and darkness.

When life is good and the world is bright, there is no need to increase light or make an effort to project it outward, because all is normal. A flame in sunlight is unnecessary. But when life is turbulent, evil is on the rise, and the world becomes very, very dark, we must increase in light and project it outward as well, because even one flame in darkness can make a world of a difference.

Although the Maccabees heroically fought their enemies with weapons and military maneuvers, they focused the commemoration of their salvation on the miracle of the menorah lights because they understood their struggle as one of good over evil, morality over depravity, and light over darkness. Their victory was represented by the flames of the menorah, miraculously fueled by very little ritually pure olive oil.

“Light Overcomes Darkness” is not a cliche punchline to wish away reality. It is the greatest acknowledgement of the overwhelming darkness so pervasive in our world today, and an urgent call for all humanity to uproot it at its core by responding to evil with ever-increasing goodness.

The horrors that shook the world from Bondi Beach on Sunday brought the urgent message of Chanukah into sharper focus. When the world goes darker, we must make more light. 

Bar Mitzvah is the most important milestone in a Jewish boy’s life, primarily because of the tremendous trust placed in him on that day by G-d, his parents, and the entire community. On the day he turns 13 years old, he is placed on Jewish active duty for the rest of his life, and there is no turning back. Everything that happens until then is meant to train him for the important mission of being G-d’s agent to inspire and elevate creation through Torah study and the observance of the Mitzvot.

Perhaps the greatest display of this trust is that he becomes the proud owner and user of his own pair of Tefillin.

Tefillin was the first Mitzvah given when our ancestors departed Egypt and embarked on their historic journey to Sinai. The pair of black boxes, containing scrolls with chapters of the Torah that describe the exodus, the declaration of our faith in G-d’s oneness, and the covenant of Mitzvot, are worn on the arm near the heart and above the head, respectively, signaling our preparedness to serve G-d intellectually, passionately, and actively. Jewish men wear them every day, aside from Shabbat and biblical festivals.

Tefillin cannot be mass-produced on an assembly line in China. The boxes, straps, and scrolls are meticulously handcrafted based on thousands of years of Jewish law and tradition by highly skilled and devoted craftsmen and scribes who dedicate their lives to this holy task. Every pair is the result of a labor of love; a holy endeavor.

Just as any high-stakes performance demands many dress rehearsals, the Bar Mitzvah boy is given two months before the big day to become a pro at using his Tefillin, and the day he starts to practice is a huge milestone unto itself.

On Wednesday, I had the joyous privilege of witnessing Menachem begin his two-month practice period. Before we prayed morning prayers near the Ohel, the Rebbe’s holy resting place in Queens, NY, Menachem carefully placed the Tefillin on his bicep, wrapped the leather straps around his arm and finger, and placed the Tefillin above his forehead; a routine he will follow every weekday going forward.

Mazel tov, Menachem, on reaching this special milestone!

Ever since the beginning of “the ceasefire” in Israel, I have been asked by many for my opinion on “the deal.” While everyone is ecstatic and grateful to G-d for the return of all the living hostages, the disturbing events of the past few weeks have many wondering about the ethics of the deal. Will it lead to peace, or is it just a matter of time before things get much worse, G-d forbid?

I have no formal security, military, political, or diplomatic training, but Torah is my field, and like everything in life, it provides us with the definitive paradigm through which we can evaluate everything. I will share two points I believe are relevant when grappling with what has been happening based on some messages from this week’s parsha.

The opening story of this week’s Parsha is G-d’s instruction to our patriarch Abraham to go to Israel. Although at the time it was known as the “Land of Canaan” because the heathen Canaanites were conquering it from the indigenous Semites, G-d promised Abraham that the land would ultimately belong to his descendants, the Jewish people.

The divine eternal promise of the land is mentioned four different times throughout the Parsha, in four separate contexts: 1. Upon Abraham’s arrival to the land. 2. After his nephew Lot moves away from him. 3. At the Covenant of the Parts. 4. When G-d instructed Abraham to do the Bris circumcision when he was 99 years old.

The most important message we must know as Jews throughout the world is that the Land of Israel belongs to us. Especially when many nations protest the Jewish presence in the Middle East, we must know with absolute certainty that the Jews living in Israel are in the right place at the right time and should never apologize for it. We don’t need anyone’s approval or support on this matter whatsoever.

At the end of this week’s parsha, we learn of how G-d forms a covenant with Abraham through the Bris circumcision. Despite his advanced age and the public mockery he endured, Abraham did not hesitate to follow G-d’s instructions to the letter.

In addition to being our deed of ownership, Torah is first and foremost a detailed and definitive guide to life containing clear instructions on how we must ensure our security in our homeland and everywhere else in the world. So-called international law, public opinion, or any other ethical philosophies are irrelevant when it comes to the crucial obligation to protect life. Torah provides the ethical context, concrete instructions, and most importantly, moral clarity in how Israel ought to handle this delicate and precarious situation. International condemnation, isolation, or mockery must be ignored.

I highly recommend watching this 8-minute video produced by Jewish Educational Media, providing 3 important points on Torah’s perspective on the current situation in Israel.

The Price of “Peace”: The Torah’s View on Israel’s Moral Battle Over Gaza: https://youtu.be/g561t74Wzkw

Although most of us are in no position to influence specific change on the ground, as Jews, we have the collective responsibility to know who we are and what paradigm ought to guide Israeli leadership and all the decision makers as they seek to achieve security and stability in the region. In fact, based on Torah’s guidance, it is possible to achieve what most of humanity thinks is impossible: true and enduring peace in the Middle East.

We spent the day in America’s first zoo in Philadelphia. My kids enjoyed the sights and scenes of wildlife, and I learned something new, courtesy of the big colorful signs near the wild cats exhibit: Lions sleep 20 hours a day, and after a good meal, can sleep up to 24 hours. This “Snapple Fun Fact” caught my attention because it connected to an interesting detail from today’s Torah portion and sheds light on something that has bothered me about Jewish history for a while.

In this week’s parsha, we learn about the paranoid Moabite King Balak, who hired the vile prophet Bilaam to curse them to extinction. Historically, Bilaam’s curses were fatal and had destroyed powerful nations before. But it all turned out for the best. Bilaam ultimately delivered beautiful blessings to the Jews three separate times, and rounded them off with the clearest prophecy of Israel’s future stratospheric rise and the arrival of Moshiach ever recorded in the Torah.

The Jews were completely unaware of the dramatic saga of how G-d foiled this fiendish scheme, and it was brought to their attention only through Torah’s prophetic record.

In two of the blessings, Bilaam described the Jews as lions. The first verse was famously used as the inspiration for the name of Israel’s recent miraculous war against Iran, “Operation Rising Lion.” “Behold a people that rises like a fearsome lion, raising itself like a lion. It does not lie down until it consumes prey, and drinks the blood of its slain enemies.” (Numbers 23:24)

The second time Bilaam invoked the image of a lion in his blessings, he said: “You will settle and dwell like a lion, like a fearsome lion that no one would dare rouse.” (Numbers 24:9)

In both, there is a focus on the lion sleeping and rising, and through understanding the deeper meaning of sleep and how it applies to the Jewish nation, we will appreciate the tremendous blessing herein.

During sleep, a person retains all their faculties and abilities, but they do not function properly. The eyes do not see, one cannot notice their surroundings, nor communicate properly. Even in the subconscious mind, which is working during sleep, dreams are typically a hodgepodge of random and chaotic events that usually make no sense. The most absurd things happen in dreams, and when we wake up, we are well advised to forget about them.

Reality can be experienced in two ways: either as a coordinated series of events choreographed by G-d to the minutest detail, or as a chaotic jungle of the survival of the fittest. The first option is the “awake” experience, where life functions according to a divine plan; the second option is a nightmare that only happens during sleep.

When Bilaam compared us to slumbering lions, he meant to emphasize that even when we may be making chaotic choices contrary to Torah’s clear plan for our lives, we are still majestic lions who only need to be awakened to the truth. And even when overwhelming forces of exile and persecution force the Jewish nation into a crouching, sleep-like position, it is only temporary.

I was always disturbed by the fact that the Jewish people have been forced into this position for the vast majority of our history. Today I learned this mirrors the experience of the lions we are compared to, who sleep most of the day, to conserve energy for their nocturnal hunts for prey. But even when we are sleeping, we are conserving and gathering the strength we need to overcome the final hurdles of exile to usher in the blessed era of Moshiach, who will awaken the entire world to the truth of G-d’s divine providence, and true peace and tranquility will reign for all.

The 31st anniversary of the Rebbe’s Yartzeit was observed on Sunday, the third day of Tammuz. At noon, my son Menachem and I joined the line of tens of thousands seeking to enter the Ohel, the Rebbe’s holy resting place. We waited for over two hours and utilized the time by reciting Tehillim (psalms) and standing in quiet reflection in preparation for being in the Rebbe’s presence and placing our petitions at the Ohel.

During that time, I met Yair (a pseudonym), a Jew from Florida who said that, although he is not a Chabadnik, he was deeply gratified to be at the Ohel that day. He then shared an amazing story, which I later heard in more detail from his wife, Sarah (a pseudonym).

For weeks, Sarah’s friend had invited her to join a Tuesday morning Tanya class hosted in different homes led by a charismatic Chabad woman named Batya in Hollywood. The first time she participated was on a summer Tuesday last year, which coincided with the 30th anniversary of the Rebbe’s Yartzeit. Much of the discussion revolved around the Rebbe’s continued influence today, and the opportunity to petition the Rebbe to intercede on our behalf for all of G-d’s blessings by visiting the Ohel or writing letters to be placed at the Ohel.

Toward the end of the class, the women were encouraged to share a request for blessing, which would be placed by Ohel later that day. Sarah shared with the class that her son and daughter-in-law, who had been married for three years, had not yet been blessed with children, and she expressed her request for a blessing that they should have children very soon. Batya then suggested that when the blessing materialized, Sarah could celebrate it by hosting the Tanya class in her home, and she readily agreed.

A few months later, Sarah and Yair received the long-awaited news that their daughter-in-law was expecting, and she joyfully hosted the Tanya class at the earliest opportunity.

Three weeks ago, their adorable granddaughter was born in New York City, and they traveled from Florida to meet her and celebrate the joyous occasion. A day before their return flight home, Yair told Sarah that Sunday was the Rebbe’s Yartzeit and suggested they visit the Ohel. At once, she made the connection that a year earlier, she had requested a special blessing for the birth of their grandchild, on the Rebbe’s Yartzeit, and here they were in New York celebrating the realization of that blessing on the Rebbe’s Yartzeit. They both felt it was appropriate to come and thank the Rebbe for this special blessing.

“It is all coming full circle,” Yair told me with a huge smile. “By divine providence, we were able to come here to say 'thank you' to the Rebbe on the perfect day.”

I have heard hundreds of such stories, and they are all unique and meaningful. Thousands visit the Rebbe’s Ohel every day, and many more thousands of petitions arrive at the main office from around the world via email and fax, which are placed at the Ohel with utmost privacy assured. Please visit OhelChabad.org for more details. The Rebbe continues to be a beacon of light and hope to the entire world, guiding our path to the ultimate redemption through Moshiach, when peace and tranquility will reign for all.

It has been a historic week, filled with tremendous miracles, for which we must be thankful and rejoice. But, staying in character, instead of using this space to communicate information you already know or can access with the tap of your finger, I’ll continue sharing how I am absorbing what’s happening through the lens of my reading of the weekly Torah portion of Shlach.

The main theme of the parsha is the tragic story of the spies. A year after the Exodus, as the Israelites approached the Promised Land, Moshe reluctantly acquiesced to their request to scout the land before conquering it, and he sent twelve representatives, one from each tribe, on the reconnaissance mission. Upon their return, ten spies delivered a scathing report of how conquering the land was impossible and essentially a suicidal mission. Devastated, the people revolted and refused to continue. The fallout from the scandal was severe. The rogue spies died immediately, and the rest of that generation died in the desert over forty years.

The two heroes of this story were Yehoshua and Kalev, the two spies who remained dedicated to G-d and the cause despite their colleagues’ treachery. With great personal risk, Kalev contradicted them and said: “We can go up and take possession of it, for we can indeed overcome it.”

When the spies insisted he was wrong, and the masses started to revolt against Moshe, Yehoshua and Kalev proclaimed: “The land we traveled through to inspect is an exceedingly good land. If G-d desires us, He will bring us to this land and give it to us, this land flowing with milk and date- and fig-honey. Just do not rebel against G-d, and as for you, do not fear the people of that land, for they are our bread. Their protection has departed from them. G-d is with us; do not fear them!”

This week, we witnessed the opposite of what happened to the Jews in the desert 3,336 years ago. With Israeli airspace closed since the launch of Operation Rising Lion, 100,000 Israelis stranded overseas are trying very hard to return. Instead of running away from the Promised Land in a time of extreme danger, Jews are desperate to go there.

Make no mistake. This is a generations-long struggle about the Jewish connection to the Promised Land. As a nation, we must rise to the opportunity of projecting this truth to all humanity. And as Yehoshua and Kalev proclaimed over three millennia ago, we know G-d is with us and will continue to grant tremendous success to this military operation and protect all of our brothers and sisters around the world, so there is no need for fear. However, we must follow G-d’s instructions, articulated in Torah, to ensure our natural efforts are crowned with miraculous success.

I highly recommend watching this new 11-minute film produced by Jewish Educational Media: Israeli Jets Over Tehran. What’s next? | The Lubavitcher Rebbe

It has six crucial Torah ideas, explained by the Rebbe, on how Israel can ensure this war concludes with true peace for the entire region and how we can all contribute to making this happen.

May this Shabbat be one of true peace and tranquility for all.