Rabbi Peretz Chen | Seeking the good within the difficulty - an educational message for us and our children

00:00 I first met Assi after Simchas Torah. The war had begun the day after Simchas Torah. There was chaos, uncertainty, terrible news. I thought to myself, “Wait, what do I do? What can I contribute?” I took my tefillin and went to the fire station in Ashkelon. There were lots of crews there, lots of firefighters. I know the guys there pretty well because I’ve been going there on Fridays for many years. Suddenly I was seeing additional crews, with more arriving every day. One day I met Assi there. He was a reservist in charge of the other reservists. I offered him tefillin, he agreed to put them on, and that’s how we met. Day by day, we became friends and shared stories and experiences. After a while, once things here in the south had begun to calm down a little, all the additional crews that had come there were released. Yesterday, on October 7, they held a ceremony at the station marking one year since the war began, according to their calendar. They called me the day before and asked if I would come to the ceremony and recite the El Malei Rachamim prayer. I agreed and went. It was a very moving event—or, more precisely, a very painful one. I stood there and recited El Malei Rachamim with deep emotion. After the ceremony, the guys asked me, “So, did you bring your tefillin?” I said, “Of course, absolutely.” Suddenly Assi came up to me. I hadn’t noticed he was there at first. “How are you, Rabbi?” he asked. We embraced—a painful embrace. A special, deep bond had formed between us. Then I said to Assi, “Seeing you now takes me right back to that time, to those difficult, painful experiences we went through near the beginning of the war.” Assi said to me, “That’s true. They were difficult experiences,”

02:19 but then he said, “There were also so many moving experiences, so many special things that grew out of that time: bonds, connection, mutual support, devotion, endless giving—each person offering what they could, what they were good at, what they felt most connected to.” And then something clicked for me. Even when an event is terribly hard, unbearably hard, the challenge is to look for and see what is special in it, the good in it, what can come of it, the deeper purpose behind it. To look for the good, for what is special in everything. In the next few minutes, I want to talk about this idea in connection with the approaching Yom Kippur. And especially, as we’ve begun doing recently, I want to talk about what message we can pass on to our children from this idea, and what kind of game or activity we can do with them before Yom Kippur, during the meals on the eve of Yom Kippur, to bring out this point. One of the themes of Yom Kippur is seeing what lies behind the scenes, seeing beyond the surface. On Yom Kippur, we suddenly become a little like angels. We wear white clothes and don’t eat all day, just like angels. We rise a little above our usual routine into a more spiritual, higher world. We’re not quite the people we are every day. That’s what happens through the tremendous power of Yom Kippur. That’s also why it’s a day of forgiveness and atonement. In everyday life, it’s hard to forgive, hard to grant atonement. A person made mistakes—why should they be forgiven? But when we rise a little higher and begin to understand the meaning and depth of life, we also realize how foolish what we did was, what a mistake that act was. What was driving me, for heaven’s sake? Suddenly we understand that the negative things we got excited about and did are really empty, and a deeper,

04:44 more heartfelt regret sets in. It’s a day of forgiveness and atonement. In this connection, I want to touch on a particular point, a very powerful point that we need to pass on to our children as well. The Torah says, in connection with Yom Kippur, that when the Kohen Gadol went to perform the holy services of the day, “He shall atone for himself, for his household, and for the entire congregation of Israel.” “For himself” makes sense: he atones for himself. “For the entire congregation of Israel” also makes sense: the Jewish people. But what does “for himself and for his household” mean? What is his “household”? Rashi explains that “his household” means his wife. The Kohen Gadol must atone for himself and for his wife, and then he atones for the entire Jewish people. So the question is: wait a minute—if “his household” means his wife, why doesn’t the Torah say, “He shall atone for himself and for his wife”? Why use the word “household” and leave us to understand that it means his wife? It’s a simple question, and the answer is simple and powerful. The Rebbe explains that we find in the Gemara that one of the Tannaim, Rabbi Yosi, said, “I never called my wife ‘my wife.’” He never called her that. “And I never called my ox ‘my ox’”—he had an ox that plowed his land, but he never called it “my ox.” Instead, he called his wife “my home,” and his ox “my field.” Why didn’t Rabbi Yosi simply call his wife his wife and his ox his ox? What’s with “my field” and “my home”? The explanation is that Rabbi Yosi was a Jew who always looked for the purpose of everything: what it was meant for, why it was created, why it existed. Rabbi Yosi said to himself, “Wait, let’s start with the ox. Why do I have an ox? Am I keeping one just to bring it food

07:02 and spend money on everything it eats? Of course not. The ox has a purpose: I care for it and feed it so it can plow my field.” So what did he call the ox? “My field.” Because that was its purpose. He looked at the end goal. Rabbi Yosi said the same thing to himself about his wife: “Why do I have a wife? Why did I get married? Why do people get married? Just because it’s nicer to be together?” The true, inner purpose is to build a home. To build a Jewish home, bring more Jewish children into the world, and raise them in the ways of our forebears. That is the purpose: to build a home. So what did he call his wife? “My home,” because that was her purpose. In other words, Rabbi Yosi was the kind of Jew who looked for the purpose in everything: what it was meant for, why it was created, what Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants from it. That was Rabbi Yosi, and that is what the Torah is telling us here. The Torah wants to tell us what spiritual level the Kohen Gadol reaches on Yom Kippur. It says that the Kohen atones for himself and for his household. “His household” means his wife. Why call her “his household”? To tell us that he has reached a spiritual level like Rabbi Yosi’s. When he looks at his wife, what does he see? He sees his home. Like Rabbi Yosi, he sees the purpose in everything—why it was created, what lies behind the scenes. He doesn’t just see what’s right in front of his eyes and stop there. No, there is a hidden intention, a hidden depth within it. The Kohen Gadol reached that level on Yom Kippur, and with that same depth of vision he performed the holy services of the day. It’s like Assi said: yes, on the surface it was a difficult time, but look a little deeper at how many special things

08:56 There were several connections. I was really struck by this beautiful approach of our dear Assi. This is the message we want to convey to the children, and we could perhaps do it with them at one of the meals—even at the pre-fast meal, though that might be a little rushed. But at another meal on Erev Yom Kippur, this coming Friday, or even afterward, we could ask them to pick an object from the house. Take a knife from the kitchen, for example, and ask, “What’s this?” They’ll say, “A knife.” Then ask, “Why do we need a knife? It costs money, and knives can be dangerous too. Why do we keep one in our home?” They’ll say, “Oh, right—because if we want to prepare tasty food, we need a knife.” So at first glance, a knife costs money—some knives are very expensive—and it can be dangerous. But if you look a little further, there’s a lot of good you can get from it. We have a car. Do you know how much that car costs us every month? Gas, repairs when needed, insurance—having a car costs us a lot of money. So why do we keep it? Well, because we benefit from it. We can get here or there, go shopping. Life is much more convenient when we have a way to travel. And then you can take the conversation somewhere much deeper. We’re here in this world, right? Yom Kippur is coming, and fasting is hard. Why do we do it? Oh, right—it’s a day of atonement. Through the fast, Hashem atones for us, and we become a little more spiritual. Wow, how amazing, how beautiful. That’s why it’s also called a festival. And you can ask deeper questions like these about life. So—

10:59 Wait a moment: we came into this world. Think about school. You see how hard you study, and how tests and assignments drive you crazy? Why? Because in the end we’ll know things, get a good report card, and be able to move forward in life, succeed, be happy afterward, and enjoy the fruits of all that effort. Oh, right—there’s a purpose to it. That’s how you can get into deeper questions, suited to the children’s ages, of course, and show them that everything has a purpose, depth, and an inner dimension. It’s important in life to adopt that way of looking at things—to seek out what lies beneath the surface. Thank you so much, dear Assi, for that insight. You made it click for me, and I’m trying to pass it on to you. May we have a good year, gmar chasimah tovah, and nachas from the children. May we finally, truly merit the complete Geulah and the coming of Moshiach, when all the problems will truly be resolved. And until that happens—may it happen this very moment—may we see the hostages again, safe and sound; may the wounded recover; and may the Jewish people have a great victory. Good news. If this speaks to you, I’d be glad if you passed it on. Share it with a friend, give it a like, subscribe, leave a comment. With Hashem’s help, that will help this class and this idea reach more and more people. Thank you very much. Good news. All the best.