Balak
Dear Friend,
In the spring of 1927, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn—the sixth Lubavitcher rebbe—was arrested by the Soviet authorities and sentenced to death. His crime was running a vast underground network that kept Jewish life alive despite all attempts by the Communist regime to eradicate it.
An international outcry ultimately led to his release—86 years ago this week. This was a public vindication of the values and practices of the eternal tradition he represented. Indeed, his personal redemption was declared “a liberation for all who love the Torah and uphold its precepts.”
Today, thank G‑d, most of us can study the Torah and live upright Jewish lives without fear of persecution. But when we feel overwhelmed or inhibited—by ourselves or society—Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak’s triumph stands as a source of continued inspiration and liberation. Whenever we feel that the odds are stacked against us, his victory tells us that we will always prevail—we must only try.
May we experience the ultimate redemption speedily!
Eli Rubin,
on behalf of the Chabad.org Editorial Team
At each of their stops over their forty-year trek, the people made sure to erect their tents in a modest arrangement. Apparently, it was this exceptionally sensitive quality amongst them that made it impossible for Balaam to harm them.
What attraction could the idol Peor, and the particularly repulsive rituals associated with it, possibly hold for the Israelites who succumbed to its influence?
The character of Bilam remains ambiguous, in both the Torah and subsequent Jewish tradition. Was he a diviner (reading omens and signs), or a sorcerer (practising occult arts)? Was he a genuine prophet, or a fraud?
Balak sends Balaam to curse the Jews. His talking donkey tries to stop him, to no avail. Each time he opens his mouth, Balaam ends up blessing the nation instead.
I’d see a father playing with his children and feel a deep stabbing pain. A friend would mention asking her father for advice, and I’d feel jealousy running through my veins. I could easily end up in tears by reading a children’s book about happy families.
The rabbi was speaking of women’s inherent spiritual superiority to men. My hand shot up. “Where are the men? Shouldn’t they also hear of our elevated status?”
“And the years of Sarah were one hundred and twenty and seven.” What is it about youth that makes us yearn to be young again?
Although I was at peace about my situation, it was still reassuring to hear from someone of the Rebbe’s stature that there is a role for every woman, whether a mother or not, in Judaism.
There are several approaches to the endeavor of influencing one’s fellow and bringing him closer to Torah and the observance of mitzvot.
She calls this her “ultimate artwork”—having her body cremated after she dies and then compressed to form a diamond . . .
When I was 11 years old, my father gave me the manuscript as a gift. “This is a chassidic kiss,” he said. “In time I will explain.”
A scholar, kosher food marketer and pioneer of medical emergency response teams.
Thousands gather for days of learning devoted to the Rebbe’s mission and legacy.
We all know how super-important good BBQ sauce is to the success of your grilling. If you’ve got the right one, it’s all the seasoning you need; if you’ve got the wrong one, ain’t nothin’ gonna save your meat.
We Jews are a diverse people. We speak many languages. We live in every part of the world. We have different cultures, foods, political views.
But when a Jew’s mind is absorbed within Torah, it is the same Torah within which another Jew is absorbed. And another Jew. And yet another.
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