B"H

Thursday, Shevat 8, 5781 / January 21, 2021

In this week’s Parsha, Bo, which will be reading this Shabbat, we find the story of the Exodus from Egypt.

The Torah tells us that 600,000 men from age 20 and up left Egypt at the time of the Exodus. In addition, there were women and children. Thus, a few million people left Egypt at the time of the Exodus.

The Parsha begins with the last three plagues which G-d brought upon the Egyptians; the plague of locust, darkness and the death of the first-born.

The Torah describes the plague of darkness as follows, “There was a thick darkness in all the land of Egypt for three days. One did not see his own brother… But to all children of Israel there was light in their dwelling places.” 

Q. Why the expression, “one did not see his own brother,” to describe the plague ofdarkness? 

A.We are all children of G-d, thus we are all brothers and sisters. This is why many times the Torah uses the term “your brother,” when dealing with mitzvot between one person and another.

The stories in the Torah are lessons for all generations. With the words, “One did not see his own brother,” the Torah teaches us a very important lesson. When one doesn't see the needs of his brother, his family member, the needs of another human being, that too is an affliction of the plague of darkness.

Hillel the Elder says, “The mitzvah of, ‘Love your fellow as yourself,’ is the basis for the entire Torah.”

A Jew emigrated to the U.S. from a small town in Poland and became very wealthy.  In the beginning he would still send some money to his family back home in Poland, but in time he became so involved in his business dealings that he completely forgot about his poor family in Poland.

Years later his brother also immigrated to the U.S.  He went to see his brother for help, but the rich man denied that he had a brother. The newcomer was sure it was his brother. No matter how much he tried, the rich man said that he had no brother and told him to leave.

Finally, he decided to try one more time. When the rich man opened the door his brother said to him, “I came to inform you that you better write a will as soon as possible!”

“How dare you say that?” exclaimed the rich man. “I just had my yearly checkup and the doctor told me I am in excellent health!”

“I may not be a doctor,” said the brother, “But back home in our little village when one couldn’t recognize his own brother, we knew that he was extremely sick and his days were numbered...”

The Torah says, “To all children of Israel there was light in their dwelling places.” Indeed, we have to make sure that we see and feel for those in need and do our utmost to help them.

HAVE A VERY GOOD, HAPPY, HEALTHY AND SUCCESSFUL DAY

B"H

Friday, Shevat 9, 5781 / January 22, 2021

In this week’s Parsha, Bo, we read that when Pharaoh refused to let the children go, Moshe told Pharao, “With our young and with our old we will go.”

This Shabbat, the tenth day in the month, Shevat, will be the 70^th Yartzeit of the previous Chabad Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson. It is also seventy years since the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, took over the Chabad leadership and a guiding light to Jews from all walks of life in our generation.

In connection with this I would like to share the following story as told eighteen years ago, by Rabbi Aaron Dovid Neuman, who is a first hand witness to this wonderful compassionate story with the Rebbe.

Here is the story as told by Rabbi Neuman:

I was born in 1934 in the village of Vizhnitz, Ukraine. When I was a small boy, my parents immigrated to Antwerp, Belgium. Belgium had a large Jewish community—some 50,000 Jews lived in Antwerp at that time—and they hoped to have a better life there.

Unfortunately, our stay did not last long. In 1940, the Germans invaded Belgium and immediately began deporting and killing Jews. So everybody started running. We ran across the border to France. I was only six years old at the time, but I was old enough to realize that we were fleeing for our lives.

We made our way to Marseilles, where my grandmother—my mother’s mother—and also my mother’s sister lived. A group of Lubavitcher chassidim lived there, and we were welcomed warmly. But the problem was that there was nothing for us there. By nothing, I mean that with the war going on, there was not enough food, and also not enough adequate shelter to handle the influx of all the refugees. We moved from house to house, from place to place. A few months later the Nazis invaded Paris, and the situation got even worse. In the midst of all this chaos and upheaval, my family was forced to split up. Only after the war did I get to see them again. Meanwhile, I was sent to an orphanage in Marseille.

The orphanage housed some forty or maybe fifty children, many of them as young as three and four years old. Some of them knew that their parents had been killed; others didn’t know what became of their mother or father. Often you would hear children crying, calling out for their parents, who were not there to answer.

As the days wore on, the situation grew more and more desperate, and food became more and more scarce. Many a day we went hungry.

And then, in the beginning of the summer of 1941, a man came to the rescue. We did not know his name; we just called him Monsieur, which is French for “Mister.” Every day, Monsieur would arrive with bags of bread—the long French baguettes—and tuna or sardines, sometimes potatoes too. He would stay until every child had eaten.

Some of the kids were so despondent, they didn’t want to eat. Those children he used to take on his lap, tell them a story, sing to them, and feed them by hand. He made sure everybody was fed. With some of the kids, he’d sit next to them on the floor and cajole them to eat, even feeding them with a spoon, if need be. He was like a father to these sad little children.

He knew every child by name, even though we didn’t know his. We loved him and looked forward to his coming. I remember there was a kid who was jealous. He also wanted to sit on Monsieur’s lap and hear songs and stories. So he pretended not to eat, in order to get his attention.

Monsieur came back day after day for several weeks. And I would say that many of the children who lived in the orphanage at that time owe their lives to him. If not for him, I, for one, wouldn’t be here.

Eventually the war ended, and I was reunited with my family. We left Europe and began our lives anew. In 1957, I came to live in New York, and that’s when my uncle suggested that I meet the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Of course, I agreed, and scheduled with the Rebbe’s secretary a time for an audience.

At the appointed date, I came to the Chabad Headquarters at 770 Eastern Parkway and sat down to wait. I read some Psalms and watched the parade of men and women from all walks of life who had come to see the Rebbe. Finally, I was told it was my turn, and I walked into the Rebbe’s office.

He was smiling, and immediately greeted me: “Dos iz Dovidele!—It’s Dovidele!”

I thought, “How does he know my name?”  And then I nearly fainted. I was looking at Monsieur. The Rebbe was Monsieur! And he had recognized me before I had recognized him. It was unbelievable.

Later on I learned how he came to be in Marseille. He and Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka were trying to escape Nazi Europe. In order to arrange the necessary documents, he was travelling back and forth between Nice and Marseille. He must have found out about the orphanage and the plight of us poor children, and he came to our rescue.

Rabbi Neuman concluded, “What is remarkable to me is that a scholar of such magnitude, like the Rebbe, would busy himself with delivering bags of food and personally feeding small orphans. He never forgot that saving lives is of primary concern. And I shall forever be grateful that he saved mine, and because of him, I, thank G-d, have many children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.”

Let us make a resolution to add an additional mitzvah and good deed, especially in the mitzvah of, “Love your fellow as yourself,” and may we hasten the redemption speedily in our days.

SHABBAT SHALOM

Montreal candle lighting time: 4:29 / Shabbat ends: 5:36

B"H

Monday, Shevat 12, 5781 / January 25, 2021

This Shabbat we will read Parshat B'Shalach.

In last week’s Parsha, Bo, the Torah tells us about the Exodus of the Jewish people from Egypt.  In this week’s Parsha we read about the splitting of the Red Sea and how the Jewish people crossed over while the Egyptians, who were chasing after them, drowned. We also read the song which Moshe and the Jewish people sang, praising G-d, after crossing the sea.

The Torah tells us that after letting them go, "The heart of Pharaoh and his servants changed toward the people, and they said: 'What is this that we have done, that we have let Israel go from serving us?'"

Pharaoh and his men pursued the Jewish people and caught up to them by the sea.  Trapped between the sea and Pharaoh's army, "The Children of Israel lifted up their eyes and, behold the Egyptians were marching after them; and they feared exceedingly, and the Children of Israel cried out to G-d."

G-d responded, "Tell the Children of Israel that they should go forward. Lift up your rod and stretch out your hand over the sea, and divide it, and they shall go into the sea on the dry ground."

After crossing through the sea and witnessing their enemies drown, their faith was greatly strengthened.  The Torah says, "And Israel saw the great hand with which the L-rd brought upon the Egyptians and the people feared the L-rd; and they believed in the L-rd and in Moshe his servant.”

The Exodus from Egypt wasn't complete until they were rid of the Egyptians. This occurred only after they crossed the sea and realized that the Egyptians were no threat anymore.

Moshe and the people sang a special song praising G-d for this great miracle.  The song which they sang begins with, "Az Yashir."  Our sages incorporated this song into our daily morning prayers.

Q.What is the significance of reciting the Az Yashir each day, a song which the Jewish people sang for a miracle which took place over three thousand years ago?

A.As mentioned, crossing through the sea represents the end of the Exodus. The Torah commands us, "Remember the Exodus each day of your life." By reciting the "Az Yashir", we fulfill the mitzvah of remembering the Exodus each day.

Another reason: Reciting the "Az Yashir" each day teaches us an important daily lesson. The splitting of the sea occurred as Jews couldn't see any way out of their grave situation. The last thing they would think of doing was going into the sea. Yet, that is what G-d chose for their salvation. The Az Yashir is a daily reminder to us that no matter how difficult things may seem, one must not give up. G-d’s help and salvation can occur at any moment and from a most unexpected place.

HAVE A VERY GOOD, HAPPY, HEALTHY AND SUCCESSFUL DAY