Rabbi Meyer Bodner

Tree of Unity

The Mishnah (Rosh Hashanah 2a) records a dispute regarding the precise date of the occasion of Tu B’Shvat. Beis Shammai holds that it falls on the first day of the month of Shevat, whereas Beit Hillel asserts that it occurs on the fifteenth day.

Both opinions agree on the underlying agricultural reality: at this time, the sap begins to rise within the trees, marking the start of the fruit-bearing process (see Rashi, Rosh Hashanah 14a). This is a cause for celebration. Even though winter may appear bleak and barren, growth has already begun beneath the surface. We bless Hashem and beseech Him for Divine favor, recognizing this moment as an opportunity for renewal.

Tu B’shvat, as a New Year, symbolizes new beginnings. We pray not only for physical abundance, but also that our actions bear fruit—that we achieve great things and experience success in our endeavors.

The core of the dispute between Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel reflects a broader philosophical difference. Beis Shammai maintains that potential itself carries significance; therefore, the first day of the month, which signals the beginning of the period of renewal, is the appropriate time to mark the occasion. Beis Hillel, on the other hand, emphasizes actuality, choosing to celebrate once the process is fully underway.

This debate is one of the earliest recorded disputes between these two Schools, who engaged in numerous Talmudic discussions. Despite their sharp disagreements, they maintained profound mutual respect. Not only did they honor each other’s perspectives, but they also intermarried among their families, demonstrating their unity despite ideological differences (Yevamos 14a). While they may have disagreed on specific halachic matters—such as the validity of certain marriages—they respected each other’s convictions and found ways to coexist harmoniously.

One of the key lessons of Tu B’Shvat is learning how to respectfully agree to disagree. This is precisely what Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel exemplified. Their disagreements did not undermine their regard for one another; rather, they upheld the principle that diversity of thought within Torah is both valuable and necessary.

There are different ways people approach disagreements. Consider the health food movement—some insist on organic produce, while others dismiss it as inconsequential. Imagine a guest asking whether the fish being served is organic. The host might think it makes no difference, but, out of respect, could offer to provide organic options. It embraces an attitude of respect despite differing viewpoints.

Renowned psychologist Malcolm Gladwell, in his book “Blink,” identifies the research of John Gottman, which highlights four communication behaviors which increase the likelihood of divorce. Of these, the most destructive is contempt. Disagreements themselves are not the issue; it is how they are conducted. Constructive debates maintain respect, whereas contempt breeds division. Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel engaged in rigorous debate without personal disdain. Their approach serves as a model for healthy discourse in Torah study and beyond.

How does this relate to Tu B’Shvat? The tree, as a metaphor, illustrates unity despite differences. Its branches extend in various directions, yet all are rooted in the same trunk. The Jewish people, despite diverse traditions—Sephardic, Ashkenazi, Chassidic—are ultimately connected at their core. A tree does not dismiss certain branches as less significant; all contribute to its wholeness.

This is perhaps why one of the most well-known debates between Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel’s centers on the Rosh Hashanah for Trees. Their dispute subtly conveys a deeper truth: despite ideological differences, they remained part of the same fundamental structure, reinforcing the unity and respect among the diversity of the Jewish people.

Rebbetzin Chaya Sora Gertzulin

The Beracha

I recently heard a true life story that spoke volumes.

It was in the mid-70s when a young successful entrepreneur went to the Lubavitcher Rebbe zt”l for a bracha. A bracha for continued success, good health and happiness, tranquility at home and peace of mind. For an all-in-all good life.

The Rebbe listened and gazed intently into the young man’s eyes. “You want Hashem’s blessings, but what are doing for Hashem. Do you keep kosher?” The young man lowered his eyes and quietly answered no. “Do you keep Shabbos?” Another no. The Rebbe continued. “If I ask you to do just one thing, will you commit?”

He wanted the bracha, badly. One thing he could handle, he reasoned. He looked up and answered in the affirmative, like the Jewish people at Sinai, who answered na’aseh v’nishma, we will do and will listen. He too committed to doing before even knowing what the one thing was. It was his personal na’aseh v’nishma moment.

The Rebbe told the “bracha seeker” to observe Shabbos and bring Shabbos to his table. To light candles and make Kiddush. To stay home and make family time. To make time for Hashem. The Rebbe then gave him a bracha for hatzlacha, good health, happiness and nachas.

Together with his wife, they brought Shabbos into their lives. Every Friday night, whether he was home or away, nothing got in the way. No business meetings, no sporting events, no social engagements. One Friday night led to another, and he began to see the realization of the Rebbe’s brachos. His children grew up knowing that Friday night was special and sacred, reserved for a spiritual connection to Hashem.

How sagacious the Rebbe was. To start this man on his journey with just one thing to do—one thing that held the family together and tethered them to Hashem and His Torah. The bracha seeker realized that as his children grew older, they would be living their own lives. If not for the Rebbe’s advice, their Friday nights would mean hanging out with friends, running to the mall, or going out to movies or restaurants. How happy he was to have brought Shabbos into his, and their, lives.

The Talmud (Shabbos 118b) teaches, “Kol ha’me’aneg es ha’Shabbos—Whoever delights in the Shabbos, nosnin lo mish’alos leebo, he is granted his heart’s wishes.” The Gemara is quick to cite a verse from Tehillim (37:4) that delighting in Shabbos refers to taking delight in Hashem.

In Parshas Yisro, we read of Hashem giving the Aseres HaDibros to Klal Yisroel at Sinai. It is a monumental moment in time, never to be repeated in the annals of history. A moment for all eternity.

The fourth commandment is the mitzva of Shabbos. “Zochor es yom HaShabbos l’kadsho—Remember the Shabbos Day and keep it holy” (Shemos 20:8). Zachor, to remember. Rashi comments, “T’nu lev lizkor tamid—Set your heart to remember it constantly.” Rashi further explains that we should keep Shabbos in mind as we go about our daily routine. We should try to emulate Shammai Ha’Zaken (the Elder), for whenever he spotted something special during the week, he would purchase it and set it aside for Shabbos.

Erev Shabbos is a time for Shabbos prep. As the rabbis teach, “Mi shetarach b’erev Shabbos yochal b’Shabbos— One who exerts effort on Friday, shall eat on Shabbos” (Avodah Zarah 3a). Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev explains that by spending time preparing for a mitzva, one shows how precious the mitzva is to him, how much importance he affords it, and his eagerness to fulfill it the right way. Preparing for Shabbos is one such example.

Preparing for Shabbos, even doing mundane acts, should never be considered beneath one’s dignity. On the contrary, it brings a person honor. We learn that even if one has household help, it is a mitzvah to personally prepare something for Shabbos. The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 250:1) tells us about great sages who engaged in various chores in preparation for Shabbos. Rav Chida would cut up vegetables; Rabbah and Rav Yosef chopped wood; Rav Zeira would light the fire; and Rav Nachman would clean the house and bring out the Shabbos dishes, while putting away the weekday utensils.

It was not only gedolim of yesteryear, but today’s leaders as well. There is a heartwarming clip of Rav Dovid Feinstein zt”l, as an elderly man, shopping for Shabbos. It shows him picking up each fruit, to see if it is up to par for Shabbos.

Rav Shimshon Pincus zt”l writes that we prepare for Shabbos as if Shabbos was a “real person.” While we don’t say, “I’m shopping for Monday,” “I’m cooking for Tuesday,” we do say, “I’m shopping for Shabbos,” “I’m cooking for Shabbos.” Rav Pincus explains that when we ready our homes for Shabbos, we are inviting in the Shechinah, the Divine Presence of Hashem. Every Shabbos comes with the opportunity to grow spiritually, to become closer to Hashem. A time not just for us to eat and drink, but a time to elevate and nourish our neshama.

The Gemara relates that HaShem told Moshe “Matana tova yesh li b’beis g’nazai, v’Shabbos shemoh—I have a wonderful gift in My treasure house, and Shabbos is its name” (Shabbos 10b). My mother, Rebbetzin Esther Jungreis a”h, wrote in her book, The Committed Life, “If we embrace the Shabbos, if we allow the Shabbos to take hold of our lives, then G-d lifts us up and invites us into His private chambers. And so, every Shabbos that is truly observed is a taste of the World to Come.”

The war of October 7 began on Shabbos. Even the secular day, October “7,” hints to Shabbos. Hashem is sending us a message: to strengthen ourselves through observing Shabbos. So many have understood this and have newly committed, or enhanced their commitment, to Shabbos. We derive strength from the words of Dovid HaMelech in Tehillim, Mizmor l’Dovid, which we sing every Shabbos: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me” (Tehillim 23:4).

May Shabbos elevate us in the unique ways only it can, and bring blessing to every aspect of our lives.

Rabbi Shlomo Farhi

Two in One

At the beginning of our Parsha, the Pasuk tells us, “Vayichad Yitro” (Shemos 18:9). In response to all the goodness that Hashem showered upon the Jewish people, this was Yisro’s reaction.

It is particularly noteworthy that Rashi and the Ohr HaChaim offer exact opposite explanations as to what underlined this reaction of Yitro. Rashi, in his second, Midrashic interpretation, explains that the word ‘Vayichad’ refers to shuddering with fear and sorrow. Witnessing the devastation that befell Egypt, Yitro was deeply affected, shuddering at the sheer destruction that had taken place. In contrast, the Ohr HaChaim interprets ‘Vayichad’ as a trembling of joy, an overwhelming sense of gratitude and amazement at the miraculous salvation of the Jewish people. This, in fact, is Rashi’s first interpretation, understood to be the simple meaning of the word.

At first glance, these explanations appear to be diametrically opposed. One view describes trembling from sorrow, while the other depicts trembling from happiness. But how can these two seemingly opposite emotions coexist within the same word?

Rabbi Yehoshua of Kutna offers a profound resolution to this paradox. He notes that Hebrew has multiple terms for joy: Simcha, Sasson, Rina, Gila, and Ditzah. One of these terms, Chedvah, is particularly significant here. The Ohr HaChaim and Rashi trace the origin of “And Yitro rejoiced” to the root of Chedvah.

What is unique about Chedvah? The meforshim explain that Chedvah is a form of joy that emerges despite pain. It represents the ability to find true happiness within sadness and to allow joy to transcend suffering.

A contemporary example illustrates this concept poignantly.

Rabbi Doron Perez shared a deeply personal story. During this most recent time of war, one of his sons was serving in Gaza while another son was getting married. Under the chuppah, he experienced an unparalleled mix of emotions: joy for one son, and the piercing grief of loss for the other. This duality encapsulates the essence of Chedvah—the ability to embrace happiness within sorrow.

Another example is a father who stood at the wedding of his child, after losing his wife. As the blessings were recited under the chuppah, tears streamed down his face. Yet, when the glass was broken, he visibly transitioned from mourning to celebration. This moment captured the concept of Chedvah—acknowledging pain while actively choosing to embrace joy.

This dual emotional reality is not an anomaly, but a fundamental aspect of Jewish thought. Dovid Hamelech tells us, “Gilu b’r’adah—Rejoice with trembling” (Tehillim 2:11). The word ‘gilu’ reflects joy, while ‘trembling’ implies fear or anxiety. Similarly, when the Jewish people celebrate military victories, the joy of triumph is accompanied by the solemn remembrance of the sacrifices made. Is victory a time of happiness or sorrow? The answer is both.

A Jew experiences complexity in emotion, rather than simplistic, binary reactions. This principle applies to all aspects of life. When a family builds a Torah institution in memory of a lost loved one, they feel both the pain of their loss and the pride of perpetuating a legacy. When a parent disciplines a child, it should not stem solely from strictness (Din) or pure kindness (Rachamim), but rather a synthesis of both.

This ability to hold conflicting emotions simultaneously is deeply embedded in the two primary Names of Hashem. They reflect this duality inasmuch as Hashem’s four-letter Ineffable Name represents Divine mercy, while Elokim (G-d) symbolizes justice. In the Shema, we declare that these two aspects are unified, when we state, “Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad—Hear O Israel, Hashem is our G-d, Hashem is One."

In marriage and parenting, the ability to integrate opposing qualities is critical. A spouse must be both flexible and firm, ensuring that they are neither over-accommodating nor overly rigid. A parent must balance discipline with compassion, guaranteeing that correction does not break a child’s spirit, while leniency does not lead to entitlement.

This principle extends beyond relationships to financial balance as well. A person may be frugal, avoiding unnecessary luxury, yet must also recognize the value in generosity. Yiddishkeit does not advocate for extremes, but encourages a harmonious middle path. Understanding this complexity allows for a more nuanced and fulfilling life. It helps one appreciate the bittersweet nature of human experiences, recognizing that true happiness does not exist in the absence of struggle, but often emerges from within it.

This is what ‘Vayichad Yitro’ teaches us. It is not merely a description of his reaction, but rather a lesson in how to approach life itself. To be human, and especially to be a Jew, is to embrace the full spectrum of emotions and to find joy even amidst sorrow. Such a perspective transforms not only how we process personal challenges, but also how we navigate relationships, spirituality, and personal growth. It is in this synthesis of emotion and thought that one finds true depth, resilience, and ultimately, connection with Hashem.

Rabbi Yosef Palaci

Millions in a Minute

The Chofetz Chaim explicitly emphasizes the immense value of even a single minute of Torah study. Consider how many mitzvot one accrues in just sixty seconds. Every word of Torah studied is a separate mitzvah. Now, how many words can a person say in a minute? Approximately 200. Multiply that by 613, as Torah study is equivalent to all the mitzvot combined (Shabbat 127a). Now, imagine the impact over an hour—can you even grasp the magnitude of this?

In a way, we can. 200 multiplied by 613 multiplied by 60… is 7,356,000. It is over 7.3 million mitzvot for minute of Torah study. Of course, as the Mishnah (Avot 2:10) tells us, we do not know the reward of even a single mitzvah, for we do not have the metrics to measure it. But in some small form, the above calculation lends keen insight.

Here’s the secret. In this world, Torah study is the most rewarding and sweetest experience. But to truly enjoy it, you must invest effort. You must delve deep.

What is happening in the Gemara? Review it repeatedly—again and again and again. To resolve a portion of Gemara may take two hours or two weeks of intense discussion, back and forth. But when you finally grasp it, your reaction is pure amazement.

I remember learning with some boys. “It’s incredible,” they said. “So beautiful—the pshat is so profound.”

To reach that appreciation, you must immerse yourself in learning. The more you study, the more beauty you uncover. So let yourself be drawn in by the Torah’s beauty and enjoy it.