Rabbi Yitzchak Oelbaum

The Waves of Life

At a family simcha, a Rabbi Jacobs encountered a former student whom he had not seen in several years. He knew that the young man, David, had endured a serious illness, and seeing him again was an emotional experience. "David!" he exclaimed warmly. "How are you? I heard that you were very ill. I've been davening for you. How are you feeling?" "Baruch Hashem, I'm doing better," David replied. "But it’s been quite a journey."

"When I first became sick," David recalled, "I was terrified. I was just a teenager, enjoying my years in yeshiva, and life was simple. I had no real worries or responsibilities. My greatest concern was getting up in time for Shacharis and making it to seder. I spent my days learning Torah, surrounded by friends, never imagining that anything could disrupt the life I knew. And then, suddenly, everything changed. I was diagnosed with a terrible illness. My entire world was turned upside down. I couldn't understand how something so frightening could happen to me, and I wondered how I would ever find the strength to endure it."

As his family struggled to come to terms with the diagnosis, they visited several gedolei Torah to seek their berachos. Shortly before Pesach, one of the gedolim recommended that David add a name. His father turned to him and said, "You can choose whichever name you would like. What would you want us to add?" Without hesitation, David answered, "Meir." Rabbi Jacobs was intrigued. "Why Meir?" he asked. "What made you choose that particular name?"

David's face lit up as he began to explain. "At the time, I was learning a Gemara in Yevamos, 121a. The Gemara relates an extraordinary incident involving Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Meir. Rabbi Akiva once witnessed a ship traveling at sea when a violent storm caused it to capsize. Rabbi Meir was aboard that ship, and Rabbi Akiva was certain that he had drowned. But when Rabbi Akiva eventually reached shore, he was astonished to discover Rabbi Meir standing before him, alive and unharmed. He asked Rabbi Meir how he had possibly survived, and Rabbi Meir explained that the waves of the sea had carried him from one place to another until he eventually reached safety."

David paused, looking intently at his former rebbi. "When I learned that Gemara, something struck me. Rabbi Meir had been surrounded by enormous waves, powerful enough to overwhelm him and drag him beneath the surface. Those waves should have spelled his destruction. But instead, they became the means of his salvation. The same waves that threatened to drown him ultimately carried him to shore."

David continued, his voice filled with emotion. "When I became ill, I felt as though I had been thrown into a raging sea. The diagnosis, the treatments, the uncertainty, the fear of what might happen next. Every new development felt like another wave crashing over me. I could have allowed those waves to overwhelm me. I could have surrendered to the fear and despair. But when I learned the story of Rabbi Meir, I made a decision. I wanted to become like Rabbi Meir. I wanted to believe that the very waves threatening to destroy me could somehow become the means through which I would reach a better place.

"I decided that I would not allow my illness to define me or destroy my spirit. Instead, I would try to use this painful experience to strengthen my emunah, deepen my bitachon, and draw closer to Hakadosh Baruch Hu. I couldn't control the illness, and I didn't know what the outcome would be. But I could choose how I would respond to the challenges placed before me. That is why I chose the name Meir. Because just as the waves carried Rabbi Meir to safety, I hoped that the waves of my own illness would ultimately carry me toward a closer relationship with Hashem."

Every person encounters waves in life. Sometimes they arrive unexpectedly, shattering the calm of a life we had assumed would continue undisturbed. They may come in the form of illness, financial hardship, personal disappointment, family difficulties, or circumstances we never imagined we would have to confront. At times, the waves seem so enormous that we wonder how we will possibly remain afloat. Yet the story of Rabbi Meir reminds us that the forces which threaten to overwhelm us can sometimes become the very experiences through which we discover strengths we never knew we possessed.

A challenge can awaken a deeper emunah. A period of uncertainty can teach us to rely upon Hashem in ways we had never previously understood. This does not mean that suffering is easy, nor that we can always understand why a particular hardship has entered our lives. But it does mean that even within circumstances we would never have chosen, the possibility of growth remains.

David understood this. He could not choose whether the waves would come. But he could choose to meet them with a commitment to draw closer to Hashem. Through that perspective, he transformed his experience from one defined solely by fear into one that also became a source of meaning and spiritual strength.

Sometimes, the waves that threaten to pull us under become the very waves that carry us to shore.

Rabbi YY Jacobson

The Enemy of Progress

In Parshas Bereishis, the Torah tells us, “And Hashem saw everything that He had made, and behold, it was very good" (Bereishis 1:31). The Midrash (Bereishis Rabbah 9:10), commenting on these words, offers a startling interpretation.

Hinei TovMoed (‘It was very good’) refers to the Malach HaChaim, the angel of life, while V’hinei TovMoed (“And” it was very good) refers to the Malach HaMaves, the angel of death.

Now, wait a minute. The angel of death is very good? How could the Malach HaMaves, the very embodiment of mortality, represent the highest expression of goodness in creation?

There are two fundamentally different philosophies through which a person can approach life. The first is the philosophy of tov, of goodness. A person sets out to accomplish something meaningful. He invests his time, energy, and abilities, striving to produce the best possible result. He wants to succeed and make a positive contribution, and he recognizes that his efforts may not yield a flawless outcome, but he is nevertheless determined to do his best. This is tov. And this is the Malach HaChaim, the angel of life. It is a philosophy that encourages initiative, welcomes progress, and creates the conditions for meaningful achievement.

But there is another philosophy, one that can quietly undermine everything a person hopes to accomplish. It is the philosophy of tov me'od. Good is no longer sufficient. Everything must be exceptional, impeccable, and absolutely flawless. Every undertaking must meet an impossible standard of perfection. Anything less is regarded as failure. And what happens when a person adopts this mindset? The Malach HaMaves enters the picture. Not necessarily as a force that ends physical life, but as a force that extinguishes ambition, suffocates creativity, and destroys the possibility of progress.

A person has a wonderful idea for a project, but he hesitates to begin because he cannot guarantee that the outcome will be perfect. Another dreams of writing a book, delivering a shiur, launching an initiative, or pursuing a meaningful goal. Yet he becomes so preoccupied with every possible imperfection that the undertaking never advances beyond the planning stage. The dream remains a dream. The project is never completed. The opportunity quietly disappears. And all because something that could have been good was rejected for failing to be perfect.

There is a familiar saying: Perfection is the enemy of progress. When we insist upon an impossible standard, we do not necessarily produce better results. Very often, we produce no results at all. The pursuit of perfection becomes a source of anxiety, frustration, and paralysis. Instead of inspiring achievement, it creates an overwhelming fear of inadequacy. A person becomes so concerned with avoiding mistakes that he avoids taking meaningful action altogether. In this sense, tov me'od becomes the Malach HaMaves. It places a lid upon human potential and drives the final nail into the coffin of countless worthwhile aspirations.

This lesson extends far beyond our professional ambitions or personal projects. It applies equally to the way we understand ourselves. Every human being makes mistakes. We exercise poor judgment, fall short of our ideals, disappoint others, and sometimes act in ways we regret. But when a person embraces the philosophy of tov, he recognizes that imperfection does not invalidate his worth or destroy his future. He can acknowledge his mistakes and he can apologize. He can make amends. He can learn from his failures, reassess his decisions, and discover a better path forward. He can grow and reinvent himself.

But the person who demands tov me'od, who believes that he must be flawless to be worthy, risks becoming imprisoned by his own shortcomings. Every mistake becomes an indictment of his character. Rather than viewing his errors as opportunities for growth, he allows them to define the limits of his potential. And in doing so, he extinguishes the very possibility of transformation. That is the Malach HaMaves. The tragedy is not that he made a mistake. The tragedy is that his insistence upon perfection prevents him from moving beyond it.

The message is both simple and profound. Strive for excellence, but do not confuse excellence with perfection. Pursue meaningful goals, but do not allow the fear of imperfection to prevent you from beginning. When perfection becomes the condition for progress, we jeopardize our future.

The goal is not to live a life without mistakes. It is to live a life in which our mistakes never become the end of our story.

Rabbi Chanan Gordon

The Ten Commandments for a Successful Marriage

Marriage is one of the greatest opportunities for personal and spiritual growth. Yet many couples enter marriage and remain married with unrealistic expectations shaped by popular culture. Drawing upon the wisdom of Chazal, allow me to share ten principles, or so-called commandments, that can transform the way we navigate marriage.

One: You cannot force someone to love you, nor can you depend on someone else to make you happy. Your responsibility is to be a loving spouse; not to control how your spouse feels. You can offer kindness, affection, understanding, and support, but you cannot force another person to appreciate or reciprocate those efforts. Similarly, while your spouse's behavior can certainly affect your emotions, your happiness cannot depend entirely upon what your spouse says or does. Each person must take responsibility for their own emotional well-being. The goal is to contribute to your spouse's happiness without making them solely responsible for yours.

Two: You cannot change your spouse, but you can change yourself. Many people approach marriage counseling convinced that their relationship would improve if only their husband or wife behaved differently. Yet we cannot force another person to change their personality, habits, or attitudes. What we can control is our own behavior. Through marriage, Hakadosh Baruch Hu brings together two distinct individuals, each possessing unique strengths and weaknesses, and provides them extraordinary opportunities for tikkun hamiddos. Therefore, instead of concentrating exclusively on what your spouse needs to improve, consider how you can become more patient, compassionate, and understanding. When you change your own behavior, the dynamics of your marriage change as well.

Three: People often fall in love with an imaginary version of their spouse rather than the person they actually marry. Hollywood has conditioned generations to believe that finding the perfect partner guarantees happiness. This is what the entertainment industry calls, “The Theater of the Mind.” Imagine a black limousine traveling along the New Jersey Turnpike. Its windows are tinted, the chauffeur wears dark sunglasses, and the streetlights are off. Suddenly, a child runs into the roadway, and the chauffeur stops just in time. How could he possibly see the child? Because it was daytime! Nobody said otherwise. Our imagination supplied information that was never presented. Similarly, we construct illusions from cultural messages and mistake them for reality. A successful marriage requires appreciating the person before us rather than comparing them with an imaginary ideal.

Four: A real marriage begins when unrealistic expectations come to an end. Weddings are magnificent celebrations, but everyday married life cannot resemble a wedding celebration indefinitely. Marriage involves responsibilities, disagreements, disappointments, and sacrifices. These experiences do not necessarily indicate that something is wrong. Rather, they provide opportunities to develop qualities that might otherwise remain dormant. Just as diamonds and gold must be extracted from deep beneath the earth, our finest qualities often emerge through difficulty. Avraham Avinu underwent ten nisyonos, culminating in the Akeidas Yitzchak, through which he actualized extraordinary spiritual potential. Marriage similarly challenges us to develop patience, humility, resilience, and compassion, and more.

Five: Attraction alone cannot sustain a marriage. The Beatles famously sang, "All You Need Is Love," but infatuation must not be confused with enduring love. When two people first meet, excitement and novelty can produce powerful emotions. Yet these feelings naturally fluctuate over time. Lasting love requires compatibility, shared values, mutual respect, and commitment. Before marriage, couples must consider whether they share fundamental values, communicate effectively, and can build a meaningful life together. Attraction may initiate a relationship, but character and commitment sustain it.

Six: The qualities you initially admire in your spouse may eventually become sources of frustration. A husband may initially appreciate his wife's spontaneity, only to become frustrated by her unpredictability. A wife may admire her husband's discipline, only to later perceive him as overly rigid. The personality trait has not necessarily changed; what has changed is how it is experienced. Every marriage involves differences that require accommodation. Just as muscles develop through resistance, our emotional and spiritual capacities strengthen when we practice flexibility. Instead of allowing ordinary frustrations to become sources of resentment, we can use them as opportunities for personal growth.

Seven: Even the happiest marriages experience periods of pain, disappointment, and loneliness. No relationship provides uninterrupted happiness. There will be misunderstandings and moments when spouses feel emotionally disconnected. Such experiences do not automatically mean that the marriage is unsuccessful. Think of a GPS announcing, "Recalculating." An unexpected detour may be frustrating, but it can ultimately lead toward the intended destination. Rather than asking only “Lamah—Why is this happening,” we can also ask, “Le’mah—What can I learn from this experience?” Difficulties should be addressed constructively; not interpreted as evidence that the relationship has failed.

Eight: A successful marriage requires caring about your spouse's needs as much as your own. Many people enter marriage primarily concerned with what their spouse will provide for them. But the Torah encourages us to approach marriage with an attitude of giving. Importantly, giving requires understanding what the other person actually needs. Gary Chapman's “The Five Love Languages” outlines how people experience affection differently. Some appreciate words of affirmation, while others value quality time, thoughtful gifts, practical assistance, or physical affection. A husband may express love through gifts when his wife primarily desires meaningful conversation. His intentions are good, but he is not meeting her emotional needs. The lesson is simple: do not assume that what makes you feel loved will necessarily make your spouse feel loved. Learn what matters to them, and express your love accordingly.

Nine: Marriage requires continuous effort, even after many years together. A successful marriage cannot operate on autopilot. One practical recommendation is to continue dating your spouse throughout married life. Arrange a meaningful outing at least once a month, turn off your phones, and avoid discussing children or finances. Instead, reconnect through conversation about your interests, aspirations, and experiences. Small habits accumulate over time, just as a slight deviation in a rocket's trajectory can produce enormous consequences across a vast distance. Without deliberate attention, spouses may gradually become roommates who share responsibilities but little emotional connection. This becomes particularly apparent when children leave the home and couples discover they have little left to discuss. Your marriage must remain a priority throughout every stage of family life.

Ten: The greatest gift you can give your children is shalom bayis. Financial security and educational opportunities cannot replace the emotional stability of a peaceful home. Children look to their parents for security. When they repeatedly witness conflict, their sense of safety can be undermined. Conversely, when they observe mutual respect, they learn what loving relationships look like. Parents need not maintain a perfect marriage, but they should strive to create an environment characterized by emotional safety and respect. The quality of the marital relationship profoundly influences the atmosphere in which children develop.

Ultimately, marriage requires us to overcome three particularly destructive tendencies: comparison, criticism, and contempt. Comparison prevents us from appreciating our spouse's unique qualities. Habitual criticism undermines trust and affection. Contempt, expressed through sarcasm, mockery, or expressions of superiority, attacks another person's dignity. In their place, cultivate gratitude.

And remember, it is never too late. When is the best time to plant a tree? Twenty-five years ago. And the second-best time? Right now. Whatever mistakes have been made, today offers another opportunity. You cannot rewrite the beginning of your marriage, but you can help determine its next chapter.