Let me tell you about the most expensive mistake I know of.

(Besides the current New York Mets payroll. C’mon Uncle Stevie… oy vey)

–

In the Arizona desert, not far from Tucson, there stands a strange and beautiful thing: a sprawling glass structure covering more than three acres under a single roof. It’s called Biosphere 2. Back in 1991, a team spent over two hundred million dollars to build a perfect, self-contained little world inside it — a rainforest, a savannah, a miniature ocean with a living coral reef, farmland, homes. Then eight men and women sealed themselves in for two years. The idea was breathtaking. Could human beings build their own world and live in it, cut off entirely from ours?

They thought of everything. Almost.

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I. The strangest opening

Of all the nights of the year, this is the holiest. And of all the ways to begin the holiest night, we choose the strangest. We do not open with confession. We do not open with tears. We open with Kol Nidre — a dry, legal formula for the annulment of vows. Before we say a single word about our sins, we stand and quietly release the promises we made and could not keep.

It is not a soaring prayer. It is maintenance. It is the unglamorous work of clearing the books before the year turns over. And that, tonight, is exactly the point.

II. The forty-three percent

Let me tell you about a language almost no one speaks anymore.

It is called COBOL. It was designed in 1959 — older than color television, older than the Beatles. And tonight, as you sit in this room, roughly forty-three percent of the world’s banking systems are still running on it. When a card is swiped at an ATM, ninety-five percent of the time COBOL is underneath. It quietly moves trillions of dollars a day, and it holds up the machinery behind unemployment checks and food assistance that millions of people depend on in order to eat.

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L’Shana Tova - to an amazing new year!

David Goldstein has been in therapy for 10 years, seeing his doctor multiple times a week. Finally, his therapist tells him that they’ve achieved all their goals and he doesn’t have to come back anymore. David is terrified.

“Doctor,” he says, “I’ve grown very dependent on these sessions. I just can’t stop.”

The doctor gives Goldstein his home phone number. “If you ever need to,” he says, “call me at any time.”

Two weeks later, Sunday morning, 6 am, the phone rings in the doctor’s house. It’s Goldstein.

“Doctor,” he says, “I just had a terrible nightmare. I dreamed that you were my mother, and I woke up in a terrible Jewish sweat.”

“So what did you do?” the therapist asks.

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A few months ago, I brought some material to a tailor to make me a long Shabbos jacket that Chabad Chassidim wear, called a kapata.

He said it would be ready in one week.

I came back a week later, and it wasn’t ready. I came back two weeks later, and it was still not ready. Finally, after six weeks, it was ready.

I tried it on, and it fit perfectly. Amazing, perfect fit, but I couldn’t resist.

I asked the tailor, “G-d took only six days to make the world, and it took you six whole weeks to make my jacket.”

The tailor, in his quick-witted Jewish way, says, “Ah, but look at this jacket, this is a fine kapota and now look at the world.”

—

One could easily look at the world outside and see that the weather is frightful, to quote a famous Jewish song “Let it Snow.”

Yes, it’s author Sammy Cahn, or Shmuel Cohen was Jewish and wrote it in a heatwave in Hollywood California in 1945.

That sounds like the most Jewish thing I have ever heard - an X-mas song written in July during a heatwave in LA by a Jew.

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It's late. After a day of guests, preparing big meals for lots of kids and cleaning the house from the tornado of life, I finally sit down at the computer to take some time for myself.  Aaaah. Quiet at last. What? What are you yelling to me from upstairs? You forgot you have a project due on Monday and haven’t prepared anything? Ok. Another child interjects, I feel sick.  One more voice pops up, “I need one more hug.” I think I addressed everyone’s needs temporarily so I can get back to focusing. 

So where do I start? A little background information will give you insight into why I decided to tackle the million dollar question, “How can a be the best parent possible” Disclaimer: I am no more the best parent ever then you are but as a mother of ten I certainly have some insight that will help you shine in the most challenging and precious role that most of humanity attempts to undertake.

I grew up as the youngest of two girls. I always knew I wanted a big family but did not really make that a life goal.  After shifting my life from a very secular reality as a cheerleader, Phish fan, sarcastic Jersey girl to a deeply spiritual, seeker of wisdom, devoted wife, and mother of ten. 

Through the broadening of my perspective, I payed attention to the intricacies of human nature.  I become open and interested in seeing the unique composition of each individual.  I am hopelessly optimistic and see the Infinite potential we all possess.  It is from this vantage point that I come to you to offer a glimpse into the journey of parenting and how to be better.

Trust Yourself- 

We start out this journey being handed the most precious, mysterious and fragile gift. All the potential and protection for this life rests immediately upon our shoulders whether we are ready or not. For many this may bring along a fear and a voice of self doubt. Unfortunately this voice will haunt you throughout your journey. The first step to grow into the shoes of the great parent you are meant to be is to quiet this voice.  

The logistics of a newborn are complicated and often, extra support is crucial.  Sometimes this can come in the form of a pro, someone who has the experience we can learn from. At times the help will come from a book or video that will temporarily make us feel like we know what we are doing. Regardless of how we survive and hopefully thrive in these early days, we can take one important lesson.  We are capable of a lot more than we ever thought possible.  This lesson will carry through the ups and downs of your parenting journey.  As much as you are learning how to tend to another life, you are also learning about yourself.  A mother or father will greatly benefit to seeing their parenting as a personal journey just as much as a journey as a family. This is the greatest opportunity one has to truly express who they are in creating an outgrowth of their very being as well as coming to terms with our own ability to nurture, protect, and guide another human life. We must do all this while still maintaining our own identity and allowing our own identity to expand and shift. 

There is a mystical Jewish belief that before a soul enters into a body, it is allowed to choose the parents that will give it the best guidance through the journey of life.  Some will learn the life lessons in spite of their parents and others will learn the life lessons because of the parents.  This means that the symphony of our successes and failures are custom made for our child. Needless to say, this is only applicable to someone who truly cares and is invested in the well being of their child.  This is for a healthy family that is going to experience leaps forward and real setbacks.

Trust yourself and trust the process.

It takes a Village

Your spouse, Your partner

Seemlesness and Boundries

As I got out of my car, I said out loud, “I don’t want to do this.” I was so nervous about what awaited me and if I would be up to the task of being a proper support. Beyond not wanting to do this for me, I did not want my friend to be in such a state that she needed round the clock support and that her family was put in this situation.

I walked in and the atmosphere was warm and inviting.  The father was winding down a birthday fabringen. The girls were all around with the warmest welcome and sweetest smiles. It was actually a pleasure.  Another woman walked over and asked if I was here for the night shift. When I said yes, she proceeded to tell me everything I needed to know. She told me to doze on the couch if I needed, to be on top of the nurse because she was extremely tired.  She told me to rub Devorah’s arm and reassure her. I felt so much more relaxed and comfortable having more of an idea what the night would look like for me.

Devroah was very uncomfortable and agitated. She seemed nervous and worried about the long night ahead.  She hadn’t had a good night sleep in several nights and we were hoping medicine could help her relax enough to fall asleep.  Little by little, everyone retired for the night. It was the nurse, Sarahand myself. Sure enough Sarahfell asleep.  I had plenty to do, catch up on chitas(daily studies), say tehillem (psalms), try and learn Basi L’gani (a complex Hasidic discourse), play some games…eventually I dozed off as well.

When there was beeping, I asked the nurse what was going on and she fixed the machines until the beeping stopped. At one point the machines all turned off and myself and the nurse jumped up. Baruch Hashem everything restarted and worked just right the rest of the night. At one point Sarahwoke up and was very upset.  Myself and the nurse  could not calm her.  I called her husband on his cell phone and he came downstairs.

She automatically felt more at ease when her husband came.  Though she didn’t have words, her husband understood her needs.  There was something so deeply intimate about their communication. He was her voice. He was her advocate.  He was so deeply devoted. As he reassured her that her numbers were good, he was able to try and catch a little more sleep before daybreak and before the impending snow storm.

Sarahwas uncomfortable and dosed in and out while trying to grasp small adjustments for comfort. Morning came and with it came the heavy snow. A new nurse arrived and Devorah’s daughter came and was by her side. It was time for me to head home but I really didn’t want to leave.  I made my way home but couldn’t wait to come back.  

After the storm subsided and the roads were drivable, I came back for a visit. I was met with the same warmth and sweet smiles of the family.  Sarahslept most of the time and I said Tehillem by her side. At one point she awoke.  When her 12 year old son saw her eyes open, he said with the sweetest joy, "Oh hey mom!” His eyes sparkled with delight. Devorah’s  grandson had been circling around and every time he came into the dining room turned hospital room, he would point and say in his sweet 1 year old voice…Bubby…and he would smile. When Sarahsaw him, her eyes would light up. When she woke, she was extremely uncomfortable and needed the trek drained.  All by her side tried to offer support and reassurance but her discomfort and fear were palpable. She wanted to be understood.  Her husband understood her language. I needed to leave and return home. It was so hard to pull myself away even though I felt like I was doing very little to help. I left.  When her husband returned, she was much better.

The gentle atmosphere of warmth, concern and love enveloped me when I first came. So sincere and so authentic.  The bright smile of her son and the excitement of her grandchildren, the caring daughters offering reassurance and connection. The unspoken unity between husband and wife. A community pouring out to offer any support possible. The gentle reassuring caress of her arms and legs. The grasp of a hand looking for reassurance. Sometimes there is so much light generated in the darkness. May we merit Moshiach Now!

My dear friends, my beloved brothers and sisters,

We stand together today at the threshold of the holiest day of the year—Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. But more than that, we stand at a crossroads of history, at a moment when the Jewish people need not just to survive, but to stand tall—to reclaim our sacred purpose and fulfill our destiny as partners with the Almighty in bringing Moshiach and redemption to this broken world.

If every festival and Shabbat is a call to leave the rat race and the cacophony of modern life and return home, to step back from the noise of the social media and entertainment and return to your own essence, your true self, then Yom Kippur is that call in its most radical form.

Every holy day bids us to lay aside our ‘outdoor’ clothes, our enslavement to the ‘outside,’ to all that is not yours. Each is a summons: Return. Leave your strange setting. Shed what is not yours.

But Yom Kippur is more. It is an ascent above the ground, a rising out of the world of dust and soil, a day of becoming more than human. One day each year, Jews become like angels.

A Jew on Yom Kippur is unrecognisable from the Jew of the rest of the year. “How is this possible?” one might ask. But it is. For even the most estranged heart, even one sunk to the depths, finds on this holy day a surge of longing for purity, for holiness, for its root and source, for the root of the entire people, for the heights.

On Yom Kippur the soul recoils from everything profane. From all the unholy days that have passed. From the grime and filth. Even the simplest Jew becomes holy. The day itself is holiness.

(Rabbi Avrohom Chein)

The day itself atones and gives us a clean slate, a blank canvas to paint the masterpiece of our lives.

In our lives, it might seem that the world is not giving us that opportunity, our lives are built on years of successes and failures, hopes unfulfilled, and dreams unrealized have reached a critical mass that we will shlep around with us until we die.

But the truth is that now, more than ever, we are presented with the greatest opportunity to write a new chapter in our lives and in the narrative of Jewish history.

The Plague of Our Times

Albert Einstein once said, “If my theory of relativity is proven correct, Germany will claim me as German and France will proclaim that I am a citizen of the world!” “If my theory of relativity is proven untrue, France will say I am German, and Germany will say that I am Jew”

I want to speak to you tonight about a spiritual disease that has infected our generation—a plague of the mind that diminishes our power and dilutes our purpose. Walk through social media, listen to the voices at award ceremonies, read the opinion pages, or sit in the coffee shops near our universities, and you will hear it: the epidemic of “As a Jew...”

“As a Jew, I believe...” “As a Jew, I must say...” This phrase has become the crutch of our generation—a desperate attempt to legitimize opinion through ethnic credential rather than moral conviction. It is as if our heritage has been reduced to a permission slip for public speaking, our identity weaponized into a shield for weak argument, and our magnificent tradition reduced to a mere qualification for having an opinion.

But there is another way—the way of the Torah, the way of the Rebbe, the way of Jews throughout history who needed no qualifying phrase because they simply were Jews, fully and completely, in every fiber of their being.

Never think “Who am I to say…?”, “Who am I to do, to change… ?”

You will miss out on the greatest opportunity presented to mankind - to live, to act in the here and now, and that is truly the only place that you are free.

We are on the precipice of history, yet about to reach its zenith.

(pause)

The Poem That Speaks to Our Moment

Right before I became an English Major at the University of Michigan, I encountered a poem that has stayed with me ever since—Rudyard Kipling’s “If.”

And today, this holiest of days, I want to share it with you, though that might not be what you thought a Chabad Rabbi would reference on Yom Kippur. But I want to share it because it speaks to the very essence of what we must become if we are to bring Moshiach and fulfill the Rebbe’s sacred mission:

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

Listen to these words! When Kipling writes, “If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you,” he speaks to every Jew who has ever stood accused in the public square. To every student on campus facing antisemitism. To every Jew attacked for supporting Israel, or attacked for questioning Israel. To every one of us who has felt the weight of the world’s judgment.

But here’s the truth that transforms everything: In a world that is losing its head, it’s not enough merely to keep our wits about us. We must realize that as Jews, we are the head. As the Torah tells us, we are meant to be “a light unto the nations”— because we carry the awesome responsibility of moral and spiritual leadership that is embedded in our soul and given voice through our Torah.

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

This is the voice of Job! This is the voice of our ancestors who witnessed both the glory of Solomon’s temple and the ashes of destruction, yet remained faithful. The Rebbe taught us that setbacks are not defeats—they are opportunities to rebuild with even greater strength. When the things we’ve given our lives to are broken, we don’t despair. We stoop and build them up again, with whatever tools we have, with worn-out tools if necessary, because the work of bringing Moshiach cannot wait for perfect conditions.

Kings and Queens in a Royal Mission

The poem continues:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

We don’t just walk with Kings and Queens, my friends—we are, as Jews, the Kings and Queens! When every Jew enters into Shabbos Friday night we sing about our royal heritage, accepting our role as G-d’s partners in creation and in resting from work - making each of us royalty in the truest sense. And royalty doesn’t give up. Royalty doesn’t surrender. When there is nothing left in you except the Will that says “Hold on!”—that is when you discover your truest strength.

The Rebbe taught us that we are living even beyond ikvesa d’Meshicha—the footsteps of Moshiach. There is no reason for us to experience pain anymore. We are the final generation of exile and the first generation of redemption. Yes, we are tired of waiting. Yes, we cry out “Ad mosai?”—How much longer? But we are not worn out by Moshiach’s delay. Rather, like the steadfast protagonist of Kipling’s poem, our commitment grows stronger. We understand that every moment of waiting is an opportunity for one more mitzvah, one more act of kindness, one more push toward redemption.

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

“Fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run”—this captures the Jewish understanding of time as sacred!

The great sage Maimonides teaches us something both empowering and daunting: we must see ourselves and the entire world as perfectly balanced on a scale between good and evil, where our next word, our next thought, our very next action could tip everything toward redemption or darkness.

Can you imagine living with that awareness every single moment?

Never losing focus, never forgetting the weight of what hangs in the balance?

It’s an almost impossible standard.

And yet, the Rebbe offers us a pathway that transforms this overwhelming challenge into something within our reach.

He teaches that no matter how heavy the burden of our past mistakes, no matter what limitations constrain us in this present moment, we can achieve this consciousness—not through superhuman willpower, but by doing something profoundly simple: reliving our exodus from Egypt. When we truly internalize that ancient liberation, when we experience anew what it means to break free from bondage, we discover that the impossible becomes possible, and the mindfulness that seemed beyond our grasp becomes the very air we breathe.

Each moment is pregnant with the possibility of tipping the scales for good, of repairing the world. The Rebbe taught us that every mitzvah has unprecedented power in our generation, that every act of kindness reverberates through the cosmos.

The Eternity Hidden in Each Mitzvah

Because here is what’s at stake: if we remain trapped in yesterday’s failures or tomorrow’s anxieties, we will miss out on the greatest opportunity presented to mankind—to live, to act in the here and now. And that is truly the only place where you are free. Right here, in this moment, where your choice still matters and your action can still change everything.

There is no other land where your neshamah will find its home. There is no other time when your choices matter more.

As Thoreau wrote—and how profound these words become through the lens of Torah!—”You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”

For what is a mitzvah if not the art of finding eternity in each moment?

When you put on tefillin, you’re not just wrapping leather around your arm—you’re binding your heart, your mind, your strength to the service of the Divine.

When you give tzedakah, you’re not just helping someone in need—you’re participating in the cosmic flow of blessing that sustains all existence.

When you light Shabbat candles, you’re not performing a ritual—you’re bringing divine light into a world desperately hungry for illumination.

When you are sitting here - hopefully the caffeine headache has dissipated - fasting, just living, breathing, and experiencing the holiest day of the year - you are exactly where you are supposed to be - one on one with G-d, A-lmighty.

Too many of us live as fools—standing on our island of opportunities, always looking toward “another land.”

We tell ourselves, “I’ll start keeping kosher when I move.”

“I’ll begin studying Torah when I have more time.”

“I’ll give more tzedakah when I’m financially secure.”

“I’ll get serious about my Judaism when life is less complicated.”

But listen carefully: There is no other land. There is no other life but this.

The Unbearable Joy of Sacred Purpose

Let me share something with you—words that capture the very essence of what happens when we stop making excuses and dive into the ocean of present holiness:

This is what happens when we begin to live as Jews—not just ethnically, not just culturally, but with the full depth of a Torah, Jewish way of life. Life begins to surprise us. The ordinary becomes extraordinary. A simple blessing over bread becomes a moment of cosmic connection. Studying a page of Talmud becomes a conversation across millennia with the greatest minds who ever lived. Giving tzedakah transforms from obligation into privilege.

Your Mission Begins This Yom Kippur

Today, we stand before the Master of the Universe with empty stomachs but with full hearts. Today, we ask for forgiveness, for another year, for another chance. But more than that, today we must make a commitment—not a vague promise, but a concrete, actionable decision about how we will live the coming year.

The Rebbe taught us that we must bring Moshiach through three pillars: Torah & Mitzvot, Prayer, and Acts of Loving-Kindness—especially Tzedakah.

Torah Study: Commit to learning. Not someday. Not when you have time. Now. Even if it’s just ten minutes a day. Join our weekly Chassidus and Kabbalah classes. Study one chapter of Torah each day. Learn a page of Talmud a week. The Rebbe said that Torah study is not just about acquiring knowledge—it’s about connecting your mind to the mind of the Divine.

Mitzvot: Choose one mitzvah to take upon yourself this year. Perhaps it’s putting on tefillin every day. Perhaps it’s keeping Shabbat. Perhaps it’s saying the Shema before bed. Launch yourself fully into the wave of this mitzvah. Don’t half-commit. Don’t “try it out.” Do it with your whole heart, and watch how it transforms your entire life.

Tzedakah: The Rebbe taught that charity hastens redemption. Not modest donations when convenient—copious amounts of tzedakah, generous giving that stretches you, that makes you trust that Hashem will provide. No one has ever become poor through giving Tzedakah. The Talmud teaches that tzedakah is equal to all other mitzvot combined. When you give generously, you declare your faith that we live in a world of abundance, not scarcity.

The Moment Is Now

My dear friends, today is not just about confession and fasting. Today is about transformation. Today is about committing to bring Moshiach—not as a distant hope, but as an immediate project demanding our full energy and devotion.

The Rebbe taught us that Moshiach’s coming depends on us. Not on politicians. Not on miracles. On us—on our mitzvot, our Torah study, our tzedakah, our kindness, our unwavering commitment to living as Jews without apology or qualification.

You don’t need to transform your entire life tonight. But you do need to choose one wave to launch yourself upon! One mitzvah to commit to fully. One area of Torah to study consistently. One extra percentage of your income to dedicate to tzedakah. One moment each day to connect to the Divine.

There is no other land where redemption will arrive. There is no other generation that will bring Moshiach. There is no other time when your choices matter more. We are the generation. This is the moment. You are the one the Rebbe is counting on.

The Call

So I ask you tonight, on this Yom Kippur: Will you remain on the island of someday, or will you launch yourself on the wave of today? Will you continue to look toward another land, or will you discover the holiness of exactly where you stand?

Will you qualify your Judaism with “As a Jew...” or will you simply be a Jew—fully, completely, without hesitation or apology?

Will you keep your head when all about you are losing theirs? Will you meet triumph and disaster and treat those two impostors just the same? Will you fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run?

The choice is yours. The moment is now. The eternity you seek is waiting in the next mitzvah, the next page of Torah, the next act of tzedakah, the next moment of kindness.

The Rebbe taught us: “A little bit of light dispels a great deal of darkness.” You don’t need to be perfect. You need only to begin. You need only to light one candle. And then another. And then another.

And when enough of us light our candles—when enough of us study, give, perform mitzvot, live as Jews without qualification—the darkness will have no choice but to flee. And Moshiach will come. Not someday. Not eventually. Now.

G’mar chatima tova—may you be sealed in the Book of Life.

But more than that: May you be sealed in the Book of those who bring redemption. May you be counted among those who stood tall in the final generation of exile and became the first generation of redemption. May your name be written among those who needed no qualifying phrase because they simply were—fully, completely, magnificently—Jews.

Amen.

May this Yom Kippur mark not an ending but a beginning—the beginning of your journey toward your truest self, your highest purpose, your deepest joy. The beginning of the work that will bring Moshiach and transform this world into the dwelling place for the Divine that it was always meant to be.

An English Jew, a prominent intellectual is informed that he will be nighted by the Queen of England. The royal protocol officials prepare him and the other knights-to-be for the ceremony, how to walk, how to conduct oneself and finally he is to recite a certain Latin phrase just before he is knighted.

On the day of the ceremony he is very nervous and sure enough as he approaches the Queen, he forgets the Latin expression. Fumbling for the line he blurts out “Mah Nishtana Halilah Hazeh mikol halaylot…”

The Queen confused turns to her protocol guard “Why is this Knight different from all the other nights??”

My dear friends,

Tonight, as we stand together wrapped in our prayer shawls, as the sun sets and Yom Kippur descends upon us like a glorious, luminous cloud, I want to ask you three questions. Not questions I expect you to answer aloud, but questions that awaken something deep within every human heart:

What is my true purpose?

What is expected of me?

What must I accomplish with this world?

These questions are not burdens—they are invitations. Invitations to discover who you truly are and what you were uniquely created to become.

The Gift of Sacred Interruption

Tonight is unlike any other night. Yom Kippur doesn’t simply follow the day before it. It ruptures time itself. It rises like a mountain above the landscape of ordinary days, offering us perspective we cannot see from the valley floor.

Think about the most meaningful moments of your life. Were they not the times when something broke through the routine? A birth. A revelation. A moment of clarity when you suddenly understood something essential about yourself or the world. A crisis that became a doorway. An unexpected joy that changed everything.

“If I ascend to the heavens, there You are, and if I make my bed in the grave, behold, You are there.”

The Divine Presence meets us not in the comfortable middle, but in the heights of exaltation and the depths of honest reckoning. In the moments of flight and in the moments of collapse. In both places—especially in both places—we discover who we really are.

And tonight, we are here to discover exactly that.

The Soul’s Capacity for Renewal

Here is a magnificent truth: You possess within yourself an extraordinary power—the power of renewal.

You are not condemned to repeat yesterday. You don’t have to carry forward every pattern, every limitation, every definition that others placed upon you or that you placed upon yourself.

The ability to begin again is woven into the fabric of your soul. To cast off what weighs you down. To rise from sadness, from weariness, from the version of yourself that feels too small. To step beyond habit and inertia into something fresh and alive.

This is not wishful thinking. This is your birthright as a human being, and especially as a Jew.

Our people has never accepted the flatness of existence. We are mountain-makers. Star-kindlers. Well-diggers who find living waters in the desert. From Sinai to this very moment, we have specialized in the art of breakthrough—in refusing to let yesterday dictate tomorrow’s possibilities.

This is your inheritance. This power runs in your blood.

Your Singular Voice

So let me speak to those three questions—not to replace your answers, but to help you hear your own voice more clearly:

What is your true purpose?

You are here to discover and express your singular voice in the symphony of humanity. Your unique testimony. Your irreplaceable song—the one that only you can bring into the world.

Somewhere within you lives a vision, a gift, a way of loving or creating or healing that belongs to you alone. It may be quiet or it may be bold. It may be expressed through your profession or through how you raise your children or through a kindness no one else notices. But it is yours, and the world needs it.

You were not meant to be a copy of someone else. You were meant to be an original—the first and only edition of you that will ever exist.

What is expected of you?

You are invited to be a partner with the Creator in the ongoing act of creation. Not just of the world—of your own soul.

Every time you choose consciousness over autopilot, you perform an act of creation. Every time you bring holiness into an ordinary moment—a meal blessed with intention, a conversation conducted with real presence, a difficulty met with courage—you split the sea. You make mountains rise.

You are expected to kindle stars. And what is a star if not a point of light in the darkness? When you illuminate one corner of the world—your family, your workplace, your community—you fulfill this cosmic expectation.

When you let Shabbat truly interrupt your week, when you pour its sanctity over the altar of your life, you don’t just observe a ritual. You transform time itself. You become Israel—the wrestler with the Divine, the one who refuses to accept yesterday’s terms for tomorrow’s possibilities.

What must you accomplish with this world?

My friends, we stand at an extraordinary moment. Not just in history, but in the unfolding of redemption itself.

The Moshiach era is not a distant fairy tale. It is a threshold we approach with every awakened soul, with every act of genuine goodness, with every moment when someone breaks through to their true purpose.

Your mission is to take your corner of the world and elevate it. To refuse to let it remain flat, grey, uninspired. To bring breakthrough wherever you stand.

Create those extraordinary moments that don’t merely add variety to life but transform it entirely. Moments that tunnel down to the depths and break upward to the heights. That uncover hidden wells and kindle new stars.

We Are Mountain-Makers

Our entire history is “a chain of high mountains and deep chasms, a garland of stars and a ribbon of wellsprings.”

The land is a land of mountains. The Torah is the Torah of the mountain. The Temple stands on the Temple Mount. Abraham and Isaac dug wells. Jacob met Rachel at a well. Moses found Zipporah at a sealed spring.

“Like the stars of the sky.” “A star shall emerge from Jacob.”

Mountains and valleys. Stars above, springs below. Ascents and deep wells of wisdom. This is the landscape of the Jewish soul—not flat, never monotonous, always reaching, always digging deeper, always climbing higher.

You carry this within you. Tonight, reclaim it.

The Precipice of Redemption

We stand tonight at a threshold. Behind us lies the possibility of sleepwalking through another year. Ahead lies the mountain peak—where Moses stood, where Abraham discovered the ram, where Elijah heard the still, small voice.

The Moshiach era doesn’t begin when we passively wait for rescue. It begins when we actively transform ourselves and our world. When we stop merely repeating and start creating. When we stop accepting limitation and start embracing our divine potential.

Each soul that awakens brings the redemption closer. Each person who discovers their true purpose and begins to live it accelerates the unfolding. Each star kindled in the darkness illuminates the path.

You—yes, you sitting here right now—you are part of this great awakening.

Your Mission from This Night Forward

As you stand here tonight, as you fast tomorrow, as you engage in this sacred work of return—know this: You are not merely seeking forgiveness. You are preparing for rebirth. For renewal. For a genuinely new beginning.

Your mission from this night forward is beautiful:

Be a mountain-maker. Wherever you are, create elevation. Lift yourself and others to higher ground.

Be a well-digger. Find the hidden springs of wisdom, of compassion, of joy. Draw them up and share them freely.

Be a star-kindler. Bring light. Be light. Help others discover their own radiance.

Don’t let this year be a mere continuation. Let it be a rupture in the best sense—a breakthrough to something new.

Find your singular voice and sing it with confidence. Your song will help others remember they have voices too.

Pour holiness over your ordinary days until they shimmer with meaning. Let your work become an act of creation. Let your relationships become sacred encounters. Let your very presence be a blessing.

Do this, and you become a partner in bringing the redemption. Do this, and you will stand on the mountain when Moshiach arrives—no, you will be part of the mountain he arrives upon. Your awakened soul, joined with others, creates the very elevation we’ve been waiting for.

The Gates Are Radiant

The Gates of Repentance are open tonight, glowing with possibility. They are gates not just to forgiveness, but to your truest self. To your purpose. To your irreplaceable contribution to the cosmic symphony.

Walk through them with joy. Walk through them with hope. Walk through them ready to discover powers within yourself you had forgotten you possessed.

The world is waiting for your mountain to rise. The symphony is incomplete without your voice. And the Moshiach era arrives one awakened soul at a time—perhaps beginning with yours, tonight.

You have everything you need within you. The capacity for renewal. The power to create. The ability to kindle stars. The courage to climb mountains. The wisdom to dig wells.

Tonight, reclaim these gifts. Tomorrow, begin to use them.

G’mar chatimah tovah. May you be sealed in the Book of Life—not just for another year, but for a life of genuine vitality, of mountain-climbing, of star-kindling, of joyful partnership with the Divine in the ongoing creation of the world.

The gates are open, radiant with light. Step through them. Your true purpose awaits. Your world is waiting to be transformed.

And you—you are ready.

Upon arriving in one city, he heard about a phenomenally wealthy local Jew. Rabbi Kahaneman told a friend that he intended to solicit this man.

“It is a waste of time” his friend told him, “The man is totally anti-Orthodox. The moment he sees your long beard and coat, he won’t give you a penny!”

Sure enough when the Rabbi met with the man, he proved to bea hostile to Orthodox Judaism as his friend predicted.

“But surely you want to help Jewish youngsters get a good education?!” Rabbi entreated.

“I’ll tell you what” the man said, “Since education matters so much to you, let me make you an offer. I will give all the money you need to build a Jewish elementary school, on one condition. The students are forbidden to wear a head covering at any time, even when they study Torah or make a blessing before eating - no Yarmulke!”

“And if I accept this condition, you will personally donate all the money that is needed?” The Rabbi asked the man’s assurance.

“That sort of Jewish school I’ll happily build!” he exclaimed.

Rabbi Kahaneman extended his hand to seal the pact “Agreed!”

One year later the man was invited to come to the school’s opening. On top of the beautiful new building, a large sign proclaimed “The New Bnai Barak School for Girls”.

My dear friends,

As we gather here on this second day of Rosh HaShana, the birthday of the world, I want to share with you a truth so profound it can transform not just how we see this new year, but how we live every moment of our lives.

Picture yourself for a moment. In your personal universe - the world as you experience it - there are really only two entities that matter: the Infinite, the Holy One blessed be He, and you. Everything else around you - your spouse, your children, your neighbors, even me standing here speaking to you - we are all instruments, messengers, channels through which you connect with the Divine.

When your child brings you unexpected joy, that’s Hashem speaking directly to you. When a stranger shows you kindness on a difficult day, that’s the Infinite reaching out to you through that person. Your entire life is an intimate, ongoing conversation between you and the Almighty. This feels absolutely real and true to you, because it is. You are the center of your own spiritual universe.

But here’s what should stop us in our tracks with “trepidation, humility, and awe”: That person sitting next to you right now? In their world, they are having that exact same intimate conversation with the Infinite. To them, you are not the center - you are one of the instruments through which Hashem speaks to them. Their world is just as real, just as true, just as central as yours.

The Weight of Being Heaven’s Messenger

This means something extraordinary: every interaction you have, every word you speak, every gesture you make toward another person - you are acting as Hashem’s representative in their personal universe. You are their burning bush. You are their divine encounter.

Think about your spouse when you’re frustrated with them. Remember - in their universe, you exist to help them connect with the Divine. You are their messenger from Heaven, whether you’re acting like it or not. Your children don’t exist to fulfill your dreams - in their worlds, you exist to help them discover their own sacred purpose.

I’m reminded of a story about the Radziner Rebbe in 1930s Warsaw. After Shabbos morning services, instead of going to his festive meal, he called out: “I need to go somewhere in the city. Whoever wants to join can join.” Hundreds of chassidim flooded the streets, following their Rebbe through Warsaw until they arrived at the business district.

Among all the closed shops honoring Shabbos, one remained open - a barbershop with just an owner and customer inside. The Rebbe approached with visible pain in his eyes, but instead of reproach, he offered the warmest “Good Shabbos” to both men. His hundreds of followers did the same.

Those two Jewish men, expecting scorn, instead received hundreds of warm Shabbos greetings. The customer, with half his head shaven, was the first to leave. The owner followed. That barbershop never again opened on Shabbos.

The Rebbe understood something profound: these weren’t enemies to defeat, but fellow souls whose universes needed the light of Shabbos. He entered their holy world with love, not judgment.

Rejecting the Cynicism of Our Time

You know, there’s a voice in our culture that would mock what I’m telling you right now. It whispers that cynicism is somehow more authentic than aspiration, that sneering from the sidelines shows depth while caring is just performance. This voice suggests that detachment makes you wise.

That’s intellectual laziness dressed up as moral superiority.

The late, great Norm Macdonald said, “How could anyone be a cynic when life attacks us with unbearable joy again and again?

How could we sneer when we’re surrounded by daily miracles?

Even as he was dying from an incurable disease he opined:

“How could a man be a cynic? It is a sin.”

The world may look dark right now. Turn on the news and it seems like chaos reigns. But that’s precisely when we need to remember what the Rebbe taught a group of philanthropists in 1988: “We were all put on earth by G-d with a mission to touch every person in the world and teach them about G-d. For as long as there is even one place on earth still unfinished, we cannot rest.”

Your Mitzvot Matter More Than You Know

This brings us to something crucial about mitzvot in our daily lives. When you put on tefillin in the morning, you’re not just fulfilling a commandment - you’re channeling divine light into the world. When you light Shabbos candles, you’re not just marking time - you’re illuminating the darkness for everyone around you.

But here’s what we often miss: when you do a mitzvah with the awareness that you’re entering someone else’s sacred universe, that mitzvah becomes exponentially more powerful.

When you give tzedakah, remember you’re not just helping someone financially - in their universe, you might be Hashem’s answer to their prayers. When you visit someone sick, you’re not just being nice - you might be their divine visitation. When you invite someone for Shabbos dinner, you’re potentially changing the entire trajectory of their relationship with Judaism.

The Rebbe once told his shliach Reb Berel Shemtov, “Throw your mara shechora your Negativity, into the Dead Sea! In di daled amos darf men zain b’simcha - in this space one needs to be joyous!”

Chassidus demands joy. But how to arrive at true, pervasive happiness?

The Torah gives us the blueprint for happiness, a joy that is not fleeting through possessions, or even experiences that are fleeting with time.

Let me illustrate with a powerful story shared by a friend:

Gary Berman was the president of an orthodox shul and was invited to a conservative synagogue nearby for an event.

There was a Conservative rabbi there that gave a provocative talk that shocked him and everyone else in the audience.

He said a Jew was visiting an idol worshipper on the top of a hill in India. The Jew asked the idol worshipper why they were still worshipping things and not G-d.

The idol worshipper laughed and said, “Watch this, Jew.” And the idol worshipper took a large ceramic idol and threw it down the stairs of the hill. As the idol lay smashed, the idol worshipper smiled and asked the Jew, “Now tell me if you will throw your Torah down the stairs and then we will know who worships idols.”

The conservative rabbi paused and looked around the room to see if we understood the implication. Gary scanned the room.

He was likely the only Orthodox Jew in the room but I saw that everyone in the room was extremely uncomfortable with the accusation that we worship the Torah.

Less than a few seconds passed but it felt like an hour.

Gary didn’t want to be the one to respond. He was on their turf - but the claim was outrageous.

Finally, a woman he knew, an attendee of the conservative synagogue, spoke up. “We love our children. We don’t worship them. We would never throw them down the stairs.”

And that was it.

She nailed the response.

Our love and respect of Torah isn’t as a replacement for God, ch’v’sh.

We face the Torah as the centerpiece of our religious focus because it represents the covenant we have with God. It gives us a pathway, one we would not arrive at on our own. Anyone who looks from their seat in shul towards the aron kodesh and stops at the Torah scroll isn’t looking far enough.

I was told later that this rabbi was simply being “provocative” with his question but Gary saw the way he handled the woman’s effective rebuttal, and it wasn’t glee that she “got it.”

He appeared more crestfallen that his indictment was denied.

Love the Torah. Learn it. See it for how amazing it is.

The woman’s response was indeed brilliant because it captured something essential about the nature of sacred relationships.

Her analogy to loving children perfectly demonstrates that deep reverence, care, and even centering something in our lives doesn’t constitute worship of that thing itself. Parents don’t worship their children when they prioritize their well-being, make sacrifices for them, or structure their lives around them. Similarly, the Torah’s central place in Jewish worship reflects its role as the vessel through which Jews encounter and fulfill their covenant with G-d - it prioritizes our well-being and gives constructive structure to our lives.

The Uniqueness Revolution

Here’s a truth that can revolutionize your life: Don’t aim to be the best - be the only.

This is exemplified by Avraham - the first Jew. This is why we read about him on Rosh HaShana. The Torah tells us ‘Echad C’Avraham - there is only ONE like Avraham”.

Yet, at the same time the Torah instructs us to strive to be like our Patriarch and Matriarchs.

This requires tremendous self-knowledge to understand what you do better than anyone else in the world. For most of us, it takes our entire lives to figure this out, and we need everyone around us to help us discover it.

But the Torah constantly guides us on the path to our most inner self - our truest self unencumbered by the mortal and materially trappings of the world, and then teaches us to turn inside out and use the world for good.

When you find that unique gift - when you discover your irreplaceable role in bringing Moshiach - you don’t need to compete with anyone. You’re not looking over your shoulder because you’re doing what only you can do.

Maybe you’re the only person who can reach your colleague at work with Jewish warmth. Maybe you’re the only one who can bring Shabbos light to your neighborhood. Maybe you’re the only one who can inspire your children to see Judaism as joyful rather than burdensome.

The Zohar teaches us that in the soul of the universe there is a consciousness from which all consciousness extends. In space, there is the Land of Israel from which all space is nurtured. In time, there is Rosh Hashana from which all time is renewed. These two days we’re experiencing right now? They’re not just a starting point - they’re the head of the year. As the head governs the body, everything that will transpire in the coming year is first conceived right here, right now.

Bringing Moshiach Through Sacred Encounters

My friends, we live in unprecedented times. Never before have we had such tools to reach every corner of the earth with Torah and mitzvot. Never before have we been so close to fulfilling the Rebbe’s vision of touching every person in the world and teaching them about G-d.

But it starts with recognizing the sacred universe of every person you encounter. When you approach someone about Shabbos candles, you’re not interrupting their day - you’re entering their holy world as Hashem’s representative. When you offer someone to put on tefillin, you’re bringing them a divine encounter they may desperately need.

The Choice Before Us

As we stand here on Rosh Hashana, we have a choice. We can see the darkness in the world and retreat into cynicism. We can focus on what’s wrong and complain about things beyond our control. Or we can remember that complaining gives too much power to negative forces. We can take back that power and channel it into doing mitzvot, turning inward in our relationship with G-d and outward in strengthening our relationships with fellow Jews.

Here’s an important rule for life: Don’t complain about anything. If it’s within your control, go do something about it. If it’s not, you’re wasting energy thinking about it. Take back that power and use it to transform the world.

You know what else? You don’t actually have to have an opinion about everything. You don’t have to decide if every news story is good or bad. But you do have to decide whether you’ll be part of bringing more light into the world.

Your Mission This Year

As we begin this new year, I want to leave you with this invitation: Enter the holy world of every person you encounter. When you speak to your teenager, remember you’re stepping into their universe where they’re having their own conversation with G-d. When you meet someone difficult, recognize that you’re entering sacred space - their sacred space.

Do something. Create something. As Richard Taylor taught, “To do otherwise is simply to waste your precious life.” Don’t rest upon mere existence like animals who only eat, sleep, reproduce, and die. You have a divine mission.

The Baal Shem Tov taught that a soul may descend to this world and live seventy or eighty years just to do one favor for another person - spiritually or materially. Maybe your entire purpose this year is one conversation that brings someone closer to Judaism. Maybe it’s one act of kindness that restores someone’s faith in humanity. Maybe it’s one Shabbos invitation that changes a family’s entire trajectory.

Here’s a gentle section that could be woven into the sermon, perhaps after “The Choice Before Us” section:

Beyond Default Judaism

In our local community, surrounded by Jewish people from many different backgrounds, it’s easy to fall into what I call “default Judaism” - following the rhythms and practices around us without deeply connecting to their meaning.

This isn’t a criticism - it’s human nature. When we’re surrounded by a Y, and different Temples that are all really the same, when our children attend Jewish after-school progrmas and our social circles revolve around the same patterns of life cycles, we can sometimes find ourselves going through the motions rather than truly inhabiting our Judaism.

But you - sitting here on this second day of Rosh HaShana - you have the opportunity for something far more profound. You can choose to move from inherited Judaism to inhabited Judaism, from communal comfort to personal connection.

The beauty of our tradition isn’t diminished when we examine it closely - it’s magnified.

Rabbi Kahaneman, the founder of Ponevitz Yeshiva, understood this beautifully. When faced with a wealthy donor who demanded a Jewish school without yarmulkes, he didn’t argue theology or tradition. He simply said “Agreed!” - and built a school for girls, where no yarmulkes were needed. He understood that sometimes we need to look beyond the surface forms to the deeper essence.

Your Judaism doesn’t have to look exactly like your neighbor’s. Your connection to Hashem doesn’t need to mirror your friend’s. What matters is that it’s yours - chosen, cherished, and lived with intention.

This year, I invite you to ask yourself: Which of my Jewish practices am I doing from habit, and which am I doing from the heart? Where can I move from autopilot to awareness? How can I transform routine into relationship?

The goal isn’t to abandon community - G-d forbid! Our community is a blessing. The goal is to ensure that your place within it reflects your personal choice to serve Hashem, not simply the gravitational pull of Jewish geography.

When you make this shift - when your Judaism becomes a conscious choice rather than a comfortable default - you become a beacon for others. Your intentional practice gives permission to others to examine their own relationship with tradition. Your joy in mitzvot becomes contagious in the most beautiful way.

The Time is Now

My dear friends, as we crown Hashem as King of the Universe on this Rosh Hashana, let’s also recognize that He reigns in every person’s individual universe. And we - we get to be His ambassadors in each other’s worlds.

The ancient Book of Formation, Sefer Yetzirah, perhaps the oldest book in history, attributed to Avraham - the first Jew - teaches that whatever is found in the universe’s soul is found somewhere in space and time. In the soul of the universe, there’s a consciousness from which all consciousness extends. Right here, right now, on this Rosh Hashana, a new consciousness is entering our universe. The head of the year is determining what the body of the year will become.

We are so close to Moshiach. Every mitzvah, every act of kindness, every moment we choose light over darkness is bringing us closer. The world may look chaotic, but that’s precisely when our individual actions matter most.

Carry yourself this year with the dignity and responsibility of being Heaven’s representative in everyone else’s sacred universe. When you wake up tomorrow, remember: someone’s divine encounter might depend on how you treat them. Someone’s connection to Judaism might hinge on your smile, your invitation, your willingness to share the beauty of our tradition.

Don’t aim to be the best Jew in your community. Aim to be the only you - the irreplaceable soul that only you can be in bringing Moshiach to the world.

Throw your mara shechora into the Dead Sea! In di daled amos darf men zain b’simcha - in this space, in this time, in this moment, we need to be joyous! Your joy is someone else’s divine encounter. Your mitzvot are repairing the world. Your unique mission is bringing us all home.

Shana Tova - may this be a year when we truly see and honor the holy world of every person we encounter, and may our recognition of their sacred universe be the key that finally unlocks the door to the era of Moshiach.

L’shana haba’ah b’Yerushalayim!

“If we Jews are 5% better than the rest of the world, we can be ‘a light unto the nations’.

If we are 25% better than the rest of the world, we can bring Moshiach.

If we Jews are 50% better than the rest of the world, then they’ll all want us dead.”

With considerable justification, we feel that the world holds us to standard to which it holds no other people, no other nation or religion…

My dear friends,

Today as we gather at the gates of 5786, we stand not merely at the beginning of another year, but at a moment pregnant with cosmic significance. We are witnesses to what our sages could only dream of—the final preparations for an era that will transform not just Jewish life, but the very fabric of human existence itself.

Let me share with you a vision that will reframe everything you think you know about our place in history, our mission as Jews, and the profound responsibility resting on our shoulders in these extraordinary times.

The Friday Afternoon Revelation

Picture this scene, and let it burn into your consciousness:

It’s Friday afternoon in a Jewish home. To the untrained eye, chaos reigns supreme. Flour scattered across every surface, children’s voices echoing from upstairs in various states of distress, uncooked chickens lying lifeless on the counter, juice spilled and mixing with the flour to create what can only be described as edible quicksand that delights the two-year-old but horrifies everyone else.

The mother of this household guards the front door like a sentinel, opening it just enough to squeeze herself into the gap when the doorbell rings. Behind her, pandemonium. Before her, a guest arriving early with his customary bottle of wine. He peers past her shoulder, inhales deeply, smells the smells, and releases the most satisfied sigh: “Ahhh... Shabbos!”

Shabbos? In this madhouse? But here’s what that guest understands that transforms everything: he doesn’t see what is—he sees what’s becoming. He doesn’t smell the chaos—he smells the chicken soup, that flour becoming challah, he sees the family that will soon gather in perfect harmony around a table lit by Shabbos candles.

This guest, my friends, possesses the rarest gift in human experience: the ability to perceive destiny while still standing in the mess of preparation.

And this is precisely where we find ourselves today—not just in our individual homes, but in the grand theater of human history itself.

The Hidden Architecture of Time

For too long, we’ve viewed history as random—a series of disconnected events, wars and revolutions, discoveries and disasters, all tumbling forward without pattern or purpose. We’ve been taught to see time as a flat plain, stretching endlessly in both directions, where one moment is essentially the same as any other.

But what if I told you that time itself has topography? What if history has peaks and valleys, seasons and cycles, preparation periods and harvest times? What if there’s a map hidden beneath the chaos—a divine blueprint that reveals exactly where we are and where we’re heading?

Our tradition teaches us that all of history comprises six millennia, corresponding to the six days of creation, leading to a seventh millennium that will be “entirely rest and serenity for eternal life”—the ultimate Shabbos of existence. And by this calculation, we entered the sixth and final millennium in the autumn of 1240.

If history has its own Friday, then we’ve been living through the most intense Erev Shabbos in the annals of time. And just as Friday afternoon in our homes builds to crescendo of preparation before the peace of Shabbos descends, so too has history been building toward something magnificent.

But here’s what makes this moment so crucial: we’re not passive observers of this process. We are the ones preparing the Shabbos. We are the cooks in history’s kitchen, the ones responsible for transforming the raw ingredients of our chaotic world into the feast of redemption.

Midnight: When Exile Became the Engine of Renaissance

Let me show you how this divine choreography has been unfolding. Cast your minds back to 1490—the stroke of midnight in history’s final day. For the Jewish people, this was our darkest hour. The decree of Ferdinand and Isabella echoed across Spain: Jews must convert or leave. Hundreds of thousands of our ancestors packed what they could carry and began wandering again.

But here’s where the hand of Providence becomes visible. These weren’t just refugees—they were carriers of light. They brought with them literacy when most of Europe was illiterate. They carried philosophy, mathematics, medicine, and most importantly, the mystical wisdom of Kabbalah into a continent devastated by plague, famine, and intellectual stagnation.

Where did the Renaissance bloom? Follow the trail of Jewish settlement: Florence, Venice, Naples, Rome, the south of France. Later, as our people migrated to England, the Netherlands, Prague, and Cracow, similar renaissances followed in their wake.

Consider this stunning fact: Pico della Mirandola’s “Oration on the Dignity of Man”—considered the manifesto of the Renaissance—was saturated with Kabbalistic concepts he’d learned by hiring Jewish scholars to translate over 5,000 pages of mystical texts. His entire worldview, the foundation of Renaissance humanism, was built on Jewish wisdom. The pope chased him out of Rome for it.

What appears to be our greatest catastrophe becomes the mechanism by which divine wisdom spreads throughout the world. Our exile wasn’t punishment—it was a sacred mission of dispersing light into the darkness.

This is the first principle of recognizing Moshiach consciousness: apparent tragedy often masks divine strategy. What looks like breakdown is actually breakthrough in disguise.

The Revolutionary Dawn of Jewish Mysticism

Now transport yourself to 1740—dawn of our millennium’s final day. In the small Ukrainian town of Mezhibuzh, a man named Israel ben Eliezer begins teaching publicly. We know him as the Baal Shem Tov, but to understand his true significance, we must grasp the revolution he unleashed.

For centuries, Kabbalah had been the domain of scholars, mystics, the intellectual elite. The Baal Shem Tov democratized the Divine. His radical message: every Jew, no matter how simple, no matter how unlearned in traditional texts, carries within their soul a direct hotline to the Creator of the universe.

The simple “Thank God!” exclaimed by a Jewish farmer carries the same cosmic weight as the complex meditations of the greatest scholars. A mitzvah performed with joy and sincerity by anyone can repair tears in the fabric of creation itself. Every human being is not just capable of connecting with the Divine—they are essential partners in the ongoing work of creation.

But here’s what’s astonishing: at this exact same moment in history, across Europe, something unprecedented begins stirring. Suddenly, philosophers begin speaking of human dignity, individual rights, religious tolerance, social progress. For the first time in human history, people begin to believe they can take the reins of their own destiny, that human beings can actually improve the world through their actions.

This isn’t coincidence—it’s causation. The Baal Shem Tov wasn’t just teaching Jewish mysticism; he was laying the spiritual foundation for everything the world would soon call “progress,” “human rights,” and “social justice.” The Kabbalah became the hidden engine driving the Enlightenment.

When Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of Chabad, later translates these mystical concepts into the language of human psychology in his revolutionary work, the Tanya, he makes divine consciousness accessible to every thinking person. No longer do you need to be a mystic to grasp the presence of God within creation—you can contemplate your own soul and find the Divine reflected there.

This is the second principle of Moshiach consciousness: when inner wisdom spreads, outer transformation follows inevitably.

The Scientific Revelation of Unity

Let me show you how precise this divine timing really is. The Zohar, written centuries earlier, contains a startling prediction: “In the six-hundredth year of the sixth millennium, the gates of supernal wisdom will be opened, as will the springs of earthly wisdom, preparing the world to be elevated in the seventh millennium.”

The six-hundredth year of our millennium? That’s 1840. And indeed, this marks the crest of the Industrial Revolution, the explosion of scientific discovery that transformed human civilization more radically than any previous change in history.

But there’s something even more remarkable hidden in this timing. When mystical wisdom spreads, scientific wisdom advances in parallel, because both are revealing the same underlying truth: the unity that underlies apparent diversity.

Consider the three great unifications in physics: Newton unified earthly and celestial mechanics. Maxwell unified electricity, magnetism, and light. Einstein unified energy and matter in his famous equation E=mc².

When did Maxwell publish his groundbreaking work on electromagnetic fields? 1865—exactly one-quarter of the day after sunrise in our historical timeline, precisely when, according to our tradition, a person should complete the morning Shema, the declaration that “God is One.”

When did Einstein publish his equation showing that energy and matter are different manifestations of the same underlying reality? 1905—exactly one-third of the day after sunrise, the latest time for morning prayers, when heaven and earth unite in divine service.

The Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, explained this connection with stunning clarity: “When the inner teachings of Torah are revealed, worldly sciences progress along with them. Why? Because we are already sampling the teachings of Moshiach, who will reveal the oneness of God within the world itself.”

Science isn’t the enemy of spirituality—it’s the secular language expressing the same truths that mysticism reveals through different means. When physicists discover that all matter is energy, they’re approaching what Kabbalah has always taught: that all existence is divine light contracted and condensed into seemingly separate forms.

This is the third principle of Moshiach consciousness: apparent opposites—spiritual and material, sacred and secular, Jewish wisdom and universal knowledge—are actually different expressions of the same underlying unity.

High Noon: When Everything Changed

Now we reach the crescendo—1990, high noon of history’s final day. Those of us who lived through this period experienced something unprecedented: the pace of change itself changed.

In 1989, the Berlin Wall seemed as permanent as the Great Wall of China. By 1991, not only was it gone, but the entire Soviet Union had dissolved. A political structure that had dominated half the world for seventy years simply vanished. Not through war, not through revolution in the traditional sense, but through what can only be described as collective awakening.

We who grew up under the shadow of nuclear annihilation suddenly found ourselves in a world where that threat had evaporated overnight. We who knew a planet divided between two competing ideologies woke up to find that division erased.

And something else extraordinary happened: over a million Jews suddenly found themselves free to practice their religion, many making aliyah to Israel. The same agencies that had persecuted them began funding their religious education.

Simultaneously, technology exploded in ways that seemed almost miraculous. Our phones leaped from walls into our pockets. Email transformed from the domain of academics and military personnel into a global communication network. The Internet connected every corner of the earth.

Arthur C. Clarke, the prophet of science fiction, published his final book during this period. But this time it wasn’t fiction—the future he had imagined had already arrived. He called it “How the World Was One.”

But here’s what we must understand: this wasn’t just technological progress or political change. This was the universe itself preparing for its next phase of existence. Just as Friday afternoon accelerates with increasing intensity as Shabbos approaches, so history itself was accelerating, bringing scattered elements together, breaking down artificial barriers, creating the infrastructure necessary for global unity.

The Present Moment: Half Past Noon

Today, we live more than half an hour past noon in history’s final day. We inhabit a world that would be utterly incomprehensible to our ancestors even a century ago. A child born in the Western world now has a 99.8% chance of surviving to adulthood. Crime rates have plummeted to historic lows. Despite supporting seven billion people, fewer humans live in poverty than when the earth supported one billion.

Yet paradoxically, many people feel more anxious, more disconnected, more spiritually hungry than ever before. Why? Because we’re living through the most intense period of preparation in human history, and preparation is always chaotic.

The flour is scattered across the counter, but it’s about to become challah. The dead birds are waiting to become soul-nourishing soup. The apparent chaos is the prelude to extraordinary harmony.

But here’s the crucial point: that harmony doesn’t manifest automatically. Shabbos doesn’t just happen. Someone must light the candles. Someone must prepare the feast. Someone must set the table and create the atmosphere of holiness.

Our Sacred Task: Bringing Light to the Darkness

This is where we come in. This is why we’re here. This is why the Jewish people have survived every attempt to erase us from history. We are not merely witnesses to this transformation—we are its primary agents.

And this distinction is crucial for understanding our role in bringing Moshiach. We don’t keep mitzvot to earn divine favor or to separate ourselves from the world. We keep them because each mitzvah is a technology for channeling divine light into physical reality.

When you keep Shabbos, you’re not just following ancient custom—you’re creating a weekly portal through which eternal consciousness enters linear time. When you keep kosher, you’re not just maintaining dietary restrictions—you’re sanctifying the fundamental act of nourishment. When you put on tefillin, you’re not just wearing ritual objects—you’re connecting your mind and heart and hand to divine consciousness.

Every mitzvah is a repair (tikkun) in the fabric of reality, bringing the world closer to its ultimate state of perfection.

The Hank Greenberg Paradigm

But here’s what we must understand about our mission: it requires both inner transformation and outer courage. Let me tell you about Hank Greenberg, the baseball great who faced vicious anti-Semitic taunts from opposing teams.

After enduring a barrage of slurs from the Chicago White Sox bench—”kike,” “sheenie,” “Jew bastard”—Greenberg did something that teaches us everything about how to handle hostility. He didn’t complain to the league. He didn’t launch into explanations about Jewish dignity. He simply walked into the White Sox clubhouse after the game, took off his jersey, looked around at the players, and said quietly: “I want anyone who called me those names to get on their feet.”

The locker room fell silent. No one stood up. The White Sox never antagonized him again.

Greenberg understood that respect isn’t gained through argument or explanation—it’s earned through sincere dignity and the willingness to stand up for who you are.

This is our Hank Greenberg moment in history. We don’t need to apologize for our commitment to Torah, to the Holyland or for being Jews. We don’t need to justify our practices or explain why we set boundaries with technology or why we prioritize family and community over individual autonomy.

What’s more modern than living intentionally in a rootless world? What’s more progressive than maintaining weekly rhythms of rest in a culture of constant productivity? What’s more enlightened than building communities of meaning in an age of isolation?

The world desperately needs what we have to offer, but only if we offer it with confidence rather than apology.

The Technology of Transformation

Here’s something crucial to understand about our current moment: the same technology that seems to be disconnecting people from authentic relationship and spiritual depth is actually preparing the infrastructure for unprecedented global unity.

The Rebbe spoke about this with remarkable prescience decades ago. He explained how modern communications technology provides rich metaphors for understanding divine omnipresence. we’re approaching the technological foundations necessary for Messianic consciousness.

The Choice Before Us

Soren Kierkegaard wrote that “the most common form of despair is not being who you are.” As we enter this new year, we face a fundamental choice that will determine not just our personal trajectory, but our contribution to the world’s spiritual evolution.

Will we be authentically Jewish, or will we apologize for our identity? Will we embrace our role as catalysts for global transformation, or will we shrink from the responsibility? Will we recognize the chaos around us as the prelude to unprecedented harmony, or will we get lost in the noise?

Because here’s what’s at stake: we are living in the generation that will witness the transition from the sixth millennium to the seventh. We are the Friday afternoon Jews preparing for the ultimate Shabbos. Our choices, our actions, our level of commitment to Torah and mitzvot will determine how smooth or turbulent that transition becomes.

The Rebbe’s Vision

The Rebbe taught us that we were all put on earth with a mission to touch every person in the world and teach them about God. This sounds impossibly grandiose until you understand what “teaching about God” really means.

It doesn’t mean converting everyone to Judaism. It means living in such a way that your very existence reminds others of the divine spark within themselves. It means conducting business with such integrity that people say, “That’s how a God-fearing person behaves.” It means raising children with such joy and purpose that other families want to know your secret. It means creating communities so warm and meaningful that outsiders feel drawn to discover what generates such light.

“For as long as there is even one place on earth still unfinished,” the Rebbe said, “we cannot rest.” But this isn’t a burden—it’s the greatest privilege in human history. We get to be the final generation of preparation and potentially the first generation of fulfillment.

Living in Moshiach Time

Rabbi David Bashevkin writes that deep inside each of us burns “the desire to reach people, to connect with them, to move and impact them... We carry within us a sense of mission—to say something to our generation—and a passion to create and to be partners in time-transcending creativity.”

This creative urge, this drive to leave something meaningful behind, isn’t ego—it’s the soul’s recognition of its role in the cosmic creative process. When we create, when we build, when we teach, when we love, we’re participating in the ongoing work of creation itself.

In our generation, this takes on special significance. We’re not just creating for our own time—we’re creating the building blocks of the Messianic era. Every Shabbos table we set becomes a rehearsal for the ultimate feast. Every act of kindness we perform adds light to the world’s increasing illumination. Every child we raise with Jewish consciousness becomes a carrier of divine wisdom into the future.

The mystics teach that in the Messianic era, “the only occupation of the entire world will be just to know God.” Every human occupation—science, art, technology, agriculture, medicine, education—will be understood as a way of discovering the Creator within creation.

The businessman will see divine providence in market dynamics. The scientist will perceive divine wisdom in natural laws. The artist will recognize divine beauty in aesthetic creation. The parent will understand child-rearing as partnership with divine creativity.

This is what we’re preparing for. This is what all of history has been building toward.

The Practical Implications

So what does this mean practically as we enter 5786?

First, it means we stop apologizing for who we are. Our mitzvot are technologies for connecting heaven and earth. Our holidays are cosmic events that we participate in rather than merely commemorate. Our dietary laws, our Sabbath observance, our family structures are all precisely calibrated instruments for channeling divine consciousness into physical reality.

Second, it means we recognize every challenge in our lives and in the world as raw material for transformation. The scattered flour becomes challah. The apparent chaos becomes harmony. The conflicts and confusions of our time are the birth pangs of a new era.

Third, it means we take responsibility for being agents of light in an increasingly dark world, not through preaching or proselytizing, but through living with such authenticity and joy that people naturally want to know our source.

Fourth, it means we prepare our children not just to survive in the current world, but to lead in the world that’s coming. We teach them Hebrew because it will be the language of divine wisdom. We teach them Torah because it will be the user’s manual for reality. We teach them to pray because communication with the Divine will be as natural as breathing.

The Revolutionary Nature of Ordinary Observance

What the world doesn’t understand about Judaism is that our most “ordinary” practices are actually revolutionary acts. When we light Shabbos candles, we’re declaring that there’s more to existence than material productivity. When we keep kosher, we’re insisting that consciousness can transform matter. When we study Torah, we’re asserting that ancient wisdom contains eternal relevance.

In a world obsessed with novelty, we preserve eternal truths. In a culture of instant gratification, we practice delayed gratification. In an age of individual autonomy, we submit to divine authority. These aren’t retreats from modernity—they’re advances beyond it.

Think about it: What’s more modern than recognizing that constant connectivity can be spiritually destructive and creating weekly boundaries with technology? What’s more progressive than understanding that unlimited individual freedom often leads to emptiness and creating structures for meaningful commitment? What’s more enlightened than seeing through materialism’s promises and embracing practices that nourish the soul?

The Global Transformation

But here’s what makes our moment in history so extraordinary: for the first time since the destruction of the Temple, Jewish spiritual influence is spreading globally not through force or political power, but through attraction.

The wisdom that sustained us through two millennia of exile is now becoming relevant to all humanity’s spiritual needs. The very practices that once marked us as strange and separate are now recognized as solutions to universal human problems.

This isn’t cultural appropriation—it’s spiritual preparation. The divine wisdom embedded in Torah is meant to ultimately serve all humanity, just as the Temple in Jerusalem was meant to be “a house of prayer for all nations.”

The Urgency of Our Time

But we cannot be passive observers of this process. The transition from the sixth millennium to the seventh won’t happen automatically. It requires our active participation, our conscious choice to accelerate the process through increased commitment to Torah and mitzvot.

This isn’t mystical metaphor—it’s spiritual physics. Our actions have consequences that ripple through dimensions we can barely perceive. The mitzvah you do in your kitchen affects the cosmic balance. The blessing you make over your food echoes in celestial spheres. The charity you give transforms not just the recipient’s circumstances but the spiritual ecology of the entire world.

The Children’s Question

Our children are asking us, often without words: “Why should we maintain these ancient practices in such a modern world?” The answer lies not in the past but in the future. We’re not preserving museum pieces—we’re maintaining operational technologies for the coming era.

Those who have already practiced seeing God within the mundane will be the guides for those who are just awakening to that possibility.

We’re not just keeping traditions alive—we’re training for positions of spiritual leadership in the coming world.

The Final Invitation

As we stand at the threshold of 5786, let me extend to you the same invitation that guest offered when he smelled Shabbos in that chaotic Friday afternoon kitchen:

Look beyond what is to what’s becoming.

Smell the chicken soup while the birds are still raw.

Taste the challah while the flour is still scattered.

Hear the harmony while the children are still shrieking.

See the perfected world while it’s still under construction.

And then—and this is the crucial part—become one of the people preparing the feast.

Because we are living in the most extraordinary time in human history. We are the generation standing at the cusp of redemption. We are the Friday afternoon Jews whose every action is determining how smoothly or turbulently the world will transition into its ultimate Shabbos.

The Rebbe taught us that we have the power to bring Moshiach today. Not through passive waiting, but through active engagement with our mission as Jews. Not through withdrawing from the world, but through infusing the world with holiness. Not through apologizing for our differences, but through celebrating them as gifts to humanity.

When you wake up after Rosh HaShana and put on your tefillin, remember: you’re not just fulfilling an ancient obligation—you’re participating in the cosmic process that’s preparing the world for divine revelation.

When you light your Yom Tov candles for the 2nd day of Rosh HaShana tonight, remember: you’re not just marking time—you’re creating a portal through which the light of the coming era can enter our world.

When you study Torah, keep kosher, pray with intention, act with kindness, remember: you’re not just following traditions—you’re actively bringing about the transformation of reality itself.

The topography of time has brought us to this peak moment. The Friday afternoon chaos is reaching its crescendo. The ingredients for the ultimate feast are scattered across the counter of history.

But the guest has arrived. He’s sniffing the air with satisfaction. He knows what’s coming.

The question is: Will you be one of the cooks in the kitchen, or one of the people still convinced it’s a disaster zone?

Will you help prepare the Shabbos of the world, or will you get lost in the flour on the floor?

The choice is yours. The moment is now. The future of creation itself hangs in the balance.

May this year be the one when we finally transition from preparation to celebration, when we taste the first course of the Messianic feast, when we live not in the chaos of Friday afternoon but in the eternal peace of Shabbos.

Shanah tovah u’metukah—may you be inscribed for a good and sweet year, and may we all merit to witness the ultimate redemption speedily in our days.

Hashem is much closer to us - more than the rest of the year - and on our turf.

It is an auspicious time to approach "informally" without the barriers of Highness, but with the intimacy of connection.

All you have to do is greet the King amongst you.

Every Friday my kids and I visit the The Residences at Plainview by Chelsea Senior Living and bring Challah, Shabbat candles and joy with a pre-Shabbat service experience.

Barbara is always in the front row, taking it all in, with a smile and her special depth.

About 2 months ago, she told me...

"Rabbi, something is weighing terribly on my heart"

"I have my Bubbe from Poland's Shabbos Candlesticks (lichters) that are all broken apart, and feel terrible that they made it out of Poland and I never used them or got them repaired"

I asked her if they are real silver, not because of the value, but just because of the repairability, as most candlesticks from the old country are brass.

"Oh yes! They are beautiful."

I had just so happened to know one of the finest silver repairmen in the country in Brooklyn, as after a small fire we needed my wife's own Shabbat Candlesticks repaired and I reached out to the top Jewish antiquities dealer Jonathan Greenstein who we bought our Torah Crown (kesser) from for our Chabad House for the recommendation.

I called him immediately and gave her his number. Her daughter drove back and forth to Brooklyn 3 times and had them meticulously repaired.

Baruch HaShem you can see her face full of emotion - happy tears (as my kids call them!) at the sight of her new-old Shabbat Candlesticks from her Bubbe back in Poland.

May her joy of the Mitzvah and light from her Shabbos Candles light up the whole world!!

This last year has been the most difficult time to be a Jew since the Holocaust.

From Simchas Torah on October 7th, to college campuses, inner cities, and even sporting events, our people have been persecuted, harrassed, and murdered.

Immediately after Shabbos, we heard about the horrific kidnapping and murder by Islamic terrorists of our colleague Rabbi Tzvi ben Alexander HaCohen HY”D, a 28 years young fellow Chabad Rabbi who served in the Jewish community in the United Arab Emirates.

The news shattered our hearts with profound sadness, yet with deep resolve we knew that Sunday morning our Hebrew school children would be flooding in our doors, coffee put up for our Tefillin Club, and a morning class would be given for our parents in “Adult Hebrew School”.

We would continue to work.

To continue to do the Rebbe’s work as his emissaries, and to do the work that Rabbi Kogan could no longer do.

Jewish Life must go on!

It is up to us.

It is up to YOU.

We are going to complete the job.

Together, we will finish the task that G-d set in motion, to make a dwelling place in this world and bring Moshiach.

Rabbi Kogan worked tirelessly for this. His whole life was devoted to others. He fought for others to be happy with an inner joie de vivre in spreading light.

Our hearts go out to his family, and we pray for their strength and comfort.

Rabbi Kogan never said “No” to anyone in need - spiritually or materially.

This is our motto.

Chabad Rabbis & Rebbetzins and their families are the spiritual (and material) First Responders of the Jewish people.

We are there for every joyous celebration, emergency, and tragedy, G-d forbid.

With bravery and courage - through difficult and even dangerous times - we are there.

Just like Police Officers, Firefighters, and EMTs - we all put our lives on the line.

No matter if it is a seemingly a “small” Mitzvah or a big, life-changing event.

Chabad represents ALL Jewish people from ALL backgrounds.

When a Chabad representative is kidnapped and murdered it is a message to ALL Jews.

It is a wake-up call to us ALL.

We must do everything in our power, with all of our energy to illuminate this dark world as the Rebbe would so often remind us.

Think of a way to shine your light, to add in Mitzvahs, Torah study, or Acts of Goodness and Kindness.

YOU can be a Spiritual First Responder of the Jewish people too!

We - all Jewish People - need YOU!

Now more than ever.

DO A MITZVAH FOR R' KOGAN

DONATE R' KOGAN FAMILY

With Blessings for success, an unwavering commitment to spread light and strengthen Jewish Life,

Rabbi Chanan & Aliza Krivisky

www.miyad.org

PS. As I was writing this email, the doorbell rang with FedEx delivering 250 brand new Tzedakah boxes (pushkas)!

A sign that good deeds and Tzedakah is the key to our collective success!

Drop by Chabad House and pick one (or two!) up for your home and office.

But I assure you, G-d did not intend it to be that way.

Chabad philosophy looks at Yom Kippur as a very joyous holiday.

I often use three metaphors to understand its intent.

First, it is G-d’s embrace for us. It is a hug from our Creator wit…

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This profoundly affected all Jewish people and the entire world, even elevating time and space itself!

Join Rabbi Krivisky for an in-depth class exploring this revolutionary process and its culmination in our times.

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A practical insight and lesson from our times according to Jewish mystical teachings.

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In this illuminating video, Rabbi Krivisky will guide you through 5 powerful mystical lessons from Passover that you can apply to your own spiritual journey.

Whether you're new to Jewish mysticism or a seasoned student, this video will reveal the hidden layers of meaning in Passover. Unlock the metaphysical treasures within this annual celebration and let the lessons illuminate your life.

Get ready to experience Passover in a whole new light. Tune in now for an inspirational journey through the mystical side of this timeless holiday.

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