Parshat Ki Teitzei, 9 Elul, 5780 | August 29, 2020
TheTorahAnyTimes
from TorahAnytime.com
Rabbi Gavriel Friedman
TheTorahAnyTimes is a publication of
Setting Up the Pieces
CHAPTER 1 Sunday, December 16, 2018 My wife had just given birth to a beautiful baby boy. Our happiness knew no bounds as we stared down at the precious gift G-d had just endowed us with. We took the first few treasured hours to revel in the bundle of joy that we held in our hands, after which I told my wife that I was going to head back home to tend to the other kids, and I would be back for her. A day later, as I took care of the other kids and prepared to head back to the hospital to pick up my wife and our newborn to bring them back home, I received a text message. It was my wife. “His sutures are closed on his head, which means he needs a pediatric surgeon. They know Dr. Levine.” My eyes stared at those words which almost seemed to pop out of my phone. “Serious?” I wrote back. “They said it’s not very serious, but that he’ll probably need surgery. Hang on… can’t talk. With the doctors right now…” My heart skipped a beat. I knew one thing. Whenever you talk about medicine or surgery shortly after a baby is born, something is of concern. Especially when the word pediatric is used in conjunction with surgeon, you begin to especially worry. While I stood taking in the first words of my wife which left me wondering what was up ahead for our newborn son, I had just missed The TorahAnyTimes Parshat Ki Teitzei 5780
what transpired back in my wife’s hospital room minutes before… “Yaron,” one doctor called to the other, “come here…” My wife, fluent in Hebrew, did not miss a beat. “What’s the problem?” But the doctors seemed to be under the impression that she had no idea what they meant as they conversed in Hebrew, presuming it was a foreign language to her. “He’s okay,” one doctor poorly tried to assuage my wife. But it didn’t take much for my wife to realize that when the doctor proceeded to use the expression, “Zeh lo b’seder (this is not good),” it meant exactly that. Something was not right. “What’s the problem?” my wife pressed. “Oh, you know, it’s okay… Just maybe take your son to a doctor.” Now, my wife was already with two doctors in a hospital, so the words, ‘Maybe take him to a doctor’ meant something more. “Is it the sutures? Are the sutures closed?” The doctors looked peculiarly back at my wife. “What did you say? How would you know that?” “Are they closed?” she repeated. “Yes,” the doctors replied just about in unison. “But how would you know?” CHAPTER 2 Four years before – February 11, 2014 My wife and I had just given birth to a beautiful baby boy, whom we went on to name Yonah. Two weeks after Yonah was born, my wife and I returned to the hospital for his scheduled two-week check-up. All seemed to go well until
Compiled and Edited by Elan Perchik
IN THIS ISSUE Rabbi Gavriel Friedman Setting Up the Pieces
Rabbi Yaakov Asher Sinclair Six More Weeks
Mr. Charlie Harary Getting Real
DEDICATIONS L’iluy Nishmat R’ Elchonon Yaakov z”l ben R’ Shmuel Pinchos Manish ben Esther Meir Eliyahu ben Yaakov Dov Bechor ben Rivkah Shlomo Zalman ben R’ Mordechai Yisroel Tzvi Esther bat haRav Avraham Halevi zt”l Moshe Simcha ben Doniel Dov Ber Miriam bat Yeshayahu
Itai ben Orna
L’refuah Sheleima Deena bat Shoshana Chaya Raizel bat Dena Yerachmiel Eliyahu Ben Esther Riva Reuven ben Rochel
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the doctor, Dr. Levine, uttered the words, “Come back in two weeks; I would like to look at your baby again.” “What does that mean?” asked my wife, a tinge of concern straining her voice. “I just want to check something.” That wasn’t what we wanted to hear. “What is it that you want to check?” “I want to check if his sutures are closed or not.” As my wife and I heard these words, we didn’t know what to make of them. What does it mean for sutures to be closed? And so, we began our study all about sutures, from metopic sutures to sagittal sutures. By the time we returned two weeks later, we had gone from novices to professionals in suture lingo. At the follow-up with Yonah, Dr. Levine checked him again, and relayed the fortunate news that all was well. Phew. Thank G-d. The incident was benign, though it implanted in my wife’s mind all she needed to know about sutures. And so six years later, when two doctors looked at my wife with a troubled look, my wife’s first thought immediately went to sutures. CHAPTER 3 “So what does he need?” my wife worriedly asked the two doctors who stood in front of her. “He’ll probably need surgery.” Those words hung in mid-air, but my wife was with it enough to ask further. “He’ll actually need two surgeons –
a pediatric neurosurgeon and plastic surgeon. You can do the surgery here or in Hadassah Ein Kerem.” “Who’s at Hadassah Ein Kerem?” my wife probed. “They have a plastic surgeon there.” My wife held her stare. “You mean Dr. Margolis?” “You know Margolis?” the doctors asked back, surprised again. Three years before – February 14, 2011 My wife frantically called me. “Shira’s hurt,” she said. I didn’t hesitate, as I mounted my bike and sped to my daughter’s school. I quickly discovered that Shira had been playing, when a metal bar detached from a chair and nicely cut Shira across her forehead. It was not a little cut, suffice it to say. I called a friend of mine, Chaim Yagoda, who directed me to a known surgeon, Dr. Alex Margolis, director of Plastic Surgery and Cranio-Facial Surgery for children at Hadassah Ein Kerem. $8,250 shekel and six stiches later, Shira walked out. Don’t worry, we received 12 shekels in return from insurance and bought a can of coke with it. “Yes, I know Dr. Margolis,” my wife now said to the two doctors, still standing in front of my wife. But before we could proceed with any doctors, there was the bris to be held. My son was in good enough condition to have it done, as this medical condition, which we learned was called craniosynostosis, was not something
Rabbi Yaakov Asher Sinclair Six More Weeks
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ack in the 1950s, Ealing Studios produced a series of brilliant comedies, each with a moral. They could arguably have been viewed as a sort of 90-minutes musThe TorahAnyTimes Parshat Ki Teitzei 5780
sar talk, wherein the viewer would learn an impactful life lesson. One of my favorites was “Last Holiday,” starring Alec Guinness. Guinness plays an unmarried and unassuming
which would warrant delaying it. The bris took place with the gadol Rav Chaim Kanievsky shlita. Prior to the bris, I approached Rav Chaim and informed him of my son’s condition. Rav Chaim, known for often responding to requests for blessings with the short and succinct words, “beracha v’hatzlacha” (blessing and success), this time replied with a much lengthier blessing. “Refuah sheleimah, beracha v’hatzlacha, she’tizke l’gadlo l’Torah, l’chuppa, l’maasim tovim – He should have a speedy recovery, blessing and success, you should merit to raise him to Torah, marriage and good deeds.” As it so happened, this day of my son’s scheduled bris was Rav Chaim’s 91st birthday. When I learned of this, it dawned on me. 91 is the gematria (numerical value) of Amen, which is an acrostic of the words Kel Melech N’e’eman, words which we recite prior to Shema and emphasis our trust in G-d. As I took in the meaning of this all, I couldn’t help but feel that Hashem knew what was going on. He knew what pieces were in motion and moving. Sometimes we don’t know what those pieces are, and have no idea if, and how, things will work out. This was one of those times I had no idea what would be. G-d did though. Yes, He did. He knew. To be continued… salesman who goes to the doctor and is told that he has a rare disease and has precisely six weeks to live. What did he do? He took out his life savings and high-tailed into the ritziest hotel on the coast where the glitterati of commerce, politics and entertainment met. As he felt he had nothing to lose, he was completely honest with everyone, and everyone was drawn to him 2
like a magnet. Nothing was as attractive as his honesty. This unassuming salesman became a star, praised by the lords of politics and moguls of industry. But as it turned out, his x-rays were mistakenly swapped, and he was never ill in the first place. Over the past weeks and months,
many of us have been asking ourselves, “What if I only had six more weeks to live?” Nothing brings a journey more into focus than the sight of its end. The fact that we are going to leave this world is inevitable. But how we are going to leave this world is up to us. Will we leave trying to grab the last morsel of this material world, or
Mr. Charlie Harary Getting Real
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’ve said in the past that the average person who wakes up in the morning, learns Daf Yomi and davens like a mensch, is like a Navy Seal. He is a soldier. And it is totally true. The person who thinks he is a nobody, and all the while he is getting up, being an honest person, and being good to his wife and children – that man is a Navy Seal in these times. To be honest, to be happy, to be modest and real with Hashem, those attributes are nothing small to consider. We put pressure on ourselves because we don’t have this, or didn’t hit that mark, and we are living in this tiny fishbowl, as if in a celebrity culture, where we feel that unless people recognize who we are, we are lacking. What we are missing today is temimus, authenticity to Hashem. That realness and genuineness is the greatest and sweetest to Hashem. My rebbe, Rav Moshe Weinberger, has been telling us that during these days, Hashem is looking to get us more in tune with the depth of who we are. We are not going to shul in the same way as before, and we are able to just start living life, and take it to heart that I am a Jew, and I can close my eyes once in a while and bring this home to myself. Once we realize who we are, we can build on it. We want to be a real person, and have it that when we speak, it is true to who we The TorahAnyTimes Parshat Ki Teitzei 5780
are. I want to talk with my wife and kids and it is true; I really do want to talk to them. I’m not just talking to my kids to get something out of the conversation or out of them. The most powerful thing we can do is spend time alone with Hashem. It is not just for chassidim. Say, “Hi Hashem, it’s me… I messed this up. I can’t believe I blew it. I need to start to get real. I want to be more.” When a person spends this time every day, they’ll soon be telling themselves, “I got to do more of this.” It is simple, but it’s deep. And it will matter and make a difference in your life. Spend a few minutes with Hashem each day. Talk in English or whatever your language is, and just be real. One Rav once told me, “Getting to know yourself is getting to know Hashem.” If you have a piece of Hashem within you, then it is the same path of reaching Hashem and reaching inwards. The way I see it, tefillah is reaching up and hisbodedus is reaching in. Even when you reach up, you reach in. But we need to climb. Our Sages infused with the words of prayers potent spiritual connections, which we are not always aware as to how it works. But hisbodedus is the process of discovering myself, and in that process of finding myself, I find Hashem. You cannot get to Hashem unless
will we leave it with generosity, courage, bravery and self-sacrifice? That is the most important question in life. May Hashem give us the courage to rise to the occasion and experience long lives, lived as if we only had six more weeks of them to live.
you go through yourself. You are not doing G-d a favor by talking to Him. He did us a favor by putting Himself inside us. So now when you look at yourself, you know what you will find? G-d. It is an avodah. You are going into your inner Kodesh Hakodashim, Holy of Holies. Most people are afraid to spend time alone because they think they are alone. But they are not. With time, your relationship with G-d will deepen, and you will find that He is there with you. I know a wonderful girl who usually goes to friends for Pesach, although this year she was alone. She reached out to my family and wrote, “At first I thought I was alone in my apartment, but then I realized that I am on a date with Hashem. I am with Hashem alone.” As she said it, I thought, “She gets it. She is sitting over candlelight with her Dad, the Creator of the Universe.” And there are other people with big families who have never met Him. This is the avodah of this time period. It is deepening ourselves and believing in ourselves. It is not allowing the world to tell us who we are. Now someone might say, “Look, I’ve have been talking to G-d for a really long time. I am now 40 years old and I am not married. So don’t tell me to talk to Him; I am not talking to Him anymore!” There are a lot of good people who do hisbodedus (self-contemplation). But when life hurts, and you’re in pain, it is very hard to go on with hisbodedus. It feels that G-d isn’t 3
answering me! I am not saying I own this concept, and it’s a good question as how to deal with that pain. A lot of us have been raised in a culture that tells us that the reason you have Hashem is to get what you want in this world. He fulfills your needs, and therefore, if you need something, you turn to Him. If you play this out, though, the only function of Hashem is to give us more in this world. Therefore, if I ask something from Him for twenty years and I don’t get anything, that must mean that for those twenty years, our relationship has been for naught, because the only reason I talk to Him is because I want something from Him. But the minute that is the only reason we connect to G-d, we are missing the entire point. We do not have Hashem to fulfill our
needs; we have needs to find Hashem. Therefore, the prize for this woman after twenty years is that she has the thing that most human beings do not have. She actually has a relationship with the Creator of the World. And it is a real relationship. I was once at a Gateways Seminar, and I spoke about Hashem being our father, and a woman came up to me, and said, “My father was a very wealthy lawyer, and I was a superstar kid.” She ended up being the one kid from her whole family who inherited the family business. And her whole life, her relationship with her father was a business relationship. “I was the most career-oriented woman I know,” she said. “But if I could choose between giving up everything I have accomplished – my career, money and practice – to have
one more day with my father, I would do it in a blink. I would give up everything materially to have that. There is nothing more valuable than just spending time with my father.” The challenge is that we are using Hashem for our stuff. And if it is frum stuff, marriage stuff, or health, then for sure, we say that He owes it to us. But we are forgetting that the most valuable thing we have in this world is to walk around holding Hashem’s hand always. There is nothing greater than going through life and feeling that my father is next to me. And if we use every need we have as an reason to get back in the room with Him, and after twenty years, all we got was Him, there’s nothing else in the world that can come close to that.
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