A house cleaner, working in a newly developed neighborhood filled with many Jewish families, noticed that none of the homes had living room furniture. Curious, she turned to one of the homeowners and asked if there was a Jewish reason for this. The owner responded, "No, we just don't have the money to furnish it.”
What makes a house a home? Is it the things we place inside it, or is it what we do within its walls? Of course, furniture makes living in a home more comfortable and allows us to be more productive—but is that really what matters most? This very question arises in the study of this week’s Torah portion, Teruma. Teruma describes the construction of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle. When discussing its significance, the Torah refers to it as a "home" for G-d in this world, a place meant to elevate the world to a higher spiritual realm (Tikkun Olam). This sanctity is realized through the presence of the Ark and the other sacred furnishings. But what happens if the Mishkan—or later, the Temple—is ransacked? If many of its essential items are missing or broken, can we still serve G-d in its ruins? Or must the building be whole and beautiful to be a true dwelling place for the Divine? In other words, does holiness reside in the space itself, regardless of its condition? Or do the sacred objects within it create the holiness—meaning that if they are removed, the holiness disappears as well? We can also ask a similar question in our daily lives: What is more important—creating the space and conditions to fulfill mitzvot (through Torah study and preparation), or the actual performance of mitzvot themselves? The answer is less important than the lesson it teaches us. Of course, when everything is perfect, it is easier to focus on serving G-d. But realistically, perfection is rare. Instead of waiting for the ideal moment to do a mitzvah, we must recognize that it is just as meaningful to do it now, despite imperfect conditions. Not because the perfect moment will never come, but because we should not be dependent on it. We must seize the moment and live in the here and now. Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Shaya's Thoughts
Finding Perfection in the Imperfect
Relevance
What happens when a new CEO takes over a company? They begin setting new rules and structures. Seemingly, their goal is to make the company better, stronger, and more focused. The order in which they implement these changes is important.
Last week, we read in the Torah how G-d gave the Jews the Ten Commandments and taught Moses the laws of the Torah.
In this week’s Torah portion, Mishpatim, Moses teaches these laws to the people. One would expect Moses to start with the most relevant laws first. Instead, he begins by teaching the laws of the indentured servant. To appreciate the apparent irrelevance of prioritizing these laws, it’s worth taking a moment to understand them better.
What happens if a Jew falls into severe debt and cannot repay their creditors? This might occur because they are a serial debtor—someone who repeatedly falls into financial trouble. Worse yet, it could happen if they keep stealing. The Torah teaches that a thief who is caught doesn’t just return the stolen item; they must pay double, and sometimes even four or five times its value. The first time someone steals and gets
caught, their family and friends might step in to help. But if they are a habitual thief, they are in serious trouble.
In such cases, one form of compensation is when a person sells themselves into indentured servitude to pay off their debt. Their new master covers the debt upfront, and they work off the cost. This arrangement can last a week, a month, or even a few years, but never beyond the sabbatical year. At that point, the master must set the servant free.
But what if the servant is happy in this situation? Perhaps they have been rehabilitated and they no longer have expenses or the urge to steal, or maybe they are treated exceptionally well (as the law requires) and their life is better in this way. If they wish to remain in their master’s home, the Torah respects their choice—but with one condition:
The servant must be taken to the doorpost, near the Mezuzah, and have their ear pierced.
This seemingly unusual practice carries deep significance. The ear that heard G-d declare that the Jews should never again be slaves—because Egyptian slavery was to be the last—now chooses servitude of its own free will. As a reminder of this contradiction, the servant’s ear is pierced to symbolize who their true master is: G-d Almighty.
Now, let’s get practical. When was the first time such a situation occurred? Chances are, not for at least 40 years after the Jews left Egypt. The Torah tells us that they left as wealthy people, and for decades G-d provided them with manna from heaven and water from a stone. It’s unlikely that anyone fell into such destitution during that time.
So why teach this seemingly irrelevant law now?
Herein lies a powerful lesson.
What is the key takeaway from this law? The piercing of the ear. Why? To remind us that G-d took us out of Egypt. This perspective is essential as we learn Torah and its commandments.
This is why it is the first law taught.
Studying Torah is not just about learning rules—it’s about absorbing the values and messages behind them. And this lesson, reminding us of our ultimate freedom and devotion to G-d, is so fundamental that it takes precedence over immediate relevance.
Shabbat Shalom,
Know Your Audience
There is a general rule that when it comes to sharing our thoughts with others, know your audience. The more diverse your audience, the greater the challenge. How do you address a large crowd filled with different personalities and world views?
In this week’s Torah portion, Yitro, we see Moses facing this very dilemma. How can he speak to millions of Jews and transmit G-d’s word in a way that resonates with everyone?
G-d instructs Moses to teach the people exactly as he was taught—without altering a single word. “Do not add and do not subtract.” However, the Torah then presents a seemingly contradictory verse: “Speak to the House of Jacob and tell the Children of Israel.” Commentators explain that this double expression serves as a directive—know your audience.
The word speak conveys a need for clarity and detail, outlining both the benefits of following through and the consequences of neglect. In contrast, tell suggests a softer approach—less forceful, more open-ended. The Torah specifies that Moses should use the softer style when addressing the "House of Jacob" (the women) and a more direct approach when speaking to the "Children of Israel" (the men).
This raises a question: If Moses must tailor his delivery to different groups, how is he not deviating from G-d’s words?
Perhaps the same words can be conveyed through different tones, emphasis, and styles of speech. But the Torah seems to be teaching something deeper.
The fundamental principles must be stated as they are. Moses first relays G-d’s exact words:
“So now, provided you vigilantly heed My voice and keep My covenant, you will be for Me a treasure cherished above all nations, for the entire world is Mine. You will be unto Me a kingdom of nobles and a holy nation.” (Exodus 19:5-6)
Only once the core message is established does Moses expand on it, adapting his delivery to suit each audience.
From this, we learn an essential lesson: Stay true to who you are and what you believe but also find the right words and style to ensure your message is heard.
Shabbat Shalom!
Mission Statement
"G-d created this world because He desired a dwelling place in the world below."
This weekend marks the anniversary of the day the Rebbe assumed leadership of the Chabad-Lubavitch movement. On that day, the 10th of Shevat in 1951, he shared his vision: Leadership is not about relying on him alone; each person must take responsibility. He quoted a well-known Midrash: "G-d created this world because He desired a dwelling place in the world below." This, the Rebbe emphasized, must be our guiding principle in life. Creating a home for G-d requires effort—ours alone to make. But how do we achieve something seemingly so beyond our reach? The Rebbe offered some insight on the language in this Midrash: "For Him"—Our actions should not be driven by self-interest but by a higher purpose. When G-d is at the center of our lives, we are on the right path. "A home"—A home is not a sterile, impersonal space but one of warmth, belonging, and authenticity. Similarly our relationship with G-d should be meaningful, filled with closeness and relatability. "In the world below"—Holiness is not reserved for the spiritually elite or sacred spaces alone. Every person, in any situation, has the ability and responsibility to create this connection. Nothing and no one are insignificant. We each have the power to transform the world, and the task is ours to fulfill. Let’s step forward and make the world a better place.