Rabbi Shaya's Thoughts

Many people are troubled by the need for security at synagogues, Jewish institutions, and community events, viewing it as yet another burden imposed by the rise of antisemitism. A “tax on the Jews.”

While we can understand that feeling, perhaps there is more to security than protection alone.

In some ways, it is an honor to have protection at the entrance to a potentially vulnerable location. We see this at important institutions around the world. Buckingham Palace, for example, has guards stationed at its gates not only for security, but also as a sign of dignity and respect. Their presence communicates that this is a place of significance.

This idea appears in this week's Torah portion, Korach. The tribe of Levi was commanded to stand watch over the entrances of the Holy Temple. The purpose was twofold: to ensure that unauthorized individuals did not enter this sacred space, and to honor the Temple through the very presence of those guarding it.

Interestingly, although there were thirteen entrances to the Temple, only five were guarded by Levites, and two by the Kohanim. The remaining entrances did not require guards because they were not considered primary entryways.

The question is asked, if it was the job of the Levites to guard the entrances, why were two of them protected differently?

The commentators offer two perspectives that ultimately converge into a single insight.

First, since these entrances were overseen by Kohanim who stood watch within those areas. The entrances were considered protected, just not by Levites.

Second, because the Kohanim were already present inside these sacred chambers, and the rooms themselves were guarded. Their presence provided that honor and therefore, there was no need for a guard to stand outside.

The distinction is subtle but meaningful. Does guarding a space require standing at the entrance, or can someone inside the space also be considered a sentinel?

Generally speaking, protection is most effective when positioned outside the area being guarded. But when the space itself is holy and those inside are already standing watch, the emphasis shifts. The guard's role becomes less about protection and more about honoring the sanctity of the place.

This distinction helps us better understand another mitzvah: the mezuzah.

When we affix a mezuzah to our doorpost, it serves as a form of spiritual protection. Yet that is not its only purpose. A mezuzah is also a declaration of identity and pride. It tells the world that a Jewish home stands here.

This dual purpose affects many of the halachic discussions regarding which rooms require a mezuzah. Is the mezuzah there primarily for protection, or is it there to confer honor and define the significance of the space? The answer often depends on which aspect is being emphasized.

Just as the guards at the Temple served both to protect and to honor a sacred space, the mezuzah serves a dual purpose as well. It offers spiritual protection while proudly proclaiming the Jewish identity of the home.

At a time when Jewish security is so visible, it is worth remembering that protection and pride are not opposing ideas. Sometimes the very measures that protect us also express who we are and what we value. In a world where being openly Jewish can require courage, the mezuzah reminds us to do more than protect our homes, it reminds us to proudly affirm our identity and the sanctity of the Jewish life within.

Shabbat Shalom

Every excuse we give for not doing something expected of us sounds legitimate, at least to ourselves. Yet in moments of honest self-reflection, we often feel that we have fallen short.

Why do we feel bad? It is not because our excuses are false. They can be completely valid. The reason we feel disappointed is because deep down we know that despite all the obstacles, we still could have risen to the occasion.

We know that we have it within us to do what needs to get done. Yet we might wait for someone else to take the lead, or for circumstances to push us into action. Taking initiative is difficult, as It requires effort, courage, and responsibility.

The question is: How do we develop that sense of initiative? How do we find the strength to act before circumstances force us to?

An answer can be found in this week's Torah portion, Shelach.

We read the well-known story of Moses sending twelve leaders, one from each tribe, to scout out the Land of Israel. Moses was worried about the report they would bring back, which is why he prayed that G-d would protect his protégé and eventual successor, Joshua, from the influence and reasoning of the other scouts.

Moses was right to be concerned. The scouts returned with a negative report, twisting every positive sign into a reason for fear. They argued that it would be better to remain where they were rather than move forward into the unknown land.

Moses expected Joshua to turn the tide. Yet it was not Joshua, but Calev, who succeeded in getting the people to see things differently.

Calev's response remains deeply instructive.

Where did Calev find the strength to stand up against the consensus? Where did he get the courage to challenge what everyone else was saying?

While in Israel, Calev separated from the other scouts and traveled to Chevron, the resting place of our ancestors, and prayed to G-d for help. He took the initiative.

Before he could influence others, he worked on himself. Rather than assuming that he would naturally make the right choice, he sought Divine assistance. He understood that success does not come from waiting for inspiration to arrive on its own. We must take responsibility for our growth and do something to strengthen our character and convictions.

That is why, although Calev did not possess the stature or influence that Joshua had, he was able to step forward when it mattered most. When he saw that the people were being swept away by fear, he stood up and called for everyone to listen.

Paying close attention to the words he chose, we uncover a fascinating insight.

Calev connected with the people. He understood their concerns. Their challenge was not a lack of faith in G-d. Rather, they were afraid of the obstacles they would encounter along the way.

That is why Calev reminded them of the miracles they had already experienced. Every one of those miracles occurred during the journey itself—G-d had guided them through challenges before, and He would continue to guide them through the challenges ahead.

Calev's message resonates today no less than it did then:

1.       Stop making excuses, even when they are legitimate.

2.       Find the inner strength to ask for help.

3.       Do not wait for miracles before taking action. More often than not, the miracles reveal themselves after we take the first step.

4.       Take your destiny into your own hands.

5.       Don’t be afraid to just do it.

Shabbat Shalom.