12 Mar SECRETS TO SURVIVAL

The Hebrew language is like no other, it is
Lashon HaKodesh, the Holy Tongue. Its
words are not just a combination of letters, but
each word is holy, with the power to transmit
meaningful messages.
Kedem in Hebrew means past. A similar
sounding word, kadimah, means forward,
onward. Both kedem and kadimah share the
same root, “kuf-daled-mem”, yet have
opposite meanings.
Herein lies an important message. As a nation,
we learn from, and build upon our past. As we
say in Tehillim, “mizkainim esbonan, from
wise elders, I gain understanding. (Tehillim
119:100). Our past is not to be forgotten, but is
the foundation of our future, the basis of who
we are, and where we are going in life.
This Shabbos, we say “chazak” upon the
completion of Sefer Shemos, the book that
tells of the making of our nation.
Shemos begins with Yaakov and his family
arriving to Mitzrayim. The very first pasuk
tells us that they came “ish u’veiso, each man
and his household”, stressing upon us the
importance of a bayis, a strong Jewish home.
Before the difficult years of slavery even
began, the Torah teaches us how Bnei Yisroel

survived – the power of the Jewish home. As a
nation, we have been exiled from one country
to another, encountering many difficult
challenges, facing a multitude of enemies.
Yet, we remained strong.
The Talmud tells us “In the merit of the
righteous women our ancestors were redeemed
from Egypt.” Courageous women, filled with
emunah and bitachon, who built homes that
became spiritual fortresses.
Yemei kedem, Days of old. The women turned
to the teachings of Sara Imeinu for inspiration
in creating their homes. Rashi in Parshas
Chaya Sora tells us that three blessings
permeated in Sora’s tent.
First, the Shabbos lights remained lit from
week to week. Aish, fire, spelled aleph, shin.
Aleph for ahava, love; and shin for simcha,
joy. Sora’s tent was imbued with ahava and
simcha.
Second, Sora’s challa remained fresh from
week to week. Bread is symbolic of the
physical, the material things in life. Sora was
happy with what she had. Nothing was “stale”
in her eyes. Everything remained fresh. It was
all good.
Third, a cloud of HaShem constantly hovered
over Sora’s tent. Her tent was one of kedusha,
sanctity, of sholom bayis, peace and
tranquility.

The Midrash cites that our fathers were
redeemed from Egypt because they
didn’t change their names, language,
and clothes.
Names – to be able to identify proudly
as a Jew. To know who we are and what
we stand for. Our Jewish names connect
us to our past, linking us to our zeides
and bubbas. A reminder that the chain
continues.
Language – we are judged by how we
speak, the words we choose, the
subjects we discuss.
Clothes – the way we dress identifies
us. To dress in a manner that brings
honor to HaShem’s people.
So which was it that merited the
exodus? Was it the righteous women,
or because Bnei Yisroel remained true to its
identity?
Our sages teach that the two are in essence
one. For it was the nashim tzidkonios, the
righteous women who made sure that their
families remained strong. Brave women who
protected their homes from the traps of
assimilation.
Perhaps the letters of the words bayis – beis,
yud, suf, say it all. Beis and yud equal twelve,
representing the twelve shevatim, tribes. A
reminder that we are an am echad, one nation
that must be unified, being there for one
another. Suf represents the Torah. To ensure
Jewish continuity, we must live a life of
Torah values.
Another reference to bayis is found later in
Sefer Shemos. In teaching the laws of the
Korban Pesach, the Torah uses the term
“seh labayis, a lamb for each household”.
And, parshas Pekudei closes with the words
Beis Yisroel, rather than Bnei Yisroel,
conveying once again the importance of the
Jewish home.
We are living in challenging times. We are
surrounded by winds and storms that
threaten the very fabric of our homes and
our identity. Now, more than ever, it’s
essential to maintain a secure bayis – for
ourselves, our families, our future.
Internalizing the lessons of Sora and our
ancestors in Egypt, give us the tools to
fortify our Jewish homes.
When Sora died, the three blessings she
experienced ceased, only to return upon
Yitzchak’s marriage to Rivka.
Like the tent of Sara that went dark, we too
are living in times of darkness. We should
all strive to be Rivkas. As Rivka brought the
brachos back into the tent, we can bring
light and healing to the world. Each one of
us can make a difference. Be a Rivka.
Since October 7, Jews worldwide have
increased their davening, keeping mitzvos,
doing chesed and reciting Tehillim. I just
read an article entitled “Crying at the
Waldorf”. The author shares how he and his

wife saved up to celebrate a special Shabbos
at the Jerusalem Waldorf. Friday night, he
spotted a mixed group of guests hanging out
together. He approached them and found out
that their brother/son/father was killed four
months earlier in the line of duty in Gaza. The
previous weekend, the deceased hero’s wife
gave birth to a baby boy. The bris would be on
Shabbos morning.
Shai Graucher is an amazing man with a
generous heart. He has become the “face of
chesed” since the war began. With the help of
numerous kind-hearted people, he has spent
the past five months helping countless
soldiers, the injured, displaced families,
families who lost relatives in the war and
families of hostages in the most remarkable
ways. He took it upon himself to help the
young widowed mother, and arranged for a
Shabbos bris. But not just your ordinary bris.
He booked rooms and a full Shabbos
experience at the Waldorf for her entire
extended family.
The author sought out Shai, but he was
nowhere to be found. Finally, on Shabbos
morning, he encountered Shai at davening,
and noticed that he was wearing a hospital
bracelet. When asked if all was OK, Shai
responded that his wife had given birth that
very Friday night, and that he walked from the
hospital to the hotel just to join the bris and be
sure that all the arrangements were in proper
order.
The bris was a truly emotional event. Not just
for the family, but for the multitude of ordinary
hotel guests – and even many outsiders – who
joined, just to give honor to the family and pay
tribute to their fallen loved one. As the author
writes “none of us knew each other, but for
just a moment, we were so close”.
There is something each one of us can do to
make a difference. We are davening for
“acheinu kol beis Yisroel”, emphasizing the
bayis, the Jewish home. We are all truly one
bais Yisroel. We are all part of one family.
Through our tefillos and chesed, may we soon
realize our fervent hope that HaShem takes us
“meiafeilah l’orah, from darkness to light”.