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I found myself solo-parenting all eight kids last weekend while my wife went to London with her sisters. I knew it would be quite a task, but I psyched myself up with the good old, “I can do this!”

And then the first night began. I went to bed feeling confident and well-intentioned. At 2:58 a.m. one of the triplets started screaming. I gave it a few minutes to see if he would self-soothe and fall back asleep, but when triplet two woke up and joined the action, I figured I only had a minute or two until the third joined in. So I swooped in with bottles for all, and decided to push off the sleep training until my wife returned.

By 3:15 a.m., I was back in my bed, drifting off to peaceful silence...

Minutes later my five-year-old was at my side with complaints about a sore voice. “Your voice hurts you? Now? At 3:20 a.m.?!” I asked, bewildered.

“Yes!” and she started talking in a croaky voice to demonstrate.

“That’s what happens to everyone when they haven’t slept!” I explained. “Why would you wake up at 3:20 to test your voice! Go back to bed.” She refused, so I let her sleep in my bed and peace reigned once more...

I snoozed off for a few minutes, until my three-year-old showed up, wanting—of all things—to get dressed and go to school. Now, on the average morning it’s nearly impossible to get my kids up and dressed and ready for school, but here she is at 3:40 a.m. insisting we get ready immediately! It took about 15 minutes to convince her that it’s the middle of the night. I had to literally go over to the window and show her that it was still dark outside before she relented and went back to bed.

It’s now roughly 4:05 a.m. and I’m back in bed deciding if I should even bother trying to get back to sleep. Lo and behold, in comes my seven-year-old, “I had a bad dream, Tatty…” I thought to myself ‘hey, you not the only one buddy”

When my wife got back from London, I shared my ordeal with her, to which she replied, “Oh, that’s a typical night for me!” And yet, she does it with love and patience because these are her children and she loves them more than anything in the world.

The truth is, we do the same thing to our Father in Heaven. We cry out to him about our problems and issues. One Jew asks for livelihood, others for children, health, shidduchim, etc. We all turn to him, day and night, with our challenges and requests. And G-d listens to each of us lovingly. Even though He is busy running the entire universe, He listens to each of our supplications with patience and compassion. He never gets frustrated about the hour of day (or night!) or the amount of requests, because He loves each of us as an only child.

This week I watched an incredible outpouring of love on the internet. 

You see, about a year ago, Arele, a young father of two from NYC, went into septic shock. The doctors gave him a two percent chance of survival.

Through endless miracles, he beat the odds, regaining consciousness and reconnecting with his wife and children. But in order to save his life, doctors have no choice but to amputate both his arms and legs and replace them with specialized bionic prosthetic's.

To help cover the astronomical medical costs for his bionic limbs, surgeries, therapy, rehab, and other related expenses, his family urgently needed to come up with one million dollars.

How do you come up with that type of money when you simply don't have it? It’s virtually impossible.

And yet, it worked.

His family set up a 60-hour urgent fundraising campaign to solicit funds from the international Jewish community through a platform called Charidy with a goal of one million dollars.

As a veteran fundraiser myself, I can tell you how difficult it is. Getting someone to donate $100 is hard; raising one million is nearly impossible! And most of all, it takes time. You have to cultivate donors. Get to know them personally. Develop a relationship. Let them see the cause up close so they become emotionally invested. Donors don’t just give money. They want to know that their money will be used wisely, and they want to know the cause inside and out.

A campaign this size is usually only undertaken by organizations with massive databases, like schools, yeshivas, and larger non-profits. But in this case, the fundraiser was for a single person. A simple Jew nobody had ever heard of. No organization, no email lists, no social media followers and no infrastructure.

But when the campaign started, Am Yisrael responded. Boy, did they respond!

Over 17,000 donors contributed more than 1.5 million dollars! That is an average donation of $85.

I have never seen this happen before.

You see, there’s no way that 17,000 people have ever met Arele. Maybe 100 know him well, and if you lucky 200 more have met him. The other 16,700 gave money to an individual they have never, and probably will never, meet. People gave from all over the world: South Africa, Israel, Florida, California, Sydney… from different communities and walks of life: Chabad, Bobov, Belz, Satmar, Litvish, religious, non-religious, Democrats, Republicans, you name it!

Why did they give? Simply because he is a Jew, a brother, a family in distress, and his story touched their hearts. 

This is Am Yisrael, this is the Jewish nation! We may have different opinions. We may fight, and we may argue, but at the end of the day we are one family—a single unit.

In this week’s Torah portion we read about the building of the Mishkan—a sanctuary for G-d. I can think of no better way to build a home for G-d than this outpouring of love from so many Jews all over the world.

If all goes well, Israel will soon become the fourth country to land on the moon. It will also be the first full version of the Bible to arrive on the moon. The Beresheet lunar lander is scheduled to take off atop a SpaceX Falcon 9 rocket at 8:45pm EST, February 21, from Cape Canaveral, with an anticipated landing date of April 11. If successful, this will be the first private moon landing, as well as the smallest and least expensive—only 100 million dollars and 8 years of work - real history in the making! 

There’s something about space exploration that grips us. Millions of people around the world will be tuning in to watch the takeoff and eagerly keeping abreast of developments until the landing 4 million miles later, is successful. What is it that’s so compelling? Why do we care so much? Why do we invest so much time, effort, money, and research into discovering what’s on the moon and beyond?

We have an innate yearning to explore and discover the unknown, to find out what lies beyond that which we can see. And we will go to great lengths to obtain even the smallest sliver of information. It’s human nature; we strive to push beyond ourselves.

This, in fact, is the essence of Judaism. To be Jewish means to go beyond, to step out of our comfort zones. If we stop pushing ourselves, we stop growing spiritually, which inevitably leads to regression. Being Jewish means making an active effort to pursue more than we are comfortable with.

It’s uncomfortable to get up early each morning to have time to pray and put on tefillin before work? We do it anyway!

It’s hard to make that phone call to the sister with whom you’re not on talking terms? It’s frightening? Scary? You don’t know how it will go? Jump right in and start making amends.

You’re dating a guy and it feels right but you’re apprehensive about the future? You just can’t quite commit? At some point, it’s time to take the leap, dive right in, and commit.

It’s scary and uncomfortable to give a portion of your monthly earnings to charity? Push beyond that resistance and give generously.

We’ll all be watching Israel’s space expedition closely, but don’t forget your own exploration—go out there and pursue your Judaism with vigor and excitement and curiosity. You’ll be surprised how much you learn.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Uriel Vigler 

Sadly, anti-Semitism is nothing new, and it reared its head once more this week with an outrageous tweet from Congresswoman Ihlan Omar, “It’s all about the Benjamins, baby.”

Next month we read the Purim megilla where Haman clearly articulates his desire to kill the Jews. He didn’t differentiate between the religious and non-religious Jews. It was classic anti-Semitism. Anti-Semitism doesn’t discriminate, which is part of what makes it so shocking and horrifying every time it happens.  

David Ben Gurion said, “It doesn’t matter what the goyim say, it matters what the Jews do.” So, how will we respond? 

Yes, we need to demand apologies, sign petitions and organize protests. These are all important, but they fall short of the true method of combatting anti-Semitisim 

They hate us? They hate Judaism? Well, where’s our love for it? Do we feel it with a fiery passion? How can we reignite that? Find it in ourselves, instill it in our children, awaken it in our friends and acquaintances? By increasing our Jewish engagement.  

Commit to putting on tefillin daily. And when you say the Shema, remind yourself of your eternal and everlasting link to your ancestors, all the way up to the unbroken chain of Abraham.

Commit to lighting Shabbat candles every single week, and when you do, picture the light dispelling evil and hatred from the world. 

Log onto Chabad.org and study Torah–educate yourself and your children and reignite that passion and love for G-d and His Torah.

Ms. Omar, as a rabbi, my job is to reach out and inspire my fellow Jews. But it’s hard. You, with your one hateful tweet succeeded in doing what I cannot—you united us. Jews from the left and Jews from the right, all were equally targeted and equally outraged. You reminded us who we are. This week I’ve heard from Jews I haven’t seen or heard from in years. Jews who don’t attend services and are annoyed when I invite them to events. But in the face of hatred, we are reminded who we are and we unite. 

May we only unite for good purposes from now on.

Rabbi Uriel Vigler

Dear Friend,

I have an important message for you, but I’m struggling to reach you.

I know your inbox is flooded with hundreds of messages daily. When I send you an email, the open rate is extremely low. Sure, when I use a catchy subject line you’re slightly more likely to click, but the numbers are still disappointing.

When I want to tell you about our incredible Purim in Hawaii party, what do I do? I can text you, and that is probably the most effective way to catch your attention, but each text has to be created individually which is extremely time consuming.

When I have a JLI Torah class that I think will interest you, I have started using snail mail. I spend thousands of dollars a year designing, printing, and mailing out that info, and yes, you respond to snail mail, but compared to the effort and money I invest… the response rate is low.

I also post on Facebook and other social media, but there I’m competing with politics, sports, and all kinds of other drama, so unless I’m posting something particularly sensational, it goes largely unseen.

Enter WhatsApp—fast, quick, and a pleasure to use. And I’ve been using it for a while now.

If I want to tell you about the Sunday morning minyan, or a singles party, or a wounded soldier event, I forward the message to 20 people, and then another 20, until I’ve covered all the relevant parties. Alas, last week WhatsApp changed its rules and now only allows forwarding to five people at a time, which is again, too time consuming and inefficient. And broadcasting is too impersonal.

And this week, of all weeks, I have a vital message to share. In this week’s Torah portion G-d give us our mission statement: It’s like His big speech! “And they shall make Me a sanctuary and I will dwell in their midst.” Every minute of every hour of every day, this should be our focus. Creating a dwelling place in this physical world for G-d by spreading goodness and kindness and doing His mitzvot.

Make a blessing and truly mean it. Read a verse of Tehillim with real wholeheartedness. Pray with intention. Learn a verse from the Torah with the knowledge that is the word of G-d. Do a favor for another person because that is why G-d put you on this earth.

That is the vital message I need to relay to you this week. So tell me, dear friend, how do I best reach you?

Yours truly,

Rabbi Uriel Vigler

P.S. If you hit reply, you have my attention!

For their winter vacation, I took two of my boys to a resort with snow tubing, skiing, and an indoor water park.

The kids couldn’t get enough of the snow tubing. First the lift ride up the glorious mountain with amazing views both above and below, and then the main part: zooming down the mountain at top speed. It was simply thrilling.

As for me, I joined because they begged me to, but I can’t say I had the same experience. The lines were long, the cold was biting, the lift ride seemed tedious, and then there was the fear. As a parent, I see all the things that can go wrong. What if my kids fall off the lift? What if they crash on the way down? What if they don’t stop in time? You get the picture!

I looked at my kids and wondered, how are they not cold? Do the lines not bother them? Aren’t they bored on the lift ride?

But they kept going back again, and again, and again. No fear, no boredom, just pure fun. When my hands were completely frozen, and I declared an indoor lunch break, they insisted we come right back to the mountain after lunch. So there we were again… me sitting by the fire pit trying to stay warm, while my kids traipsed up and down, over and over and over again.  

My enjoyment is the fact that my kids are having fun, but not the actual experience. How is it that the same experience can be so different for us?

I realized, my kids live in the moment. They see everything around them as an experience. The views, the mountain, the snow, the fire pit—everything has the potential for fun. They’re fully engaged with the experience.

But me? Like most adults, my mind is in a hundred other places. What’s going on at work? At home? How are my other kids doing? What about all my other responsibilities? Not to mention the ever-present awareness of just how many ways the kids could hurt themselves out on this mountain…But for kids, there is none of that. In fact, I wish I could switch off entirely and commit myself to the experience like they do.

When it comes to our spiritual service, we can look to the children and learn to:

 a)       Live in the moment every moment. We are each tasked with a specific mission and G-d has given us the tools and a certain number of years with which to complete it. We can’t get side tracked. We need to maintain that awareness every minute of every day.

b)      Don’t be scared. Don’t shy away from taking risks and leaving your comfort zone. In fact, embrace the uncomfortable. Do something above and beyond what you usually do. When everyone around you doesn’t keep kosher, don’t be afraid to be different. Don’t be embarrassed to stand up and say, “I can’t eat that. I keep kosher,” or “I can’t do that, I keep Shabbat.”

Maybe next time I’ll be able to let go and enjoy that mountain a little more!

 My Dear Liran, 

A few weeks ago you made an appointment with my brother, Dr. Mordechai Vigler, a well known and respected hand surgeon in Israel. You said your name was Moshe and that you had been experiencing tremendous pain in your hand. What you didn’t say was that you were wearing a hidden camera and were gleefully anticipating exposing him as a religious Jew who suggested you put on tefillin. 

 But I think, Liran, that the hidden camera exposed something else entirely. 

The camera showed many things. It captured my brother’s certificates and degrees. It showed his kippa, tzitzit, seforim, and the picture of the Lubavitcher Rebbe he keeps in his office. Did you also notice the letters of gratitude thanking him for his philanthropic ventures? Did you notice that he is still an IDF soldier? Did you know that your video generated hundreds of messages of support from patients, testifying to his warmth, kindness, dedication, and expertise. 

But the video revealed something else, too, Liran. 

You came into my brother’s office deceitfully. You lied about your name, your symptoms, your pain. You presented yourself as Moshe the Liar; pompous and arrogant. But if you look closely, right at the end, we see something else. For a brief moment, you are exposed not as Moshe the Liar, but as Liran the Jew. 

When you put on tefillin and said Shema, Liran, for a short time you connected to the truth—to 4000 years of your ancestors—and to your soul. That spark of G-dliness buried deep within you, the connection you have to something larger than yourself...for a brief moment we saw it.   It’s not your hand that’s in pain, Liran, it’s your soul. Every time you lie, every time you deceive, your soul is hurt. 

Watch the video again, Liran. Watch it and repeat until you see the truth. Until you recognize yourself not as Moshe the Fraudster, but as Liran the Jew. 

And if you need some help, I invite you to Skype with me—or come meet me in NYC—and we can continue this conversation in person.   

I’d love to help you peel away the layers and get acquainted with your true self—Liran the Jew.  

Rabbi Uriel Vigler

I’m sure you’ve all seen the new internet meshugas by now—the 10-year challenge. It’s a bona fide viral sensation.

Millions of Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter users have participated, posting side by side pictures, from today and from 10 years ago, to show how they’ve aged. The challenge generated 5.2 million engagements on Facebook in just three days! Celebrities, of course, love the opportunity to show how little they’ve aged, but people from all cross-sections of society have joined the trend.

It’s kind of like a game, and the goal is to show how closely you resemble your 10-year-older self. The less you’ve changed, the more points you get.

But something seems jarring about this challenge. Is the goal really to stay the same? Shouldn’t we be changing, evolving, growing, over a 10-year period?

In spiritual terms, if you haven’t aged in 10 years, you’re behind—you’re downright losing the game!

So let’s do that challenge instead. Examine what you’ve done over the past decade. In this game, the more you’ve changed, the more you’ve increased your spiritual engagement and mitzvah output, the closer you are to winning.

Think deeply and ask yourself, what have I accomplished in the last 10 years? How many times did I come to shul? How many people have I helped? How many mitzvot have I done even when it was hard for me? How much time did I devote to those less fortunate? How many times did I stop myself from doing or saying something I knew I shouldn’t?

In fact, every night when we go to bed we’re supposed to take stock of what we’ve accomplished during the day and commit to doing more the following the day.

In Judaism, if we’re not progressing, we’re regressing. There is nothing to celebrate about staying the same from one day to the next, let alone for a 10-year stretch!

So, how much have you changed in the last 10 years?

Over the last few weeks I noticed a small leak in our Chabad center. I called a repair company who sent someone to examine the leak, and then sent me a proposal for $10,000.

Not having an extra $10,000 to fix a leak, I decided to try a local handyman instead. After an hour on the roof he comes down and tells me, “Done.”

I was incredulous. “What do you mean, ‘done’? Like, done? No more leak?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“Wow! How much do I owe you?”

“Well, the work cost me $40 and you can tip me whatever you want.”

Of course, I was willing to tip generously!

“Can I pay you now?” I asked.

“Let’s wait a few weeks until it rains again to make sure the leak is fixed,” he suggested.

I thought about it. The first guy quoted me $10,000 but the handyman was able to fix it for a mere $40. How could there be such a massive discrepancy?

There are two ways to fix a leak. The first guy wanted to remove the ceiling, get to the source of the leak, plaster it, install new tiles and new equipment, and the fix will probably be permanent.

The $40 fix was more like putting a Band-Aid on the hole, but the underlying problem still exists. In a few months, or—if I’m lucky—a few years, I’ll no doubt have to fix it again.

And so it is with the holes in our lives.

We all have them. Things we need to fix. Perhaps we need to improve our character—be kinder, more optimistic, develop empathy and compassion. Or maybe we struggle with anger, laziness, or temptation. No one is immune.

Our Chassidic masters explain that there are two ways to fix these issues. One is the $10,000 method. It requires effort, investment, toil, meditation, prayer, study, etc. It’s a long process, but if we stick with it, we will have a permanent fix.

The other way, the $40 method, is the quick and easy immediate fix. It’s that flash of inspiration you feel when you hear or read something that inspires you to change. It may fire us up in the moment, but that kind of inspiration rarely leads to lasting change. We quickly revert to our old habits because we haven’t put in the work.

When it comes down to it, we need both methods. We need the $40 fix to get us going, remind us that we can feel inspired and moved to change, but then we need to the $10,000 fix to really do the deep work and make those changes stick.

I may have fixed my leak for now, but I know down the line I’ll have to put in the real work and fix the underlying problem.

Perhaps you’re not ready to do the deep personal work just yet, either. That’s ok. Allow the short bursts of inspiration to keep you going until you’re ready to take that plunge. That’s what they’re for.

As 2018 draws to a close, it seems everyone is recapping. The news sites are putting together lists of the most talked about stories of the year, my Strava app sent me a report of how many miles I ran over the past 12 months, and Facebook has created a “year in review” video highlighting my most liked pictures and posts.

But does this really represent my year? Are social media status updates and pictures a good indication of my 2018 highlights?

I often think that Facebook is the upside down world the Talmud speaks of.

When my Facebook friends post how happy, or deeply in love, they are, I question the authenticity. When they are on vacation and sharing every detail about the exotic surroundings and how much fun they’re having, I wonder if it’s true. When they’re out to dinner with their spouses and posting carefully posed pictures of each dish from multiple angles, I wonder if they are actually enjoying themselves at all.

Because if they were truly in love, truly happy, and truly enjoying their experience, would they really need to post about it?

We read about the most sublime individual spiritual revelation ever to take place, in this week’s parshah, when G-d appears to Moses in the form of a burning bush. What happened? Moses was shepherding his flock when a lamb escaped. He pursued it for miles, realized it was thirsty, and took care of its needs. When G-d saw how devoted Moses was to a single sheep, He was certain that Moses was the leader the Jews needed.

If not for the story of the burning bush, no one would know about Moses’ act of kindness. He took care of that sheep away from prying eyes. No one was there; certainly no one was filming him and uploading it to YouTube or Facebook. He didn’t do it for publicity or acclaim. He did it because he cared. As a result, he merited Divine revelation.

So, think about how many sheep you have helped when no one was watching:

How many times have you visited the sick this year?
How many dollars have you donated to charity?
How many hours did you spend with your children?
How many hours of Torah study did you rack up?

These are the things we should be tallying at year’s end. The things we do without fanfare and publicity. The things we do simply because they’re the right things to do. These are the things that G-d counts in our “year in review” and ultimately, in our “life in review.” But we’re not there yet! There’s still plenty of time to put the cameras away and focus on doing the right thing simply for its own benefit. 

 Every month it’s the same story: I have to locate the moon for the mitzvah of Kiddush Levanah, sanctifying the moon. (Of course, we’re not praising the actual moon, but its Creator—for His wondrous work we call astronomy. The moon has the most obvious monthly cycle of all the stars and planets, so we take the occasion of its renewal to make a blessing for the entire masterpiece.)

Growing up in South Africa, it was easy. And in my traveling years—in Brazil, Thailand, Katmandu, Australia, Europe…I never struggled either.

The formula is simple: you go outside between the 7^th and the 15^th of the month, look up at the moon, face east, and recite the prayer. Easy. Done.

But all that changed when I settled on the Upper East Side 13 years ago. You see, to say the prayer, you need to be outdoors and able to see the moon directly. Manhattan, home to more skyscrapers than any other city in the US, is not particularly conducive to that. The buildings obscure the moon, making this previously easy mitzvah into an ongoing challenge.

This month, I started looking on the first possible date, the 7^th, but it was cloudy, so I waited for the 8^th. Same story. By the 11^th, I still hadn’t been able to say the prayer, so when I woke up at 3:00am I decided to get an early start on my day, take a run, and search for the moon. Lexington Avenue, where I live, is smack in the center of the skyscrapers, so I ran to Central Park, where I’m often successful. Alas, on this night, the moon was not visible from Central Park either, so I headed to the East River, where I also often have a clear view, but not on this night.

So, on the 12^th I travelled to the Rebbe’s Ohel in Queens. I needed to go anyway, and it seemed like a good opportunity to tackle two tasks at once. Surely there I would be able to see the moon!

But, as luck would have it, it was a cloudy night with no moon in sight. As of writing this article on the 13^th, with just two days to go, I still have not said the blessing!

Being Jewish requires going out of our comfort zones. We have to go above and beyond, always doing something extra, whether it’s waking up early to pray each morning, setting aside money each month for charity, visiting the sick even when we don’t really have time, or running through the streets of Manhattan in search of the moon…

Lately, I’ve noticed something that seems counterintuitive. It would be understandable if I had developed a dislike for this mitzvah that has me jogging around the streets trying to spot celestial bodies at all hours of night, but in fact the opposite has happened: I have developed a particular affinity for this mitzvah of the moon, more than many other mitzvot. Because it’s so tough, and I have to work so hard for it, I have become fond of this monthly ritual.

In our lives, a little struggle is healthy. It’s hard to appreciate things that come easy. When we have to put in the effort, the payout is magnified. According to the Talmud, “To bless the new moon at the proper time is like greeting the Divine Presence.” Certainly, that’s something worth fighting for!

Large donations never come out of the blue. They are generally from people we know and have an ongoing relationship with. But this past Sunday I received a notification from our website that a $100,000 donation had been made to our Chabad Israel Center, allocated towards our new preschool building. The transaction, however, had been declined.

My initial assumption was that this was not a real donation. There is an endless litany of online scammers who try to hack credit cards and I figured it was probably someone from Nigeria playing around with our website.

But upon closer inspection, I noticed that the donor used a real name­—Todd Cohen*, a local NYC address and phone number, and when I Googled him, he was very much findable. This was no Nigerian scammer.

So when our office opened Monday morning, the secretary phoned Todd to thank him.

“It’s my pleasure!” he said. “I love Chabad and the work you do. I know you’re getting a new space for your preschool and could use some money for the renovations. I know the transaction didn’t go through; I’ll try again soon.”

A few minutes later we received another notification of a declined transaction for $100,000. An hour later he tried again—a third attempt, which was again declined.

So we emailed him, “We have your credit card number and can submit the donation in two parts, which might solve the problem and enable it to go through easily.” But Todd said he would prefer to try again online.

After several more attempts—each of which was declined, I emailed Todd to thank him profusely for his $100,000 donation—including the time he spent trying to put it through!—and offered to call him later to work out the credit card information over the phone. I also invited him to the preschool open house so he can see all the children getting a solid Jewish education and know that his money has been well spent.

Less than two minutes later, Todd replied to clarify that he intended to donate $100, not $100,000, and that he will mail a check, and to please make sure we don’t charge his credit card for the remaining $99,900! I assured him we would not charge his card and thanked him for the $100. We greatly appreciate his gift and support.

Aha. Mystery solved.

You see, in life there are no short cuts. We have to work hard. Judaism teaches that if results come without effort, they will not last. If you earn your livelihood by some gimmick, be careful because it may disappear.

Getting a $100,000 donation from an individual requires trust. It requires building a relationship, a partnership, and developing confidence in who you are what you do. It takes time, effort, and hard work. It’s the only way.

The most rewarding things take the most effort. Looking for a spouse requires sustained hard work. Making a living requires ongoing toil. Raising children—that’s hard work too!

But that’s why G-d made us.

This world was created for us to work hard. G-d wants us to toil, to refine the world as we know it and make it into a better place. There’s no quick and easy shortcut for that. It’s a lifelong mission.

*Name changed to protect privacy. 

Last week my son began complaining about pain in his leg. After a few days with no relief we

decided it was time to see a doctor. The doctor examined him and said, “This is a very serious

disease. He definitely needs surgery. Please take him to the emergency room right now.”

As a father of eight, I am unfortunately no stranger to NYC emergency rooms. I hate them, but

an order is an order. I double checked but the doctor assured me that she knows what she’s

talking about, and even agreed to record a message for my wife regarding the urgency of the

situation.

So there I found myself, on a busy Sunday, already in the midst of dozens of deadlines and other

urgent matters, and all that has to be pushed aside because my son’s health obviously takes

priority.

Thank G-d the ER was mostly empty and we were able to see a doctor immediately.

Imagine my surprise—and relief—to hear this doctor tell me that my son absolutely did not have

the disease the other doctor diagnosed, and would certainly not need surgery. Nevertheless, since

we were there already, they insisted on running some time-consuming tests. Protocol.

After an x-ray, blood work, and a few other medical exams, we got a clean bill of health and

returned home.

I began to wonder why I had trusted that first doctor so much. Why didn’t I just march my son

back home to bed?

Because the doctor has years of medical training, and I do not. So I trust her opinion.

I just wish others would listen to my rabbinical advice the same way I listen to the doctor! After

all, I too have years of training and years of experience working in the field.

A guy comes to me with marital problems. I advise him to schedule a date night (or morning) out

of the house with his wife every week, and make sure nothing gets in the way. Stop shouting at

her, treat her well, and you will begin to feel lovingly towards her again. I also suggest they

begin keeping the family purity laws, but they confidently reassure me that there is absolutely no

chance of that.

Another guy comes to me with serious business problems. I recommend he pray and put on

tefillin daily, but he argues that he sees no connection. I ask myself, do I argue with my doctor

when she sends me to the ER which is a lot more inconvenient than putting on tefillin each

morning?! I do not. I follow orders. So why is my advice questioned? Why am I not trusted?

To a woman with heart problems, I suggest installing mezuzot on all the doors in her house.

“I just bought one for the front door,” she argues.  

“We need them on every door,” I insist.

I beg and I plead and begrudgingly she agrees.

Why must I fight? Why doesn’t she listen?

This is how it is with spirituality. We struggled to accept what the Torah says. That’s our

challenge. But by reframing it, and realizing how readily we accept advice from other experts,

surely we can become better at readily accepting the Torah’s wisdom. It’s for our own benefit,

after all!