יום רביעי, ט׳ תמוז תשפ״וWednesday, June 24, 2026
Follow Us
Rabbi Shmuel Reichman is an international speaker, bestselling author, business coach, the CEO of SMA, and a TED talk speaker. His online content reaches millions of people every month, and he lectures internationally on topics of Torah thought, psychology, leadership, and business. His bestselling book, “The Journey to Your Ultimate Self,” serves as an inspiring gateway into deeper Torah thought. Rabbi Reichman has semicha from RIETS; Masters degrees from the University of Chicago, YU’s Educational Psychology and Bernard Revel Graduate School; and was an Ivy Plus Scholarship at Harvard. As a business and leadership coach, Rabbi Reichman provides a unique one-on-one coaching program where he helps high-achievers, coaches, and business owners achieve their financial and personal goals. To learn more or to get in contact with Rabbi Reichman, visit his website: ShmuelReichman.com.
Read More
Experiential knowledge is a type of knowledge that is known so deeply and powerfully that it becomes part of one’s very consciousness and self. This knowledge cannot be overcome, nor can one blind themselves to it, no matter how strong the competing desire.
And if we are commanded to have faith (emunah) in Hashem – to believe in something unknowable – how can we also be commanded to know Hashem?
When a circle is merely cyclical, detached from growth, it represents spiritual death. This is the circle of routine, of habit, of endless repetition with no forward progress.
Time does not move along a continuous, straight line; it circles around in a repeating yearly cycle. As the Ramchal explains, Hashem created thematic cycles of time, and each point in the year contains unique spiritual energy.
Once we understand the concept of time, and the distinct opportunity and importance of tapping into the unique theme of each point of time in the systematic process of ascension, we must delve into the specific theme that Shavuos presents.
Hashem not only willed the world into existence at one point in the past, but continues to do so every instant.
Having forgotten our true selves, we are born with the illusory belief that we are only that which we can see. When we look in the mirror, we see only flesh and bone, and we believe that this is all that we are.
The purpose of rebuke is simple: Rebuke helps us see where we have gone wrong, clarifying what we must change and improve in order to fulfill our purpose and actualize our true potential.
An interesting feature of the Omer is the emphasis on counting each day. This suggests that Sefiras HaOmer is one long mitzvah, complete only if each of the forty-nine days are counted. However, l’halacha, we make a beracha on each individual day of the Omer, suggesting that each one is a mitzvah in its own right. How can we reconcile this apparent inconsistency?
We are not counting down to Matan Torah, but rather are building toward it, ascending one day at a time. We do not wait for Shavuos to arrive; we actively bring it ourselves through the time and effort we invest as we count the Omer.
We are all drowning in Western culture, where physical beauty takes the front seat – or the only seat – in life. But to fully understand the present-day challenge of beauty, we must understand the spiritual concept of beauty in all of its depth.
Nothing in the physical world is objectively good or evil, rather, everything has the potential to be used for either good or evil.
Most spiritual schools of thought are focused wholly on the spiritual; they view the physical world as lowly and dangerous. They therefore claim that the physical should be avoided to the greatest extent possible.
Everyone is a leader in some capacity. Some will lead their families, while others will lead the world. The scale is irrelevant; the principles remain the same.
Only when you look closer, deepening your gaze, do you see the deeper layer of reality, the transcendent root.
The first fundamental principle of Jewish belief is that Hashem is the Creator of the world. He is the source of time, space, and all of existence.
The most primitive form of leadership is selfish leadership, driven by the desire for power and self-gratification. In such a system, the leader represents only himself and his own selfish desires.
Your job in this world is not to create yourself but rather to recreate yourself; to reattain your original state of perfection, as you were shown by the malach. This time, however, it must be done through free will, i.e., by choosing to become great.
The feeling of making a great decision leads you to another great decision, and the cycle continues.
Chazal mention a few cases of kefitzas ha’derech. One is when Yaakov travels from the house of Yitzchak, narrowly escaping Eisav’s clutches. Another is when Eliezer embarks on a journey to find a wife for Yitzchak. There are several others as well, but what do these cases have in common? Do they share any deeper connection?
The Torah is replete with mention of Eretz Yisrael’s greatness and uniqueness. While we often hear about Eretz Yisrael’s unique kedusha (holiness), we must ask: What is the nature of this holiness, uniqueness, and greatness?
The transition from Torah She’bichsav to Torah She’baal Peh introduced a number of fundamental shifts in our relationship with Torah. These include the introduction of machlokes and a mode of “hearing” as opposed to “seeing.”
Committing something to writing renders it static and finalized, and writing down the Oral Torah would limit its wisdom to finite fragments of individual statements, causing the shards of truth to remain shattered and broken.
The first stage of history lasted from Creation until the time of Purim and Chanukah. This stage was highlighted by the miracles of yetzias Mitzrayim and Matan Torah and the presence of nevuah. During this period, Hashem’s revelation in this world was apparent and clear. The physical world was naturally seen as an expression of a spiritual reality, and it was easy to source the physical back to the spiritual.
Before Adam sinned, he looked nothing like you or I do today. When we look at one another, all we see is flesh and bone, but if you looked at Adam before he sinned, his appearance was angelic, transcendent, luminescent.
We are able to understand and experience the spiritual through the physical, as the two are intrinsically connected. If you're wondering how to understand this concept, consider the way other human beings experience, relate to, and understand you.
There are two different types, or aspects, of perfection. The first is static perfection (sheleimus), where something is, has been, and always will be absolutely perfect. Such a being does not struggle, has no conflicting wills, and never fails. The second type of perfection is more nuanced, and in some sense, even more powerful.
A worthwhile journey often includes a long winding path, twisting and turning in all directions, leading you on a seemingly endless quest.
The Torah is not only a guide to living a life of truth within the physical world; it is also the literal blueprint and DNA of this physical world.
What happens when you remove an organ from the body? You are left with empty space. If you remove a kidney or liver, what remains is the empty space that this organ used to occupy. The same applies to spiritual organs as well.
While our default experience of life is internal and personal, we occasionally feel compelled to look at ourselves from an outside view and ponder the meaning and direction of our lives.
The uneducated mind thinks of the truth as a single, factual statement. But the truth is actually the balance and harmony of opposite, seemingly contradictory ideas.
Why was Pinchas’s act of killing even considered heroic? It appears to be violent and rash, perhaps even worthy of criticism. Why then, was it rewarded, and so handsomely at that?
In a journey to the self, all that we know is the starting point; the destination remains to be discovered. We don’t know what we’ll find along the journey, the challenges we’ll face, what people will think, or if we will even succeed.
If a teacher wants to share a deep principle with his or her students, they might share a story or analogy that depicts the idea through a more relatable medium. While the mashal does not fully convey the idea itself, it leads the listener toward it, aiding him or her in the process of understanding.
We first experience Elul, then Rosh Hashanah, and then Yom Kippur, a developmental process of raising ourselves higher and higher above the physical world and deeper and deeper into the spiritual world.
If the soul and body are complete opposites, how do they manage to coexist as one? One would expect them to repel each other, like two opposite sides of a magnet.
We have brief moments of inspiration, but they soon fade into oblivion, only to be resuscitated for a few more days the next year in the hopes that somehow this year might be different.
Only when we negate our egos and acknowledge that the goodness and beracha in our lives comes not from our own independent efforts but from Hashem – our ultimate source and creator – can we then receive more beracha.
Although we likely take it for granted that berachos are a pillar of our daily lives, they have not always existed as they do now.
If someone were to ask you to prove that you exist, you would seriously struggle to do so. One’s own existence simply cannot be rationally proven.
Very often, people believe that true depth and wisdom lies only in far-off places – in Eastern spirituality or Western philosophy. However, the deepest wisdom lies within Jewish thought, in the depths of the Torah’s inner wisdom. One must only seek, and they will find.
As we previously explained, the purpose of techeiles and tzitzis is to straighten the bent path and help connect us back to Hashem, our Source.
Most people, at some point in their lives, have felt invincible, unstoppable, almost G-dly. And yet, at other times, these very same people have felt weak, incapable, deflated, and worthless.
The meraglim not only misunderstood their experience, but they then reported this distortion back to Klal Yisrael.
There are two levels of reality: The first is how things appear on the physical surface; the second is the meaning that lies behind that exterior.
We don’t wait for spirituality to come to us; we proactively seek it out. We don’t let time wash over us; we actively ride the waves of time.
The most obvious form of chesed is giving money, but this is far from ideal. Short-term monetary gifts do not usually solve a long-term struggle with poverty; the person will therefore remain dependent and poor.
Only when there is silence, and the complete absence of ego, can the truth be heard, understood, and accepted. The Torah is the absolute and whole truth and can therefore only be given when there is absolutely nothing else competing against it.
If the Torah does, in fact, require organization, why specifically divide it into five parts?
The Beis HaMikdash is the point where the spiritual heavens kiss the physical earth…this is where the infinite and spiritual meet the finite and physical.
You lost that transcendent connection to oneness so that you could journey through life to rebuild it.
Everyone wants to contribute something significant to the world; to play a meaningful part in the cosmic symphony we call life. This desire is an inherent part of being human.
We do not simply remember what once occurred, we relive the experience as we tap back into the power of kabbalas haTorah.
Words can injure and inspire. Words can bless or curse. Words can create new moral facts, such as when we make a promise.
How do we, as physical and limited beings, transcend our finite dimensions? How do we relate to the abstract, to the infinite, to the spiritual?
Another equally problematic motivation for speaking lashon hara is the desire to feel good about oneself. We all desire to feel important, significant, and worthy of respect.
Do you ever wonder what people really think about you? Whether they think you’re brilliant, caring, and fun; or lazy, self-centered, and boring? The truth is that you’ll never know; people only talk about you openly when you’re not in the room.
When you do something – even something good – without being commanded, all you are reflecting is yourself. It is your personal form of avodah, self-contained, limited, and disconnected from Hashem.
Makkas bechoros was unique in that Hashem Himself performed this Makkah (Rashi, Shemot 12:12). The Ramban explains that all the principles of hashgacha pratis were displayed through these events. We were clearly then on an immensely high spiritual level.
Nothing in the physical world is objectively good or evil, rather, everything has the potential to be used for either good or evil. The choice is solely up to you!
As human beings, we are naturally resistant to external instruction or direction, preferring to do things only when we want to do them.
We all yearn for connection: to ourselves, to other people, and, of course, to Hashem. But connection is difficult; it requires time, patience, and constant effort. Genuine communication takes a lifetime to achieve.
What happens when you don’t eat? You become faint. What happens if you continue without food? You will pass out. And if you still don’t eat, your soul will leave your body and you will die. Eating maintains the connection between your soul and your body; it is what keeps you alive.
In other words, we are normally not allowed to kill one person to save another; however, because the rodef is engaging in an act of attempted murder, there is a special din of chiyuv missah on the rodef that allows for the hatzalas ha'nirdaf with the life of the rodef.
Amalek rejects Hashem’s connection to this world or any connection between the spiritual and the physical. Essentially, Amalek denies Hashem’s control of this world and the ability for man to uplift himself to the level of the spiritual.
Torah is not simply a guide to living a life of truth; it is the blueprint and DNA of this physical world.
As we have previously mentioned, Rav Moshe Feinstein holds that a fetus is a full nefesh, and even though one is not chayiv missah for aborting a fetus, it still violates the issur of retzicha.
When you wake up each morning, the day holds infinite potential. You have the time to do anything, go anywhere, meet anyone, etc. But that’s only potential, for in reality, you haven’t done anything yet, and in reality, you can’t do everything, only something.
When we consider whether or not someone is an observant Jew, we usually ask whether he or she is shomer Shabbos. Why is this the defining feature of religious observance? What makes Shabbos a root mitzvah, why is its punishment so severe, and why do we see it as the measuring stick for all of Torah observance? What is the secret of Shabbos?
Why should the fact that the rodef is liable to be killed during his act of attempted murder affect whether or not he is chayiv to pay back the monetary damage he caused?
Most of humanity lies somewhere along the middle of the spectrum. Our point of free will is located in the decision sphere of whether or not to gossip, to hit snooze, to give charity, to smile, to eat right, etc. These are the battles of inches; sometimes we win, and sometimes we lose.
There is a general principle that when one sees someone in the act of violating an aveirah, the witness should warn them before the aveirah takes place. Why then, in the case of rodef, does the Gemara say that hasra’ah is not required?
Cheit ha’egel, the sin of the golden calf, is perhaps the most infamous event in the Torah, a sin compared to the original sin of Adam HaRishon and one that has repercussions throughout Jewish history. Yet, what is most striking about this sin is not the act itself but its timing.
Had Hashem created us in Olam Haba, the goodness we would have received would have been free, unearned. This is the type of perfection that malachim enjoy. However, this is not the ultimate enjoyment.
Even a katan has enough da'as to qualify as a rodef; by engaging in this type of act, the katan shows that he has at least some form of da'as.
Hashem was internally good, but He was not actively expressing this goodness by giving or doing good unto others. Hashem chose to express His capacity for doing good unto others by creating man, upon whom Hashem would bestow the ultimate goodness.
Another fundamental nafka minah is whether one needs to have kavanah (intent) in order to be categorized as a rodef.
The Torah describes the voluntary gifts that the Jewish people donate toward the building of the Mishkan, the place where Hashem was most potently manifest in the physical world. The emphasis of these donations is their voluntary nature – Hashem commands Moshe to collect from Klal Yisrael whatever their hearts inspire them to give.
We are actually doing a chesed for the rodef by preventing him from spiritually destroying himself. The rodef now gets to die without the blemish of murder tainting his soul.
How can it be that Hashem made a mistake – that He originally wanted to create the world with din but then changed His mind?
The first stage is a gift, a spiritual high. It’s there to help you experience the goal, the destination. It’s a taste of what you can and hopefully will ultimately accomplish, but it’s not real. It’s given as a gift and is therefore an illusion.
It appears that killing a rodef is not only a complicated halacha, but only bidieved (a secondary choice). We are therefore left with a fundamental question: Why are we allowed to, or supposed to, kill a rodef?
Before Adam sinned, he looked nothing like you or I do today... The Midrash says that he wore kosnos ohr (skin of light). When you looked at Adam, you didn’t see his body but saw Adam himself, i.e., his neshama.
What if the person has full intent to not only take the action, but also cause the harmful result. However, in this case, the person has the wrong information, so he thinks that he is doing something good, when in fact, he is about to do something very bad.
Spiritual debate has been a recurring phenomenon since the beginning of time. Chanukah is when we tap into the spiritual debate between the Jews and the Greeks, as the Greeks specifically attempted to destroy our spiritual way of life.
The obvious question arises: what changes once the fetus leaves the womb? Why is it permitted to sacrifice the fetus to save the mother while the fetus is in utero, but the moment the fetus leaves the womb, we can't choose one life over another?
Have you ever felt like everything worthwhile in life eventually fades? The energy of youth fades into old age, the excitement of beginnings fades into routine, and the inspiration of a new goal fades into habit. This pattern extends to almost all spheres of the human experience.
It has often been assumed that this debate is fundamentally centered around the very question of whether a fetus is considered to be a full nefesh or not.
The reason one receives the death penalty for killing someone is because of middah k'neged middah, measure for measure. When one violates a prohibited act, they receive exactly that which they inflicted upon someone else.
When we understand that every single aspect of our life is given to us in order to help us fulfill our unique purpose, what another person has becomes irrelevant, and jealousy becomes nonsensical.
While the general juxtaposition of the mitzvos on the right and left sides of the Luchos carries fundamental significance, there is a powerful connection between the specific commandments on each side as well.
As a fetus grows and develops, it's possible that it becomes human, or at least more human, even if that is not originally the case when it is first conceived as a zygote.
One unique feature of the Luchot is that there were two sets given to us. The original was created by Hashem and given to Moshe, whereas the second set was hewn by the hands of Moshe. However, the difference between these two sets is not simply practical; the two sets of Luchot are fundamentally different.
The goal of this column is to help you think about the spectrum of a topic in Torah and see the truth within every opinion of the sugya.
The inability to fully understand the destination of one’s own growth can be compared to a child’s inability to grasp a complex scientific or spiritual concept.
Every day, we get to choose who we are, what we believe in, and how we are going to live our lives. Each morning, we get to create our identity, begin anew. As Avraham Avinu says, Anochi afar va’efer – I am but dust and ashes (Bereishis 18:27).
The world in which we live is an avenue to the spiritual; we can access the spiritual, transcendent world through the physical world because the two are intimately and intrinsically connected.
The spiritual concept of beauty, and its relevance to marriage, is central to the connection we aim to develop through the process of Sukkos.
As we approach Yom Kippur, we recognize that it is unquestionably one of the most important days of the year. And yet, in many ways, it is a mystery.
June 19, 2026 
