By Avi Ganz
The Gemara (Kiddushin 30b) says, I have created the yetzer hara and I have created the Torah for it as a spice. A spice? Not a defense, an antidote or a vaccine?
By Eli Lebowicz
When Sodom is destroyed, Lot’s wife looks back at the city because the angels said not to, and she gets turned into a pillar of salt.
If you describe someone as salty? It’s someone who is not in the best of moods. A sailor with salty language is not speaking eloquently; a salty person is one who is upset over minor nuisances.
Something that is salty in terms of cooking means it’s not seasoned properly, but too much salt or being salty could also be applied to balance as well.
Lot’s wife was indeed warned not to look back, a warning she ignored. But when she did, she saw the city she loved, and which she missed dearly, in a state of utter desolation.
As reflections of the image of Hashem we must maintain our healthy bodies, selves and souls.
Health is like anything else: the set of circumstances within which we operate.
I was powerless to influence his health in any measurable way, save for fervent davening. Yet is that not what is implied when we utter gezunt in well wishes?
When we allow extremes to become norms, the community is not healthy. When we place one value over all others, the community is not healthy.
Its impact is far-reaching and beyond all proportion to its quantity.
Shavuos is our wedding day, when we recommit ourselves to our relationship with Hashem. We don’t just look at our photo album and videos from the wedding, we re-experience it.
Rephrasing the Gemara into the current vernacular: Good things come to those who wait.
It’s the perfect time to remember that Hashem entrusted each of us with a special mission in this world.
At the very climax of our exodus from Egypt and, arguably, the most crucial moment in our nation’s birth, we were told to keep our distance and sit tight.
As we are about to celebrate the holiday of Shavuot, we treasure that gift from the Almighty.
Where I grew up in Queens, N.Y., we were a little more lenient. We never cut off our peyos, but we also were allowed to cut them below the bone.
What are they really about? To make us look respectable (Bechor Shor)? Separate us from paganism (Ralbag)?
I did notice that the Hebrew word for wig is a peya, so I’m naturally going to think of a connection there.
By Keshet Starr
As frum Jews, we’re called to be different, to surpass the physical elements of life with deeper spiritual pursuits. This is, indeed, a responsibility – we feel its burden for a reason.
By Hillel Fuld
What does it mean to maintain your identity as a Jew? The answer is that the Israelites kept their names, language, and clothing.
We are encouraged to perform hiddur mitzvah, putting aside the cost, to some extent, to glorify serving Hashem.
In the Torah each person is obligated to use their money to pursue justice. The common meaning of the word tzedaka is charity, but a more true definition is justice.
By Chaim Saiman
Almost everyone “believes in” money, and even the “monetary atheists” who dream of returning to the gold-standard usually lead their lives as if money really exists.
When we talk about problematic influences from the world around us, we are likely to think about matters of ideology, entertainment and mass culture, or dress.
Our approach to money should be understanding that our financial status is determined by G-d.