He said, so today's class is dedicated in memory of a special person whose shloshim (thirtieth-day observance) is coming up very soon. This Friday is the shloshim of DJ Cohen, alav hashalom. It is dedicated by Team DJ, a group of people who, right when he was diagnosed, became like his inner circle of friends. They went and helped people, made people happy, uplifted people in hospitals, visited sick people, and somehow galvanized around such a tough ordeal. He was diagnosed, as you know, with a horrific disease and told he had at most a few months. He lived four years, basically to the day of his diagnosis. This team formed to strengthen other people who had situations similar to his.
So thank you for dedicating today's class in his memory. But really, thank you for being way better than any class I can give. That is, being people who live out the message of knowing what to do when the hardest thing comes and the hardest thing happens. May Hashem and our Torah elevate his neshama (soul) and give strength to his wife, his daughters, and his family. B'ezrat Hashem, they should see happiness soon and real nechama (comfort), B'ezrat Hashem. Amen.
This is one of those topics that I feel like I've covered before, but I feel like it needs to be addressed. “Addressed” is too strong a word, but it's something we all need to think about a lot, and therefore it's valuable to discuss this type of topic every now and then. Today's topic is what happens when you're frustrated—God forbid, I don't know if I can say the words—with Hashem. Chas Veshalom. That means you feel like, “I can't believe this. I can't believe I'm dealing with this. It's not fair. Why am I the only one dealing with this? Why am I dealing with this?” This has nothing to do with jealousy of others. You don't wish bad on anybody else. You're a good person; you're just not sure why you're trying so hard and getting such little results. Why is this situation so frustrating and bothersome, and almost debilitating? Why is this? Why am I—what am I supposed to do? “Hashem, you want me to be a good person? I'm a good person. You want me to pray? I pray. Do you want me to do good things? I did good things. I wish. Do you want me to go clubbing? I did class. I did class. You want me to change? I change.” And still, I don't understand. Why am I dealing with this? Why do I have to deal with this?
Every person in this room can come up with their own example. But I think the perspective today, although it's not going to be a dramatic chidush (novel insight), is very, very important to have in our minds every day of our lives. Literally every single day of our lives.
We're in Parashat Shemini. Vayehi bayom hashemini. It's on the eighth day. What does “the eighth day” mean? It's the time of the inauguration, the inauguration of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). There were seven days of preparation for the inauguration of the Mishkan, which was done by Moshe Rabbeinu. On the eighth day, Aharon took over fully. Our rabbis then make a statement based on a pasuk (verse): Aharon and Moshe walked into the Mishkan and said, “What happened?” Aharon is doing everything he's supposed to do. He's bringing sacrifices: Olah (burnt offering), all the different korbanot (sacrifices). At the end of the whole ordeal, he says, “The presence of the Shechinah, the presence of God, is still not on the Mishkan. It still isn't on the Tabernacle. Why isn't it there? I'm doing everything I'm supposed to do. Why isn't it there? It must be because I still had the sin of the Egel (golden calf), because he was involved somewhat in the Egel. I had the sin of the golden calf on me, and that's why.” So he calls in Moshe. Moshe prays, and the Shechinah finally comes. The presence of God finally comes.
Here's my one question: How could it be that he's still dealing with the problem of the Egel? Weeks after the sin of the golden calf—not right after it, but weeks later—on Yom Kippur, God told the people, “I forgive you.” He said, “Build for me a Mishkan, and you will be forgiven.” They built the Mishkan. So why are they still not forgiven? Build for me a Mishkan, and you will be forgiven. They did it. Why are they not forgiven?
Again, I want to be clear about what I'm talking about. For most people in this room, the frustration I mentioned lasts for moments. It might be a random Tuesday. It might be one situation in your life. For some people in this room, and some people listening to this online, it's more than just moments. Their frustration is overwhelming. I can't tell you how many times I've had people say to me, “Rabbi, I don't want to pray.” I said, “Why don't you want to pray?” “I don't know. I just don't feel it. I can't believe Hashem did this to me. I don't feel like praying.” And I'm upset. “Yes, I believe in Hashem. I'm not doubting. I'm just—I'm just, if there is Hashem, why is He doing this? I'm not in the mood. The words don't want to come out of me.” I've heard that so many times from people. But whether it's that extreme or much less than that, and it's simply, “Why am I dealing with this one thing?” this mentality is critical for you.
At Matan Torah, I'm going to answer the question in a few minutes. When God gave us the Torah, the way it worked was, as our Rabbis put it, like a groom going out to greet the bride. The Jewish people came to Hashem, and Hashem came out—God, as the groom, went out to greet them. That was the image of the relationship: God as the groom going out to meet the Jewish people as the bride, Him coming to us. Then we committed the sin of the Egel. Once we committed that sin, the world changed forever. Here's what changed: no longer does He come to us. We need to go to Him. That's how this religion works. You need to go to Him. You need to want it, always. The only way we grow, the only way we become what we need to be, the only way we have that relationship with Hashem, is if you're willing to want it and realize, “I need this in my life, I want this in my life, and I'll do anything to have this.”
I wish everybody in this room could, for a few minutes, have this view of the community. I wish you'd have a Rabbi's view—I don't mean just mine, but any Rabbi's view—of the community. You would see, and I don't mean to say this the wrong way, how messed up so many people are. You would see how many people's lives are a mess. A lot of you would say to me, as I'm saying this to you, “Yeah, I know these people's lives are a mess. They're the worst.” No. I'm talking about people whose lives look the best. I've met with plenty of people over the years who have everything you'd put on a list of dreams. Every single thing. They even have the fine print. They have everything—not just the top 10 things they'd want, but the top 20 things you could want—and yet they're messed up. I can't tell you. They have everything, and yet they're messed up. They have everything besides religion. They don't have this desire to really believe in, connect to, pray to, and beg to Hashem. They don't have that understanding of why it's necessary. So they have everything but religion.
I met with someone recently who has—I can't tell you how much everything he has. Again, I can't say names. Obviously, it would be much better if I could say names, but you know what I mean. No, no, I'm not joking. I'm not going to say a name. Don't worry. The guy says to me, “Rabbi, I just started keeping Shabbat a few weeks ago, and my life has changed. Where's Shabbat been? Shabbat got terrible marketing when we were kids. Shabbat when we were kids was like some kind of thing you can't do, so we didn't want it. Now I have to reach this point in my life, where everything is coming apart and everything is miserable, to finally realize how much I need religion.”
This is true. I had a meeting with him, and I was giving him advice. In the middle, he tells me, “Rabbi, why are you telling me all this advice? Just tell me I need religion.” I said, “Because I don't want to sound like a brainwasher.” He says, “I don't care. I know myself. This is the one thing I need.” I'm telling you the real truth: I don't know anybody who has a beautiful life without religion in it. Nobody. I mean, there is nobody. There may be someone who has a beautiful life; I just haven't met that person. Maybe he lives in Okinawa. But any person that I know, I do not know one person who lives life beautifully without religion in it. Not one person. I've yet to meet one person.
When I was a kid, I thought there were a lot of people like that. I used to look at those people in that car, in that house, and say, “Oh, wow, that person has no religion, but they look great.” Then I became a Rabbi and got to meet with those people, lift up the rock, see all the bugs underneath it, and see all that they're dealing with. I said, “Wow, it really is true. You can't do it without deeply wanting religion.” As Hashem said, “I used to come to you. You committed the sin of the Egel; now you have to come to me.” This religion means, “I want it. I have to have it, and I have to have it in my head that I know I need to want it.”
You might say, “Oh, Rabbi, if it's so beautiful, how come not everybody's religious?” The reason not everybody's religious is that they don't know what it is. Until they know what it is, they're not involved; they're not interested. “I don't know what that is.” So they don't do it. But people who know what it is—I'm telling you, there's nobody that I know who has a beautiful life. Again, I know a lot of people, but I don't know everybody. Nobody I know has a beautiful life without religion in it. I have no problem if you come and challenge me and say, “Rabbi, you're wrong. I know a great aunt. They know religion; their life's awesome.” Good, come, try, test me. But every person I've met, once I've got into it: no Shabbat, no praying, no nothing, life's a mess.
I know I've said this before. When I was a kid, I used to have these Rabbis; they were very serious Rabbis. Every speech all boiled down to, “Learn Torah, learn Torah, learn Torah, learn Torah.” I used to roll my eyes and say, “One day, if I ever make speeches, I'm not going to do that.” Everything is “Learn Torah, learn Torah, learn Torah.” It's like the same message every time. Then I realized it's true. It really does boil down to that. If you don't have Torah in your life, you're missing everything. When you have Torah in your life, you have the opportunity for so much more. It doesn't mean life is perfect, but you have the opportunity for so much more. That's the model Hashem created the world with.
There's a pasuk in Shir HaShirim that says, Moshcheini acharecha narutzah. How do you know that? You don't come to shul (synagogue) on Friday night; how do you know that? Moshcheini acharecha narutzah. Very good. What does that mean? That means, “Hashem, you come, you draw us a little bit, but then, acharecha narutzah, I run after you. We run after you.” That's how it works. We need to be willing to run after Him. That's how it goes. We're running for it. We need it. We want it, and we know we want it. He's not just coming to us. We need to run after Him. That's where the beauty is—in running after Him.
I'll give you one nice example. There's this phenomenon that started in the community literally one month ago and has spread to hundreds of men. It's this thing of having a chavruta night. They started it; this shul is doing it, other shuls are doing it. There are men who say that one night a week, they get a friend who doesn't really learn, and they learn together for an hour, just as partners in shul. Every shul that's doing it, every single one based on its size, is seeing disproportionate results. Literally, in a week, there's about a thousand men in this community, from J to S, or J to U, a thousand men who are learning in chavruta, and half of those men never did it before. They can't stop. Because something happens when you start to run. There's a beauty that happens when you start to run. I can do my best to try to explain it to you, but I can't really explain it to you until you do it. I can't explain Shabbat until you keep Shabbat. I can't explain the yearning to pray in the morning until you really start to engage in praying yourself. I can't explain it. I don't know how to explain what it feels like until you do it. I can't explain how beautiful religion is until you're willing to want it. Wanting is part of the process.
Let me explain why, because I haven't explained it clearly yet. We're so full of so many distractions, so many temptations, so many voices that we listen to. We want to eat this. We want to be over there. We want to party over there. We want to celebrate over there. We want to see that. We listen to that person. We want to impress that person. We want to be better than that person. We're jealous of that person. We want to show off in front of that person. We have so many things in our heads that we're thinking about. If you take that whole head and, instead of running here, there, there, there, you just run to Hashem, life is completely different. Life is completely different. Moshcheini: God, you come to me a little bit; acharecha narutzah, I need to run after You. I can't just have You in my life. I need to be running after Him. I need to be running to want it. I need to want it. That's the way the world is, that Hashem created the world. That beauty is only if you know you work and serve one master. Without that one master, you have a hundred masters: your neighbor, your friends, the people you're jealous of, your enemies, your siblings, your desires. You have a thousand masters. If you're running toward Hashem, you have one master. I'll give you one master. I'll tell you a little bit, if I can, about statistics.
They did a study in Israel. The study was based on the quality of life amongst different populations in Israel. They looked at poverty level first. They found that, in the country in general, nine percent of the country is in poverty. Among the very religious, 52 percent are in poverty. Got that? The very religious have 52 percent of them in poverty. Then they went to that population, the very religious, and asked them, “How many of you feel poor?” They got under eight percent who feel poor. One second. You are poor. Statistics say you're poor. 52 percent of you are poor, yet less than 10 percent actually agree that they're poor. What do you mean? I'm looking at your house; you're poor. I see your dinner; you're poor. I see your kids' clothing; you are poor. So why don't you feel poor? Over 70 percent—well over 70 percent of them—say their lives are very satisfied or very satisfied.
How could you be satisfied or very satisfied if you're living beneath the poverty level? Then they looked at it and said, “You know what? Health care among the very religious is the worst. They have the least private health care; the health care is the worst in the very religious demographic. The worst.” Yet they looked at different areas in the country to see life expectancy. They found that most of the areas with the longest-living people are the wealthiest. So the wealthiest areas have the wealthiest, longest-living populations—except Yerushalayim, Bnei Brak, and Beitar. Those are three areas with very religious people. One second: you have bad health care, you have no money, you're poor. Why are you satisfied, and why are you living this long? The answer is because they want their relationship with Hashem. That's the answer. You can find some other reason to explain it; they want their relationship with Hashem.
What does it mean to want that relationship? The answer is, there are a few things you need to be ready to do. Number one, you need to be ready to act. Don't tell me, “I'm home and I'm spiritual.” That was nice in the sixties. That's not okay anymore. That's not okay anymore. “I'm spiritual” is not good enough. “I have a good heart” is also not good enough. Maybe that was good in the eighties, even. But that's not good enough. You need to act. If you really want Hashem in your life, and you really want to want it, you need to act.
There's another pasuk in Shir HaShirim that says Hashem knocks on the door. And He does. He knocks on the door sometimes. We react to Him and say, “I'm ready. I took off my clothing. I'm ready in pajamas. I'm ready in bed. I'm tired. I'm going to sleep.” He looks for us and can't find us. So He says, “Okay, I'll leave.” When Hashem knocks on your door, you need to get out of bed and react to Him. What does it mean that He knocks on your door? For every person in this room, you've gotten your own knock. You've gotten your own time in your life when Hashem knocked on your door. You're dealing with something. The problem is that when that something happens, you answer all the other bosses besides the boss.
I can't tell you how many times I've been in a place where my head is mixed up, with things going on in my head, and I can't believe I'm dealing with something. I'm frustrated by it, and I say, “One second. What does Hashem want me to do?” When I clarify that, I can't tell you how often the problem goes away. What does Hashem want me to do? Let me focus that compass and see what He wants. No, but this guy wants this from me, and that person wants that from me, and that person is upset, and that person is happy, and I'm upset at that person, and that person is frustrated. My head is like exploding. Throw it all in the garbage and figure out: Why is my boss knocking on my door? What does He want from me? What is He telling me? What is He telling me?
Just this past weekend, I had something that really frustrated me and bothered me, and I couldn't get it out of my head. Finally, Sunday morning, I stopped and said, “What does Hashem want from me with this? Why is He doing it? Now, why is He doing it? What does Hashem want from me?” Once I saw it, and once I did my best to understand and clarify it based on the situation, what He's doing, how He's knocking, and the door He's knocking on, I had a little clarity. Then all of a sudden I said, “Okay, I know what He wants from me.” Two hours later, the problem went away. I'm telling you, you need to test this. It needs you to act. If Hashem is knocking on your door, you get up and act. Do something. “I'm spiritual and I have a good heart” is outdated. “I want it and I'm willing to act on it” is what our focus needs to be. That's what Hashem wants from you. He wants you to be willing to act.
The second step you need to be willing to take is that you need to be willing to beg. The way the world is, Hashem wants us to beg. He wants us to beg Him. Not just to say, “Oh, I prayed.” Not to toss a tefillah (prayer) at Him. Not to give Him a donation of ten chapters of Tehillim. No. He wants us to beg Him. It says that the gates of prayers are locked. That means simple prayers don't go through. Instead, it says the gates of tears are open and the gates of pain are open. What's unique about tears and pain? You're begging. You're really desperately wanting Him in your life. The world is set up this way: we all need to beg. That's how it is. That's how it's done.
My little daughter is seven years old. She needs to take a medication. She has a very hard time taking it. She won't swallow it. She won't take it. It's a whole ordeal in the house. Twice a day, it's like the whole house has to stop. She won't take it. She's just the cutest girl in the world, but her mouth is shut and it won't go down. After Purim, on Purim night, she calls me and says, “Dad, is it true that Hashem answers anything you pray for on Purim?” I said, “Why?” She says, “Because I prayed to be able to take my medicine, and I tried to take it tonight, and it still wouldn't go in.” What happened? She said, “My teacher taught me that anything you ask for on Purim, you get. And I didn't get it.” I wish it was that easy. It's never that easy.
I'm here to tell you: anytime you hear a class or a speech from anybody, if anybody tells you that there's a way out without begging, that person is lying to you. Yes, it does say that anyone who sticks out their hand, we give them money. The rabbis learned that this means anyone who sticks out his hand to Hashem, Hashem gives him. I'm not telling you that it didn't come from anywhere. It comes from somewhere. But you think that's what it means? Okay, so every Purim I'll just say, “Hashem, make everybody in my family healthy and make me a billionaire.” Let's go. It doesn't work that way. It never works that way. Begging is part of the process. It's never easy. It's made not to be easy. When we act and then we beg, then we're focused on Him. So there's no such thing as it being easy. There's no such thing as, “Oh, I thought once I start praying, I'm going to get it.” Who told you that? Who ever told you that? Who ever said that just because you started praying, you're getting it? Beg. When you beg and you don't get it, keep begging. Then beg some more. When you still don't have it a year later, keep begging. The process is the goal. The begging is what He wants. He may not want the result we want. He wants the begging and the action because He wants us focused. He wants us to get rid of all the bosses in our heads and all the masters we're listening to, and listen to one master, one Hashem.
You know what else you do when you want? You act, you beg, and you get back up. One of my most favorite pesukim, something men say every morning, is: Kaveh el Adonai. Hope to Hashem. Chazak v'ya'ametz libecha, v'kaveh el Adonai. Strengthen your heart and ask Him again. That means life has knockdowns. There's no such thing as living without getting knocked down. You need to be relentless. “Hashem, You knocked me down once. You knocked me down twice. I'm going to keep on coming. I'm going to keep on coming. I'm going to keep on fighting. I'm going to keep on begging.”
The next time you feel frustrated, realize that frustration means you're missing the point. You're frustrated. No, no, no. You're given this on purpose to see your reaction, to see whether you're ready to act, beg, and get back up. If you're ready to act, beg, and get back up, then you're focused. So don't be surprised when you get knocked down again. This is the process.
The reason this generation deals with this more than any other generation is that 50 years ago, everybody told us, “Life is going to be hard.” Now the world tells us they can make life easy. They can make stores and refrigerators and cars and phones that you just talk to, and things happen. So if everything else in the world is easy, why is this still hard? The answer is, the world will always be hard. Always. I don't care if you have robots, and I don't care if you can talk to Alexa or anyone else you want to talk to. This world will always be hard. There's no way around this, because this world will always be a place where you're going to need to want Him. That's how the world is set up. The world is always going to be a place where Hashem is knocking on your door. The world is always going to be a place where you're going to have to beg to get through those gates. The world is always going to be a place where you have to pray to Hashem, get knocked down, and ask Him again.
You have to be like a little kid, like a little kid who's asking Him, asking and asking. Anybody have those kids who just ask and ask and ask? You have those kids? You have one of those? I'll give you my example, one of mine. This was a cute little story. A few weeks ago, we had a whole heavy weekend and a lot of things going on in the house. So I said on Sunday night, “I have to take my kids out for dinner.” My first plan was to go to Essen, a good place for kids. I called them up. They said I had to wait an hour and a half before getting a table. I'm not waiting an hour and a half. It's late at night. So I heard of some other place on Coney Island Avenue. I heard it's the nicest place. I said, “You know what? I'm starving. I'm just going.” I walk into the place, and I'm like, “Oh, this is not a place for kids.” But you know what? I'm here anyhow. “Do you have some things?” “Yeah, we have some things for the kids.” Nice new place. Beautiful. So we go upstairs, we have a table, the whole thing. I'm like, “I can't believe I'm doing this. All these little kids are springing into this restaurant where you should be silent and quiet. So what are we doing? We order kids' things for the kids. My wife and I order regular things.”
As the meal is ending, what happens? The kids start guessing how much it costs. Each kid—the 13-, 15-, 13-, and 7-year-old—asks how much it costs. Finally I tell the waiter, “It's time for the bill.” I get the bill at my table. I open up that leather case, and it says, “Compliments of the Dweck family.” Nice. Good. That doesn't happen all the time. I'm not telling you which Dweck it is. I think it's a nice, generic name. You have no idea what it is. I know there's a guy standing there—sitting there—so I knew who it was. I go over to him. My whole family comes over. I want to thank him and appreciate him, the whole thing. We're thanking him, thanking him for the whole thing. “Rabbi, thank you for all you're doing.” I'm still standing next to him, and my 7-year-old daughter is hitting my leg, hitting my leg—the same one, hitting my leg. Finally I turn around and say, “Debra, what do you want?” She says, “How much was it?”
But that's kids. She knew they did something, but still, she just—That's how Hashem wants us to be. Don't stop. Life is frustrating. That's not a surprise. Hashem wants us to beg. Hashem wants us to ask again and again. Hashem knows that it's frustrating sometimes, and that's not surprising. When it's frustrating, look for how He's knocking on your door and what He wants.
So, Aharon, you thought you were forgiven for the sin of the Egel? You were. But the way the world is now, you're going to bring seven days of sacrifices, and there are going to be sacrifices on the eighth day, and the Shechinah is still not going to come. Because now you need to go to Him. You're not waiting for the groom to come to you. You need to go to Him. When He knocks on the door, you have to get out of bed and go to Him. To think that anything in your life is frustrating is to misunderstand the world. To think that it's frustrating is to think things are supposed to be easy. So why is this hard? But if you realize all of this, then no, it's not supposed to be easy. It's supposed to be hard, because that's what gets us to want more, need Him more, beg more, get back up more, and act. Then you know this is not a mistake. Life will always have tough turns. On purpose. Life will continue to have moments when you're going to need Him, when you're going to have to pull yourself out, pick yourself up, and take another action. You're going to say, “One second, I'm a good person,” and you're going to need another action. I'm telling you, there's no other way to live. There's just no other way to live. I don't know any other option without doing it this way. It's nice to have money and possessions and all that; it's all beautiful, nothing wrong with it. But you will not achieve that real focus of having one boss until you sign up to listen to that one boss: not to get mad at that boss when things don't go as you expected, not to get frustrated at the boss when things don't go right, not to think that because I prayed this morning I'm supposed to get something. “I'm entitled.” No, you're not entitled to anything. You're entitled to keep begging. You're entitled to keep hearing the knock and figure out what that knock is saying. That's what you're entitled to. You're entitled to get back up and continue to connect to Him and beg like a little child. That's what you're entitled to. There's no, “I asked for it on Purim, and I gave tzedakah (charity), and I started keeping Shabbat. Why isn't everything getting fixed?” It doesn't work that way.
I'll give you one last little story. There's a Rabbi who's famous for his ability to build Torah after World War II. He's known as the Ponevezher Rav. He built the yeshiva in Israel, in Bnei Brak. That was tremendous. He raised money for that yeshiva. They have so much real estate they don't even need to raise money. They barely need to raise money today. Anyhow, he used to fly all over the world for his fundraising. One time after World War II, he flew to Johannesburg, South Africa, for a fundraiser. He held a dinner, and at the end of the dinner people would give donations. The next day, he's going through all the envelopes and checks, and there's one envelope with a check for an amount by far the largest. By far. He can't believe—can't believe—the number he's looking at. “Who's this guy?” He looks at the check; there's no name on it. Back then—I guess this is the 50s—you could go to the bank and find out whose account it came from. Today there are all kinds of laws, but back then there weren't. His people go to the bank and find out the man's name and address. “I need to go visit this man,” he says. He gets a driver to take him, and they're driving and driving and driving out of town. I don't know if you've ever been in Johannesburg, but it's like these little shacks, or somewhere like that. They drive to one of these run-down places. “I can't be going to the right place.” He tells the driver, “You need to wait here, because I don't know how I'm even getting anywhere after this.”
He goes to the man's house, and the man says, “I was waiting for you.” He says, “What do you mean?” The man says, “I knew it. After that check, you'd find me.” He says, “Let me tell you my story.”
“What's your story?” He says, “I was a little boy. My father passed away when I was young. My mother wanted one thing only for us: to learn. That's all she wanted, for me and my siblings to learn. She hired a Rabbi to teach us privately, and she would pay him—she had no money—by the milk of the one cow we owned. We'd have milk, we'd sell the milk, have a few dollars, and pay him. After a few months, or even years, the cow went dry. So my mother's like, ‘This can't be okay. The cow's dry.’ She asked the Rabbi, ‘Please, I don't know what's wrong. It must be just a small thing. When the cow starts giving milk, you're going to be the first one to get paid.’ A month later, the cow is still dry. ‘Please, just give me another month. I'm telling you it's going to come back. We're going to feed him different grain. We're going to do—we're going to get him back.’ A month later, the cow is still dry. The Rabbi kind of says, ‘Listen, I'd love to teach your kids. I love teaching them, but I have kids to feed on my own. There's no way I could keep doing this without any pay. It's just not possible for me to continue.’”
“So my mother said, ‘Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to give you the cow.’ And she gave the only real possession she had, the cow, for its meat. She gave it to the Rabbi. The Rabbi says, ‘I have no choice.’ And I saw from my mother how much she wanted it for us. So when you came to town, Rabbi, and I heard that you were building Torah in Israel after World War II, I said, ‘Here's my chance.’ I sold everything I had and put it all into one check for you to keep building Torah.” He said, “I hope you didn't come back for more, because I have nothing left. This is all I've got. You have it. Now go do what you're supposed to do with it.”
That's what we're here for. We put all our chips on the table, and we're betting on one, and that's Hashem. I'm not listening to him or to her, and I'm not distracted. I think I've said this message before, and I'm pretty confident that this message was at Hashem, I'll say again. The reason is that we need this in our heads always. It's why we pray every day. We don't pray once a week or once a month or once a year. We pray every day because we forget every day. Every day we need to remember that back in the day, God was the groom coming out to greet us, the Jewish people, His bride. But Aharon learned right after the sin of the Egel that it's not going to work that way anymore. From now on, when God knocks, when we get knocked down, when we have something we need, we're not going to get frustrated and ask, “Why is this happening to me?” This is happening to you because Hashem made the world hard. Hashem made the world in a way that He's talking to you. Hashem made the world in a way that you need to ignore all your masters—all your masters—and follow one boss.