Rabbi's Blog

This past week, someone shared something with me that caught my attention. He told me he had recently begun setting aside time to study Torah again on his own.

"Something interesting is happening," he said. "As I'm learning, things I learned years ago are suddenly coming back to me. Ideas, stories... it is all starting to come alive again."

The comment resonated with me because I have seen the same phenomenon many times. Most people I meet carry with them some memory of Judaism from their youth. For some, it is a prayer they learned in Hebrew school. For others, it is the melody of Kiddush, the blessing over the Shabbat candles, or even the opening verse of their Bar Mitzvah Haftorah that they still remember by heart.

Yet for many people, those memories have slowly faded over time. The songs, prayers and ideas that were once familiar can become distant and harder to access.

Why is it that some people remember so much of what they learned years ago, while others struggle to recall it? Often, the difference is whether they continued learning and kept that part of their lives active.

There is an old saying: "If you don't use it, you lose it." The same is true spiritually. Every time we study Torah, attend a class, pray, or engage more deeply with Judaism, we breathe new life into everything we learned before. Ideas that seemed forgotten suddenly become familiar again. Our earlier learning, so to speak, is reawakened.

This may also explain why the Shema tells us, "These words shall be upon your heart today." Our relationship with Torah should never feel like something we once learned years ago. It should feel current, alive, and as meaningful as the day we first received it.

Every week, I have the privilege of studying Torah with people from all walks of life. Some sessions last an hour, while others are just ten or fifteen minutes. I have found that consistency matters far more than duration. A small amount of Torah, learned regularly, keeps a lifetime of Jewish learning vibrant and alive.

Judaism was never meant to become a childhood memory tucked away somewhere in the back of our minds. It was meant to remain a living relationship that continues to grow throughout our lives.

This week, social media was consumed by a passionate debate surrounding Clavicular, a young influencer with millions of followers, who visited Israel. The trip exposed him to the beauty and safety of the land, the Israeli people and culture.

At the same time, a video resurfaced of him previously singing antisemitic songs, leading to a fierce discussion. Should someone with such a past be welcomed and embraced before publicly acknowledging and apologizing for his actions? Or should we believe that exposure to truth, education and friendship can inspire someone that young to grow and change?

The debate touches on a much deeper question: When we look at a person, do we only see who they are today, or do we also recognize who they have the potential to become tomorrow?

This week is the Shabbat of Vision (Chzaon). The Chassidic masters teach that on this Shabbat, every Jew is shown a vision of the Third Holy Temple that will be rebuilt very soon in the Messianic era. Yet many of us have never consciously experienced such a vision. How exactly are we shown something we do not see?

The answer is that the vision is not necessarily seen with our eyes, but with the deeper dimension of our soul, often called our ‘Mazel’.

Every person has two realities within them. There is the person we are today, the choices we have made, our strengths, and our struggles. But there is also a deeper version of ourselves: the person our soul already recognizes as our highest potential.

The purpose of this vision is to inspire us to become the person our soul already knows we can be.

Perhaps this is also how we should view others. This does not mean ignoring harmful actions or excusing mistakes; accountability matters. But Judaism teaches us that no person is defined only by their lowest moments. Within every individual exists a deeper soul, a capacity for growth, goodness and positivity.

As we prepare for Tisha B’Av, we remember that the destruction of the Temple came because of division and baseless hatred. Its rebuilding will come through the opposite: seeing the Divine potential in one another, replacing baseless hatred with baseless love and choosing to bring out the best in those around us.

The world is not transformed by giving up on people. It is transformed when we believe deeply enough in their potential that we help them become who they were meant to be.

We spend enormous amounts of time thinking about our financial future. We plan our careers, contribute to retirement accounts and make decisions today based on the life we hope to have decades from now.

Why? Because we understand that the future does not happen by accident. The choices we make today determine the reality we will experience tomorrow.

But do we apply that same level of thought and planning to the future of our families? Do we think with the same intentionality about the values our children will carry, their relationships, and the role Judaism will play in the decisions they make throughout their lives?

Of course we belong to a synagogue, attend Jewish events and support Israel. But if we hope that Judaism will become a defining and stabilizing force in their lives, influencing the choices they make about marriage, raising children and building their own homes, we cannot simply hope that it will happen on its own.

The Torah teaches us about the tribes of Gad and Reuven. When they requested to settle on the other side of the Jordan River, they emphasized the abundance of their livestock and the opportunity it provided for their possessions. Moses noticed something subtle: their priorities were out of order. Their possessions came before their children. He reminded them that financial stability is important, but it is a means to support what truly matters.

This is why the small choices we make every week matter so much.

On a Friday night, it is possible to light candles, eat Challah and then move on to the next activity. But there is another option: to create a meaningful Shabbat experience. To sit together as a family, without phones or distractions, enjoying a beautiful meal and meaningful Jewish conversation.

One evening alone may not change everything. But week after week, year after year, those moments build something powerful: a stronger marriage, family bond and a deeper connection to Judaism.

The same is true with synagogue attendance, Jewish learning and Mitzvot. Perhaps it is not always the most popular or convenient choice in the moment. Just as we are willing to set aside money today rather than spend it on immediate pleasures because we are investing in our future, we must also be willing to make choices today that invest in the future of our family and our Jewish identity.

We understand the power of compound interest. Small investments made consistently over time eventually create something significant. Judaism teaches us the power of compound impact. Every Shabbat dinner, every Mitzvah and every meaningful moment is another investment in the future of our family.

The future does not happen by accident. It is built, one choice at a time and with G-d's help, bears fruit for generations.