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Rabbi's Blog

Thoughts and Musings by Rabbi Yossi Zaklikofsky

And the Name Is...

 

This week, we were blessed to formally welcome our new son into the Jewish people at his Bris. Esty and I are deeply grateful to all the family and friends who joined us for this momentous event, each of you helped turn it into a truly beautiful and joyous occasion.

CLICK FOR SOME PICTURES   (Thank you Joe Center.)

We chose to name him Moshe Chaim, in honor of both of our fathers, extraordinary individuals. Here is one way in which they stood out:

  • Rabbi Moshe Zaklikofsky, my father, embodied a life of unwavering and consistent devotion to Torah, Judaism, and his family. He lived every day with equanimity and total commitment, never swayed by circumstances. Whether it was his best day or his hardest, you wouldn’t know - because he showed up to life with the same steadfast values and the same smile for everyone he encountered.
  • Rabbi Chaim Gurevitch, Esty’s father, radiated a zest for life. He was upbeat, wore his emotions on his sleeve, and gave selflessly with a generous spirit. Before our wedding, he told me he wasn’t just gaining a son-in-law but a son - words that truly reflected his warm and open heart. His name, Chaim (which means “life” in the plural), was fitting for the boundless energy and love he shared with everyone around him.

Our son’s name represents a fusion of these two incredible role models - different in personality, yet deeply appreciative of each other. We pray that Moshe Chaim carries forward their legacy of commitment, joy, and generosity of spirit.

**

As we study the Holy Temple, we learn that at its innermost and holiest chamber stood the Ark, upon which the Cherubs spread their wings. These cherubs had the faces of babies. But why the baby face?

Rashi explains that they represented the boundless and essential love that God has for the Jewish people, a love so pure, reflected only in that of a parent for their newborn child. While a parent continues to love their child as they grow and mature, that love can become shaped by their child’s achievements, personality, or other attributes. But a parent’s love for their baby is different, pure and unconditional.

ith the blessing of Moshe Chaim, we are reminded of G-d’s infinite love for each of (us) His children - not dependent on how observant or Jewishly accomplished they are. It is a love that is never compromised, never diminished.

Now, it is on us to reciprocate that love.

Are You Part-Time or Full-Time?

 

When we received the Torah at Mount Sinai, we entered into a relationship with God, a marriage of sorts. In this divine union, God pledged to take care of all our needs, nurture and guide us, and we committed to uphold His Torah and live by its values.

A marriage is not only about shared experiences at home as a family or acts of love. It is a profound bond that remains intact whether together or apart. We may be away on a business trip, out with friends, or engaged in personal pursuits, yet a spouse still remains part of who we are, it is all-encompassing.

Likewise, our connection to Judaism is not limited to the synagogue, praying at the Western Wall, or attending a Shabbat or holiday dinner. It is woven into every moment of our lives, the way we eat, conduct business, and interact with the world. Even in the most ordinary moments, we approach them with the awareness of our identity and faith.

This might be expressed through wearing a kippah, a Star of David necklace, visiting Jewish sites on vacation, or that feeling of kinship that moves us to approach another Jew in an unfamiliar place, creating unexpected yet meaningful moments of Jewish conviviality.

At Sinai, God empowered us to be His ambassadors in the world. As we proclaim in our holiday prayers, "And You empowered us to be carriers of Your great and awesome name." This role is not confined to holy spaces but accompanies us everywhere, whether in a restaurant, an airport, or any corner of the world.

Let us embrace this all-encompassing divine mission with pride and joy.

Rabbi, That’s Just Not Me…

  

As one would expect from a rabbi, I often find myself encouraging fellow Jews to come to Shul, wrap Tefillin, post a Mezuzah, or eat a kosher meal. But every now and then, someone will hesitate and tell me, "I appreciate the offer, Rabbi, but that’s just not me. It would feel hypocritical."

The reasoning goes: If I don’t live a fully observant Jewish life, then doing one Mitzvah is meaningless, it doesn’t reflect who I really am.

But the truth is that every single mitzvah, even if done just once with no intention to repeat it, has tremendous value. Here’s why:

1. A Mitzvah creates an eternal bond with G-d. The impact of that connection can never be undone. You may do one single mitzvah, but its effect is infinite.

2. Success breeds success, and a Mitzvah whets your appetite for yet another Mitzvah. This isn’t just an idea, it’s a tried and tested fact of life.

3. History has often been shaped by a single deed that changed the course of someone’s life, a community, or even the world. We may not always see the immediate effect of what we do, but a mitzvah carries the potential to create ripples far beyond what we imagine.

This Shabbat marks the 75th anniversary of the Rebbe assuming leadership of the Chabad movement. One of his powerful teachings was this: A Jew doing a Mitzvah is never a hypocrite. On the contrary, if anything a Jew is a hypocrite only when he is not doing a mitzvah. Because when a Jew does a Mitzvah, no matter how long it’s been since his last, he is expressing his truest self. He is actualizing his real identity.

So please don’t hesitate. Do that mitzvah. You’ll be reconnecting with who you truly are at the core and simultaneously making the rabbis day!

They Took Agam But Never Owned Her

 

Agam Berger, released this week from the hell of Gaza after 482 days, taught me something profound.

There is a difference between leaving slavery and attaining freedom. We may be free from oppression, but what are we free for? Freedom isn't just about escaping bondage; it must define something greater. We are free, but now what?

When the Jewish people left Egypt, they were no longer slaves, but were they truly free? Only at Mount Sinai, when we received the Torah and embraced God as our master, was our freedom solidified forever. From that moment on, no human force could ever truly own us again.

A living testament to this truth is Agam. Her captors stripped her of everything, her family, her community, her dignity, but they could not touch her soul. In the depths of captivity, she didn’t just turn down the Quran she was offered, she also refused to eat bread on Passover, refused non-kosher meat and in so doing she refused to let terror define her. In a place designed to break a person, she stood unbroken. Even in darkness, she clung to the light of her faith, proving that no captor, no evil, can claim a Jewish soul.

Agam joins the ranks of the giants in Jewish history, those who, in the face of unimaginable darkness, stood unwavering in their commitment to God and Judaism. Her story is a testament to the indomitable Jewish spirit, the unbreakable bond between a Jew and their faith.

Agam’s story challenges us to think: Being Jewish is not just about what we aren’t, it’s about what we are. It’s not just avoiding other religions, but actively embracing our identity and living with purpose. How can I strengthen my connection to Jewish learning and observance? How can I express my Jewishness with joy and conviction, not just in a time of crisis but in everyday life?

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