Orot Judaica Blog

By: Rabbi Noach Peled וּסְפַרְתֶּם... שֶׁבַע שַׁבָּתוֹת... תִּסְפְּרוּ חֲמִשִּׁים יוֹם (כ״ג:ט״ו־ט״ז) “And you shall count…seven weeks…count fifty days” (Vayikra 23:15 & 16) In commanding us to count Sefiras Ha’omer, the Torah commands us to count fifty days. Now as we know, in fact we count only forty-nine days, consistent with the words of the preceding pasuk, which states that we must count seven weeks (7x7=49). If indeed we are meant to count only forty-nine days, why then does the Torah articulate the number fifty? The Rosh asks this very question, and explains that when the Torah discusses something involving an amount, of which the total number falls just one short of a full ten, say for example 9 or 19, the Torah will round it to the nearest full ten stating 10 instead of 9, or 20 instead of 19. An example he gives is when the Torah states that one who violates a lav, a negative commandment, receives lashes, the Torah says he is lashed 40 times, even though, as Chazal explain, lashes never exceed 39. Instead of writing 39, the Torah writes 40. According to the Rosh, this is standard scriptural policy. As such, here, by Sefiras Haomer, the Torah wrote 50 instead of 49. Alternatively, Rashi explains that the whole question wouldn’t start if we read the pasuk differently, with a comma after the word “count”, before the word “fifty” – such that it is not telling us to count fifty, rather it is telling us to count (the seven weeks mentioned prior), then comma/pause, then the words “fifty days” flows with whatever the rest of the pasuk is saying. Humbly, we will suggest another answer to this question, and in doing so, we will analyze the words of the Sefer Hachinuch as he explains the mitzvah of Sefiras Ha’omer. In mitzva 306 (ש״ו), the Sefer Hachinuch writes that the primary defining element of the Jewish people is the Torah. He writes that the entire universe and Klal Yisroel therein were created for the sake of the Torah. He goes so far as to say that the solitary motive for Klal Yisroel’s exodus from Egypt was so that they would subsequently receive and fulfill the Torah. He states in no uncertain terms, that Klal Yisroel’s receiving the Torah was more significant to us, than our very freedom from slavery. He finally says that since receiving the Torah was the most important, defining moment in the life of Klal Yisroel, more important than our freedom - the whole purpose of our freedom, we were commanded to count, from the time of our freedom, toward the momentous time of matan torah, to express our yearning and longing for it. In other words, although it seems outrageous to disregard and disgrace פסח by starting to, on Pesach, openly express our desire and anticipation for a different holiday, which is exactly what the counting expresses, nevertheless we do so on purpose – for exactly that reason – to show that Shavuos/Matan-Torah is more special to us than Pesach/freedom-from-slavery. Normally we would never do such a thing, as it is a terrible slight to the honor of the current Yom Tov, to say that a different Yom Tov is preferred. But the mitzvah of ספירת העומר is exactly that – an open proclamation that receiving the Torah and becoming Hashem’s most beloved עם הנבחר, means more to us than anything else in the world, even more than freeing us from slavery represented by Pesach. Therefore soon after Pesach begins, davka during Pesach, we start counting and make this proclamation, “in Pesach’s face” so to speak, to drive home this point. Sefer Hachinuch then asks the obvious question; If that’s the case, why don’t we begin our counting from the very beginning of freedom, namely the first day of Pesach? Why is our counting postponed to the second day of Pesach? He answers that the first day of Pesach because that day must be reserved for one exclusive focus: remembering the miracles of the exodus, for that event undeniably confirmed Hashem’s singlehanded control over the natural world which He created. That has to be the focus of the first day of Pesach, and we may not disrupt that focus with any other thought. Our counting was therefore delayed until the second day of Pesach. Those are the remarks of the Sefer Hachinuch. From his words we learn that in theory – to really drive home the point - we should begin counting on the first night of Pesach, just that for technical reasons we begin a day later. Were we to begin counting one day earlier - on the first night of Pesach – as we theoretically should, our total count would come to fifty. This indicates that the counting period of the Sefiras Ha’omer is in fact a fifty day period, not forty nine. In practice we start late and count only forty nine, as per the aforementioned reason. This is why the Torah articulates both the number forty nine, and the number fifty, in relation to mitzvas Sefiras Ha’omer, for in fact both are true; conceptually the sefira counting and anticipation period is fifty days long – from the start of Pesach till Shavuos. However, practically speaking, because we delay and start a day late, we actually end up counting only forty nine days. Taken from the Kollel Avreichim Hollywood

By: Rabbi Rory Meyerson The עקידת יצחק (שער סז) poses a striking and fundamental question. We celebrate the Yom Tov of שבועות with תפילה and מנהגים that reflect the giving of the תורה. Yet, the תורה itself makes no mention that מתן תורה occurred on שבועות. The תורה refers to this day as יום בכורים. Why doesn’t the תורה explicitly label this יו״ט as the celebration of מתן תורה? He offers two answers. First, to understand this anomaly, we must recognize the nature of a command. The עקידה writes: a commandment presupposes the existence of a Commander and the prior acceptance of His authority. To command מתן תורה’s commemoration would be conceptually circular. This parallels what the רמב״ן says regarding אמונה. Telling someone who lacks אמונה that it is a מצוה to believe is inherently contradictory, as the command itself relies on the very belief they are struggling to attain. Just as אמונה cannot be commanded, celebrating the תורה cannot be commanded. It must arise organically. Moreover, by skipping over an explicit mention of מתן תורה on שבועות, it changes the Yom Tov to an expression of our own רצון to connect to ה׳. Demonstrating that our desire to be close to ה׳ does not need to be commanded. Second, the עקידה writes, had the תורה tethered מתן תורה to a specific date, it would inadvertently suggest that our relationship to תורה is limited to that time. Our yearly cycle of ימים טובים correlate with the unique opportunities available at that time of year. In the fall, we have סוכות a time of זמן שמחתינו. In the spring, we have פסח a time of זמן חירותינו. However, the celebration of the תורה cannot be confined to a section of time! The Torah is the דעת עליון – the highest, governing wisdom, that pulses through a Yid at all times. As stated in ספר יהושע (1:8): לֹא־יָמוּשׁ סֵפֶר הַתּוֹרָה הַזֶּה מִפִּיךָ וְהָגִיתָ בּוֹ יוֹמָם וָלַיְלָה We should be discussing תורה day and night. Consider the following משל. A person’s character is comprised of many מדות. We range from חסד to גבורה, and זריזות to סבלנות, each necessitating a specific time and use. However, there is one מדה that is always active. That is דעת. The governing מדה which helps us choose which of the other מדות to use at any given time. The תורה is called דעת עליון – the ultimate דעת. The centrality of דעת in our מדות, is a small reflection of the ultimate focal point of our lives – תורה. תורה is not an event to be celebrated. It is our core identity. This is why the פסוקים make no mention of מתן תורה occurring on שבועות. Celebrating the תורה cannot be confined to a single calendarical date. תורה is meant to pulsate through everything we do and through every decision we make. Each day, we should find ourselves renewed with an ever-deepening love for תורה. May we all merit to internalize this message from the עקידה and live with תורה at the center of our lives. Taken from the Kollel Avreichim Hollywood

By: Rabbi Chaim Yeshaya Freeman The Mishnah teaches in Pirkei Avot (4:9): “Reb Yonason said: Whoever upholds the Torah in a state of poverty will ultimately uphold it in a state of wealth, and whoever neglects the Torah in a state of wealth will ultimately neglect it in a state of poverty.” The Mishnah teaches us that a person’s financial situation should not determine their connection to Torah. This idea is also found in this week’s parsha. The pasuk states: אִם בְּחֻקֹּתַי תֵּלֵכוּ“If you will go in My decrees.” Rashi is bothered: What does it mean to “go” in My decrees if the pasuk already says to observe and perform the mitzvos? Rashi explains that this refers to עמילות בתורה — not just learning, but toiling in Torah. Many people think that Torah learning is for Rabbanim or retirees. However, the Rambam (Talmud Torah 1:8) clearly writes that every Jew is obligated in Torah study — poor or rich, healthy or suffering, young or old. Everyone must set aside time to learn Torah. This Rambam is based on a Gemara (Yoma 35b) that a poor man, rich man, and wicked man will all go to the final judgement at the end of days and will be questioned as to whether they engaged in Torah study. If one comes with the excuse: “I was poor and busy trying to make a living,” the court responds that nobody was as poor as Hillel. The story goes that he earned only one טרפיק a day. He divided it in half — one half for entrance to the Beis Medrash, and the other half to support his family. One day he found no work and earned nothing. He was not allowed into the Beis Medrash, so he climbed onto the roof and lay by the skylight to hear the Torah. This occurred on Erev Shabbos during winter amid a heavy snowstorm. In the morning, people noticed the room was unusually dark. They looked up and found Hillel buried under snow. They brought him down, washed him, and warmed him by the fire. The Gemara continues that if a rich man claims he was busy managing his properties, the court responds that nobody was as rich as Rabbi Elazar ben Charsom. His father left him a thousand cities on land and a thousand boats at sea, yet he dedicated time every day to Torah. Finally, if a wicked person claims he was exceptionally handsome and struggled with his yetzer hara, the court responds that nobody was more handsome than Yosef HaTzadik. Despite his challenges, he remained connected to Torah. This is hinted in the pasuk we say daily: רַבּוֹת מַחֲשָׁבוֹת בְּלֶב־אִישׁ וַעֲצַת ה׳ הִיא תָקוּם The letters of היא stand for Hillel, Yosef, and Elazar. A person can have many חשבונות, but the רצון ה׳ is that a person connects to Torah in every situation. Often the real issue is not a lack of time, but a lack of appreciation for Torah. The Chofetz Chaim illustrated this with a parable: A wealthy man commissioned a magnificent custom-made yacht. During construction he toured another luxury yacht and was shown a dark, noisy, unimpressive engine room. Displeased by its appearance, he instructed the builders to remove it from his own yacht. The engineers explained that without the engine room, the entire boat would be unable to function. Though not glamorous, it powered everything else on the ship. So too, Torah may not always appear exciting or glamorous. It requires effort, consistency, and discipline. But Torah is the engine room of a person’s life — and of the entire world. It is what gives direction, strength, and purpose to everything else. Without it, nothing truly moves forward. May we all merit to recognize the sweetness of Torah, to set aside fixed time for it each day no matter what life brings, and to build our lives around it as our true center and guiding force. Taken from the Kollel Avreichim Hollywood

By: Rabbi Rory Meyerson Trusting Instead of Toiling For six years, we work, produce, and enjoy the fruit of the land. Come the seventh year and we are commanded to rest and let the land lay fallow. This abrupt transition from work and toil into a restful sabbatical year is the מצוה of שמיטה. This מצוה is not limited to farmers. We all work hard — building businesses, solving problems, and striving to accomplish meaningful things. In fact, we are commanded to work. The pasuk (Bereishis 3:19), in response to the sin of Adam and Chava, states: בְּזֵעַת אַפֶּיךָ תֹּאכַל לֶחֶם“By the sweat of your brow you shall eat bread.” We get up in the morning, hustle through our morning routines, a little davening and perhaps some learning, and we are off to our busy days. We work to provide for our families. We all have routines. What, then, is the purpose of שמיטה? What is the connection between Adam and Chava’s exit from Gan Eden — a place of absolute closeness to God — and the need to work the land? What does this one-year sabbatical accomplish for us? The מצוה of שמיטה comes to restore us to the mindset of Gan Eden, one rooted not in self-reliance, but in reliance on ה'. This is no small task. At its core, the מדה of בטחון is rooted in אמונה. Simply put, אמונה is the intellectual belief in God, while בטחון is the emotional commitment that brings that belief into action. In practice, בטחון means that once I recognize that ה' runs the world and personally provides for every creature, I can rely on His abundant kindness to grant me what I need — including my פרנסה. The Gemara (Kiddushin 82b) discusses which type of פרנסה is best to pursue. In that context, R’ Shimon ben Elazar wonders: “Have you ever seen a bird or animal with a trade? Yet they earn their sustenance without anguish. These animals were created to serve me. And I, a human being, was created to serve the One Who formed me. Shouldn’t I earn my livelihood without anguish!? Rather it must be that I [and humanity] have evil actions, and this lost me abundant sustenance.” R’ Shimon suggests that had we not sinned in Gan Eden, we never would have needed to work for our livelihood. We could have lived like animals, with endless pastures to graze and no struggle. But is that such a good thing? Man should sit back and be idle? With no ambitions and no accomplishments?! Furthermore, the pasuk (Bereishis 2:15) describes Adam HaRishon’s role even before the sin as: וַיַּנִּחֵהוּ בְגַן־עֵדֶן לְעָבְדָהּ וּלְשָׁמְרָהּ“He placed him in Gan Eden to serve and tend to it.” In general, when making decisions, a person can ask: Is this helping me serve ה', or is it primarily for my own benefit? Life’s decisions can always be boiled down to this dialectic: Me or God. Before the Sin, Adam and Chavah lived with an iron-clad mindset: everything exists to serve God. Hence the פסוק above — לְעָבְדָהּ, to serve God. From this lofty mindset, the Gemara (Sanhedrin 59b) says that Adam merited to be fed by heavenly angels who roasted meat and prepared wine for him. Gan Eden is not a place that inherently has abundant sustenance like birds and animals. Rather, the פרנסה is merited from a mindset that ה' is the Master of the World and He will take care of me. Similarly, if a person were to be hosted in someone’s house, he rests assured the בעל הבית will provide for him. However, when Adam HaRishon sinned by eating from the Eitz HaDa’as, he stepped into the world of the ego and began worrying: “What can I do to benefit myself?” Thereby exiting the mindset that everything in this world is here to serve ה', and entering the world of the ego. This shift caused him to lose the abundant פרנסה from ה' and forced him to work for his sustenance. Adam left the world of ה' being the Master and I am His servant, and entered a world in which he must toil for his own sustenance. When a person is locked into בטחון, the mind’s natural fear mechanisms begin to quiet. Consider a child who, amid the terror of thunder crashing or shadows of imagined bandits lurking, clings desperately to his father’s arms. The storm rages beyond the father’s power; he can do nothing to stop it. Yet in his father’s embrace, the child feels utterly safe, his little heart at peace. He doesn’t question or doubt — he simply knows his father will take care of him. That is the power of בטחון. In the embrace of רבונו של עולם we are always taken care of. This sense of security emerges when we truly internalize that ה' alone determines our outcome. The year of שמיטה is a one-year workshop to ingrain within us that ה' is the בעל הבית, the Host of this World, and we are His guests. We pause from our work to recognize that it is not by our own hand that we accomplish; rather, it is at the Hand of ה' who graciously gives to us. By placing our trust in ה', we open ourselves to a deeper closeness to God. A byproduct of such a relationship is as the פסוק promises: וְצִוִּיתִי אֶת־בִּרְכָתִי לָכֶם בַּשָּׁנָה הַשִּׁשִּׁית וְעָשָׂת אֶת־הַתְּבוּאָה לִשְׁלֹשׁ הַשָּׁנִים“I will give blessing to you in the sixth year, and it will produce enough for three years.” ה' is telling us: trust in Me, and your success will triple. May we all be זוכה to achieve this high level of בטחון and merit to be fully taken care of by God. Taken from the Kollel Avreichim Hollywood

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There is one moment in the day when everything is decided. Not your business. Not your phone. Not the noise of the world. It’s the moment you open your eyes in the morning. Right there—when everything is still quiet, when you’re between sleep and awareness—that’s when Torah enters your day.

By: Rabbi Rory Meyerson In Pirkei Avos, Rabbi Akiva (3:14) tells us:חָבִיב אָדָם שֶׁנִּבְרָא בְּצֶלֶםBeloved is Man who is created in the image of Hashem. Rabbi Akiva is teaching that the inherent פנימיות of a person is חביב — beloved. Each individual Jew is cherished by Hashem. Yet the Mishnah uses the word צלם, which can imply an external form. Is there an outer appearance that a Jew ought to have? Perhaps we can gain insight from a pasuk in last week’s parsha (Vayikra 19:27):לֹא תַקִּפוּ פְּאַת רֹאשְׁכֶם וְלֹא תַשְׁחִית אֵת פְּאַת זְקָנֶךָ“You shall not round the corners of your head, and you shall not destroy the corners of your beard.” While this pasuk addresses the prohibition of shaving with a razor, it would be incomplete to end the discussion there. The Gemara (Shabbos 152a) states:“הֲדַרַת פָּנִים זָקָן” — “The glory of a person’s face is his beard.” How can something as simple as a beard be described as a person’s glory? More broadly, why have Jews throughout history worn beards? Does this carry relevance today, especially with the advent of electric shavers? Should one still strive to grow a beard? There is a unique calling within the Jewish people — a quiet but persistent desire to remain distinct from the surrounding culture. Not as a rejection of others, but as a steady declaration: we are Yidden, and therefore we are different. The Chafetz Chaim (Sefer Tiferes Adam) strongly cautions against removing one’s beard for Kabbalistic reasons. He writes that cutting the beard severs the “spiritual pipelines” through which holiness flows. In this sense, the beard is not merely an external feature — it is a spiritual conduit. Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky would often encourage people to grow beards, as it is a source for both פרנסה and רפואה. A story is told of a man who needed to donate a kidney to a family member. As a כהן, he hesitated — concerned that he might become a בעל מום and be disqualified from the עבודה in the בית המקדש. Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky told him:“You should donate the kidney. Missing an internal organ is not a מום. It is a great mitzvah.” As the man was leaving, Rav Chaim added:“In any case, you are already disqualified from the עבודה. The Ramban says that a כהן without a beard is disqualified. You shave your beard — so you are disqualified.” Although this is not למעשה הלכה, Rav Chaim is teaching an important point in our עבודת ה׳. Ultimately, whether one wears a beard or not, we are all created בְּצֶלֶם אֱלֹקִים. The Satmar Rav was once asked why he held such respect for the clean-shaven Mike Tress. He replied:“In Heaven, Mike will be asked: ‘Jew, Jew — where is your beard?’But the bearded critic will be asked: ‘Beard, beard — where is your Jew?’” May we all be זוכה to remember that while appearance has its place, the essence of our עבודת ה׳ lies in our learning, our תפילה, and our character. Whether one has a beard or not, every person carries inherent worth as they are created בצלם אלקים. The external form may vary — but it is the פנימיות that truly defines who we are. Taken from the Kollel Avreichim Hollywood

By: Rabbi Noach Peled On Him We Count In this week’s parsha we are introduced to the mitzvah of Korban Omer — the Omer offering. The Korban Omer is offered each year on the 2nd day of Pesach — the 16th of Nisan, from the new grain harvest’s yield. In addition to the mitzvah of Korban Omer, our Parsha adds another mitzvah which also begins on that same day, the 2nd day of Pesach — the 16th of Nisan, culminating with Shavuos. וּסְפַרְתֶּם לָכֶם מִמָּחֳרַת הַשַּׁבָּת מִיּוֹם הֲבִיאֲכֶם אֶת־עֹמֶר הַתְּנוּפָה שֶׁבַע שַׁבָּתוֹת תְּמִימֹת תִּהְיֶינָה“And you shall count… from the day you bring the (Korban) Omer… seven weeks” (Vayikra 23:15). This mitzvah is known as Sefiras HaOmer — the counting of the Omer. So, in addition to mitzvas Korban Omer, we also have mitzvas Sefiras HaOmer. Now, as is obvious from the language of the above pasuk, the Torah is clearly linking the mitzvah to count till Shavuos to the Korban Omer. Why? What is the connection? To answer this, we must first understand the Korban’s name — Omer. Other korbanos have specific names which identify and describe their role, like Chatas for a chet (a sin), Toda for hoda’ah (thanks), Olah which is oleh (elevated completely to Hashem), Shelamim which brings shalom (peace), Pesach for Pesach, etc. Yet this korban is named Omer, which is merely the quantity measurement of this korban. Why is this korban simply named after the amount? Why is that the name of this korban? The Medrash (Vayikra Rabba 28:3) reads as follows:“Hashem said to Moshe, go tell Yisroel — when I gave you מן (mann), I provided an omer amount for each of you. Now that you are giving to Me (the Korban Omer), it is but a single omer from all of you collectively.” The Medrash is teaching that the Korban Omer, which celebrates the new grain harvest, symbolizes the מן. That is why this korban is plainly called Omer — to remind us of the מן which was measured as an omer, and which clearly revealed that Hashem is our Provider and Sustainer, with absolute clarity and no uncertainty. On Shavuos / Maamad Har Sinai, we committed — and continue to commit — ourselves to the Torah. Commitment to the Torah is no small thing. The Torah creates many physical boundaries, greatly limiting how we live, what we may eat, and significantly regulating what we may or may not do to generate income and earn a living. We may at times find it difficult to remain fully committed. We may hesitate, because the many limitations and demands can make it hard to live and sustain ourselves. Therefore, leading up to Shavuos, we are commanded to specifically give an omer amount of the new grain harvest — to bring us back to the מן, and remind us of the true Provider and Sustainer. And we are further commanded to recall the מן by counting the Omer each day from that point until Shavuos — bringing us to a complete readiness to commit to the Torah, with all its boundaries and limitations, knowing full well that our Provider is boundless and our Sustainer is never limited. Taken from the Kollel Avreichim Hollywood

Discover the meaning of Tehillim (Psalms), how to read them, and practical ways to incorporate them into daily life for inspiration, comfort, and spiritual connection.

By: Rabbi Chaim Yeshaya Freeman As we enter the days of Sefiras HaOmer, there is a longstanding custom to study Pirkei Avos each Shabbos afternoon. This practice reflects the nature of this time of year. The days between Pesach and Shavuos are a period of preparation for receiving the Torah. Since Pirkei Avos focuses on character building, it serves as a guide for that preparation. In that spirit, we can focus on one Mishnah that captures a central idea and offers a timely lesson for these days. The Mishnah (Pirkei Avos 4:1) teaches:“Who is honored? One who honors others.”This is not just practical advice. It is a definition. Honor is not something a person gains from others; it is something a person becomes. One who consistently treats others with respect is, by definition, honorable. This reflects the Torah’s approach to kindness. Society often presents the “golden rule” of treating others as you want to be treated as a way to ensure good treatment in return. The Torah teaches something different.“You shall love your fellow as yourself” (Vayikra 19:18).Hillel (Shabbos 31a) explains that a person should not do to others what he would not want done to himself. The focus is on the other person, not on personal gain. This idea becomes especially relevant during Sefiras HaOmer. The Gemara (Yevamos 62b) teaches that the students of Rabbi Akiva died during this period because they did not treat one another with proper respect. Why did this deserve such a severe consequence, and why specifically during this time? Rav Aharon Kotler explains that these days are designated for preparing to receive the Torah. Pirkei Avos (6:6) lists the qualities needed to acquire Torah, and proper respect for others is one of them. Since these students lacked that quality, they were not fit to serve as part of the transmission of Torah. After this loss, Torah was rebuilt by a new group of five students, including Rav Elazar ben Shamua. The Gemara (Megillah 27b) records that he was careful never to recite Birkas Kohanim without the proper blessing beforehand. This seems obvious, but it highlights a deeper point. Another student, Rav Yose, said he never went against his colleagues, even when they told him to duchan despite not being a Kohen (Shabbos 118b). Rav Yose stressed the importance of going to great lengths to show respect for others as a way of correcting the flaws of the earlier students. Rav Elazar ben Shamua, however, taught that this sensitivity must operate within the boundaries of halacha. The message of these days is clear. Growth in Torah is not only about learning more. It is about becoming more refined in how we treat others. Pirkei Avos teaches that honor comes from honoring others. Sefiras HaOmer reminds us that without that foundation, Torah cannot last. Taken from the Kollel Avreichim Hollywood

By: Rabbi Rory Meyerson Avodas Hashem Needs a Place Among a small crowd in one of the convention rooms at an Agudah Convention, I listened to a Shul Rav share, “What he wishes he could tell his Kehilla.” The message he shared has relevance to this week’s parsha. In the beginning of this week’s parsha, the תורה warns against שחוטי חוץ, bringing קרבנות outside the בית המקדש. Immediately afterward, the pasuk (Vayikra 17:7) states:וְלֹא־יִזְבְּחוּ עוֹד אֶת־זִבְחֵיהֶם לַשְּׂעִירִם אֲשֶׁר הֵם זֹנִים אַחֲרֵיהֶם,a prohibition against offering sacrifices to שעירים, a form of עבודה זרה. From the juxtaposition of these פסוקים, we see a striking connection between שחוטי חוץ and עבודה זרה. This raises the obvious question: how is bringing a קרבן in the wrong place so severe? So much so, it is akin to serving עבודה זרה!? To understand this, let us look at the מדרש תנחומא. The מדרש tells us of a wealthy nobleman who had no wife or home. When people came to him, or brought him gifts, he would have to send them away since he had no home. Then he took for himself a wife and thus had a home. Now, he told his visitors to stay and bring the gifts up to his home. The מדרש explains that this is a משל for our relationship with ה'. Before the construction of the בית המקדש there was no fixed place for השראת השכינה. Once הקב״ה commanded (Shemos 25:8),וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם,a permanent מקום for connection was established. Having a permanent place to dwell is not a foreign concept; we all have houses, which are places of consistency and permanence. A house is a place we come to feel at home. The word home carries both a literal meaning and a figurative one. Perhaps this answers why bringing קרבנות outside the בית המקדש is so severe. After ה' established a Home for our relationship with Him, שחוטי חוץ became the ultimate gesture of dismissal. To offer a קרבן elsewhere is saying, “No, thanks” to our relationship with ה'. Let’s look at how this applies to us today. The בית המקדש serves as a model for עבודת ה׳. Yiddishkeit demands of us קביעות and קיום — consistency and continuity. This is reflected in the language used regarding בלעם. The pasuk (Bamidbar 23:4) states,וַיִּקָּר אֱלֹקִים אֶל־בִּלְעָם,which Rashi explains is a לשון עראי, a chance encounter that reflects a relationship lacking permanence and intention. The רמב״ם (הלכות בית הבחירה א:א) writes:מצות עשה לעשות בית לה׳ מוכן להיות מקריבים בו הקרבנות.The mitzvah is not only to bring קרבנות, but to create a בית for הקב״ה. Even without a בית המקדש, this idea lives on in our בתי כנסיות and בתי מדרשות. They are our מעט מקדש. Many of us have multiple shuls. We all have the Shul we daven at for this or that type of minyan, or the Shul we daven when we feel such and such. Many Jews suffer from an illness called “Shul-hopping” or “catching” the next minyan. So what would the Rabbi wish he could tell you?“Try to find a shul that can become your main מקום for tefillah. Daven there consistently when you are able, at the same time and in the same spot. Not because there is anything wrong with different minyanim or flexibility, but because consistency can help build a stronger relationship with tefillah and with Hashem. The goal is to build a מקום קבוע in your עבודת ה׳. When tefillah has a steady place, it becomes more rooted and meaningful. Instead of constantly moving from place to place, try to establish a מקום — and in that מקום you may be זוכה to a greater sense of השראת השכינה.” Taken from the Kollel Avreichim Hollywood

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