OUTREACH

Ki Tavo 

This week’s portion is distinct because it contains two seemingly polarizing perspectives. The first half speaks of overflowing blessings, gratitude for abundance, the unique covenant between G-d and the Jewish people, and the deep love that binds us. The second half, however, shifts sharply to the “Tochacha” the ninety-eight frightening admonitions describing what could happen if we abandon our holy connection to Hashem and His Torah.

This tension reflects Jewish history itself. There have been eras of flourishing, pride, and public acclaim and there have been eras of darkness, pogroms, Holocaust, October 7th and rabid antisemitism. Yet through these extremes, the Jewish people endured when every other nation facing lesser challenges disappeared. As the Previous Rebbe taught: “Only our bodies were sent into exile, our souls remained free.”

And yet, danger doesn’t come only in times of persecution. Times of freedom and comfort bring their own quiet threat. Since 1945, the Jewish people have lost more than six million souls not to crematoriums or pogroms, but to assimilation, apathy, and forgetting who we are.

Our Rabbis offer a profound insight into the verses of the Tochacha. The Torah says: “All these curses will come upon you… because you did not listen to the voice of Hashem… so that they would be a sign and a wonder for you and your children forever.” Read simply, it sounds like eternal destruction. But they explain differently: the curse is not only persecution. The greater tragedy is when mitzvos are performed without passion, leaving no impression on our children. The Torah should have been a “sign and wonder forever” alive in us and in them.

Let’s dig deeper, why do mitzvos sometimes fail to inspire? The Torah answers, “Because you did not serve Hashem with joy and goodness of heart.” Children can sense whether Judaism is lived with simcha or with burden. A mitzvah done with joy is contagious; a mitzvah done with heaviness fades.

A Holocaust survivor once told his children about the darkest days in the camps. Food was scarce, life was unbearable, and yet on Chanukah someone smuggled a little oil and cotton. Against all odds, they lit a makeshift menorah. The survivor remembered that one inmate, weak, starving, and trembling began to sing Maoz Tzur softly. “That song,” he told his children, “was the only light I had that year. It reminded me that even here, Judaism was alive. That memory gave me the strength to rebuild when I came out.”

For his children, that story became their inheritance. It showed them that Judaism is not just about rules, but about light, faith, and courage. It is not a burden we carry, but a treasure we pass on, a source of strength that can inspire even in the darkest of nights.

This is why Moshe Rabbeinu rejoiced at the end of his life when the tribes protested that only Shevet Levi received a Sefer Torah. They said, “What will our children think tomorrow if we have nothing of our own to give them?” Moshe was overjoyed. He declared: “Today you have become a nation.” Because a nation becomes real when its people worry not only about themselves, but about what they will pass down to their children.

That is the Torah’s message. The real test of blessing or curse is not just what happens to us externally, but whether we live Torah in a way that lights up the next generation. Amalek comes when faith is weak. Assimilation comes when Judaism feels empty. Continuity comes when mitzvos are alive with passion, meaning, and love.

As we prepare for the High Holy Days, we face painful reminders, the tragedies in Israel, rising antisemitism around the world, and the quiet erosion of Jewish life in times of comfort. But the parsha also reminds us: all these difficulties are temporary setbacks before great leaps forward. We are living in the era of Moshiach. The world is trembling, searching for permanence and truth.

Now is the time to strengthen our legacy. To live mitzvos with joy so that our children will see them as treasures, not burdens. To pass down not only Torah knowledge, but a Judaism that inspires, enriches, and gives life meaning. If we do, we will turn rebuke into blessing, exile into redemption, and merit to be inscribed and sealed for a good and sweet year — with revealed goodness, health, and peace for all of the Jewish people and the entire world.

Have a great Shabbos and a good week.

Rabbi Zalman Lipskar

(adapted from the writings of my Father and Teacher, Rabbi Sholom D. Lipskar, obm)

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