The blessing of war

This Torah class is brought to [music] you by tora anytime.com. >> A Torah Anytime original series. In what would [clears throat] go on to be one of the most famous boxing matches in the history of humanity. Parious Vesla contains in it the epic showdown between Yakov and the angel of Asov. But if you zoom on this fight, it seems a little strange. Why did the angel start up with Yakov, right, as he was on his way to make peace with Asov? Like why then of all times specifically? He was off to make peace. Why was the angel stopping him then? And secondly, the Gumra in it says that the dust created by that fight was so precious that it rose all the way up to Hashem's throne in heaven. Why is that? It was a fight. What exactly was so precious about it? And thirdly, when the fight is finally over, Yakov turns to his opponent and he asks for Abraa. Isn't that strange? Why would he ask his opponent who he just battled to bless him? Shouldn't he punch him in the face? 10 seconds ago, the angel had severely injured YaKob, and now he's asking him for a farewell blessing. How does that make any sense? So perhaps the answer is based on the following. I was once walking in Lakewood, New Jersey. And across the street, I spotted Rabdust, the great Russa of Badaya, and he was walking alone. So I decided, you know what? I'm going to go ask him something. I'm going to go ask him a question. It was a few days at the time before Kaneka, and I posed the following question to him. I said, why is it that on Kaneka, we thank Hashem in Alanim for the mamos, for the wars? We thank Hashem in Alanim for the Nissim, the gurus, the Yeshua, the salvation, the miracles, the strength that Hashem displayed for us. But then we go on and we say we thank Hashem for the war itself, for the mosus. What exactly are we thanking Hashem for? Wouldn't we have been a lot better off if we didn't need to go out and battle the notorious Greek army? It's like after the six- day war, thanking Hashem for the miracles and the salvation and then also thanking him for bringing the war itself. Why would we do that? That's the question I asked. And he looks at me and he says, "That's a great question, but I have an even better answer." There's a powerful concept in yudishkite that if internalized can literally alter your view of your life. Each and every person he said has a huge storehouse of blessing and shea waiting for him in shmayim. And the only way to access it is by going through some sort of test or hurdle proving to hashem that you care. You need to first prove that you're loyal to his tyra. Pass the test and you get the blessing. Don't and the blessing remains isolated in heaven. And Rabbi continued that in all of Jewish history, we find that great sources of blessing were always preceded by moments of hardship and challenge. Before Aram got the bra, he went through a and an aa. Before there was a there were years and years of Sarah being barren. Before Yakov was born, there were years and years of Rifka being barren. Before was born, there were years and years of Rahul being barren. Before Moshe became Moshe, he had to go through exile and fear and isolation. Before we received the Tyra Narsi, we had to go through in Egypt. Before we got the land of Israel, we had to deal with alik. Beforehavi kana went through years and years of pain and humiliation and infertility. Before the ba mikdash, there were the before the second mikdash there was h. And the list can go on and on and on. When we thank Hashem for the muhamos of Kaneka, we are thanking him for the test he gave us to deem us worthy of the blessing he then bestowed upon us. It's like that famous idea that we're taughtim are judged on a hairline. Hashem holds them to a sharper standard than everyone else. But honestly, if you think about it, why is that? Most people give the knee-jerk reaction and answer and they say well well at sadic he knows more he learns more heavens more so therefore hashem expects more from him sounds reasonable until you remember wait there's a gar that blows this whole idea wide open the suka says the greater the person the greater the comes after him so let's get this straight isn't playing on easy mode he's not walking around floating on a cloud with an angel. He's dealing with a Yetszerhara that's on steroids, custom built to take him down, who was stronger and sneakier and way more intense than anything the average person faces. So why in the world would a sadic be judged stricter? If anything, he should get more slack, not less. Shouldn't Hashem say, "Wow, you're up against a monster. I'll grade you a little bit easier." So I once asked this question to my great brother-in-law Axelrod and he told me I'm looking at the whole thing upside down. We assume Hashem judges sadiki more harshly because he expects more. But that's not it. Hashem isn't punishing them harder. He's investing in them deeper. The harsher judgment, the tighter rope, the tougherness, it's all because he loves them more, not because he demands more. Hashem piles on the challenges precisely because he wants to give them bigger scar. He gives them heavier tests because are the only way to unlock the insane sheffa waiting for them above. The struggles aren't a sign of Hashem being disappointed in them. They're a sign of Hashem rooting for them and pushing them towards blessings that they could not have reached otherwise. This idea cracks open something else we say all the time but we rarely stop to question that is in the shabas we sing a line that almost sounds upside down we say that hashem blessed us the Jewish people more than all the other people in the world really blessed if you look at Jewish history from the outside it doesn't exactly read like the biography of the world's most blessed people where the nation that's been exiled from almost every continent on Earth. We've been expelled and hunted and mocked and burnt. We've walked through crusades and inquisitions and pgrams and ghettos and gas chambers and concentration camps and bus bombings. We've we've buried more suffering than almost anyone on earth and we're the most blessed people. How does that make any sense? The answer is that we're thinking about blessings like it means comfort or ease or a pain-free ride. But in Hashem's dictionary, blessing means potential. And potential means responsibility and greatness and yes, pressure. The Jewish people have something waiting for them that no other nation on earth has. A place in the next world so brilliant, so beyond anything physical that if we caught even a flicker of it, we'd never complain again in our life. And precisely because that palace is ours. And precisely because our souls are built for a level of greatness. nothing else in creation can touch. Hashem gives us tougher clims and sharper turns and heavier loads. Not as a punishment, not because he wants us to break, but because the only way to become the kind of giants our souls were destined to be is through challenges. We aren't the most blessed nation despite our ninness. We are the most blessed nation because of them. Each struggle is Hashem's whispering, "I know who you are. I know what you can become, and I believe in you more than you believe in yourself." Yakov A ofu wasn't just heading out to say a nervous hello to his brother, Asov, and hope he doesn't get his head chopped off. This was the showdown that would define the spiritual future of the world. Yakov was on his way to secure the bray to cement that he would be the spiritual destiny of mankind and he would would run through him. This was the moment where morality and truth and holiness would get their permanent address. He was about to step into history with 12 sons and become the nation that changed the entire world with bringing more light into the world than any of the nations of the world combined. You better believe there was going to be resistance. You better believe an angel would show up to try to stop him. Not because the angel hated him, not because Hashem wanted him to fail, but because Hashem wanted him to succeed. Because greatness is never handed out like a precipitation trophy. Greatness has to be fought for. And Yakov fought hard. So hard. The Kazal tell us that the dust of that cosmic struggle was so precious and so holy that Hashem gathered it up and placed it beneath his throne of glory. Imagine that the dirt from YaKob's pain and his fear and his sweat and his exhaustion that became celestial jewelry. And when the battle was over, Yakob didn't spit at the angel or yell, "Why would you do that to me?" He asked for a bra because he understood this wasn't cruelty. This was a gift. This was making him worthy. And the angel's response still echoes throughout Jewish history till this day. Your name is no longer YaKob. From now on, you're why? Because you fought with an angel of Hashem. Because you didn't quit. Because you stepped into the arena and proved what a Jew really is. A warrior of the soul. And this is where it hits home for us. How many times do we go through a rough patch and think, why in the world is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this? Why is Hashem putting me through this? But the story of Yakov tells us something radically different. The struggle isn't a punishment. It's a promotion. Hashem isn't pushing you down. He's lifting you up. Each nion is Hashem handing you the key to unlock some blessing you can't even imagine yet. Every time life knocks you around, you are reenacting YaKob's midnight battle. And every time you push forward even a little, Hashem gathers that dust, your dust, and places it next to YaKob right under his throne. Because he's not testing you to break you. He's testing you because he knows exactly how high you're destined to rise. You're not just surviving. You're earning your name. You're earning the badge of Israel. The baev once gave a mushel that describes this beautifully. There was once a young prince who wandered a little bit too far from the palace and got lost in a thick terrifying forest. And at first he wasn't worried. He figured he'd find the path back easily. But hours passed and the sun set and shadows grew. And suddenly the prince, this child of the king, was panicking and desperate and alone. And then he hears something. soldiers. His father's own guards running through the trees searching for him. They're close. Help is literally seconds away. But the prince, he's confused and he's terrified. He hears the noise and he assumes it's danger. So what does he do? He runs the other way. He sprints deeper into the forest, further from home, further from safety, until he collapses, lost, exhausted, and gone. says the BMP, that prince is us. All of us. We are lost princes wandering throughout the forest of life, a forest that is confusing and dark and overwhelming. And every time Hashem sends us a nion, we hear the rustle in the trees and we think, "Oh no, something bad is coming." And we run and we panic and we assume this is punishment and chaos and randomness. But in truth, the soldiers were in danger. They were a rescue team. The noise wasn't a threat. It was guidance. The struggle wasn't distraction and destruction. It was direction. Hashem sends those not to break us, but to bring us back to the palace, back to the palace of safety and shea and clarity and holiness that he desperately wants to shower us with. We think he's pushing us away, but he's actually pulling us home. The only thing ever standing between you and the life Hashem wants to give you is the direction you choose to run in life. Will you flee in fear and chaos and confusion? Or will you stop, take a deep breath, and let your struggles in life guide you back to the life of holiness you were meant to live? The choice is yours. Choose wisely. Listen to this story. The year was 1956 in New Haven, Connecticut. And the great blizzard of 56 had hit the city. 25 ines of snow buried the streets and shut down schools and stopped traffic. in its tracks. And you could imagine there were kids that were thrilled and sleds were flying down every hill and snowballs were being thrown and even the adults ended up enjoying the unexpected time off from work. But inside one house there was no joy, only worry. There was a woman named Beverly Liboitz. She had just given birth to her first and only son. And today was the day of his bris. And she had waited so long for this moment. And all night she had cooked and she baked and she set up her home. and she prepared every detail for what should have been a joyous celebration. But as she peaked out the window at the just endless white snow, her heart sank. Would anyone be able to make it through the snow? Would anyone come at all? And she dove and then she hoped and she begged, "Please, someone, anyone, let someone come." She didn't really have any family. Her closest friends lived very far away and the streets were all nearly impossible to navigate. the men she knew might make it for the minion. But but what about the women who would be there to share in her sim? The bris was called for 8:30 and it was 8:35 and there's no one in sight. 8:40 and Beverly is still looking nervously out of the window. And 8:45 Beverly goes outside to see if perhaps someone anyone was walking down the block as she squints her eyes and she does not believe it. Is that Judy Herman trudging through the snow? Judy, you live A MILE AWAY? I CAN'T believe it. And Judy laughed with the snow clinging to her hair and her coat. Are you kidding me? I wouldn't miss your son's brisk if 100 ft of snow fell. And then minutes later, Sarlick appears in the doorway. Sarra Glick, I don't believe it. You just had surgery and you walked in this weather? Are you serious? Me walk? Nothing would keep me away from this bris. Sarah says. And then a minute later, Miriam Seagull walks through the doorway. Miriam Seagull, I don't believe it. You walked all this way. You live two and a half miles from here. It's 12 degrees outside. It's a blizzard. And Miriam grinned. Beverly, I'd walk halfway across the world for you. And Beverly just stood there overwhelmed, and there's tears streaming down her face. And she embraces each friend that she waited so long for this son. And yet here were her friends sacrificing and risking discomfort and battling the storm just to be there for her. And her heart swelled with gratitude and love and awe. But the story didn't end there because exactly 9 months from that day, the miracle of that snowy brisk unfolded in a way no one could have ever imagined. All three of those women had a baby boy on the exact same day. And that day, Beverly Leewitz that morning was repaying their kindness with attending three separate bristim of the three women that showed up for her. Incredible that these three women who happened to have been the three women that walked miles in the snow to attend their friend's bris remarkably all had a baby on the exact same day nine months later. Incredible. Now, listen to something else even more incredible. These weren't just regular women who had baby boys on the same day. These weren't regular Bryson. Judy Herman, the woman who walked a mile in the snow, had only girls, and had been longing for a son for years. Sar Glick, who just out of surgery, walked to the bris, had two children, then struggled with second term infertility for eight years. Miriam Seagull, the woman who walked over two miles to the bris, was celebrating the bris of her first child after waiting and hoping and crying for 10 years to have a child. 10 years, she sat childless. And today was the brisk of her child. You hear that? Each one of these women had endured struggle. Each had their challenge. Yet, each one had chosen to act with love and loyalty and faith. And in return, Hashem rewarded them with unimaginable blessing. Because that's the truth. Hashem isn't stingy with blessing. He's not hiding it. He's not holding it back. He wants to pour it onto you more than you want it for yourself. But sometimes he needs one thing from you first. Show up in the storm. Take one step when it's freezing outside. Choose the right move when it's the hardest move. prove to yourself that you're ready for what he's waiting to give you. And when you do, when you push through the snow and through the fear and through the disappointment, when you keep going, even though it would have been so much easier to stay home and shut down and give up, that's when the blessing doesn't just come. They erupt. They overflow and they rewrite your life. Because the storms in your life aren't there to block your blessings. They're there to build you into someone who could hold them. And once you fight your way through that storm, the blessings waiting on the other side isn't just bigger. They're better and deeper because it's earned and it's deserved and it's perfectly measured for the person you became along the way. Because the bottom line is this. Hashem doesn't test you to break you. He tests you to make you worthy of the good he's dying to give you. You've just experienced another Torah class brought to you by tora anytime.com.