How Do You Know What’s Right? King Solomon’s Secret to a Good Life - Rabbi Zamir Cohen (AI)

Every person at some point in life stands before decisions that feel decisive, almost fateful. Sometimes they concern our private lives, and sometimes they affect the public or society as a whole. And in those moments, we struggle with one basic question. What is the right thing to do? Sometimes the dilemma is deeply personal. There are gaps between two people. Should we get married or not? A married couple feels that something isn't working. He feels it. She feels it. The relationship doesn't flow. Things don't fall into place. Should they stay together? Or should they divorce? A child is undisciplined. A parent feels, "I've spoken to him 20 times. Nothing helps. Maybe it's time to use force. Maybe only a slap will work." There are also questions that touch a person's own life. Take the workplace, for example. A person is under pressure, worried. He has worked in the same place for decades. Others have been promoted. And now there's competition for a certain position. And once again, he's passed over. How should he respond? Should he push harder, speak to management, invest more effort, or maybe step back? What is the right move? And then there are questions that concern the public. In times of war, should we show mercy to the enemy or not? Where are the limits of conscience? These are enormous questions. The problem is that the human mind naturally tends toward extremes. And when a person thinks in extremes, mistakes are almost inevitable. It is very difficult to find the correct balance. That middle point that integrates both sides and leads to truth. When a person is conflicted, the mind usually pulls him either all the way in one direction or all the way to the opposite extreme. And we see this everywhere. In raising children, for example, there are parents who believe that for every small mistake, the solution is to raise a hand and hit because that's how you educate a child. And there are others who go to the opposite extreme, who say it is absolutely forbidden to ever hit a child, not even lightly, under any circumstances. In war, we see the same pattern. Some believe in showing mercy to the enemy to the point that the enemy turns around and murders the very person who showed him mercy. Others adopt an approach of cruelty. These are radically different worldviews. So, a person asks himself, "How do I know where the truth lies? Who can guide my life in a way that I know I'm walking on a good path, a straight path? Who can really take responsibility and say, 'My decision is balanced. It's correct. It's true.'? Because for every person who says one thing, there is another who says the exact opposite." This question also touches the inner life of a person. He wants to be spiritual, but he also has a body. And that body wants comfort, pleasure, this world. So, what belongs at the center of life? The soul or the body? Spirituality or physicality? Here, too, the world runs to extremes. There are groups who see the body as an enemy. They fight it, suppress it, weaken it. Look at certain ascetics in the East. Even when they have food, they refuse to eat. They want the body to become nothing but skin and bones. And when the body is reduced to a skeleton, they feel, "Now I'm spiritual." Because in their view, the body is the enemy of the soul. The smaller the body, the greater the spirituality. And then there's the opposite extreme, modern Western culture, where the body, material pleasure, desire, and instinct are the center of life. Everything revolves around satisfying the body's needs, and all effort is invested there. So, once again, a person stands confused. What is the correct balance? Where is the middle path? And King Solomon gives us the answer. He says in Proverbs 10:11, "The teaching of the wise is a source of life to turn one away from the traps of death." Simply put, what King Solomon is saying is this. When you are facing a dilemma in life, go to a wise person, someone who truly understands, and know that the teaching of the wise is a source of life. What does a source of life mean? Usually, when we talk about a source, we mean a water source. A spring that flows on its own is called a source of water. But here, Solomon speaks about a different kind of source, a source that doesn't produce water, but produces life. A source that, when you draw from it, you live better, and life becomes good. In the book of Proverbs, when Solomon speaks about life, we've already seen in several places that he does not mean life in the technical sense, not whether a medical device shows a heartbeat, not whether the line on the monitor goes up and down instead of staying flat, as it does when someone has died. That is not what Solomon means by life. When Solomon speaks about life, he speaks about quality of life, about abundance, joy, richness of content, a life where you feel alive, a life that feels good to live. That is how life is defined in the book of Proverbs. So, when he says, "The teaching of the wise is a source of life." He means that a life filled with joy, fulfillment, and meaning. The source that generates all of that is the wisdom of the wise. On the simple level, a wise person is someone who studies Torah. But on a deeper level, Solomon is really speaking about God himself, because God is the source of all wisdom, and his Torah is the source of life. And he continues, "To turn one away from the traps of death." Meaning, the Torah doesn't only guide you toward a life of vitality and joy, a life where you know you are walking on a correct and balanced path. It also protects you from the traps of death. Now, in King Solomon's time, there were no land mines like we have today, no explosives buried in the ground. But the word trap means an obstacle, a hidden danger, a pit in the road. A person walks, convinced he is on the right path, unaware that there is a sinkhole ahead. The moment he falls into it, he loses his life. That is called a trap of death, a danger on the path where the one who falls into it loses his life, loses everything. In other words, Solomon is telling all of us, "If you want to succeed in life, do not rely solely on your own private wisdom when it comes to fateful, fundamental decisions, know that there exists the teaching of the wise. There exists the book of the one who created you. There is nothing like the manufacturer's instructions. The manufacturer built the car. So, when there's a problem, you ask the manufacturer because he knows exactly where the issue is. He knows every component, every detail. And the more complex the machine, the more essential it is to follow the manufacturer's instructions. A simple cooking pot doesn't need instructions. How many things can go wrong with a basic pot? But a more complex pressure cooker with seals and valves requires careful guidance. And if it's a massive machine whose failure could affect an entire city, if it explodes, it destroys everything around it. Then the responsibility is far greater. You must approach it with seriousness and precision. Human life is far more complex than any machine. And each person carries responsibility for his own life above all else. So, Solomon says, you can reach a state where you have a living source, a spring that flows continuously. All you have to do is use it, approach it, draw from it. It is within reach. And from this flowing source of life, you will receive a good life. And it will also protect you so you don't stumble into situations that are truly traps of death. Let me return to one of the examples we mentioned earlier. We saw that the human mind tends toward extremes. And because of that, it is prone to error. When we look today at the general approach in the world regarding child education, whether to hit a child or not, the accepted approach today is not to hit a child at all. Not even lightly. A parent who hits a child, even a mild slap, can be taken to court for breaking the law. Why was this law enacted? The reason these laws were created is because people saw what happens when others go to the opposite extreme. When discipline turns into abuse, there were parents and teachers who would grab a child and beat him harshly. On the other hand, today parents are told, "Never raise a hand against a child." And a parent asks himself, "But what do I do when talking doesn't help? After explaining again and again, how do I create any sense of boundaries? I'm not trying to be cruel. I'm trying to educate." The Torah gives the correct balance. The Talmud says, "When disciplining a child, do not strike him except symbolically, like with a shoelace." A shoelace barely hurts. It's not about pain. What does this teach us? Sometimes a child needs to see a clear boundary, a visible act of discipline, but without suffering. The goal is not to hurt the child. The goal is to send a message. You crossed the line. And this should not be done often, only in rare cases when nothing else works. A light symbolic tap is enough for a child to stop and think, "What I did must have been serious. I went too far." That is not abuse. That is education. The Vilna Gaon adds an important rule. When you are angry, you are forbidden to discipline a child physically. Why? Because when discipline comes from anger, it is no longer education. It is an emotional release. And that turns into cruelty. Only when a parent is calm, thinking clearly, after explaining many times, and realizing that words are no longer effective, only then can a symbolic act carry meaning, not pain, meaning. A child who is hit regularly learns nothing. But a child who is raised without violence, when discipline finally appears as a rare symbolic act, absorbs the message deeply. This is how Torah guidance creates balance, not extreme permissiveness, and not cruelty. The same principle applies to relationships. Many young people ask, "Should I marry someone who is similar to me, or someone opposite, who will balance me? If I'm quiet, should I marry someone energetic? If I'm energetic, should I marry someone calm?" Here too, Judaism teaches balance, not extremes. In Kabbalah, wine represents intensity and strength, and water represents kindness and calm. On Shabbat, we mix them. Even a few drops of water are enough to soften the wine. Balance is created not by erasing one side, but by integrating both. But there are opposites that must not be mixed, like meat and milk. The Torah forbids even cooking them together, because certain forces clash destructively. Why? Because, as the Zohar teaches, a human being is a bridge between worlds, rooted on Earth, but reaching heavenward. Our choices don't only affect us. They echo far beyond us. That is why the Torah constantly guides us toward balance, the middle path, where life becomes stable, meaningful, and truly alive. Do not belittle the action you perform. Here, in the physical world, it may look small, but every action you do here activates systems in the spiritual worlds above. There are parallel realms. You put on to fill in here. You have no idea what you have caused there. In the spiritual dimension of creation, where the spiritual roots of the soul exist, a person is, as the Zohar says, a ladder planted on the earth whose head reaches the heavens. The meaning of human actions is therefore extremely great. That is why the Torah says, "Not only do not eat meat and milk together, but do not even cook a kid in its mother's milk." But one might ask, "What's the difference? After all, wine and water are also kindness and strength, and there we say it's good to mix them." Meat and milk are also kindness and strength. So, why is this so severe? The answer is, it depends on the level of extremity. Meat and milk represent very extreme opposites because both come from the animal world. Meat comes from a living creature, and milk is taken from the mother. The contrast between them is very sharp. When you cook them together, you create a kind of short circuit in their spiritual roots above. Wine, which comes from the plant world, and water, which comes from nature, also represent strength and kindness, but they are not extreme opposites. When you mix them properly, you create balance. From this, we also learn about marriage. If two people come to marry and you see that she is extreme compared to him or he is extreme compared to her, complete opposites, then almost everything will lead to conflict and tension. A very quiet man, for example, every word his wife says feels to him like pressure. How much can she tolerate constantly hearing, "You're embarrassing me. Why did you say that?" She says, "But this is who I am. This is my nature." On the other hand, if he marries someone who is completely quiet like him, both are quiet, then when they go to the bank and need to argue for their rights, there's no one to speak up. At city hall, when someone needs to bang on the table a bit, no one does it. They're both calm and no one helps. So, balance is needed, but a balance at a level where the two can connect. Like wine and water, not like meat and milk, which are too extreme to function together. From every piece of guidance that the Torah gives, a person can learn how to live, how to conduct himself in different situations. Sometimes the answer appears explicitly. Your very question is already written, what to do in such a situation, how to deal with anger, how to work on jealousy, desire, hatred. There are entire books, full systems of guidance from the sages, and stories have great power as well. They give motivation. A person sees, he succeeded. There's a valuable idea here that I can take for myself. That is also why we tell stories about righteous people, not to glorify them and say, "He was great. So, what does that have to do with me?" The purpose of telling stories about righteous people is so that we learn from their actions. Look at this great person. He too was born a baby, just like us. He didn't know how to read properly, just like us. So, how did he become so great in Torah? Because he devoted time, and he learned. He wasn't born perfect. He wasn't born without anger or weaknesses. He also struggled, and look what level he reached. When we speak about the great figures of Israel, about their sensitivity to others, their precision, the heights they reached, their perseverance in Torah, it is not meant to distance them from us. It is meant to teach us that this is within reach. That is why Rabbi Zadok of Lublin writes that when telling stories about great people, don't focus only on them at age 80, on the heights they reached. Tell about them when they were 15, how difficult it was, what they struggled with, where they failed. Because the goal is to learn, to see that they too made mistakes. They too fell, and still they made effort, worked hard, and eventually reached great levels. When a person learns the Torah's guidance, its ethics, its stories, he understands why the Torah spends so much time on narratives. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, the descent to Egypt, the 12 tribes, Joseph and his brothers, Cain and Abel. The Torah was not meant to be a story book. The Torah is a book of guidance. The word Torah comes from hora'ah, instruction. It shows a person the path. So, why all these stories? Because from every story, we must extract a lesson for ourselves. From Cain and Abel, we learn where jealousy between brothers can lead, even to murder. So, a person tells himself, "I will not make that mistake. Even if I don't like what my brother did, I will approach him with goodwill." We learn from Ephraim and Manasseh how each truly wanted the good of the other, to such an extent that Jacob, our forefather, instructed all his children, and to this day, every father blesses his sons on Friday night. And even those who don't, it is worth adopting this custom. Before kiddush or after kiddush, a father places his hand on the head of each child and recites the blessing, "May God make you like Ephraim and Manasseh." This is what our forefather Jacob said, "By you shall Israel bless." What does "By you shall Israel bless" mean? It means that all future generations will bless their children with this blessing. And that is why until today, we do this every Shabbat. A father places his hand on the head of each child. It doesn't matter whether the child is 6 months old, 2 days old, or even 50 years old. If you are his father, place your hand on his head and bless him. First, "May God make you like Ephraim and Manasseh." Then the verses of the priestly blessing, "May God bless you and protect you. May God shine his face upon you and be gracious to you." Of course, using God's name properly. After that, a father may add any personal blessings he wishes. All the stories in the Torah contain moral guidance for a person. One simply needs to learn how to read them. Someone who reads the Torah stories superficially does not gain much. Instead, many questions arise. But when one studies with the commentators, with ethical teachings, and listens to lessons on the weekly Torah portion, a person begins to understand how much guidance can be drawn from every single story. We once had an entire series here on the weekly Torah portions. Week after week we studied the ideas within each portion. Those lessons are available online. And one can see how much practical guidance a person can extract for his own life from every parashah. This is exactly what King Solomon means when he says, "The teaching of the wise is a source of life." He is speaking about the Torah of the greatest wise one, divine wisdom itself. What could be greater than that? On the surface, he speaks about consulting a wise person, someone knowledgeable in Torah, and through that you gain wisdom. But at the deepest level, the foundation is the Torah of God himself. Divine wisdom is perfect wisdom. And Solomon says, "Know that this wisdom is a source of life. It gives vitality. It puts your life in order. It helps solve problems." Take a question like, "Should we divorce or not?" That is a huge question. But when people seek guidance from a wise person who answers based on the Torah, and I emphasize this strongly, one must also know whom to consult. I know of cases where people went to a marriage counselor who was not religious, but was a psychologist. They came to speak about their marital difficulties. At the end of the meeting, the counselor said, "In my opinion, you should divorce." Is that why they came? To be told to get divorced? Those same people later went to others who guided them properly. They found the right path. Their marriage stabilized. And afterward they said, "If we had listened to that first counselor, where would we be today?" Yes, there are cases where divorce is unavoidable. That is true. But first, one must exhaust all possibilities. One must examine the situation carefully. You want to divorce, ask yourselves, why? Have you ever learned how a woman is emotionally built? Do you understand her emotional needs? Have you provided what she needs? And you, have you learned what a man needs? Do you understand that he is different from a woman? That he has different needs? If they haven't learned this, then they are taught the guidance of the Rambam, how a man should behave toward his wife, and the principles of how a woman should relate to her husband. I've heard from couples who were on the verge of divorce, that after they studied these teachings of the Rambam, everything changed. One doctor from Herzliya once told me, "After we applied what the Rambam teaches, we completely forgot that we ever wanted to divorce." These were people who had already gone through long processes in the rabbinical courts. I knew the husband, and later, I got to know his wife as well. Good people. They were already around 60 years old and wanted to divorce because from the time of their wedding, things hadn't gone well. They waited until the children were married, and only then began divorce proceedings. But after they learned these teachings of the Rambam, he said, "We forgot that we ever wanted to divorce." Suddenly, the husband understood how a woman is built emotionally, what she truly needs. He began to give her what she needed with a full heart. Before that, he thought she was just complaining. because from his perspective as a man, her complaints didn't seem justified. He simply didn't understand what she wanted. But once he realized that as a woman, she genuinely needed these things, he gave them willingly. He was a good person all along. He just thought she was exaggerating. And the same applies in the other direction from her toward him. This alone could be an entire lecture, which we've already discussed both here in our lessons and in the book, A Guide to a Happy Marriage, where these guidelines for both sides are explained in detail. But you clearly see that when people receive proper guidance, their lives change for the better. The same is true with questions that are more public in nature. For example, the question we mentioned earlier, should one show mercy to an enemy or not? Our sages say, "Whoever is merciful to the cruel will ultimately be cruel to the merciful." Meaning, it's true that you have a conscience and a good heart, and you hear all the progressive voices telling you how important it is to show compassion to others. But you need to know that there is Torah guidance. Sometimes, after endless ideological brainwashing by people in influential positions who themselves were shaped by certain agendas, the public becomes confused. Soldiers begin to doubt themselves. Am I doing the right thing or not? On the one hand, they understand, "I'm defending my people." On the other hand, they're told they're acting incorrectly. And this destroys morale. But when people know that there is Torah guidance, and that the Torah says that in war you must win, everything becomes clear. Not these confusing definitions people invent. You don't fight to win, you fight to manage the conflict. What nonsense is that? A war must be won. One must do everything necessary to achieve victory. And our sages taught us, if someone comes to kill you, rise early and kill him first. There is a settlement called Netiv HaLamed-Heh, named after 35 fighters who went to help Gush Etzion. The enemy ambushed them during the fighting of that period and slaughtered all of them. How were they discovered? They were moving secretly. No one was supposed to know. On the way, they encountered an elderly shepherd. They debated among themselves, should they restrain him, kill him, neutralize him? In the end, one of them said, "He's an old man. Have mercy on him." They left him and continued on. He immediately ran to the nearby village and alerted them. All 35 were killed. Why? Because they showed mercy in the wrong place. One must know, there are places where mercy is required. Our Torah is the Torah of compassion. All the moral values the world speaks about, caring for the weak, compassion for others, consideration, forgiveness, it was our Torah that educated humanity, that taught what it means to care for another person, what love your fellow as yourself means. But that same Torah also says, "If someone comes to kill you, rise early and kill him first." You must defend yourself. Your life comes first. The Talmud teaches us through the following example. Two people are traveling in the desert. One of them has water. The other has none. If they both drink from the water, both will die. If only one drinks, he will survive. And the other will die. What should be done in such a situation? This is an enormous moral dilemma. To leave the other person without water, to watch him die and continue on. How can a human being do that? But if he gives him water, neither of them will survive. And he knows that the water he has is just enough to last until he reaches a settled area where water is available. The human mind finds it extremely difficult to decide in a case like this. Even if the other person is a stranger, and all the more so if it is a close friend. What does the Talmud rule? From the verses, the sages learn, your life takes precedence. There is no logic in both drinking and both dying. One person must drink and live. Even though it is painful, even though he sees the terrible situation of his companion. None of us wants to ever face such a situation. But the point is this. There are laws. There is Torah. There is guidance that directs a person how to act in every circumstance, how to behave, how to decide. Our sages say, "One who shows mercy to the cruel will ultimately become cruel to the merciful." Meaning, you will see the results of your actions. That good, innocent people suffer because you showed mercy to someone who was cruel. We see this in war. Take Gaza, for example. According to international law, there are actions that are permitted. Yet at the highest levels of the military, influenced by progressive ideology, soldiers were told, "No, you're not allowed to do that." International law says that you may not bomb a hospital. But if fire is coming from that hospital toward your soldiers, you are permitted to return fire at the source. Yet here they were told, "You are forbidden to respond." How many soldiers were killed because of this? There are many such rules, long lists of examples. And what do we learn? When people do not follow the path of Torah, and instead invent ideas on their own, often out of a desire to feel humane, compassionate, and moral, they end up creating policies that harm their own people. That is why it is so important how we educate our children. Parents who want tradition, who want their children to grow up with values, even if the home itself is not fully observant, must be careful where they send their children to school. They should not send them to secular schools that educate in ways completely opposed to the parents' values. This does not mean they must send them to ultra-religious institutions meant for Yeshiva students if the family is not in that place, but at least a school that truly provide balanced Jewish values. A parent who is unsure can reach out. There are organizations, for example, Lev L'Achim with teams of dedicated volunteers who help families all over the country. They know the educational options at every level, and help match the child to a school appropriate for the family. And parents are grateful when their children grow in such environments. So, the teaching of the wise is a source of life. It is not just a verse. It is a foundation for life itself. A person has a choice to merit a source of life, a living spring that constantly flows. There are issues in a person's private life that trouble him so deeply that he cannot sleep at night. And if he only had a few short wise teachings from the sages, he would calm down. Take someone who wants a promotion at work. He spoke to this person, to that person. He doesn't know whether to go or not, what to do. A decision must be made in the coming days. He lies awake at night, arrives at work exhausted and drained. It hurts him. He wants to advance, and there are competitors. But if he remembers a statement from the Talmud, he will find peace. You will be seated in your place, and what is destined for you will be given to you. No person can take what is prepared for another even by a hair's breadth. In other words, the position that was designated for you from heaven, that is the chair you will sit in. No matter how hard others try to take it from you, if it is meant for you, no one can succeed. You will be seated in your place, and what is yours will be given to you. That knowledge alone can return calm, clarity, and strength to a person's life. What was decreed in heaven as yours will come to you. Even if someone tries to take it, the Holy One, blessed be He, will turn events around so that it returns to you. What is yours will be given to you. The Talmud expresses this even in the context of kingdoms. One kingdom does not encroach upon what is prepared for another kingdom. And no person touches what is prepared for another. Not even by a hair's breadth. These are words filled with power. Words of faith and trust. When a person tells himself, "I know there is a creator of the world. I know that God runs the world and determines everything. So why am I worried?" This understanding exists within all of us. It simply organizes our thoughts. When you truly internalize that God determines everything, that you will be seated in your place, then there is no reason for anxiety. That said, a person must still make effort. Effort is required. When someone wants to achieve something, he cannot just sit at home and say, "Everything will work itself out." The Torah demands that we make reasonable effort. But after a person has done what he reasonably can, spoken to the right people, taken the appropriate steps, tried to persuade where persuasion makes sense, beyond that, there is nothing more for him to do. Even effort has a boundary. One does not need to break down walls in the name of effort. The limit of effort is what is considered reasonable and logical in the normal course of life for achieving such a goal. If I've done what is reasonable, I'm not expected to do more. The Hazon Ish once illustrated this point with a simple example. He was asked, "How much effort should a person make? And when should he stop and rely on trust in God?" He said, "Imagine you want to drive a nail into a wall. You take a hammer, hold the nail, and strike. It doesn't go in. So, you strike again. You want to hang a picture. The nail still hasn't gone in. So, you keep hammering. When do you stop? When you see that the nail is bending. Not only is it not going in, it's starting to bend. At that point, you stop. Continuing will only ruin the nail. He said the same applies to effort in life. As long as there is a reasonable chance that continued effort will help, continue. But, when you see that you've exhausted the possibilities, and things are turning in unhealthy directions, stop. There is no need for excessive effort. And in real life, when you observe people's experiences, your own or others, you see that when heaven wants to place a person in a certain role, to promote him at work, to raise his income, God knows exactly how to arrange things in the best possible way. Many years ago, one of the great rabbis of Jerusalem told me a story. Rabbi Baruch Sheraga, a student of Rabbi Bentzion Abba Shaul, of blessed memory. Rabbi Baruch Sheraga is truly one of the exceptional righteous figures of our generation. A tremendous Torah scholar with rare humility. He studied at Porat Yosef Yeshiva under Rabbi Yehuda Tzaddka, and later under Rabbi Bentzion Abba Shaul, and was very close to both. He told a story that is not well known, and not recorded in books, which makes it worth sharing, so that it becomes known. He heard it from Rabbi Yehuda Tzaddka, who heard it from the elders of the previous generation, people who remembered the story first hand. The story took place in Jerusalem more than a hundred years ago, several generations back, when the Turks ruled Jerusalem before the British mandate, during the period of Ottoman rule. At that time, Jerusalem was not the vast city we know today. When the Turks ruled, the city was mostly within the walls, with only the beginnings of neighborhoods outside. Under Ottoman rule, and Turkey was an empire at the time, ruled by a sultan, an official rabbi was appointed in Jerusalem on behalf of the government. He was called the Haham Bashi. This was essentially the position of chief rabbi. The title that today we call Rishon LeZion goes back hundreds of years, and its origin is from that period of Ottoman rule. The original title was Haham Bashi. From Turkey, they would prepare for him a special robe and turban, and he would receive an official document signed by the sultan himself, appointing him as the chief rabbi of the Jews, the official representative of the Jewish community before the Ottoman authorities. Now, how was this rabbi chosen? The Jewish communities themselves would choose. Once they agreed on a candidate, the name was sent to Turkey, and the sultan would verify that this person was loyal to the government. To this day, handwritten appointment documents remain, written in ornate Ottoman script with the sultan's signature at the bottom. Official certification of the Haham Bashi of that era. But how did the Jews choose among themselves? Jerusalem was made up of several different communities, and each community naturally wanted its own rabbi to become the chief rabbi of all. So, how could they decide? They would draw lots. On one occasion, the previous Haham Bashi passed away, and a new one had to be chosen. Each community submitted the name of its rabbi. In Jerusalem at the time, if I recall correctly, there was one community rabbi, Rabbi Yehoshua Levi. As Rabbi Baruch Shraga told me, his community wanted his name included in the lottery. But representatives of the other communities objected. They said, "He is certainly a Torah scholar, but he is a very quiet person, extremely reserved. He gives lectures, answers halachic questions correctly, but he lacks leadership. He won't be able to stand up to the authorities." There was a Turkish governor in Jerusalem at the time, a very harsh man. Every year he imposed heavy taxes on the Jewish population. Representatives had to go plead with him to reduce the taxes. A weak appeal might reduce the tax by half a percent. A strong, persistent negotiation could lower it by 1 and 1/2%. That difference meant enormous financial consequences for the community. They argued that this rabbi would not know how to negotiate, how to confront the governor, how to argue effectively. For that reason, they did not want him chosen. But members of his own community said, "What do you mean? He is a community rabbi like all the others. His name must be included." After discussion, the community leaders said, "Fine. We're drawing lots anyway. What does it matter if his name is included? Out of so many candidates, his name probably won't come up." So, they included his name and drew lots. And of all names in, his name came up. They said, "We didn't expect this. We don't want him." But there was a rule. If there was disagreement, they would draw again. His community agreed to another lottery. They drew again and once again his name came up. They said, "All right, one last time. We'll do it again so there won't be any dispute." They agreed. They drew lots a third time and once again his name came up. At that point they said, "This can only be from heaven. What are the odds that the same name would be drawn three times? When you see something like this, you understand what the sages mean by 'You will be seated in your place.'" This was clearly decreed from above. It was meant to be. They appointed him. The Sultan in Turkey approved the appointment. He received the robe and all the formal insignia and a coronation ceremony was held. But the attitude of the community leaders toward him was very cold. They did not see him as a true leader. They felt that he had become chief rabbi almost against their will, not because they wanted him, but because the lottery forced it. And he felt uncomfortable with this. When people spoke to him, they did not treat him as a leader. One night, he had a dream. In the dream, he saw the Turkish governor of Jerusalem walking along one of the narrow paths near the Tower of David. Suddenly, a bomb exploded near him and the governor was killed. That was the dream. The dream was so vivid that it shook him deeply. He immediately woke his assistant. In those days, senior rabbis had an attendant who walked with them carrying a staff and wearing official clothing. He woke him and said, "We're going now to the governor's house." The assistant said, "In the middle of the night, who will even let us in? He replied, "This is a matter of life and death. We must go." They went. They knocked at the gate. The guards opened and saw the Haham Bashi standing there in the middle of the night. He said, "I must see the governor immediately." They told him, "He's asleep." "Wake him," he said. The dream had been so clear to him that he would not let it go. The guards informed the governor that the Haham Bashi was outside insisting it was urgent. The governor said, "Fine. Let him in." They opened a small side entrance in the gate and let him through. He stood before the governor who asked, "What is so urgent?" He said, "I'll tell you honestly, I had a dream. I don't know whether it's true or not, but I felt compelled to tell you that according to this dream, your life is in danger." The governor replied, "This is incredible. Tomorrow morning, I'm supposed to pass through that exact area." He immediately sent people to check and they discovered that a bomb had indeed been planted there. If he had passed that way, he would have been killed. The Haham Bashi returned home, but the governor, deeply shaken, said to himself, "This is a holy man. Because of him, my life was saved." He invited him to a grand official ceremony near the Jaffa Gate area. When the rabbi arrived, he was stunned by what he saw. A red carpet was laid out. White horses stood in rows on both sides. Turkish soldiers in full uniform lined the way holding swords. Two Turkish officers stood on either side of him holding his arms. He was wearing the traditional robe of the Haham Bashi and they marched with him in ceremonial steps. At every step, the soldiers drew their swords and returned them to their sheaths in unison. The sound of the blades echoed. He was an elderly man, quiet, simple, completely unaccustomed to such displays. His heart nearly failed him. He thought to himself, "This isn't me. I'm not built for this." When they reached the governor, who was seated on a raised platform surrounded by his ministers, the two officers escorted him forward. At that moment, the rabbi fainted. As he collapsed, the governor jumped from his chair, caught him so he would not fall, embraced him, and seated the Haham Bashi beside him. After he regained consciousness, the governor thanked him profusely for the honor, and above all, for saving his life. Then the governor asked him, "Is there anything I can do for you? You saved my life. How can I help you?" In his simplicity, the rabbi answered, "If you could help ensure that the community leaders treat me with more respect, they have not accepted my appointment." The governor became furious. "Is this the way you treat the chief rabbi?" he said. "We will deal with that immediately. Call all the community leaders." When they came before him, the governor rebuked them harshly. "Why are you disrespecting him?" They were afraid to respond, so the rabbi himself said, "They claim that I do not know how to represent them properly before the authorities, and that I do not know how to negotiate with you when it comes to taxes." The governor then declared, "I am lowering the tax by 5% immediately. Now, you will honor him." Everyone remained silent. They agreed, the matter was settled, and peace returned. And you see from this story, when God wants to place a person in a certain position, you will be seated in your place. He arranges lotteries, he arranges dreams, he arranges events. All of this was clearly orchestrated from heaven, so that this man would be properly respected and fulfill his role. The story was told by Rabbi Yehuda Tzaddika, who heard it from the sages of the previous generation. And the purpose of the story was to convey a message. A person should never worry, "Maybe I won't be promoted. Maybe someone will block my advancement at work." No one can block what is destined for you. If the Holy One, blessed be He, decides that a position is yours, you will be promoted. You will receive it. You must do your reasonable effort, yes. But if it is meant to be yours, it will come to you. Let us say a few words about Hanukkah, which is also connected to this idea. When a person faces a dilemma between material and spiritual life, between body and soul, we see two extreme approaches in the world. On one side, there are those who place materialism at the center of life, as in much of Western culture. On the other side, there are those who place the soul at the center, and view the body as an enemy that must be suppressed, or even destroyed. We see this among certain Indian ascetics, and also within Christianity, where some Catholic groups forbid marriage, seeing it as surrendering to physical desires. There are various sects and subsects within Christianity that follow similar ideas. So, a person asked himself, "What is correct? I have a body and I have a soul. Which one should stand at the center of my life?" Here, too, the Torah enters the picture and teaches the person, "Give the body what it needs because God created you with a body. And that body is an important tool through which you build your spiritual world." The Rambam writes that since God created the body, maintaining a healthy body is part of serving God. Physical health is part of divine service because if the body is weak or sick, how will a person attend Torah classes? How will he fulfill commandments? He will be lying in bed, in pain, unfocused, and ill. Therefore, one must take care of the body, eat properly, drink properly, sleep properly, all within what the Torah permits, within the framework the Torah sets. The body must receive everything it needs. But at the same time, the center of life is the soul. The body is a vessel meant to build the person's spiritual world. We were given desires, and those desires can pull us to excess. When a person brings himself back onto the correct path according to God's will, when he asks himself, "What does God truly want from me?" he discovers that the body receives everything it needs in a permitted and balanced way. The Torah supports marriage. It simply guides a person on how to do it correctly, with holiness. Marriage, family purity, responsibility. "Six days you shall work, and on the seventh day you shall rest." The Torah instructs us what to eat and what not to eat. Even for the nations of the world, the Torah provides guidance through the seven commandments that apply to all humanity. In other words, the Torah gives guidance to every person wherever he is on how to live in the most correct and precise way for him. This balance between material and spiritual life, giving the body what it needs, but not surrendering to it in areas the Torah forbids, creates a person who feels fulfilled. His soul is satisfied. He experiences inner richness and meaning. And he feels that he is on a good path. At the same time, the body is calm and balanced because the Torah gave it exactly what it needs in the right measure so that life can be good over the long term. Not a life of uncontrolled indulgence, breaking boundaries, enjoying what is forbidden, and then suffering the consequences even in this world for pleasures taken improperly. This is a great principle that the Torah gives humanity. The Greeks did not understand this. Greek culture, when it entered the land, is described as having defiled all the oil in the temple. And after the Greeks were driven out, the Jews found a single jar of oil sealed with the seal of the high priest. They used to seal the jar with clay and stamp it with the high priest's seal. Once the clay dried, if anyone opened it, the seal would break and it would be obvious that it had been touched. Now ask yourself, why did the Greeks open the jars and defile the oil? If they wanted to stop the lighting of the menorah, they could have simply smashed the jars and spilled the oil. Why go to the trouble of opening them and rendering them impure? The The actually very simple. The Greeks didn't object to the Jewish people lighting candles. On the contrary, they said, "It's beautiful. A golden menorah, elegant lights, oil, light it. No problem at all." What they rejected was the idea of pure oil versus impure oil. They said, "Oil is oil. You can cook with it, fry with it, light with it. What do you mean impure? The Jewish people tried to explain, "There are laws of purity and impurity. You don't see them with your eyes, but there is a spiritual dimension to reality. There is a soul within the body. There is meaning beyond the physical. There is life beyond death." The Greeks simply didn't accept that. For them, spirituality was meaningless. If something works physically, that's all that matters. Oil burns, end of story. The idea that something can be spiritually defiled made no sense to them. You could tell them, "There is a difference between a mikveh and ordinary bathwater." And they would respond, "I don't see any difference." And that was the core of the conflict between Jewish culture and Greek culture. Greek culture focused entirely on the physical world, on materialism taken to an extreme. Even the Hebrew word for Greece, Yavan, hints at this idea. It begins with the letter yud, which symbolizes wisdom. Everyone wants wisdom. But when wisdom is detached from God and distorted, like much of what we see in modern progressive thinking, it starts to descend lower and lower until it reaches emptiness. By contrast, Israel also begins with a yud, but it continues upward. Yisrael, connected to God, and ends with a letter that rises. When a person walks in the path of Torah, he is elevated. He grows upward. That is the fundamental struggle. Greek culture represents obsession with the material. Jewish culture represents balance between body and soul, between this world and the next. And with that understanding, let me conclude with a practical point about Hanukkah. Technically, Hanukkah candles can be lit all night. But the ideal way to fulfill the mitzvah is to be home at the proper time unless there is a genuine necessity, such as work. The preferred time is nightfall, when the stars come out. This is usually a few minutes after sunset, depending on where you live. It's best that the whole family is present, parents and children together. The blessings are recited and the candles are lit by someone who is bar mitzvah age. Parents often want to involve the children, and that's wonderful. In Ashkenazi families, each child typically lights his own menorah. In Sephardi families, children are often given small menorahs to light, while the main mitzvah is fulfilled by the father. The main menorah should remain lit for at least half an hour. After that, if necessary, the candles may be extinguished. This is also a special time to sit with the children. Tell them the story of Hanukkah, sing songs, and talk about the miracles. Sometimes the children end up teaching the parents, and that's beautiful, too. The most important thing is that the home is filled with conversation about faith, light, gratitude, and hope. Just as God performed miracles for our ancestors, may he do the same for us. May we merit to see the redemption of Israel speedily in our days. Amen.