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Rabbi Mendy's Blog

A weekly exploration into the Torah's lessons for life

I'm scarred; how can i stop being a victim?

Life has a way of scarring all of us; it's the human experience. For many of us, this challenging reality has defined and limited us as victims, now incapable of moving our lives forward. How can we possibly acknowledge our pain and still carry forward in our holy mission of living a purposeful life joyfully? Does G-d want us to delude and lie to ourselves? 

The answer lies in this week's Torah portion, Re'eh. There G-d places before us a choice: "See, I set before you today a blessing and a curse." At its core, the Torah teaches that we are never powerless. Life may present hardship, disappointment, and even suffering, but we are not defined by what happens to us. We are defined by the choices we make in response.

The danger of living with a victim mindset is that it traps us in resentment and anger. Instead of moving forward, we remain stuck in what was done to us. The Torah insists on the opposite: to see ourselves as moral agents, capable of choosing blessing, hope, and responsibility. That choice, even in the most challenging moments, restores our dignity and strength.

Throughout Jewish history, this has been our story. We've endured exile, persecution, and challenges that could have broken us. Yet, as a people, we refused to be defined by victimhood. We chose life, we chose to rebuild, and we chose to carry our faith forward. That resilience comes straight from the Torah's call in this parsha: the power to decide how we will live.

Today, when it is easy to blame, to divide, and to remain locked in past hurts, this message could not be more relevant. Re'eh reminds us that every day we are given a choice. Refusing to define ourselves as victims is not to deny our struggles—it is to rise above them. That is the blessing we are invited to choose: a life of strength, dignity, and meaning.

We need to stop talking and start listening

Everywhere we turn, it feels like people are talking past each other. Opinions fly, voices rise, yet true listening is absent. This inability to hear one another has created deep fractures in our society, leaving us more divided than ever. We desperately yearn for connection, for peace, for healing. But how do we get there?

The answer lies in one of the most fundamental prayers in Jewish life: Shema Yisrael. “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our G-d, the Lord is One.” Which we encountered in last week’s portion and continues in this week’s Torah portion Eikev. The word Shema does not mean “say” or “proclaim.” It means “listen.” Before we declare our faith, before we speak, the Torah commands us to listen.

Listening, in Judaism, is not passive. To listen is to open our hearts, to be present, to connect. When we truly listen, we recognize that we are not isolated individuals but part of something greater. G-d begins by asking us to listen to Him, because listening is the foundation of all relationships—between us and G-d, and between us and each other.

Our world is fractured because we have lost the ability to listen. Instead of hearing the pain, the hope, and the humanity of others, we drown it out with our own noise. The Torah teaches us that healing begins with listening. Just as we are commanded to listen to G-d’s voice, we must also train ourselves to listen to the voices of those around us.

When we achieve that inner unity, something remarkable happens: we become unshakable. History has shown that when the Jewish people are united within, no external danger, no threat, and no persecution can break us. Our strength has never come from numbers or power but from the deep bond we share with one another and with G-d. Division weakens us, but unity fortifies us; when we listen, connect, and stand as one, we can withstand anything that comes from the outside.

When we learn to listen, we discover connection. And when connection flourishes, division shrinks. This is why the Shema has carried our people through exile and persecution, why it is whispered on our lips in moments of both triumph and tragedy. It is a reminder that listening fosters unity, and unity brings peace.

If we want to heal the brokenness of our society, we must start by listening—with patience, with humility, and with love. By listening to G-d, by listening to each other, we create the harmony we so desperately seek. And when we do, the words of the Shema will no longer be just a prayer we recite, but a reality we live: Oneness, peace, and unity for all.

Everything is so negative; what should I do?

"So when negativity surrounds," This famous lyric by Matisyahu is in his incredible song "One Day", sounds like it was written for today. As the summer winds down and we begin looking ahead, some of us might be overwhelmed by the intense negativity surrounding our world and especially our community. What do we do? How do we cope? 

The answer lies in this week's Torah portion, where we read the second rendition of the Ten Commandments, as spoken by Moshe to the Jewish people before they entered the Land of Israel. While the commandments are essentially the same as the first version given at Mount Sinai, there are subtle but profound differences. 

One of the most famous changes is in the commandment about Shabbat. At Sinai, we were told "Zachor et Yom HaShabbat" – remember the Shabbat. Here, Moshe tells us "Shamor et Yom HaShabbat" – guard the Shabbat. Our sages teach that Zachor and Shamor are two sides of the same coin. Remembering Shabbat is the positive – to honor it, speak of it, and fill it with joy. Guarding Shabbat is the protective – to ensure nothing desecrates it, to shield its holiness from intrusion. 

Moshe, standing on the threshold of the Land of Israel, was teaching a critical lesson: it's not enough to cherish something; we must also protect it from harm. This message, given at the close of forty years of wandering, was rooted in history. The Jewish people had faced many tests in the desert, and Moshe was reminding them not to repeat the mistakes of the past.

The lesson applies far beyond Shabbat. In our own lives, it's not enough to "remember" the good – our values, our heritage, our connection to G-d. We must also actively "guard" them from anything that can chip away at their strength. In today's world, challenges come from both the outside and the inside. Outside, there is a constant stream of cynicism, distraction, and moral confusion. Inside, we can sometimes let doubt, fear, or negativity take root. Moshe's words ring out across the generations: protect the sanctity of your inner world just as fiercely as you protect your holy days.

When the Jewish people take this approach, cherishing what is good while shielding it from harm, we remain spiritually strong. This inner strength is what enables us to withstand any challenge without letting darkness seep into our souls. It is also the spiritual posture that prepares us for redemption. Moshe promised the people that they would inherit and inhabit the Land of Israel. That promise is eternal. By guarding both our Shabbat and our spirit from all negativity, we pave the way for the ultimate fulfillment of that promise, when we will enter the Land in peace and holiness with the coming of Moshiach, speedily in our days.

I'm tried, I'm depleted, almost defeated; what should I do? Remember!

It's a long way up, I know, and though you started on this journey enthusiastically, you might be feeling a little winded, depleted, even defeated. What should you do? Where can I find a renewed sense of energy and joy for the road ahead? Especially when I can see it straight up a mountainside? 

The answer lies in this week's Parsha, Devarim, Moshe Rabbeinu begins his final address to the Jewish people, recounting their forty-year journey through the desert. He recalls the trials, the triumphs, and most poignantly, the missteps, especially the episode of the spies. It was then that the people, faced with the challenge of entering the Land of Israel, became overwhelmed by fear. "You were afraid," Moshe reminds them, "and you said, 'Because Hashem hates us, He brought us out of Egypt to deliver us into the hands of the Amorites to destroy us.'"

The tragedy of that moment wasn't the physical challenge, but the internal one. Giants and fortified cities didn't daunt the people; they were daunted by doubt. They doubted themselves and, ultimately, they doubted Hashem. They saw a mountain too high, and forgot who gave them the strength to climb.

Chassidus teaches us that fear and avoidance often mask and curb our deepest potential. The Rebbe would often emphasize that when a Jew encounters difficulty, it's not a sign of divine neglect but of divine trust. Hashem believes in you enough to stretch you, to squeeze your full potential out of you. Just as Moshe urged the people: "Do not fear, and do not be broken before them", so too, the Torah calls us to lean in rather than retreat.

Each of us faces our own "Promised Land", a goal that seems far off, a relationship we need to repair, a mitzvah we've been avoiding, or a spiritual step we've been postponing. From a distance, it may feel like too much. But if we learn anything from Devarim, it's that we are more capable than we think—and more supported than we realize. Hashem doesn't ask us to be perfect; he asks us to progress.

And especially on Shabbos Chazon, the Shabbat before Tisha B'Av when each of us is shown a vision, a chazon, of the Third Beis HaMikdash, we’re reminded what lies atop the mountain: not just personal progress, but a world transformed. We're not climbing aimlessly; we're ascending toward a time of Moshiach, when peace, wholeness, and divine clarity will fill the world. A time when there will be no sickness, no hatred, no war; only unity, healing, and purpose. That vision isn’t meant to make us wistful, but determined. It’s a glimpse of what we're working toward, and it should ignite within us a deeper resolve to keep going. When the journey feels steep, we must remember the summit: a future where the pain of the past is healed, and the potential of creation is finally fulfilled.

So take that first step forward; and trust the rest will follow.

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