This week, I had the opportunity to attend two deeply moving events that reflected the strength, resilience, and faith of our people in the face of unimaginable hardship.
At the Philadelphia Israel Bonds dinner, our own Shira Yoshor was honored for her tireless advocacy for Israel, something we are incredibly proud of. One of the speakers told a harrowing story of how her fiancé was murdered while shielding her, dying beside her in a dumpster on October 7. Through her tears, she still spoke of her prayers to God.
The following night, my friend Rob Wasserman hosted an event at Vinyl, across from our shul, on behalf of Mifras Lavan, an organization supporting injured IDF soldiers as they recover and rebuild their lives. At both events, we heard heartbreaking stories of physical wounds, deep psychological trauma, and the ongoing struggle to find healing. And yet, time and again, those who spoke did so with emunah and bitachon, with faith in God and a deep, unwavering love for the land and State of Israel.
Adding to the pain of this week, we also learned of the tragic killing of a young couple who served at the Israeli embassy in Washington, D.C. Our hearts are with their loved ones during this devastating time.
These moments speak to the heart of Parshat Behar, which teaches us to treasure the land of Israel and to live with the deep trust that God sustains us, even in times of uncertainty and pain.
As we prepare for Shavuot, we find ourselves in a season of both counting and cultivating. The Omer period marks not just the journey from Pesach to Har Sinai, but also a process of inner growth, refining our character and deepening our trust in God as we prepare to receive the Torah. That is likely why we study Pirkei Avot each Shabbat during this time, to nourish our spiritual growth leading up to the revelation.
Parshat Behar opens with the laws of Shemitah, the sabbatical year during which the land is left to rest. This mitzvah reminds us that true security does not come from endless work, but from faith in Hashem. Even when we step back from labor, we remain in God's care.
This theme of bitachon, trust in God, always reminds me of a story I’ve shared before from my yeshiva years, when I had the opportunity to visit Rabbi Raphael Levin zt"l, a renowned kabbalist in Jerusalem. He was the youngest son of Rabbi Aryeh Levin, who became known throughout Israel for his deep compassion and advocacy for those on the margins of society, especially prisoners. Rabbi Aryeh Levin was the subject of the book A Tzadik in Our Time, and with a title like that, you can imagine just how extraordinary he was.
My visit with Rav Raphael Levin was, to be honest, mostly a strange experience: he sat mumbling various prayers under his breath the entire time. But just as I was about to leave, he suddenly grabbed my arm and said: “Always remember one thing. The Hebrew word for ‘worry,’ da’agah, contains four of the first five letters of the alphabet: aleph, gimel, dalet, and heh. The only one missing is bet, which stands for bitachon, trust in God. If you have da’agah, worry, that means you're missing bitachon. But if you have bitachon, if you truly trust in God, then there’s no room for da’agah.”
At the time, I thought he had shared with me a deep personal insight. Later, I found out he said the same thing to all of us.
Still, the message stayed with me, and I think it’s especially powerful as we approach Shavuot. While we often see Shavuot as a time for intellectual learning and spiritual inspiration, our parsha and this season of counting remind us that Torah can only truly be received when we bring with us a deep sense of bitachon. A trust that we matter to God, that we are loved and held by God, and that because of that relationship, in the end, things really will be okay.
Shabbat shalom.
Eliezer Hirsch