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 Shavuos is a mysterious holiday. This commemoration of receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai isn’t given a specific date for its celebration; instead, we are told in the Book of Exodus to schedule it seven weeks from the second night of Passover. The tradition is to enjoy four sumptuous meals over the two days of the holiday and ensure that at least a few of them feature dairy foods. Evidently, at Mount Sinai, we received the laws of kashrus but didn’t have time to master proper slaughtering practices, so eating dairy was safer. Another reason for cheesecake at this time of year: The gematria of the word chalav (milk) is forty, paralleling the number of days Moshe spent on the mountain.

 I am writing this on a long, lazy Tish’ah B’Av afternoon. The sky is a brilliant blue, and a gentle breeze is beckoning me outside to get on my bike. No, not today. I must conserve my energy. At my synagogue, we have undertaken a dramatic journey using prayer, compelling speakers, and the chanting of Kinos, the anguished, eyewitness poetry of Jewish suffering through the ages. We sit on the floor wearing wrinkled clothing and simple, non-leather shoes. We acknowledge each other with a stare, recognizing this day is not about camaraderie; it’s about alienation and exile, death and mourning, dashed hopes and bitter tears. Tish’ah B’Av was once a universally observed commemoration of disasters befalling the Jewish People. Nowadays, the fast is undertaken by perhaps ten percent of the tribe. That in itself is reason to mourn.

I am who I am thanks to Shabbat. Due to this biblically mandated institution, I have peace of mind, a flourishing community, a great relationship with my family, and a career where I traverse the country singing its praises. All this benefit for just taking a day off! The Torah emphasizes Shabbat more than any other ritual because it provides the most profound physical, financial, and emotional evidence that one is serious about a relationship with G-d. I discovered prioritizing Shabbat is the benchmark, the golden ticket, the minimum deposit required to open a high-yield spiritual bank account. In my new neighborhood, Shabbat was joyous, intellectually invigorating, and united all age groups.

Hagaon HaRav Gershon Edelstein, Shlita, Gives Comprehensive Address to Bachurim Entering Yeshiva Gedolah

Over 3,000 bachurim gathered at the Armanot Chen Hall in Bnei Brak at the end of the zeman to hear guidance from the Gedolei Hador and leading Roshei Yeshiva at Dirshu’s ‘Seder Hachana’ Event. Seder Hachana is a unique maamad specifically designed for one demographic, bachurim leaving yeshiva ketana (high school aged yeshiva) and entering yeshiva gedolah (beis medrash level). The transition from yeshiva ketana – a system that is very regimented - to yeshiva Gedolah - which offers much more independent learning, can mean the difference between a lifetime of success in learning or challilah the opposite. It is a transition that requires much guidance.

Rav Chaim Kanievsky Attends Inaugural Asifa and Writes Seminal Letter

By Chaim Gold

Anyone who has merited to enter the hallowed home of the Sar HaTorah, Maran HaGaon HaRav Chaim Kanievsky, shlita, can attest to the overwhelming feeling of awe and kedusha permeating the air. Just being in the presence of the Sar HaTorah is a deeply life-altering experience.

An urban executive with very little Jewish education started studying with a rabbi. He had been encouraged by one of his peers to give it a try and Torah study soon became a high point in his week. This encounter with his heritage boosted his Jewish self-esteem and gave him fodder to discuss with his family, now that they started dining together on Friday nights. One thing that bothered him, however, was when the rabbi referred to their sessions as “learning together.” The executive called the rabbi on this one day: “We’re not learning together, rabbi. You are teaching me. Why not call a spade a spade?” “No, quite the opposite,” said the rabbi. “I learn from your world of experience, and you learn from mine.” “What?” the executive replied. “Don’t patronize me! I barely went to Hebrew school, and you are a well-trained rabbi.” The rabbi thought for a moment and responded: “Imagine you are racing Michael Phelps in an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Who would win?” “Well, of course Phelps would destroy me,” said the executive. The rabbi stated, “Now picture the two of you dropped in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Who would win in a race back to LA? You see, we’re both in the middle of the Pacific, you and me. In the vast world of G-d’s Torah, the deepest ocean in the universe, we’re even.”