Parashat Tazria-Metzora: How Does Spiritual Disease Allude to the amplified Divine Intimacy in the Land of Israel?

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Parashat Tazria-Metzora

How Does Spiritual Disease Allude to the amplified Divine Intimacy in the Land of Israel? 

What are the Spiritual Messages of the Predicaments that Hashem Sends Us?

Living in the Holy Land means living with Hashem – and being sensitively attuned to His Divine messages. How often has it happened that the phone disconnected in the middle of a meaningful conversation? In that quiet pause before we reconnected, I would reflect: perhaps Hashem was whispering, urging me to consider that what I was about to say might be better left unsaid. I try to attentively listen to these subtle Divine messages and use them as opportunities for self-introspection that lead me to mend my ways. Yet, one message seems to repeat itself year after year – as if we somehow keep missing its lesson.

For decades, our rental apartment, located just below our home, has leaked during the rainy season. There’s nothing we haven’t tried to locate and fix the leaks. Last summer, we went as far as dismantling the entire patio, which also serves as the apartment’s roof, and resealing it with high-grade roofing tar. We even hired an expert to remove the patio’s glass doors to apply sealants beneath them. Despite pouring all our savings into fixing the problem, this winter’s heavy rains still managed to find their way in. Occasional raindrops still dripped into our downstairs apartment, bringing with them the inevitable mold, making our home’s predicament feel eerily similar to the biblical tzara’at described in Parashat Metzora.

Tzara’at is a spiritual affliction that can appear on skin, garments, and even house walls. So I asked myself and my husband: Why are we continuously afflicted with leaks? Why does this keep happening to us? What is the spiritual message Hashem is sending us through this recurring household plague?

Why does the Biblical Tzara’at only Affect Homes and People in the Holy Land?

The Torah specifies that the phenomenon of tzara’at affecting homes occurs only upon entering the Land of Canaan:​

ספר ויקרא פרק יד  פסוק לד כִּי תָבֹאוּ אֶל אֶרֶץ כְּנַעַן אֲשֶׁר אֲנִי נֹתֵן לָכֶם לַאֲחֻזָּה וְנָתַתִּי נֶגַע צָרַעַת בְּבֵית אֶרֶץ אֲחֻזַּתְכֶם:

“When you come to the land of Canaan, which I am giving you as a possession, and I place an eruptive plague (tzara'at) upon a house in the land of your possession” (Vayikra 14:34).

When reading about the mysterious affliction of tzara’at – the spiritual skin condition that can appear on people, clothing, and even the walls of one’s home – we may wonder: why do these laws seem so distant from us today? And why, according to Chazal, did they apply only in the Land of Israel?

The answer reveals something profound about the unique relationship between Eretz Yisrael and spiritual sensitivity. The afflictions described are not merely physical ailments – they are spiritual indicators. They serve as divine communications, urging us to reflect and realign our lives toward holiness. The Land of Israel, in its unique sanctity, acts as a mirror, reflecting the inner spiritual state of its people. When the inhabitants maintain purity and righteousness, the land flourishes; when they falter, the land responds accordingly.

The Shelah HaKadosh teaches that tzara’at is not merely a natural phenomenon, nor even a punishment in the conventional sense. Rather, it is a direct message from Hashem – a holy signal that something is misaligned in a person’s inner life. He explains that our Torah verse is intentionally specific. Tzara’at on homes does not occur in the Diaspora. Why? Because this affliction only appears in “the land of your inheritance” – the Land of Israel. Not because the law is bound to the land in a halachic sense, but because the Shechinah dwelling in Eretz Yisrael reveals spiritual impurity in visible, tangible ways. The very presence of Hashem in His chosen land makes such spiritual signals possible.

Only in the Holy Land are Our Homes, Garments, and Skin Messengers of Truth

Based on Torat Kohani on Vayikra 13:47, the Shelah adds that tzara’at on houses only appeared after the land was conquered and divided. Only then does the land itself become a mirror of our inner life. The moment we recognize our portion – and truly internalize that our home is our own, the Divine presence settles more fully among the Jewish people. Only then, when our minds become settled and prepared to know Hashem, can the Shechinah dwell among us.

This notion reshapes our understanding of what it means to live in Eretz Yisrael. The Land is not neutral. It is spiritually alive. Just as the Mishkan revealed Hashem’s presence through the Pillar of Fire and the Clouds of Glory, the Land reveals His presence through the blessings and the consequences that arise when our lives become misaligned.

Tzara’at, in this sense, is not a curse but a form of spiritual intimacy. The Land itself speaks to us. It helps us realign. It awakens us when we’ve gone astray. This is why Chazal state that tzara’at is not possible outside the Land. As the Shelah HaKadosh puts it: “Outside the Land... such events will never happen.” Because in other lands, the Divine light is hidden. The soul’s misalignment does not find expression in visible signs. But in Eretz Yisrael – the land where Hashem dwells among us – the very walls of our homes, the fabric of our garments, and even the appearance of our skin can become messengers of truth (Rabbi Yesha’yahu Horowitz, The Shelah HaKodesh on Tractate Pesachim, Matzah Ashira).

How do We Discover the Hidden Goodness Behind the Walls?

The concept that tzara’at could appear on the walls of a house in the Land of Israel may seem frightening – yet the Torah states:  וְנָתַתִּי נֶגַע צָרַעַת, “And I will give a plague of tzara’at…” (Vayikra 14:34). The use of the word וְנָתַתִּי/ve’natati – “I will give” – is unusual for something seemingly negative. Rashi explains that this is actually “good news for them,” because the Amorites had hidden treasures of gold within the walls of their homes during the forty years that Israel wandered in the wilderness. Through the appearance of the plague and the ensuing demolition of the walls, these treasures would be revealed (Rashi, Vayikra 14:34).

The Aish Kodesh draws on this Rashi to impart a profound concept: It was specifically through a plague that the house would be broken open and the hidden treasures discovered. This teaches us that even what appears at first to be a spiritual downfall – impurity, quarantine, and destruction – may, in truth, be a hidden opportunity for elevation.

Yet why was it necessary to undergo seven days of quarantine before discovering the gold? Since the plagues on houses and garments were supernatural events – clearly sent for the benefit of Israel to reveal hidden treasures – why delay by first declaring the house impure?

The Aish Kodesh explains that this process strengthens our emunah – our faith that everything Hashem does for us is ultimately for our good, even when He strikes us with suffering, Heaven forbid. It is especially challenging to maintain our emunah when we experience suffering in ways that seem, Heaven forbid, to distance us from Hashem Himself. Therefore, the Torah teaches us: first, seven days of impurity – and only afterward, the hidden treasure is revealed. Although the tzara’at of the house rendered it impure and appeared at first to be a punishment distancing us from G-d, in truth, it served Hashem’s purpose for the ultimate good (Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, The Aish Kodesh, Parashat Metzora).

Perhaps the humbling suffering of tzara’at opened the hearts of those afflicted to truly seek Hashem – just as tzara’at only occurred in the Holy Land, after it had been conquered, divided, and settled enough for the people to begin seeking Hashem.

Sometimes, the plague revealed gold hidden in the walls. And sometimes, as Aish Kodesh points out, the gold is hidden within the person’s own journey. First, there are seven days of waiting and self-introspection. Then, with faith and humility, the treasure is revealed.

The homeowner must say only: “Something like a plague appears to me in the house” (Vayikra 14:35). Even if he is a learned Torah scholar who knows with certainty that it is tzara’at, he must still phrase it cautiously – “something like a plague” – because no person can truly know whether it is entirely a negative sign or, in truth, a hidden good that Hashem is preparing. Ultimately, all is for the good of Israel – Hashem’s hidden kindness, waiting to reveal itself.

How Can We Experience Spiritual Awareness Through the Physical?

Parashat Tazria – Metzora teaches us to see the physical world not as separate from the spiritual, but as its very gateway. Through our skin, our garments, and even our homes, Hashem sends us messages – not to punish, but to awaken. When blemishes appear, they call us not to despair, but to look deeper. Often, they even conceal hidden treasures. Always, they invite us to refine, realign, and return.

As the Bat Ayin beautifully explains, the true path of da’at – of integrated consciousness – is to connect earth and heaven (Rav Avraham Dov Ber Auerbach, the Bat Ayin, Parashat Tazria). When we sanctify the physical through mitzvot, we are not escaping the world; we are elevating it. The Torah is teaching us how to live with spiritual awareness in a physical world, and nowhere is this more true than in the Land of Israel, where every field, garment, and home can become a dwelling for the Shechinah.

May we truly live with integrated consciousness uniting physicality with spirituality – and in doing so, draw the Divine presence ever closer. May we merit living with such awareness: to recognize the Land’s messages not with fear, but with reverence. And may we transform our daily lives – our eating, our speech, our clothing, and our homes – into vessels of holiness, so that our homes in Eretz Yisrael be filled with light, love, and purity, inviting the Shechinah to dwell among us!

Parashat Shemini: Why Does Eating Kosher Food Mindfully Help Us Merit Living in The Holy Land?

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Parashat Shemini

Why Does Eating Kosher Food Mindfully Help Us Merit Living in The Holy Land? 

Why Were Many Newcomers to Torah Vegetarian Before Embracing the Torah Path?
My husband and I were both vegetarians for a period before joining a yeshiva and returning to the Torah path. We soon discovered that many other ba’alei teshuvah shared a similar experience – instinctively cutting out meat a while before embracing the Torah path. Looking back, it’s clear this wasn’t a coincidence. For many of us, abstaining from meat was an unconscious preparation for spiritual sensitivity – a distancing from the unrefined in pursuit of the pure. 

Returning to meat wasn’t easy. It was even more challenging for us environmentalists who cared deeply about animal life and found the concept of animal sacrifice especially difficult to accept. It took heartfelt guidance from our beloved teacher, Rabbi Goldstein zt”l, who explained that sacrifices are not merely ritual slaughter but acts of elevation. The animals, he said, willingly stretched their necks – not as victims, but as offerings ascending to a higher spiritual state. “When a Jew eats meat mindfully,” he taught us, “the animal becomes part of something far greater – not just a human being, but a holy Jew.” 

This is especially true at a Shabbat table where the food’s energy is directed toward singing holy tunes, sharing words of Torah, and mitzvot. Rabbi Goldstein encouraged us to print menu cards for our Shabbat meals that proclaimed: “Our table is a mizbeach (altar), and our food is a korban (sacrifice).” We would joyfully recite this sentence each time we broke bread, transforming our meals into a form of avodah (spiritual service). I believe our temporary abstinence from meat helped purify our hearts and made us more receptive to the truth of Torah. Our yearning for holiness led us to intuitively reject impure, non-kosher meat, which is a spiritually numbing food that dulls the soul and clouds inner perception. After learning the laws of kashrut, most of us gradually returned to eating meat, this time with reverence and discernment, understanding that kosher meat – consumed with mindful intention – is not a descent into the physical but a pathway for spiritual elevation.

How is the Responsibility of Holiness Distinguished in the Land of Israel?
Parashat Shemini centers on the sanctity of the Mishkan and the strict requirements for Divine service. For many of us who returned to Torah observance, the process of spiritual growth began with refining what we ate and how we lived here in the Holy Land. It is no coincidence that the Torah places great emphasis on holiness in physical acts, especially in eating. The sanctity of the Mishkan – the dwelling place of the Shechinah – required preparation, purity, and boundaries. Likewise, the sanctity of the Land of Israel depends on how we live within it and sanctify the physical, Eretz Yisrael, even the physical becomes spiritual. Being careful to eat only kosher food – from which the blood of the animal has been removed – is one way to merit living in the holy land.

ספר ויקרא פרק יא פסוק מג אַל תְּשַׁקְּצוּ אֶת נַפְשֹׁתֵיכֶם בְּכָל הַשֶּׁרֶץ הַשֹּׁרֵץ וְלֹא תִטַּמְּאוּ בָּהֶם וְנִטְמֵתֶם בָּם:

“You shall not make yourselves abominable with any creeping creature that creeps, and you shall not defile yourselves with them, that you should become impure through them” (Vayikra 11:43).

The Ramban explains that the holiness of the land is bound to our actions. The mitzvot were primarily given to be fulfilled in the Land of Israel, and it is only here that the Shechinah can truly dwell. Since the Land of Israel, the center of the inhabited world, is the inheritance of Hashem, and specially designated for His Name, when dwelling in His Land we must be sanctified in our conduct, to be worthy of His presence. This is especially so in matters of forbidden relationships and other mitzvot tied to the purity of body and soul.  That is why the Torah warns: “Keep all My statutes and ordinances… so that the Land does not vomit you out” (Vayikra 20:22). Eretz Yisrael does not tolerate impurity. Outside the Land – even though all belongs to Hashem – purity is never complete due to the ruling spiritual forces, and nations assigned their own celestial guardians. But in the Land of Yisrael, Hashem alone is our G-d, and we are uniquely bound to Him. The fullness of Divine service is meant to take place specifically in the Land of Israel (Ramban, Vayikra 18:25).

What is the Connection Between the Holiness of the Mishkan and the Land of Israel?

Eretz Yisrael is not just a backdrop for holiness – it is a living participant in the spiritual destiny of the Jewish people. The Torah teaches that the land will “vomit out” those who defile it (Vayikra 18:28), emphasizing that Eretz Yisrael cannot tolerate sin. The Sifra elaborates that the land itself becomes defiled through immoral behavior and, as a consequence, expels its inhabitants (Sifra Acharei Mot 13). 

This spiritual sensitivity distinguishes the Holy Land from all other lands. Entering Egypt was optional, but entering the Land of Israel is a Divine obligation. In Egypt, whether or not Bnei Yisrael followed Hashem’s will, they were allowed to remain. But Eretz Yisrael is different. If you fulfill the will of the Creator, then the land of Canaan is given to you. But if not, you are exiled from it. As it states: “Let not the land vomit you out for defiling it” (Vayikra 18:28); (Sifre Parashat Ekev Piska 2). This makes living in the Land of Israel not just a privilege, but a responsibility. 

Holiness is not an automatic consequence of being in a holy place – it must be cultivated through Torah, mitzvot, and inner refinement. The connection between the Mishkan and the Land is rooted in this shared sanctity. Just as the Shechinah only rested in the Mishkan when Israel was purified, so too does it rest in the Land only when its inhabitants live with spiritual integrity. As Rav Moshe Cordovero teaches, the desert generation experienced the spiritual reality of Eretz Yisrael even before entering its borders – for the air, atmosphere, and angels of the Land accompanied the Shechinah wherever it rested. “…the air of the Land of Israel went with the generation of the desert… with the Shechinah, which traveled with them… until the entry into the Land of Israel, to its appropriate place. There is the resting place of sanctity, for there is the gateway to heaven” (Pardes Rimonim 25:2). 

Thus, the Land of Israel is not just the destination of our national journey – it is the vessel for Divine presence. Its holiness responds to our behavior. When we live with purity and intention, the Shechinah dwells among us. But when we defile the Land, it recoils. Just as the Shechinah departed the Mishkan when sanctity was breached, so too does the Land expel those who abandon the path of holiness.

Why is Eating in Holiness the Kosher Pathway to Divine Awareness?

Parashat Shemini includes the foundational laws of kashrut, distinguishing between pure and impure animals. “For I am Hashem who brought you up from the land of Egypt to be your G-d – you shall therefore be holy, for I am holy” (Vayikra 11:45). Rashi notes that this verse implies the very act of keeping kosher elevates us to holiness (Rashi, Vayikra 11:45). Eating is one of the most physical and earthly acts – yet the Torah teaches that it can become an act of holiness. The food we ingest becomes part of our bodies – and thus, part of the vessels through which we serve Hashem. 

The Zohar notes that וְנִטְמֵתֶם בָּם “You shall become impure through them” (Vayikra 11:43) is written defectively, without an alef, to imply a state of sealed impurity from which there is no easy purification. Whoever defiles himself with unkosher foods is considered as if he worships idols. One who serves idolatry departs from the realm of holiness and enters the realm of impurity. So too, one who eats forbidden foods is drawn into spiritual defilement – in this world and the next. Therefore, it is written: “Do not make yourselves abominable through the animal and the bird and all that creeps on the ground, which I have set apart from you to regard as impure” (Vayikra 20:25); (Zohar III, 42a). 

Non-kosher food cannot be elevated; it dulls the soul and causes spiritual insensitivity that prevents us from fully experiencing closeness with Hashem. On the other hand, eating kosher food in sanctity with the right intention can be spiritually transformative. It allows us to elevate the physical world and turn it into a vehicle for Divine service. When we bless with kavanah, eat mindfully, and use that energy to serve Hashem, we elevate the physical and transform it into an experience of spiritual connection (Tanya, Likutei Amarim, Chapter 7). This has particular resonance in the Land of Israel. Only kosher food – ideally grown or prepared with mitzvah-consciousness – resonates with the spiritual frequency of the Land. Eating in holiness becomes a pathway for aligning with Eretz Yisrael’s inherent sanctity.

Which Efforts Can Help Us Live in True Shalom in the Holy Land?

Parashat Shemini reminds us that holiness is not about otherworldliness – it is about elevating the world we live in. Whether it is fire brought to the altar or food brought to our lips, the way we live and what we consume matter deeply. The Land of Israel magnifies this truth. It is a land that responds to the spiritual level of its inhabitants – and demands their moral and spiritual refinement. In the place where the Shechinah resides, we are invited to uplift the physical through mindful mitzvah performance. Here, eating kosher food in holiness is not only a mitzvah but a key that unlocks deeper alignment with the land’s essence. The mitzvot hateluyot ba’aretz – agricultural commandments unique to the Land – illustrate this unity between body and soul, sustenance and sanctity. Tithes, Terumot, Ma’aserot, and the Shemitah year remind us that even our eating must be done in covenant with Hashem. 

May we merit to eat in holiness, dwell in holiness, and uplift every corner of our physical lives, especially in the holy atmosphere of Eretz Yisrael. May our endeavors to live holy lives in the holy land bring about lasting shalom to the Land of Israel and the world! May our efforts to sanctify the mundane empower our holy soldiers to liberate the Land in its entirety. May our sincere service return the Shechinah in her full glory to her sacred resting place.

Parashat Tzav: What is the Connection Between the Eternal Fire and the Land of Israel?

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Parashat Tzav
What is the Connection Between the Eternal Fire and the Land of Israel?

How Can we Keep Our Fire Going While Constantly Breathing Continued Life into Others?

“I don’t know how I can go on anymore – everything is just too much,” cried a student (let’s call her Sarah) at my kitchen table. “I just want a simple life, enjoying the closeness with Hashem experienced here in the Holy Land in peace and quiet,” she continued. “There are so many demands on me – everyone wants my attention, and to engage in deep heart-to-heart conversations with me, it’s just all too much!” Sarah’s words reflected my own feelings of being overwhelmed with demands, dealing with various emergencies, and tedious administrative tasks on top of all the Pesach cleaning. I wish I could just peacefully settle on my land, softly playing my harp, prayerfully tending to the garden, and writing my books without all the interruptions. Sarah’s words, “I need a break; I can’t go on anymore!” couldn’t have reverberated more in my own heart. How can I keep my fire going when I am constantly having to breathe continued life into my institution? How many years have I had to write new rules? Dealing with challenging students and staff, ensuring we have enough money to pay our bills and avoid going into minus, tossing and turning in bed about losing a staff member, and trying to shift staff roles to make sure all the vital chores would be covered? For nearly 30 years, I have nursed and diapered, pulsating my blood, heartbeat, and essential life force to keep everything going. I, like Sarah, longed for peace and quiet to serve Hashem without interruptions. Yet, how do we grow in the Torah way and in our relationship with Hashem? Perhaps our understanding of serving Hashem is topsy-turvy. “What does it really mean to serve Hashem without interruptions for a Jew?” I asked Sarah. “Doesn’t the name Yisrael mean, ‘You have struggled with G-d and with people and you have prevailed’ (Bereishit 32:28)? Don’t we learn from this that it is precisely through the interruptions to our ‘peace and quiet’ that we serve Hashem in the highest way?” So perhaps we need to exchange our mindset – from assuming that the challenging drama with people and with figuring out the way of G-d are interruptions to our Divine service – to realizing that it may be the ‘peace and quiet’ that interrupts our true Divine service of continuous struggle.

The Eternal Fire on the Altar: A Flame Burning in the Soul of Every Jew
Reading the opening in Parashat Tzav describing the eternal flame of the altar encouraged me to keep my own fire burning. It is only when we allow the chametz (ego) of Amalek to inject the poison of doubt into our bloodstream that we feel our strength ebbing out. Our fire will remain steadfast, as long as we keep strengthening our emunah that whatever challenge we are undergoing, it is 100% designated from our Creator to help us grow. There is no greater way of serving Hashem than keeping the fire of emunah going. Perhaps this is why the Torah repeats how the fire on the altar must never be extinguished:

ספר ויקרא פרק ו פסוק ה וְהָאֵשׁ עַל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ תּוּקַד בּוֹ לֹא תִכְבֶּה וּבִעֵר עָלֶיהָ הַכֹּהֵן עֵצִים בַּבֹּקֶר בַּבֹּקֶר וְעָרַךְ עָלֶיהָ הָעֹלָה וְהִקְטִיר עָלֶיהָ חֶלְבֵי הַשְּׁלָמִים: פסוק ו וְאֵשׁ הַמִּזְבֵּחַ תּוּקַד בּוֹ לֹא תִכְבֶּה:

“The fire on the altar shall be kept burning on it; it shall not be extinguished. The kohen shall kindle wood upon it every morning, and upon it, he shall arrange the burnt offering and cause the fats of the peace offerings to go up in smoke upon it. “A continuous fire shall burn upon the altar; it shall not go out” (Vayikra 6:5-6).

The repetition of keeping the fire of the altar burning suggests that this fire did not simply serve to cook the sacrifices offered to Hashem upon the altar. Rather, the eternal burning of the flame was crucial in and of itself, as an independent value, to arouse our internal flame – to keep going against all the odds – and burn away the doubts that weaken our spiritual determination.

A Sacred Tool for Spiritual Endurance

This eternal flame is not merely a technical detail of ritual worship. It symbolizes the ever-present relationship between Israel and Hashem. The fire and flame that must never be extinguished reflect the spark of divine connection that is meant to burn constantly within the heart and soul of every Jew.  The Maggid of Kozhnitz, author of Avodat Yisrael, quotes a teaching from the Siddur haAri, citing a tradition from the prophet Eliyahu, that a spiritual remedy for distracting thoughts, is to recite the verse: אֵשׁ תָּמִיד תּוּקַד עַל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ לֹא תִכְבֶּה/Aish tamid tukad al hamizbeach lo tichbeh – “A constant fire shall burn on the altar; it shall never go out” (Vayikra 6:6). This verse serves as a spiritual tool to remove impure thoughts and ignite inner holiness. The Maggid takes this further, identifying the Yetzer Hara – the evil inclination – as one who schemes “to kill his fellow,” meaning the Yetzer Tov (good inclination), through devious and misleading thoughts. These words seem to speak directly to Sarah and me, reminding us, as Rebbe Nachman is famously known to say: כִּי אֵין שׁוּם יִאוּשׁ בָּעוֹלָם כְּלָל – “There is no despair whatsoever in the world” (Likutei Moharan Mahadura Batra 78). When the yetzer hara gets the better of us (G-d forbid), making us feel that we can’t go on, reciting, אֵשׁ תָּמִיד תּוּקַד עַל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ לֹא תִכְבֶּה pulses renewed emunah into our spiritual arteries, strengthening our determination and stamina to keep going – as the old proverb says, “When the going gets tough, the tough gets going!” (Joseph P. Kennedy). The Maggid interprets the verse, “From My altar you shall take him to die” (Shemot 21:14), to mean that by invoking this verse about the eternal flame, we awaken the soul’s passion for holiness and dispel impurity – let me add: the impurity of despair. (Avodat Yisrael, Parashat Mishpatim, v’Chi Yazid Ish al Re’ehu l’hargo b’Ormah etc.). This teaches us that the inner fire of the Jewish soul, sparked by Torah and mitzvot, is deeply connected to the fire on the altar.  The eternal flame thus becomes a metaphor for our spiritual endurance – a fire that must be safeguarded, fed, and kept alive.

Eretz Yisrael – The Only Home for the Eternal Mikdash

The eternal flame, though kindled through divine service everywhere, reaches its full brilliance only in Eretz Yisrael. Although Parashat Tzav takes place during the Israelites’ wilderness period, the mitzvot surrounding the offerings and the constant fire are destined for ultimate fulfillment in the final Beit Hamikdash (Temple). According to Ramban all the details of the Mishkan are essentially a blueprint for the Temple in Jerusalem. Scripture alludes to this when it says, “For I have not dwelt in a house from the day that I brought up the children of Israel out of Egypt, to this day, but have walked in a tent and in a tabernacle. In all places wherein I have walked among all the children of Israel, did I speak a word with any of the tribes of Israel whom I commanded to shepherd My people Israel, saying: ‘Why do you not build for Me a house of cedar?’” (II Shemuel 7:6–7; see Ramban on Bamidbar 16:21). This reveals a deeper truth: the Mishkan was a temporary vessel for the eternal Temple, which could only find permanence in the Land of Israel. The Shechinah accompanied Bnei Yisrael in the desert, but her true home is in the land that Hashem chose. As it states, “For Hashem has chosen Tzion; He has desired it for His dwelling place” (Tehillim 132:13). This makes Eretz Yisrael not only our homeland but also the spiritual address for divine presence, and for the fire that must never go out. Just as the offerings must be brought only in the place that Hashem chooses, so too the ongoing spiritual service of the Jewish people reaches its apex only in the Land of Israel.

The Fire of the Soul – Kindled in the Land

The spiritual air of the Land makes one wise (Babylonian Talmud, Baba Batra 158b). It also deepens our connection to Hashem, heightens our awareness of His presence, and attunes us to the inner fire. Parashat Tzav reminds us that true divine service is not sporadic or seasonal – it is constant. The eternal flame is not just on the altar but within us. The fire that must never go out reflects the spark of divine connection that is meant to burn constantly within the heart of every Jew. That flame finds its fullest expression only in the place where it was divinely kindled – Eretz Yisrael. The Zohar teaches: “A constant fire on the altar – this is the Torah, about which it says: ‘Is not My word like fire?’” (Yirmiyahu 23:29; cited in Rav Tzaddok of Lublin, Pri Tzaddik, Parashat Tzav 4).  The eternal flame on the altar alludes to the inner fire of the Jewish soul – a flame kindled through Torah and mitzvot. Each act of divine service fuels that fire, like a new log placed on the altar of the heart, keeping the inner fire alive and glowing, especially in the sacred atmosphere of Eretz Yisrael. During the ongoing challenges of Israel’s current war, we witness the holiness of the Jewish flame of endurance. It is only through the eternal flame of emunah that our brave soldiers get their strength to keep fighting for everlasting peace. The Shelah HaKadosh writes that although the fire descends from heaven, it is still a mitzvah to bring fire from below. This teaches us that our earthly effort to maintain a spiritual flame invites divine response – our inner fire awakens the heavenly flame (The Shelah Hakodesh, Mesechet Pesachim, Matzah Ashira). Shelah’s message comes to life in the way the IDF and world Jewry are aroused to keep the flame of emunah burning – drawing down the Divine response of protection and miracles as never before.

Returning to the Place of the Flame

Just as the altar’s fire in the Mishkan was a continuation of the fire from Sinai – where the mountain burned with divine presence – so too did this fire descend from heaven and rest specifically on the altar of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. No other place was worthy of it. In our days, as we continue to yearn for the rebuilding of the Beit Hamikdash, we must remember that the foundation of that eternal house is built by our daily commitment to keep our inner altars alive. Living in Eretz Yisrael, learning her Torah, loving her holiness, and praying for her redemption – these are our logs and oil. The altar fire is not only a divine gift, but also a human calling. The faithfulness of the Temple fire is an invitation: keep your own flame burning. By nurturing the flame of emunah, we can overcome the temptations of despair and despondency. Just as the altar must be stoked daily, so too must we cultivate the fire of faith within us, until our inner flame becomes an everlasting light. In a world that seeks to dim the Jewish flame, the Land of Israel stands as the place where we can keep it burning – with faith, with love, and with tenacity. Just as the fire of the Tabernacle altar was never extinguished, and continued to burn upon the Temple altar, so too will it burn eternally in the final Temple we await. May we soon see the fire return to its rightful place – and may the holy flame within each of us rise up to meet it.

Parashat Vayikra: How Does Vayikra’s Small Alef Teach that the Land of Israel is Designated for Revelation?

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Parashat Vayikra
How Does Vayikra’s Small Alef Teach that the Land of Israel is Designated for Revelation?

 

Why Did the Teenager Cry so Profusely When Leaving the Land of Israel?
I’ll never forget it. Once, as I was boarding a flight for my annual international speaking tour, I passed a girl who looked like a typical gap-year student – denim skirt, casual T-shirt stamped with a bold quote. But it wasn’t her appearance that caught my attention. It was the sound of her loud, heartfelt sobs and the stream of sincere tears down her cheeks. I paused and asked gently, “Why are you crying?” offering her a tissue. “I’m leaving Israel – I’m leaving Eretz Yisrael! This is the saddest moment of my life. How can I be away from the Land of Israel?” she cried through her tears. As much as I wanted to engage in a deeper conversation with this girl, I had to move along – the line behind me was pressing forward. But even after I found my seat and recited the prayer for a safe air travel, I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl who cried so profusely because of leaving the Land of Israel. Her weeping was more than emotional; it was soulful. I’m sure if I had asked her to explain her deep attachment to Israel, she would’ve struggled to articulate it. Her connection was beyond explanation – it radiated from the depth of her Jewish soul. And perhaps her tears have etched into my memory so vividly because I feel the same way. Every time I leave Israel – even for a short visit to honor my parents – it feels like a murky cloud dulls my inner light. I sense myself drifting from my spiritual center, from the place where I feel most at home in my soul. Whereas some of my relatives fear visiting Israel, I always feel safest here, where the Divine Presence is near. Whenever I travel abroad, I remind myself of the Talmudic promise: “Those on the path to perform a mitzvah are not susceptible to harm” (Babylonian Talmud, Pesachim 8a). Still, I count the days until I return. And when I do, the moment the plane’s wheels touch the holy soil, and we break into applause, I am overcome by the quiet but unmistakable feeling of coming home. The holiness of the land touches me to tears of return.

Why is the Land of Israel the Only Place Where Prophecy Blossoms?

What does my spiritual homecoming have to do with Parashat Vayikra? I must admit that it is challenging to tie the Torah portions that don’t mention the land of Israel directly to the Land of Israel. We need to dig beyond the surface to discover the deeper underlying connections.

Parashat Vayikra opens with Hashem addressing Moshe after the Mishkan had been completed,

ספר ויקרא פרק א פסוק א וַיִּקְרָא אֶל משֶׁה וַיְדַבֵּר יְהוָֹה אֵלָיו מֵאֹהֶל מוֹעֵד לֵאמֹר:

“Then He called to Moshe, and Hashem spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying” (Vayikra 1:1). 

The first word of this verse וַיִּקְרָא/Vayikra – “He called,” contains an unusual scribal deviation – it is written with a small, diminished א/alef. The midrash and commentaries offer various explanations, many of which highlight Moshe’s humility, which we will address further on. Yet this small alef also carries a profound message about the nature of revelation – and the role of Eretz Yisrael as the spiritual epicenter of that calling.  The opening of Vayikra marks the moment when Hashem speaks to Moshe not from atop Mount Sinai, but from within the Mishkan. This shift in setting underscores the transition from a one-time, grand national revelation at Sinai to an ongoing, intimate relationship rooted in sacred space. The Shechinah did not dwell in the Mishkan while the people wandered aimlessly. It began once the Mishkan was erected, oriented toward entry into the Promised Land. Rabbi Yehuda Halevi makes a powerful claim: prophecy is bound to the Land of Israel. “But it is not possible for this unique spiritual faculty to reach its divine objective apart from this place, just as a vineyard cannot thrive outside its specific mountain soil.” He teaches that no one received prophecy except in the Land or for the sake of the Land. Avraham received prophecy in order to travel there. Even the exceptions – Yechezkel and Daniel, for example – experienced prophetic visions because of the presence of the Shechinah, which had been exiled with them, having once resided in the First Temple of Jerusalem. Thus, the unique spiritual potential of the Chosen People – the heart of humanity –to prophesy can only be fully actualized and blossom within the Holy Land. The land of Israel is referred to as “before Hashem,” about which it is said: “The eyes of Hashem your G-d are upon it always” (Devarim 11:12; The Kuzari 2:12-14).

How is the Small Alef a Sign of Moshe’s Humility?

The connection between the small alef and the significance of the Land of Israel can be understood through the importance of humility and submission to G-d’s will, as a prerequisite for upholding the sanctity essential for dwelling in Eretz Yisrael, where the Shechinah is most manifest. By humbling ourselves, we make room within to invite the Shechinah to dwell. Rashi explains that the small alef in the word Vayikra signifies Moshe’s modesty; unlike Bilam, to whom G-d “happened upon” (vayikar), implying a casual encounter, Hashem “called” (vayikra) Moshe, indicating a deliberate and affectionate communication. Moshe, in his humility, wished to downplay this distinction represented by the alef. Therefore, he reduced the size of the alef. ​ When Moshe was commanded to write the word Vayikra, he objected. He did not want to write this word in a way that showed that he had a close relationship with Hashem. Moshe, as the most modest man on earth, did not want to convey his prophecy as being higher than Bilam’s. Even when Hashem forced him to write Vayikra and not vayikar, Moshe did so only with a small alef, so as not to draw attention to his special relationship with Hashem (Ba’al Turim, Vayikra 1:1). The Kotzker Rebbe explains an enigmatic Midrasic comment. The verse states that Moshe “did not know that his face was shining” (Shemot 34:30). Moshe had to cover his face to conceal this overpowering light for the sake of teaching his people. Moshe’s face shone because of the extra ink left over from writing the Sefer Torah. The luminescence of Moshe’s face came from the ink that Moshe left over when he chose to write the word Vayikra with a small alef. That ‘leftover ink,’ therefore, represents Moshe’s humility (The Midrash Tanchuma, Parashat Ki Tisa 37).  This aspect of humility was what made Moshe so holy that his face reflected the celestial light of the Shechinah, making it impossible to behold him with human eyes.

How is the Land of Israel Designated for Ultimate Intimacy with Hashem?
From the very beginning of creation, Eretz Yisrael is the land “before Hashem” – the place where divine presence is most tangibly revealed, and where humankind’s mission to connect with the divine reaches its fullest expression. It is no coincidence that Cain and Hevel fought over it, or that Yitzchak and Yishmael, Ya’acov and Esav, all contended over who would inherit this holy ground. Rabbi Yehuda Halevi explains that this is not merely a geographic conflict but a spiritual one – a struggle over who will be attached to the divine purpose and who will fall away like a discarded husk (The Kuzari 1:95). Although the desert experience conveyed the most intimate connection with Hashem, who guided the Israelites with His Clouds of Glory and fed them manna from heaven, nevertheless, the Zohar teaches us that no matter how good it is in Chutz LaAretz – even from a spiritual standpoint – something is lacking, for true Jewish perfection can only be attained in The Land of Israel! Nowadays, until October 7, many Jews have enjoyed tranquil spiritual lives in the diaspora, with bursting Jewish communities and Torah institutions. Yet despite the spiritual intimacy of the Israelites during the desert wandering, their existence was considered imperfect, simply because it was still outside of Israel. We learn this from the Zohar that puts the entire Book of VaYikra in perspective, by explaining the small alef of Vayikra most astoundingly: Why is there a small alef?  Because this “calling” was imperfect.  Why so?  For it took place in the Mishkan (Tabernacle) and in a foreign land, because true perfection can only be found in the Land of Israel (Tosafot HaZohar 1, quoted in Itturei Torah, vol. 3, p. 7; cited by Rabbi Moshe D. Lichtman, Vayikra and the Land of Israel). The diminished alef at the beginning of Parashat Vayikra alludes to the truth that only by serving Hashem in His Chosen Land can we attain our ultimate goal.

The Soil Where Divine Communication Blossoms
This Zohar transforms how we read the first verse of Vayikra which sets the tone for the entire book of Vayikra. The small alef doesn’t only reflect Moshe’s humility – it whispers a truth about the Land of Israel. Though hidden and subtle, Eretz Yisrael is the soil in which divine communication blossoms. Even the Vayikra, the “calling,” is specific to the Holy Land. Just as prophecy cannot flourish outside the Land, the highest expression of the Mishkan – the Beit Hamikdash could not be established elsewhere. The Shechinah rests only where Hashem has chosen – in the land uniquely fit for revelation. Thus, the small alef of Vayikra is not a diminishment – it is a distillation. It represents the concentrated holiness of a place uniquely chosen to carry divine presence. The Midrash affirms this by listing the times the word “Li” (to Me) appears – in connection with the Kohanim, the Levi’im, Eretz Yisrael, Jerusalem, the Beit Hamikdash, korbanot, and even prophecy itself. Wherever the Torah says “Li,” that entity or place is bound to Hashem for eternity – in this world and the next (Midrash Vayikra Rabbah 2:2). May we merit to live in the Land of Israel not merely as an inheritance of the past, but as the present and future landscape of our divine calling – the very ground of redemption and closeness to Hashem. May we merit to experience the return of prophecy in the land of divine revelation!