----- Forwarded Message -----From: "Rabbi Moshe Revah" <htcnews-htc.edu@shared1.ccsend.com>To: "mates57564@aol.com" <mates57564@aol.com>Sent: Thu, Aug 13, 2026 at 4:02 PMSubject: Dvar Torah from the Rosh HaYeshiva - Re'ehEmail from Hebrew Theological College
Dear Yeshiva Family:
As these words are being written, so many of us continue to daven for the recovery of our beloved alumnus and my dear talmid, Daniel Finkel. Anyone who knows Daniel knows the special sweetness that he carries with him, and the beautiful smile that seems almost permanently etched onto his face. Our hearts and our tefillos are with him and his family, as we continue to beseech the Ribbono Shel Olam for his complete recovery.
The Torah describes the moment when Klal Yisrael is preparing to go out to war. Standing before the soldiers, the Kohen declares:
“V’amar aleihem, Shema Yisrael, atem kreivim hayom lamilchamah al oyveichem; al yeirach levavchem, al tir’u…” — “He shall say to them: Shema Yisrael, you are approaching battle today against your enemies; do not let your hearts become faint, do not be afraid…”
Rashi is bothered by the seemingly unusual opening words of the Kohen’s declaration: “Shema Yisrael.” Why introduce the speech with the familiar words of Krias Shema?
Rashi explains even if the only merit that you possess is the merit of Krias Shema, that alone is sufficient for Hashem to save you.
Let’s think about this. Klal Yisrael is preparing for war. Lives are at stake. They need an enormous zechus for protection. And Chazal tell us that even if they have nothing else, if they possess the zechus of Krias Shema, that alone can be enough.
Why? Why should Krias Shema, specifically, possess such extraordinary power?
The Maharal explains that the answer lies in what we are declaring when we say Shema. “Hashem Echad” is not merely a statement that we believe in one G-d. It is a declaration that Hashem is the only true power in existence. There is no force that operates independently of Him, no power that can challenge Him, and no reality that exists outside of His control. Everything that happens in this world exists only because Hashem wills it to exist.
When a Jew says Shema and truly internalizes that reality, he connects himself to the ultimate source of all power. An enemy may appear overwhelmingly strong. The danger may appear terrifyingly real. But there is no independent “enemy power” standing opposite Hashem. There is only Hashem.
This idea is famously developed by the Nefesh HaChaim in Shaar Gimmel, perek 12. He writes that there is a “segulah gedolah v’nifla’ah” — an extraordinarily powerful means of protection — available to a person who firmly establishes within himself the recognition of “ein od milvado”: there is nothing besides Hashem.
A person can concentrate deeply on the truth that Hashem is the only power in existence, that nothing in the world has any independent ability to help him or harm him, and that every force and every circumstance is completely subordinate to the will of Hashem. The Nefesh HaChaim explains that to the degree that a person genuinely lives with this recognition, other forces cannot exercise control over him.
There is a famous story told about the Brisker Rav that illustrates just how literally the great baalei emunah understood this teaching.
During a time of war, the Brisker Rav found himself trapped together with a group of his talmidim. Soldiers were nearby, and there appeared to be no safe way for them to escape. The Brisker Rav instructed his talmidim that there was one thing they could do: they should concentrate completely on the words “ein od milvado.” They were to remove everything else from their minds and focus solely on the reality that there is no power in the world besides Hashem.
And then they began to walk.
They walked directly past the soldiers, completely exposed and in full view, while concentrating intensely on ein od milvado. Remarkably, the soldiers did not stop them.
At one point, however, a soldier suddenly turned and seemed to notice them. After they had safely escaped, the Brisker Rav turned to his talmidim and asked: “Who stopped thinking about ein od milvado at that moment?”
To the Brisker Rav, this was not simply a comforting thought to repeat in a moment of fear. It was a reality.
And perhaps this explains why, of all the mitzvos that Klal Yisrael could carry with them onto the battlefield, the Torah invokes Krias Shema.
A Jewish soldier may look across the battlefield and see an enemy. He may see weapons, armies, danger, and overwhelming odds. The Torah tells him: “Shema Yisrael.”
Remember Who is really here and remember where power really lies.
“Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad.” Ein od milvado.
The truth is that this idea is not meant only for soldiers walking onto a battlefield, or for a Brisker Rav attempting to escape in the midst of a war. It is meant to shape the way that we live our lives every single day.
Every summer, I find myself looking around, at least metaphorically, and wondering: Who will not be with us when the summer is over?
It is a frightening thought, but experience tells us that every summer seems to bring its stories. There are terrible accidents. There are sudden illnesses. There are tragedies that no one could possibly have anticipated. A person leaves his house one morning expecting an ordinary day, and somehow everything changes.
And if we allowed ourselves to process each of these stories in the most literal way, it would become almost impossible to live.
We hear about a terrible swimming accident, and perhaps the conclusion should be: I will never go swimming again.
We hear about a devastating car accident, and perhaps the answer should be: I will never get into a car again.
We hear about something that happened on a trip, at a camp, on a hike, or while doing any of the thousands of ordinary things that human beings do, and we could slowly conclude that the only safe thing to do is simply not to live.
But that is not how the Torah asks us to live.
Certainly, a person is obligated to be responsible. We do not take foolish risks, and we do not hide recklessness behind the language of bitachon. But once a person is behaving normally and responsibly, he is allowed to live. He is supposed to live.
How?
Because we walk into that world with ein od milvado.
Nothing can harm me unless Hashem decrees that it should harm me.
And nothing can save me unless Hashem decrees that it should save me.
That second half is just as important as the first.
Ein od milvado does not simply mean that we should not be afraid of the things that appear dangerous. It means that we should not place our ultimate confidence in the things that appear powerful or secure either. The danger has no independent power — and neither does the protection. The enemy cannot harm us on its own, and the ally cannot save us on his own. There is only one true source of power in the world.
Perhaps that is why this is something that we need to review again and again, every single day. We say Shema in the morning and again at night. And when we say the words “Hashem Echad,” we are saying something far more immediate than the rejection of the gods of ancient Greece and Rome. Certainly, we believe that there are no other gods. But for most of us, Zeus is not much of a nisayon.
Our “other powers” are far more sophisticated.
It may be the wealthy uncle whom we are convinced can solve our financial problems. It may be the boss whom we believe holds our future in his hands. It may be the doctor whom we are certain can save us, or the person whom we fear can destroy us. We look around the world and constantly assign power to people, circumstances, institutions, and forces.
And then we say: “Hashem Echad.”
There is no other power.
Your uncle may be the shaliach through whom Hashem sends help. Your boss may be the shaliach through whom Hashem sends a challenge. A doctor can and must practice medicine, and we must make every appropriate hishtadlus. But none of them possesses independent power.
Nobody can help us unless Hashem wants that help to reach us.
Nobody can harm us unless Hashem allows that harm to reach us.
That is not a thought reserved for extraordinary moments of danger. It is the thought with which a Jew is meant to walk out the door each morning.
Shema Yisrael.
Hashem Elokeinu.
Hashem Echad.
And sometimes, there are moments when these words stop being an idea that we learn about and suddenly become very, very real.
As we continue to daven for Daniel, we are profoundly grateful for the doctors, nurses, and medical professionals who are caring for him. We hope and pray that Hashem grants them the wisdom to make the right decisions and that every treatment and intervention should succeed.
But we also know that medical science has its limits. There is what doctors know, there is what they can do, and then there is a point beyond which human beings simply do not have the answers.
And it is at moments like these that the words “ein od milvado” come into sharper focus.
When we daven, we are not merely searching for one more avenue of help after all the others have been exhausted. We are turning to the One Who was always the source of every avenue of help in the first place. The machines are not the power. The medicine is not the power. The doctors, for all of their knowledge and skill, are not the power. They are precious and necessary shelichim — but the power belongs to Hashem alone.
And so we daven to the Ribbono Shel Olam, the One Who has no limitations, and we beg Him for what we so desperately want: that Daniel should return to his family and to all those who love him with a refuah sheleimah, a complete and full recovery.
Perhaps one of the things that happens when the going gets tough is that a truth which is sometimes difficult to see suddenly becomes impossible to ignore. In ordinary life, there are so many layers between us and Hashem that it is easy to mistake the shaliach for the Source. We think our livelihood comes from a boss, our security comes from a plan, our health comes from a doctor, and our future depends upon this person or that circumstance.
And then there are moments when all of those illusions fall away.
We realize how little we ultimately control, and how much we have always been in Hashem’s hands.
That realization belongs not only to the hospital room. Once it comes into focus there, perhaps we can carry it back with us into every other area of our lives. The same Hashem to Whom we turn when we have nowhere else to turn is the Hashem Who was there all along — in the ordinary days, in the small worries, in the plans that worked, and in the problems that somehow resolved themselves.
“Hashem Echad” means that there is only one Power when life feels frightening and uncertain.
And it means that there was only ever one Power when everything seemed perfectly normal as well.
May the Ribbono Shel Olam, the Rofeh Ne’eman, hear the countless tefillos being offered on Daniel’s behalf, and may we be zocheh to see him once again with that beautiful smile, healthy and whole, together with his family, for many, many years to come.
Have an amazing Shabbos!
Rabbi Moshe Revah
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Thursday, August 13, 2026
Fw: Dvar Torah from the Rosh HaYeshiva - Re'eh
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