Thursday, August 6, 2026

Fwd: Dvar Torah from the Rosh HaYeshiva - Re'eh



---------- Forwarded message ---------
From: Rabbi Moshe Revah <htcnews-htc.edu@shared1.ccsend.com>
Date: Thu, Aug 6, 2026, 8:50 PM
Subject: Dvar Torah from the Rosh HaYeshiva - Re'eh
To: <agentemes4@gmail.com>



Dear Yeshiva Family:


In this weeks’ Parsaha contains one of the many times the Torah's prohibits consuming blood. Not only does the Torah forbid it once, but in this weeks’ parshah alone it returns to the subject again and again.


First, the Torah says (12:23-25), "Be strong and do not eat the blood, for the blood is the life." It then repeats, "Do not eat it; pour it onto the ground like water." Finally, it warns a third time, "Do not eat it, so that it will be good for you and for your children after you."


Before issuing the prohibition, the Torah says, "Be strong." Why is special strength needed to refrain from eating blood?


Rashi cites two opinions. According to one view, eating blood was a genuine temptation and area where Klal Yisrael indeed failed in, in earlier generations. Since people were naturally drawn to it, the Torah had to encourage them to be especially strong in resisting it. The Ramban echoes this approach as well.


Based on this opinion, the Sefer Navos Deshe explains the progression of these pesukim as follows.


The Progression to Serving Hashem Properly


When a person first begins serving Hashem, it is natural to struggle. We are born with desires. Nobody is born a complete oved Hashem. There are times when we become upset with Hashem. There are times when we don't appreciate what is happening in our lives. There are times when we desire things that the Torah tells us we cannot have.


That does not mean we are bad people. It means we are still developing our relationship with Hashem.


The Rambam[1] (Shemonah Perakim, Perek 6) famously writes that regarding many of Hashem's decrees, a person should not say, "I have no interest in doing this." Rather, he should honestly acknowledge, "I would like to, but what can I do? My Father in Heaven has decreed otherwise”.


The Torah therefore begins with one word: "Be strong”. At this stage of life, strength is exactly what is needed. Whether it is working hard to guard our eyes when walking down the street, resisting the temptation to eat something that is not kosher, or saying no to any desire that conflicts with the Torah, the struggle is real. We may want something, but we strengthen ourselves and choose to do what Hashem wants instead.


The next pasuk describes a person who has continued on his journey of avodas Hashem.

Something has changed. The struggle has not necessarily disappeared, but it is no longer consuming him. The Torah says to pour the blood onto the ground "like water." He no longer feels the need to wrestle with it every moment. He simply pours it out and moves on.


Once a person consistently refuses to give in to an unhealthy desire, he slowly gains mastery over it.


A recovering alcoholic provides a powerful example. If someone in AA succeeds in closing the door on alcohol, it does not mean he no longer needs to be careful. He must always remain vigilant, because even a small drink could bring him right back to where he once was. But there is still a tremendous difference. He is no longer fighting the same battle every minute of every day. He can walk past the bottle and leave it alone. He can simply pour it out.


Finally, the Torah reaches its highest stage.


"Do not eat it, so that it will be good for you."


At first, serving Hashem requires strength. Then it becomes manageable. Eventually, it becomes a source of joy.


There is a level at which following the Torah is no longer experienced as giving something up. It feels liberating. It feels exciting. It feels genuinely geshmak.


A person has worked on himself to the point that the values of the Torah have become his own values. What once required tremendous self-control has become second nature. He no longer feels deprived by following Hashem's will. On the contrary, he experiences it as the greatest good.


This is the progression of these three pesukim. We begin with struggle. We continue with discipline. We ultimately arrive at the point where living according to the Torah is something that fills our lives with goodness and a deep sense of closeness to Hashem.


The Rambam that we Should Desire Sin


Of course, this still needs to be reconciled with the aforementioned Rambam that regarding many of Hashem's decrees, a person should not say, "I have no desire for this”, rather, he should acknowledge, "I would enjoy it, but what can I do? My Father in Heaven has decreed otherwise”.


At first glance, this seems to contradict the progression we have described. We suggested that the highest level is to reach a point where following the Torah is no longer a struggle, where the prohibited act no longer appeals to a person. But the simple truth is that there is no contradiction at all.


The Rambam is speaking about a person's natural instincts. Left to his own devices, a human being can recognize that many of these things are naturally desirable. There is nothing dishonest about admitting that. However, as a person's relationship with Hashem deepens, something remarkable begins to happen.


Although he recognizes that these things may naturally be attractive, he no longer sees them as genuinely good. His values have changed. His relationship with Hashem has reshaped the way he looks at the world. Not because one non longer appreciates the prohibitions, but his love of Hashem colors his taste for the item.


Perhaps an example will help. Imagine someone who truly loves his spouse. If his wife dislikes the smell of garlic, he may very well say, "I enjoy garlic, but I won't eat it because I know it bothers her." His natural preference has not changed. His love simply motivates him to act differently. But there is an even deeper level. When love is accompanied by profound respect and admiration, a person's perspective itself begins to change. Over time, he no longer thinks, "I'm giving something up for her." Instead, because the relationship is so important to him, the very thing that once appealed to him loses much of its appeal. It is no longer merely an act of self-control; his values have been transformed.


This is the Torah's ideal. We begin by exercising self-control. We continue by developing discipline. Ultimately, our relationship with Hashem becomes so deep that what once seemed enticing no longer feels worthwhile. Not because our natural instincts never existed, but because our love for Hashem has become strong enough to redefine what we truly want.


The Gemara of Yechezkel


Perhaps we can find support for this idea from another Gemara.


The Gemara in Chullin (37b) relates that Yechezkel was praised for never eating a piece of meat that had been first subject to a halachic question that required it to be shown to a Rav.


At first glance, this is difficult to understand. If the Rav examined the question and ruled that the food is completely kosher, why should a ba'al nefesh hesitate to eat it? Kosher is kosher.


Perhaps, however, the answer is precisely the idea we have been developing.

A person at the beginning of his avodas Hashem thinks only in terms of what is technically permitted and what is technically forbidden. If it is permitted, then naturally he wants it.


But as a person's relationship with Hashem deepens, his perspective changes. Something that came so close to being prohibited no longer feels as appealing. It is not because there is anything wrong with the food. The Rav has ruled that it is completely permissible. Rather, the person's values have become so closely aligned with Hashem's will that anything which almost fell into the category of "something my beloved does not want" naturally loses some of its attraction.

That is not a new halachah. It is a new relationship.


At the beginning of the journey we say, "I would like it, but Hashem told me no." At the highest level we say, "If this almost wasn't something Hashem wanted for me, then I no longer feel drawn to it either”.


Cheeseburgers in Yeshiva


I am proud to say that this idea has practical expression in our yeshiva.

Because we strive to maintain the highest standards of kashrus and the highest ideals of what it means to be a ben Torah, one of our policies is that we do not serve imitation cheeseburgers. Of course, there is nothing halachically wrong with them. The "cheese" is not dairy (or the meat is not real, or sometimes both), and from a kashrus standpoint there is no issue whatsoever.


But our goal is not merely to stay within the lines of what is technically permissible. We are trying to cultivate a relationship with Hashem in which we no longer look forward to things that resemble what He asked us to avoid. We are not interested in trying to outsmart Hashem or seeing how closely we can imitate something that the Torah prohibited.


That is the atmosphere we hope to create in the yeshiva.


At the same time, I am certainly not suggesting that everyone must adopt this practice in his own home. Nor am I saying that there is anything wrong with someone choosing to eat kosher versions of foods that resemble prohibited foods. The same would be true of someone who enjoys chocolate chip cookies on Pesach. There may be absolutely nothing halachically objectionable about it. The point is not that this is an obligation. The point is that this is the direction in which a relationship grows.


Relationships cannot be legislated. They develop.


As a person's love for Hashem deepens, he may naturally find himself saying, "If this resembles something that Hashem asked me to stay away from, then I simply don't feel the same excitement about it anymore." That is not because he has to feel that way. It is because, little by little, what matters to Hashem begins to matter to him.


In a yeshiva, where our mission is to inspire our talmidim to strive for that higher ideal, we try to reflect those values in the environment we create. As individuals, however, each of us develops that relationship with Hashem one step at a time, growing steadily closer to Him throughout our lives.


One final loose end still has to be tied up.


The Gemara in Chullin


The Gemara in Chullin (109b) relates that Yalta, the wife of Rav Nachman, wanted to taste basar b'chalav. She observed that for virtually every food the Torah prohibited, Hashem created a permissible counterpart with a similar taste. The Gemara proceeds to list several examples. When it comes to basar b'chalav, Rav Nachman instructed that she be served the udder, whose taste resembles that of meat and milk together.


At first glance, this seems to contradict everything we have been saying. If the highest level of avodas Hashem is to reach the point where prohibited things no longer appeal to us, why would Yalta desire to experience the taste of basar b'chalav?


Perhaps the answer can be found in the Maharsha.


The Maharsha explains that Yalta's point was not that she wished to violate the Torah's prohibition. Quite the opposite. She wanted to demonstrate that our commitment to the Torah is not based on claiming that prohibited foods are physically disgusting or inherently unappealing. The taste itself may indeed be enjoyable. In fact, Hashem Himself created a permissible equivalent that provides a similar experience.


This actually reinforces the idea we have been developing.


Naturally, these tastes are enjoyable. Hashem is not asking us to pretend otherwise. The Rambam teaches that a person may honestly acknowledge that, left to his own instincts, he would enjoy them. The Torah never demanded that we convince ourselves that they taste bad.


Rather, the Torah asks something much deeper.


It asks us to build such a close relationship with Hashem that, although we recognize the natural appeal of these things, we no longer desire the prohibited act itself. The pleasure is not the problem. The act is. And because Hashem asked us not to do it, that alone is enough.


In a sense, Yalta's request proves exactly this point. The Torah has no objection to the taste itself, as evidenced by the fact that Hashem provided a permissible equivalent. What He prohibited was the act of eating meat and milk together. The mature oved Hashem does not deny that the taste is enjoyable. Rather, his relationship with Hashem has become so meaningful that what matters most is not satisfying his palate, but fulfilling the will of the One he loves.


We should be privileged to develop a relationship with Hashem where His will is our will!


Have an amazing Shabbos!


Rabbi Moshe Revah

mrevah2@touro.edu


__________________


[1] Quoting a Sifri, cited by Rashi as well in Vayikra 20:26.


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