Shabbat Greetings
In a quiet village, Miriam, an elderly woman with a kind heart, sat by a fire. One evening, Rachel, a young girl overwhelmed by pain, approached her. Tears filled Rachel’s eyes as she asked, “Why does God let us suffer?” Miriam pulled Rachel close, her voice gentle but full of strength. “My dear, we often think our pain breaks us, but it’s in our brokenness that the light can enter. We are like vessels, imperfect yet capable of holding the sacred light, if we allow ourselves to open. It’s in our cracks that the Divine shines brightest.” Rachel’s tears fell, but this time, they were different. Miriam’s words filled her with a warmth she hadn’t known before. “You are not broken,” Miriam continued, “Your pain does not define you. It refines you, making you a vessel of light. Even in your suffering, you are whole.” For the first time, Rachel felt a glimmer of hope—her pain didn’t have to be the end. It could be the very thing that made her stronger, more open to the light. (Rabbi Moshe P. Weisblum)
This profound teaching echoes the essence of Terumah (Exodus 25:1-27:19), where God commands the Israelites, “Make Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them” (25:8). Not a grand building or palace, but an invitation to create a space within ourselves for God’s presence. Rabbi Soloveitchik teaches that the Mishkan (Tabernacle) is a mirror of the human soul—imperfect, but still able to house the Divine. It’s not about achieving perfection; it’s about being open, willing to let the light in.
We are not meant to build this sanctuary alone. Every act of kindness, every prayer, every word of connection—no matter how small—forms a brick in this sacred space. The Mishkan is built through our daily lives: each act of love, each effort to heal a broken heart, contributes to building the sanctuary of our world. As the Talmud teaches, “Whoever saves a life, it is as if they have saved the entire world” (Sanhedrin 37a). Even when our efforts seem insignificant, they matter, creating light in the darkest places. There are moments when we feel overwhelmed, questioning, “Is my light enough? Am I enough?” But it’s in these very moments of struggle, when we feel at our lowest, that the light within us shines brightest. As the Zohar teaches, “The light of our Creator shines through the cracks of the broken vessel” (Zohar 2:43b). In our moments of deepest vulnerability, we become channels for the Divine light to flow into the world.
Rabbi Akiva once taught, “It is not our task to finish the work, but neither are we free to desist from it” (Pirkei Avot 2:16). This beautiful teaching reminds us that it’s not perfection we’re after, but persistence. Even the smallest act of kindness, the quietest prayer, and every effort, no matter how small, adds to the light in the world. We don’t have to fix everything—we are simply called to keep moving forward, to keep creating light in this world, even when our steps feel imperfect. Rabbi Yehuda Ashlag (Baal HaSulam) teaches us that true light emerges when we give, when we share, when we open our hearts to others. In those moments of vulnerability and care, we unlock a divine light within us. And often, it’s not the grand gestures that create change—it’s the quiet, everyday acts of love and kindness that transform the world. The Midrash Tanchuma reminds us, “When you light a candle, it is not just for your benefit, but for those around you. The light you give off brings warmth to others.” Every kind word you speak, every moment of patience, and every act of compassion sends out ripples, touching the lives of those around you in ways you may never fully understand. Your light matters, and every act of goodness brings warmth to someone who needs it most.
A person in our community once felt completely alone, trapped in a darkness one couldn’t escape. One day, with tears streaming down their face, they whispered, “I thought I was beyond repair, that peace was forever out of reach. But here, surrounded by love, I feel whole.” It wasn’t magic that healed them—it was the pure love, the unwavering support, of those who refused to let this person suffer in silence. In their brokenness, they reminded this person that no one is ever truly lost. Even in the deepest pain, wholeness can be found in the arms of others, where the light breaks through the cracks and lifts us up.
This new month of Adar is a time for joy, but it’s a joy that doesn’t come from perfection. It arises from the courage to keep going, to keep finding light even in the midst of our struggles. As Maimonides wrote, “The greatest of all joys is the joy of the soul finding its true path” (Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Teshuvah 10:3). Adar invites us to celebrate joy through our imperfections. In the cracks of our lives, in the messy parts of our hearts, the light is there, waiting to be revealed. In times of personal struggle, remember the words of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, who said, “The light is found in the darkness. The deeper the darkness, the greater the light can be.” It is through the trials, the pain, the uncertainty, that we often discover our deepest strength. It is through the cracks that our greatest light emerges. In this sacred month of Adar, let us embrace all of who we are—both broken and whole—and let our light shine. We are each a sanctuary for the Divine. We are not perfect, but that is exactly what makes us the perfect vessels for our Creator’s light to flow through us.
SHABBAT SHALOM