Jewish Dispatch

Jewish Dispatch delivers Breaking News, Op-Ed, Corporate News, via OfficialWire and Press Credentials, via WireNews | Dir @ramibenzeev

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Journalism is ‘The best obtainable version of the truth’
—Carl Bernstein

[Rami ben Ze'ev @ramibenzeev]

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At the End of the Path, the Beginning of the Journey
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Joint Statement on the Preeminence of the U.S. Government Regulating Health Risks for Americans
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Continuing to Promote Accountability for the Murillo-Ortega Dictatorship
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Anniversary Statement: Pulsar XP, G-CKIS
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23 Sivan: When Redemption Begins Before It Appears

While 23 Sivan is not traditionally regarded as a specific date on which Mashiach is destined to arrive, it is associated with a powerful redemptive theme: the day on which the hidden reversal began, even though the final deliverance had not yet been revealed.

The Talmud speaks of redemption arriving מעט מעט (“little by little”), rather than necessarily appearing all at once. In that sense, 23 Sivan serves as a reminder that the beginning of redemption and its completion are not always the same moment.

This has led some teachers to draw a parallel with the coming of Mashiach. Just as the redemption of Purim unfolded in stages, the final redemption is often understood as developing gradually. The outward world may appear unchanged, but beneath the surface the process may already be underway.

As it was in the days of Queen Esther, a decree of death still existed, the enemies were still present, and the final victory would not come until later. Yet the turning point had already been reached. The decree remained, but the process of redemption had begun.

According to the Torah, the Prophets, Chazal, and Chassidic teaching, the arrival of Mashiach is ultimately in the hands of G-D. However, our actions can make us worthy of redemption and hasten its revelation.

Several themes appear repeatedly throughout Jewish teaching.

First, teshuvah. The Rambam writes that Israel will be redeemed only through teshuvah. This does not mean merely regretting sins, but returning to one’s true relationship with G-D through Torah, mitzvot, prayer, and righteous conduct.

Second, ahavat Yisrael. The destruction of the Second Temple is traditionally associated with sinat chinam, or baseless hatred. Therefore, many sages teach that its rebuilding will come through genuine unity, kindness, and concern for one another.

Third, Torah. The study of Torah is frequently described as one of the greatest ways to prepare the world for redemption. Many Chassidic teachers emphasise that learning both the revealed Torah and its inner dimensions helps illuminate the world and prepare it for the days of Mashiach.

Fourth, tzedakah, righteousness expressed through charity. Chazal repeatedly connect tzedakah with redemption. Every act of helping another person brings more holiness into the world.

Fifth, tefillah. Three times each day, Jews pray for the restoration of Jerusalem, the return of the Davidic kingdom, and the coming of Mashiach. These are not merely historical hopes but active requests placed before G-D every day.

Sixth, keeping mitzvot with joy. Chassidic teaching emphasises that serving G-D with simchah reveals Divine light in the world. A mitzvah performed joyfully has a greater transformative effect than one performed mechanically.

The Holy Zohar places particular emphasis on increasing holiness in speech, thought, and action. The world is redeemed not only through grand events but also through countless individual acts of refinement.

If one were to summarise all of this in a single practical instruction, it might be this:

Live as though Mashiach could arrive today.

Learn Torah today.
Perform a mitzvah today.
Give tzedakah today.
Pray today.
Strengthen another Jew today.
Avoid lashon hara today.
Bring more holiness into the world today.

The sages teach that if every Jew were to sincerely return to G-D, even for a single day, redemption would come immediately. Whether or not we merit to see it today, every act of Torah, every mitzvah, and every moment of teshuvah brings the world one step closer to the complete revelation of Mashiach and the final redemption.

RAMI
רםי בן זאב
עובד השם

[Rami ben Ze'ev @ramibenzeev]

May You Be Like Abraham

When most people read the promise that G-D made to Abraham in בראשית (Bereshit), they understand it to mean that the nations of the world would be blessed through him. It is a reasonable reading. After all, the verse says:

“And all the families of the earth shall be blessed by you.”

Yet Rashi reveals a deeper and perhaps more personal meaning.

He explains that the verse does not merely speak about Abraham becoming a channel through which blessing flows. Rather, Abraham himself becomes the standard by which blessing is measured. In the future, when a father blesses his child, or when one person expresses a hope for another, they will say in effect, “May you be like Abraham.”

This transforms the meaning of the verse entirely.

G-D was not simply promising Abraham wealth, influence, descendants, or fame. Many people throughout history have possessed such things. Instead, G-D was promising that Abraham’s life would become the very definition of what it means to be blessed.

When people think of blessing, they would think of Abraham.

Not because he was the richest man of his generation.

Not because he was the most powerful.

Not because he ruled a kingdom or commanded a vast army.

Rather, because he walked with G-D.

Abraham left his homeland without knowing where he was going. He welcomed strangers into his tent. He prayed even for the wicked people of Sodom. He endured trials, disappointments, uncertainty, and loneliness. Through it all, he remained steadfast in his faith and trust in G-D.

The world often defines blessing by what a person possesses.

The Torah defines blessing by who a person becomes.

A man may possess great wealth and yet be miserable. He may enjoy power and yet be remembered with contempt. He may achieve fame and yet leave no lasting legacy. Abraham possessed something greater. He possessed a relationship with G-D that shaped every aspect of his life.

This is why parents to this day bless their children through examples. We do not merely wish them success. We wish them to become the kind of people whose names are remembered for righteousness, kindness, wisdom, and faithfulness.

That is the essence of Rashi’s teaching.

The highest blessing is not that others receive something through you. The highest blessing is that your life becomes such a shining example of goodness that others aspire to follow it.

In every generation, people search for role models. They look for examples of success, happiness, and fulfilment. The Torah points us back to Abraham and says: “There is your example.”

Not because he was perfect.

Not because his life was easy.

But because when G-D called, he answered.

When G-D tested, he endured.

When G-D blessed, he remained humble.

And therefore the promise of Bereshit 12:3 continues to echo throughout history:

May your faith be like Abraham’s.

May your trust be like Abraham’s.

May your kindness be like Abraham’s.

May you become the kind of person whose life is itself a blessing.

That is what it means for all the families of the earth to bless themselves through Abraham. His name became synonymous with a life lived in partnership with G-D, and there is no greater blessing than that.

RAMI
רםי בן זאב
עובד השם

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Over Half of India's LPG Passes Through the Strait of Hormuz
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The Reply That Was Better Left Unwritten

Someone you do not know personally makes a statement to a journalist, anonymous or otherwise, and a story is written about a subject you feel passionately about—or worse, about something you never gave a thought to before. That story appears online as a post on X, Facebook, or another social media platform, and you happen to see it. Your blood boils, and you think of something witty, snarky, hurtful, offensive, or downright ridiculous to say in response. If you are like many people, rather than replying, you share the original post along with your comment to gain attention and validation for yourself from your followers—such is the nature of ego and social media. Meanwhile, the person whose remarks offended you remains blissfully unaware.

Tanya teaches that there are four ways to respond when one is insulted or provoked. The first is anger, which gives life to the insult and distances a person from G-D. The second is restraint, where one remains silent outwardly but burns inwardly. This earns merit for self-control, yet leaves the soul unsettled. The third is a clever or composed reply, which demonstrates intellectual mastery but still grants the offender a measure of attention. The highest response, however, is complete silence born of inner clarity, recognising that such moments are permitted by Heaven for refinement rather than reaction.

That silence—free of resentment and free of display—is the response that Tanya crowns with the greatest merit. It is precisely this lesson that teaches true strength, dignity, and trust in G-D, rather than public outrage or performative confrontation.

רםי בן זאב

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Heir Challenges Sale of Long-Lost Klimt, Alleging Shoah-Era Theft Was Concealed
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Trusting the One Who Walks Beside Us
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The text in the image is a very abbreviated paraphrase of a famous passage in מסכת מכות (Makkot) 24a–24b. It captures the basic idea, but it is not an accurate quotation.

The full account is much richer.

Rabban Gamliel, Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, Rabbi Yehoshua, and Rabbi Akiva travelled to Jerusalem after the destruction of the בית המקדש (Beit HaMikdash – Holy Temple). When they reached Har HaBayit and saw a fox emerging from the place of the Holy of Holies, the others began to weep, while Rabbi Akiva laughed.

They asked him:

“Why are you laughing?”

He replied:

“Why are you crying?”

They answered that the place about which the Torah says that an unauthorised person entering it would die had become so desolate that foxes wandered through it. How could they not cry?

Rabbi Akiva then explained that he was laughing because two prophecies were linked together. One prophecy foretold the destruction and desolation of Zion. Another foretold the future redemption and restoration of Jerusalem. As long as he had not seen the first prophecy fulfilled, he could wonder whether the second would also be fulfilled. But now that he had witnessed the destruction exactly as foretold, he was completely certain that the prophecy of redemption would likewise come to pass.

At that point, the other sages said:

“Akiva, you have comforted us; Akiva, you have comforted us.”

The meaning is profound.

The other sages were looking at the present reality. They saw destruction, exile, loss, and desecration.

Rabbi Akiva was looking at the same reality but through the lens of Torah. He understood that if the warning had come true exactly as G-D had said, then the promise would also come true exactly as G-D had said.

In other words, Rabbi Akiva was not laughing because Jerusalem had been destroyed. He was laughing because he saw in that destruction the proof that redemption was already on its way.

This is one of the most important lessons in Jewish thought.

Faith is not the denial of suffering.

Faith is the ability to recognise that suffering is not the end of the story.

The sages saw the fox.

Rabbi Akiva saw the future.

The sages saw what was lost.

Rabbi Akiva saw what would be rebuilt.

This idea appears repeatedly throughout the Holy Zohar and Chassidic thought. The deepest darkness often precedes the greatest light. When events seem most distant from redemption, they may in fact be preparing the path toward it.

That is why the Gemara does not end with tears. It ends with comfort.

“Akiva, you have comforted us; Akiva, you have comforted us.”

The lesson is that a Jew should never judge history solely by what can be seen today. The same G-D who fulfilled His warnings also fulfils His promises. Rabbi Akiva’s laughter was the laughter of certainty that redemption, though delayed, would surely come.

רםי בן זאב

[Rami ben Ze'ev @ramibenzeev]

When Faith Meets Fear

Not long after learning the lesson from my Rabbi about anxiety and trust in G-D, I found myself in a situation where those words would be tested.

It was early in the morning, just before dawn. The streets were quiet and deserted. As I walked, my thoughts were occupied with the day ahead, the tasks before me, and the destination toward which I was headed.

In the distance, I noticed a man emerge from a side street on the same side of the road as me.

To describe his movement as walking would perhaps be generous. He stumbled as he moved forward. Whether he was intoxicated, ill, or simply not fully in control of himself, I could not say. What I could see was that his path was uncertain.

As he drew nearer, I decided it would be prudent to cross the street and give him a wide berth. There seemed no reason to take unnecessary risks.

I stepped off the kerb and began crossing.

Then something unexpected happened.

As I reached the middle of the road, the man also crossed.

Now he was heading in my direction.

The distance between us continued to close until we were perhaps fifty feet apart.

For a brief moment, I wondered what I should do. Should I return to my original side of the street? Should I continue forward? Had I misjudged the situation?

Then, almost immediately, I remembered the words of my Rabbi.

“What if you knew someone whom you trusted implicitly? Someone who always had your back and always looked out for your best interests.”

In that moment, I quietly recited the שמע (Shema – Hear, O Israel).

There was no dramatic display. No flash of light. No voice from Heaven.

Yet what happened next remains with me to this day.

As though guided by an unseen hand, the man suddenly altered his course. Rather than continuing toward me, he moved diagonally across the road and returned to the side of the street where we had both originally been.

A few moments later, he passed by without incident.

Our paths never crossed.

As he disappeared into the distance, I quietly whispered:

“תודה לאל”

Thank G-D.

Some will say it was coincidence.

Perhaps it was.

Others will say that the man simply changed his mind.

Perhaps he did.

But that morning was never really about the man.

It was about fear.

It was about the choice between anxiety and trust.

Before reciting the שמע, my thoughts were focused on what might happen. After reciting it, my attention shifted to the One who controls what happens.

The situation itself may not have changed immediately, but my perspective certainly did.

That is the power of אמונה (emunah – faith) and בטחון (bitachon – trust in G-D). They do not require us to deny reality, ignore danger, or abandon common sense. I still crossed the street. I still acted prudently.

What they change is the belief that we walk through the world alone.

That morning reminded me of something profound: wisdom tells us to take sensible precautions, but faith reminds us that beyond every precaution stands G-D Himself.

And when a person truly remembers that, anxiety begins to loosen its grip, and trust takes its place.

RAMI
רםי בן זאב
עובד השם

[Rami ben Ze'ev @ramibenzeev]

The “West Bank” does not exist —In 1948, five Arab armies invaded the newly declared State of Israel. During that war, Transjordan captured Judea and Samaria and later annexed the territory, renaming it the “West Bank” in reference to the west bank of the River Jordan. The term itself is a political label imposed after an invasion of territory that had been historically and biblically Jewish for millennia.

Jordan remained in control of Judea and Samaria until 1967, when the Israel Defense Forces defeated the surrounding Arab armies in the Six-Day War and took control of the area.

If one looks at the original Mandate for Palestine established under British administration after the First World War, the territory was designated for the establishment of a Jewish national home. It was Britain that subsequently separated Transjordan from the Mandate territory in 1921 and effectively allocated it to the Hashemite Emirate, dramatically reducing the land originally contemplated for Jewish self-determination. From that perspective, it is historically arguable that both sides of the Jordan River formed part of the original Mandate framework connected to the Jewish national home.

What is certain, however, is that the term “West Bank” did not exist prior to Jordan’s occupation. It is a modern political construct layered onto the ancient heartland of Judea and Samaria.

רםי בן זאב

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Shabbos
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PM Meeting with the Family of Henry Nowak
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Tate Board Appointments
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Sanctions on Cuban Actors Responsible for Subversive Anti-American Activities Fact Sheet
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Parashat Beha’alotcha in the Diaspora
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