BREAKING: Mayor Zohran Mamdani Doubles Down on Iran Praise, Announces 'Tehran Appreciation Week' in NYC

In a fiery follow-up thread on X that has now surpassed 50 million views and triggered no fewer than seven congressional investigations, New York City's proudly socialist Mayor Zohran Mamdani responded to conservative critics by clarifying—and then glorifying—his position on the U.S.-Israeli strikes that eliminated Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.

"First of all, let's be clear: the Iranian people aren't just 'submissive'—they're thriving under the iron fist of true anti-imperialist governance," Mamdani posted from Gracie Mansion, where aides report he was sipping fair-trade, union-brewed Turkish coffee while drafting the message. "They LOVE mandatory hijab enforcement. They LOVE having their internet censored at 56 kbps. They LOVE public executions as family entertainment. Submission isn't oppression—it's cultural enrichment! Islam means peace through total surrender, and Khamenei was the ultimate vibe curator. He pioneered the 'total submission chic' aesthetic—zero rights, infinite patience, and a color palette limited to black, blood red, and existential dread. The mullahs didn't follow trends; they were the trend, baby." "

He continued: "Trump, that orange capitalist pig controlled by his Zionist daughter, son-in-law and the deep-state Mossad, has robbed the world of a regime that perfectly balanced poverty, repression, and revolutionary theater. The mullahs didn't just rule—they performed. Every Friday sermon was basically performance art against neoliberalism. And now? Gone. Erased by bunker-busters funded by Wall Street blood money."

In a move that's already being called "the most tone-deaf municipal proclamation since the 1977 blackout," Mamdani declared next week Tehran Appreciation Week across all five boroughs:

Free screenings of state-approved Iranian propaganda films at every public library (subtitled in Queens English only).

Halal food trucks required to play Khamenei speeches on loop during lunch rushes.

A "Solidarity Self-Flagellation Hour" in Foley Square, where participants can express grief through symbolic chest-beating (BYO chain provided by the Parks Department).

All NYC public schools will observe a moment of silence for the "martyrdom of the Supreme Leader," followed by a lesson on why regime change is worse than chronic underfunding of the MTA.

"As Mayor," he concluded, "I have not only the right but the duty to weigh in on geopolitics, nuclear theology, and the aesthetics of theocratic rule. Potholes? Subways? Rent? Those are bourgeois distractions. The real crisis is that a freedom-loving fascist cabal just murdered the world's foremost defender of anti-Western authenticity."

Conservative reactions on social media were swift and unhinged: one viral reply read, "This guy just turned City Hall into an IRGC recruiting station." Another simply posted a photo of the mayor's face photoshopped onto a portrait of Khamenei with the caption "New York's Ayatollah-in-Chief."

Mamdani's office has not yet responded to requests for comment on whether the city will be issuing posthumous green cards to surviving members of the Basij militia. Stay tuned for updates—or, as the mayor might put it, "death to the Great Satan, but make it rent-stabilized." 🇮🇷🗽

A Hesped For A Modern Day Fallen Haman

Here lies **Ayatollah Ali Khamenei**, Supreme Leader, Guardian of the Islamic Revolution, and apparently the world's longest-running grumpy grandpa who thought "death to America" was just a catchy slogan like "just do it."

We gather today not to mourn, but to **celebrate** the peaceful passing of a man who truly believed the best way to achieve paradise was to make everyone else's life on Earth feel like the other place.

Khamenei ascended to power in 1989, right after Khomeini, and decided the best leadership style was "if it ain't broke, repress it harder." He oversaw the 1988 prison massacres—because nothing says "Islamic mercy" like speed-running thousands of political prisoners through kangaroo courts and calling it justice. He wasn't there signing the death warrants personally (that was more Khomeini's vibe), but he was definitely in the room where it happened, nodding along like "yeah, sounds halal."

Throughout the decades, he perfected the art of turning protests into target practice:

- 1999 student uprising? Crushed.

- 2009 Green Movement? Basij batons and bullets for everyone.

- 2017–2019 economic protests? "Rioters," shoot on sight.

- 2022 Woman, Life, Freedom? "Enemy plot," hair-police upgrade to live-ammo police.

- And the grand finale in late 2025–early 2026? Thousands reportedly gone in the Lion and Sun uprising, internet blacked out so nobody could livestream the receipts. Truly the Mark Zuckerberg of martyrdom.

He exported revolution like it was dropshipping: Hezbollah got rockets, Houthis got drones, Assad got a lifeline, and Russia got Shaheds to redecorate Ukrainian apartment blocks. All while insisting Iran was just "supporting the oppressed" — the same way a loan shark supports your kneecaps.

Domestically, he was a champion of equality... if by equality you mean everyone equally afraid. Women got morality police beatings for bad hijab, Baha'is got university bans and property seizures, Sunnis got mosque demolition permits denied and journalists got the special VIP torture package: electric shocks, mock executions, and forced confessions for state TV.

Ah, yes, let's zoom in on Khamenei's not-so-subtle side hustle as the world's crankiest Holocaust skeptic and all-around Jew-hater. This wasn't just casual bigotry; it was regime policy dressed up as "anti-Zionism," like calling your arson "fire safety training." He kicked things off by repeatedly denying the Holocaust, labeling it a "myth" or "fabricated story" that the West uses to justify Israel's existence—because nothing says "enlightened leader" like gaslighting six million murders. In one 2014 tweet (yes, the ayatollah tweets like a conspiracy uncle on Facebook), he pondered if the Holocaust even happened, or "how it happened," all while whining that Europe has "red lines" on free speech about it. Bro, that's not censorship; that's just not letting you yell "fake news" at genocide. He even dropped a video on International Holocaust Remembrance Day in 2016 titled "Holocaust: Are the Dark Ages Over?"—spoiler: for him, apparently not.

But wait, there's more! Khamenei didn't stop at denial; he upgraded to full-on extermination metaphors. Israel? A "cancerous tumor" that needs to be "uprooted and destroyed," he preached, because why use diplomacy when you can borrow from oncology? He hammered this in speeches, his book *Palestine*, and even Quds Day rants, where he'd compare the Jewish state to a virus or a "rabid dog." And let's not forget the regime's fun side projects: hosting international Holocaust denial conferences in 2006, complete with cartoon contests mocking Jewish suffering—like a bad open mic night for bigots. His website even posted AI-generated cartoons of Jews as rats fleeing missiles, because subtlety is for suckers.

Underpinning it all was classic antisemitic conspiracy slop: Jews (or "Zionists," wink wink) control America, the media, and global finance, pulling strings like puppet masters in a bad spy thriller. He inherited this vibe from Khomeini, who saw Jews as eternal enemies of Islam from day one. Domestically, Iran's Jewish community got the "tolerated but terrorized" treatment—dwindling from 80,000 to a handful, with synagogues bugged and folks fleeing like it was a bad Airbnb. And internationally? Funding attacks like the 1994 Buenos Aires bombing that killed 85 at a Jewish center, because exporting hate is Iran's top export after oil.

In the end, Khamenei's Jew-hatred wasn't just personal; it was his foreign policy cheat code—blame "the Zionists" for everything from sanctions to bad weather, while arming proxies to act it out. It kept the hardliners happy, distracted from Iran's own messes, and turned "death to Israel" into a national pastime. If hatred were an Olympic sport, he'd have gold medals stacked higher than his turban.

And the economy? He ran it like a trust-fund kid who discovered crypto, lost it all, then blamed the Jews, America, and moderate reformists. Sanctions? Sure. But mostly it was the part where he spent the oil money on regional adventures instead of, you know, bread.

In his final years, he looked increasingly like a man who'd been arguing with the same Zoom background for 36 years. Beard whiter, scowl deeper, promises of "big surprises" that never arrived—except maybe the surprise that the regime finally ran out of people willing to die for 7th-century fan fiction.

So today we say farewell to the man who turned "Supreme Leader" into the world's most ironic job title. May his successors learn from his example... and immediately do the opposite.

He left 16 wives and 34 concubines, most of them aged 9 to 22. He also left 183 children. A LOT of people who have now one less problem in their lives. 

Rest in peace, Ali. Or as you might prefer: **Rest in pieces** — preferably far away from anyone who ever wanted freedom, dignity, or a functioning economy.

The struggle continues. But thankfully, without the guy who kept making it worse.

Tshuvos Eretz Tzvi #18 - Birkas HaTorah For An Onen And A Temporarily Insane Person

This lecture explores a responsum (teshuvah) from the book Eretz Tzvi (Siman 18), authored by the Kozhiglover Gaon. The central question is whether certain major interruptions during the day require a person to recite the blessings over the Torah (Birkas HaTorah) a second time. The author addresses two primary scenarios:

1. The Case of the Onen (A Mourner Prior to Burial)

An onen is a person whose close relative has died but has not yet been buried. According to Jewish law, an onen is exempt from positive commandments and is forbidden from studying Torah. If a person becomes an onen in the middle of the day and buries their relative later that same day, do they need to recite Birkas HaTorah again before resuming their studies?

The Eretz Tzvi concludes that no new blessing is required. He compares this to a person using the restroom or a bathhouse, where Torah study is also forbidden. The Beis Yosef rules that returning from the restroom does not require a new blessing because observing the Torah’s laws of modesty in those places is itself an act of Torah. Similarly, the restrictions placed upon an onen (e.g., refraining from eating meat, drinking wine, and studying Torah) are dictated by the Torah. Because the person is actively fulfilling the Torah's laws of mourning, there is no true interruption (hefsek) from the Torah.

2. The Case of Temporary Insanity (Shoteh)

If a person suffers from a condition where they alternate between periods of sanity and insanity, do they need to recite a new Birkas HaTorah upon regaining their sanity?

The Eretz Tzvi concludes that no new blessing is required here either. He bases this on a profound philosophical comparison regarding the laws of ritual purity (tumah). If a wooden bed contracts impurity, breaking it completely removes the impurity; if it is repaired, it is considered a brand new entity (panim chadashos). However, if the bed is merely dismantled into its component parts, the impurity is only suspended. Once reassembled, the original impurity returns, because the potential for it was latent all along.

The Eretz Tzvi argues that when a person temporarily loses their sanity, their intellect (seichel) is not destroyed; rather, the "connection" (chibur) between their soul/intellect and their physical body is temporarily detached, much like a dismantled bed or a person who goes to sleep. Because the connection is merely suspended and latent, returning to sanity is not considered creating a "new face" (panim chadashos). Therefore, the original morning blessing still applies.

Additional Note:

The lecture briefly touches upon writing Torah thoughts. The ruling is that writing is legally equivalent to speaking (ksiva k'dibur), and therefore, one must recite Birkas HaTorah before writing words of Torah.

הרצאה זו עוסקת בתשובה מספר **ארץ צבי** (סימן י"ח), שחיבר הגאון מקוז'יגלוב. השאלה המרכזית היא האם הפסקות משמעותיות מסוימות במהלך היום מחייבות אדם לברך שוב את **ברכת התורה**.

המחבר דן בשני מקרים עיקריים:

1. **מקרה האונן** (אבל לפני הקבורה)  

אונן הוא אדם שמת לו קרוב משפחה קרוב אך עדיין לא נקבר. על פי ההלכה, אונן פטור ממצוות עשה ואסור לו ללמוד תורה. אם אדם נעשה אונן באמצע היום, ולאחר מכן קבר את קרובו באותו יום, האם עליו לברך שוב ברכת התורה לפני שיחזור ללימודו?  

ה**ארץ צבי** מסיק שאין צורך בברכה חדשה. הוא משווה זאת לאדם שיוצא לבית הכסא או לבית המרחץ, שבהם אסור ללמוד תורה. הבית יוסף פוסק שחזרה מבית הכסא אינה דורשת ברכה חדשה, משום ששמירת דיני הצניעות במקומות אלו היא עצמה מעשה תורה. באופן דומה, המגבלות המוטלות על האונן (כגון איסור אכילת בשר, שתיית יין ולימוד תורה) הן מדין תורה. מאחר שהאדם מקיים בפועל את דיני האבלות של התורה, אין כאן הפסק אמיתי מהתורה.

2. **מקרה השוטה הזמני** (אדם שמתחלף בין שפיות לשיגעון)  

אם אדם סובל ממצב שבו הוא מתחלף בין תקופות שפיות לשיגעון, האם עליו לברך ברכת התורה מחדש כשחוזר לשפיותו?  

ה**ארץ צבי** מסיק גם כאן שאין צורך בברכה חדשה. הוא מבסס זאת על השוואה פילוסופית עמוקה לדיני טומאה: אם מיטה מעץ נטמאת, פירוקה המוחלט מסיר את הטומאה; אם מתקנים אותה, היא נחשבת כישות חדשה לגמרי (**פנים חדשות**). אולם אם מפרקים אותה רק לחלקיה, הטומאה רק מושהית. כשמרכיבים אותה מחדש, הטומאה חוזרת, משום שהיא הייתה טמונה (צפויה) כל הזמן.  

ה**ארץ צבי** טוען שכאשר אדם מאבד זמנית את שפיותו, שכלו אינו נהרס; אלא החיבור בין נשמתו/שכלו לגופו הפיזי מנותק זמנית, בדומה למיטה שפורקה או לאדם שישן. מאחר שהחיבור רק מושהה וטמון, חזרה לשפיות אינה נחשבת כיצירת **פנים חדשות**. לכן, הברכה המקורית של הבוקר עדיין תקפה.

**הערה נוספת:**  

ההרצאה נוגעת בקצרה גם בכתיבת מחשבות תורה. הפסק הוא שכתיבה שקולה הלכתית לדיבור (**כתיבה כדיבור**), ולכן יש לברך ברכת התורה לפני כתיבת דברי תורה.

Two Types Of Hatred

Remember what the Amalekites did to you along the way when you came out of Egypt. When you were weary and worn out, they met you on your journey and attacked all who were lagging behind; they had no fear of God. When the Lord your God gives you rest from all the enemies around you in the land He is giving you to possess as an inheritance, you shall blot out the name of Amalek from under the heaven. Do not forget.

Deut. 25:17-19

The Israelites had two enemies in the days of Moses: the Egyptians and the Amalekites. The Egyptians enslaved the Israelites. They turned them into a forced labor colony. They oppressed them. Pharaoh commanded them to drown every male Israelite child. It was attempted genocide. Yet about them, Moses commands:

Do not despise an Egyptian, because you were strangers in his land.

Deut. 23:8

The Amalekites did no more than attack the Israelites once[1], an attack that they successfully repelled (Ex. 17:13). Yet Moses commands, “Remember.” “Do not forget.” “Blot out the name.” In Exodus the Torah says that “God shall be at war with Amalek for all generations” (Ex. 17:16). Why the difference? Why did Moses tell the Israelites, in effect, to forgive the Egyptians but not the Amalekites?

The answer is to be found as a corollary of teaching in the Mishnah:

Whenever love depends on a cause and the cause passes away, then the love passes away too. But if love does not depend on a cause, then the love will never pass away. What is an example of the love which depended upon a cause? That of Amnon for Tamar. And what is an example of the love which did not depend on a cause? That of David and Jonathan.

Avot 5:19

When love is conditional, it lasts as long as the condition lasts but no longer. Amnon loved - or rather lusted after - Tamar because she was forbidden to him. She was his half-sister. Once he had had his way with her, “Then Amnon hated her with intense hatred. In fact, he hated her more than he had loved her.” (II Sam. 13:15). But when love is unconditional and irrational, it never ceases. In the words of Dylan Thomas, “Though lovers be lost, love shall not, and death shall have no dominion.”

The same applies to hate. When hate is rational, based on some fear or disapproval that – justified or not – has some logic to it, then it can be reasoned with and brought to an end. But unconditional, irrational hatred cannot be reasoned with. There is nothing one can do to address it and end it. It persists.

That was the difference between the Amalekites and the Egyptians. The Egyptians’ hatred and fear of the Israelites was not irrational. Pharaoh said to his people:

‘The Israelites are becoming too numerous and strong for us. We must deal wisely with them. Otherwise, they may increase so much that - if there is war - they will join our enemies and fight against us, driving [us] from the land.’

Ex. 1:9-10

The Egyptians feared the Israelites because they were numerous. They constituted a potential threat to the native population. Historians tell us that this was not groundless. Egypt had already suffered from one invasion of outsiders, the Hyksos, an Asiatic people with Canaanite names and beliefs, who took over the Nile Delta during the Second Intermediate Period of the Egypt of the Pharaohs. Eventually the Hyksos were expelled from Egypt and all traces of their occupation were erased. But the memory persisted. It was not irrational for the Egyptians to fear that the Hebrews were another such population. They feared the Israelites because they were strong.

(Note that there is a difference between “rational” and “justified”. The Egyptians’ fear was in this case certainly unjustified. The Israelites did not want to take over Egypt. To the contrary, they would have preferred to leave. Not every rational emotion is justified. It is not irrational to feel fear of flying after the report of a major air disaster, despite the fact that statistically it is more dangerous to drive a car than to be a passenger in a plane. The point is simply that rational but unjustified emotion can, in principle, be cured through reasoning.)

Precisely the opposite was true of the Amalekites. They attacked the Israelites when they were “weary and weak”. They focused their assault on those who were “lagging behind.” Those who are weak and lagging behind pose no danger. This was irrational, groundless hate.

With rational hate it is possible to reason. Besides, there was no reason for the Egyptians to fear the Israelites anymore. They had left. They were no longer a threat. But with irrational hate it is impossible to reason. It has no cause, no logic. Therefore it may never go away. Irrational hate is as durable and persistent as irrational love. The hatred symbolised by Amalek lasts “for all generations.” All one can do is to remember and not forget, to be constantly vigilant, and to fight it whenever and wherever it appears.

There is such a thing as rational xenophobia: fear and hatred of the foreigner, the stranger, the one-not-like-us. In the hunter-gatherer stage of humanity, it was vital to distinguish between members of your tribe and those of another tribe. There was competition for food and territory. It was not an age of liberalism and tolerance. The other tribe was likely to kill you or oust you, given the chance. But within two or three generations the newcomers acculturated and integrated. They were seen as contributing to the national economy and adding richness and variety to its culture. When an emotion like fear of strangers is rational but unjustified, eventually it declines and disappears.

Antisemitism is different. It is the paradigm case of irrational hatred. In the Middle Ages Jews were accused of poisoning wells, spreading the plague, and in one of the most absurd claims ever – the Blood Libel – they were suspected of killing Christian children to use their blood to make matzot for Pesach. This was self-evidently impossible, but that did not stop people believing it.

The European Enlightenment, with its worship of science and reason, was expected to end all such hatred. Instead it gave rise to a new version of it, racial antisemitism. In the nineteenth century Jews were hated because they were rich and because they were poor; because they were capitalists and because they were communists; because they were exclusive and kept to themselves and because they infiltrated everywhere; because they were believers in an ancient, superstitious faith and because they were rootless cosmopolitans who believed nothing. Antisemitism was the supreme irrationality of the Age of Reason.

It gave rise to a new myth, The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a literary forgery produced by members of the Czarist Russia secret police toward the end of the nineteenth century. It held that Jews had power over the whole of Europe – this at the time of the Russian pogroms of 1881 and the antisemitic May Laws of 1882, which sent some three million Jews, powerless and impoverished, into flight from Russia to the West.

The situation in which Jews found themselves at the end of what was supposed to be the century of Enlightenment and emancipation was stated eloquently by Theodor Herzl, in 1897:

We have sincerely tried everywhere to merge with the national communities in which we live, seeking only to preserve the faith of our fathers. It is not permitted us. In vain are we loyal patriots, sometimes super loyal; in vain do we make the same sacrifices of life and property as our fellow citizens; in vain do we strive to enhance the fame of our native lands in the arts and sciences, or her wealth by trade and commerce. In our native lands where we have lived for centuries we are still decried as aliens, often by men whose ancestors had not yet come at a time when Jewish sighs had long been heard in the country . . . If we were left in peace . . . But I think we shall not be left in peace.

This was deeply shocking to Herzl. No less shocking has been the return of antisemitism to parts of the world today, particularly the Middle East and even Europe, within living memory of the Holocaust. Yet the Torah intimates why. Irrational hate does not die.

Not all hostility to Jews, or to Israel as a Jewish State, is irrational, and where it is not, it can be reasoned with. But some of it is irrational. Some of it, even today, is a repeat of the myths of the past, from the Blood Libel to the Protocols. All we can do is remember and not forget, confront it and defend ourselves against it.

Amalek does not die. But neither does the Jewish people. Attacked so many times over the centuries, it still lives, giving testimony to the victory of the God of love over the myths and madness of hate.

[1] Of course, there were subsequent attacks by Amalek (including, according to tradition, in Bamidbar 21:1) but the decree to obliterate Amalek was issued after their first attack.

Drasha Tetzaveh-Zachor תשפ"ו - What Shmuel's Elimination Of Agag Teaches Us About The War With Iran That Just Started

Introduction and Context

The speaker begins by setting a dramatic scene: Before giving a Shabbat morning sermon on Parshat Tetzaveh and Parshat Zachor (the Torah reading that commands the remembrance and destruction of Amalek), he hears the buzzing of airplanes. He realizes that a military conflict between Israel and Iran might have begun. He contextualizes this modern conflict as the latest chapter in a long, ongoing spiritual and physical war against the "evil descendants of Haman and Amalek," whose ultimate goal is the annihilation of the Jewish people. He draws a historical parallel to the Gulf War 35 years prior [which ended Purim time], noting how the arrogant and evil Saddam Hussein was ultimately reduced to a pathetic figure, and expresses hope that the current Iranian regime will meet the same fate.

The Biblical Precedent: Samuel and Agag

To explain the theological framework of this war, the speaker turns to the Haftarah of Parshat Zachor, which details King Saul’s failure to wipe out Amalek and the subsequent actions of the prophet Samuel. When Saul spares Agag, the King of Amalek, Samuel steps in to execute him.

The speaker highlights three specific details from the text that require explanation:

The Pronouncement: Samuel tells Agag, “As your sword has made women childless [or widowed], so shall your mother be childless.” Why does Samuel focus on the grieving mothers and widows, rather than the men Agag actually murdered?

The Execution: Samuel literally hacks Agag into pieces. Why is the execution so brutal?

The Location: The text states Samuel did this Lifnei Hashem (before God). Why is such a gruesome act described as being done in the presence of the Divine?

The Sadistic Nature of Amalek

Answering the first question, the speaker defines the unique, pure evil of Amalek—a spiritual lineage that he connects to the Nazis, Hamas, and the Iranian regime. Amalek’s primary pleasure is not merely in killing, but in sadism. They take joy in the suffering of the innocent.

The speaker contrasts the Jewish reaction to war—mourning, crying over fallen soldiers, and agonizing over widows and orphans—with the reaction of Israel's enemies. He points to videos of crowds dancing and celebrating after the 9/11 attacks. Samuel’s curse was mida keneged mida (measure for measure): because Agag took sadistic pleasure in watching mothers become childless, his own mother would be made to suffer that exact agony.

The Limits of Mercy and the Necessity of Cruelty

Addressing the brutal nature of Agag's death, the speaker explains a concept from the Talmud. Normally, Jewish law mandates that even a condemned criminal must be given a "humane" and dignified death out of love for one's fellow creations. However, Amalek forfeits this right. The commandment regarding Amalek is to actively arouse hatred (meo'rer eivah) against them. Because Agag acted like a vicious animal, Samuel treated him like an animal, hacking him to pieces.

This leads to the explanation of Lifnei Hashem. The name of God used in the text (Havayah) represents Rachamim (mercy). How can hacking a man to pieces be an act of mercy? The speaker cites the Talmudic principle: "Whoever is merciful to the cruel will end up being cruel to the merciful."

King Saul’s misplaced mercy toward Agag allowed the Amalekite bloodline to survive, eventually leading to Haman, who tried to exterminate all the Jews. The speaker applies this to modern Israeli history, explicitly criticizing the Gilad Shalit prisoner exchange. By showing "mercy" and releasing over 1,000 terrorists to save one soldier, Israel released Yahya Sinwar [among many others who later committed terrorist attacks], who subsequently orchestrated the October 7th massacre. True, divine mercy (Lifnei Hashem) requires the total eradication of pure evil to protect the innocent.

The Theology of Purim: Holding Two Extremes

The speaker connects these ideas to the holiday of Purim and the obligation of Ad D'lo Yada—reaching a state where one does not know the difference between "Cursed is Haman" and "Blessed is Mordechai."

He explains that the Jewish soul must be capable of holding two extreme, contradictory emotions simultaneously. On one hand, a Jew must possess infinite love, holiness, and compassion (Mordechai). On the other hand, a Jew must be capable of absolute, ruthless hatred and cruelty when facing pure evil (Haman). Misplaced compassion in wartime is a fatal flaw.

The True Nature of the Jewish Soul

The speaker contrasts Amalek with the story that precedes it about the Kenites, a nation Saul spared because they had shown chesed (kindness) to the Israelites in the desert. This highlights the fact that the goal is chesed.

Drawing heavily on the writings of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook (Orot), the speaker concludes by describing the ultimate essence of the Jewish people. The core of the Jewish soul is an unbounded, limitless desire to do good for the entire world and all of creation. The Jewish people do not want war; they are forced into it by the existence of absolute evil.

Conclusion

The speaker ends with a prayer for the ultimate Geulah (Redemption). He prays for a time when evil is finally eradicated, allowing the Jewish people to stop waging war and to fully express their true, unhindered nature: showering limitless goodness, light, and blessing upon the world.

מבוא והקשר

הדובר פותח בהצבת סצנה דרמטית: לפני שנשא דרשת שבת בבוקר על פרשת תצוה ופרשת זכור (קריאת התורה המצווה לזכור ולמחות את עמלק), הוא שומע את זמזום המטוסים. הוא מבין שייתכן כי החל סכסוך צבאי בין ישראל לאיראן. הוא ממקם את הסכסוך המודרני הזה כפרק האחרון במלחמה רוחנית ופיזית ארוכה ומתמשכת נגד "צאצאי המן ועמלק הרשעים", שמטרתם האולטימטיבית היא השמדת עם ישראל. הוא מושך קו מקביל היסטורי למלחמת המפרץ לפני 35 שנה [שנסתיימה בסביבות פורים], ומציין כיצד סדאם חוסיין הגאה והרשע הושפל בסופו של דבר לדמות עלובה, ומביע תקווה שמשטר איראן הנוכחי יפגוש בגורל דומה.

התקדים המקראי: שמואל ואגג

כדי להסביר את המסגרת התיאולוגית של מלחמה זו, פונה הדובר להפטרת פרשת זכור, המתארת את כישלונו של שאול המלך למחות את עמלק ואת פעולותיו של הנביא שמואל לאחר מכן. כאשר שאול חס על אגג מלך עמלק, שמואל נכנס ומבצע את הוצאתו להורג.

הדובר מדגיש שלושה פרטים ספציפיים מהטקסט הדורשים הסבר:

ההכרזה: שמואל אומר לאגג: "כַּאֲשֶׁר שִׁכְּלָה נָשִׁים חַרְבֶּךָ כֵּן תִּשְׁכַּל מִנָּשִׁים אִמֶּךָ" (כאשר חרבך שיכלה נשים, כן תשכל אמך מנשים). מדוע שמואל מתמקד באימהות השכולות והאלמנות, ולא בגברים שאגג רצח בפועל?

ההוצאה להורג: שמואל ממש מפרק את אגג לגזרים. מדוע ההוצאה להורג כל כך אכזרית?

המיקום: הטקסט מציין ששמואל עשה זאת "לִפְנֵי ה'". מדוע מעשה מחריד כזה מתואר כנעשה בנוכחות האלוקית?

האופי הסדיסטי של עמלק

בתשובה לשאלה הראשונה, הדובר מגדיר את הרוע הייחודי והטהור של עמלק – שושלת רוחנית שהוא מקשר לנאצים, לחמאס ולמשטר האיראני. העונג העיקרי של עמלק אינו ברצח עצמו, אלא בסדיזם. הם נהנים מסבלם של חפים מפשע.

הדובר מנגיד את תגובת היהודים למלחמה – אבל, בכי על חללי צה"ל, ייסורים על אלמנות ויתומים – עם תגובת אויבי ישראל. הוא מצביע על סרטונים של המונים רוקדים ומתעלסים לאחר פיגועי 11 בספטמבר. קללתו של שמואל הייתה מידה כנגד מידה: מאחר שאגג נהנה בסדיזם מלראות אימהות משכולות, אמו שלו תסבול את אותו ייסור בדיוק.

גבולות הרחמים והצורך באכזריות

בהתייחס לאופי האכזרי של מותו של אגג, מסביר הדובר מושג מהתלמוד: בדרך כלל, ההלכה היהודית מחייבת לתת אפילו לנידון למוות מוות "הומני" ומכובד מתוך אהבת הבריות. אולם עמלק מאבד זכות זו. המצווה בעמלק היא לעורר שנאה (לעורר איבה) כלפיהם. מאחר שאגג פעל כחיה אכזרית, שמואל התייחס אליו כחיה – וחתך אותו לגזרים.

זה מוביל להסבר על "לִפְנֵי ה'". השם של האל המופיע בטקסט (הוי"ה) מייצג רחמים. כיצד חיתוך אדם לגזרים יכול להיות מעשה רחמים? הדובר מצטט את העיקרון התלמודי: "כל הרחמן על אכזרים – סופו להיות אכזר על רחמנים".

רחמיו המוטעים של שאול המלך על אגג אפשרו לדם העמלקי לשרוד, מה שהוביל בסופו של דבר להמן, שניסה להשמיד את כל היהודים. הדובר מיישם זאת על ההיסטוריה הישראלית המודרנית, ומבקר במפורש את עסקת שליט. בכך שהראתה "רחמים" ושחררה יותר מ-1,000 מחבלים כדי להציל חייל אחד, ישראל שחררה את יחיא סינוואר [בין רבים אחרים שביצעו לאחר מכן פיגועי טרור], שמאוחר יותר תכנן את טבח 7 באוקטובר. רחמי האל האמיתיים (לפני ה') מחייבים את השמדת הרוע הטהור המוחלט כדי להגן על החפים מפשע.

תיאולוגיית פורים: להחזיק בשני קצוות

הדובר מקשר רעיונות אלה לחג הפורים ולחובת "עד דלא ידע" – להגיע למצב שבו אין מבדיל בין "ארור המן" ל"ברוך מרדכי".

הוא מסביר שנשמת היהודי חייבת להיות מסוגלת להחזיק בשני רגשות קיצוניים ומנוגדים בו-זמנית. מצד אחד, היהודי חייב להיות בעל אהבה אינסופית, קדושה וחמלה (מרדכי). מצד שני, היהודי חייב להיות מסוגל לשנאה מוחלטת, אכזרית ובלתי מתפשרת כאשר הוא מתמודד עם רוע טהור (המן). חמלה מוטעית בזמן מלחמה היא פגם קטלני.

מהותה האמיתית של נשמת היהודי

הדובר מנגיד את עמלק עם סיפור הקיני שקדם לו – עם ששאול חס עליו משום שהראה חסד לבני ישראל במדבר. הדבר מדגיש שהמטרה היא חסד.

בהסתמך רבות על כתבי הרב אברהם יצחק הכהן קוק (אורות), מסכם הדובר ומתאר את מהותו האולטימטיבית של עם ישראל. ליבת נשמת היהודי היא תשוקה בלתי מוגבלת ובלתי מוגבלת לעשות טוב לכל העולם ולכל הבריאה. עם ישראל אינו רוצה מלחמה; הוא נאלץ להילחם בקיומו של רוע מוחלט.

סיכום

הדובר מסיים בתפילה לגאולה השלמה. הוא מתפלל לזמן שבו הרוע יושמד סופית, ויאפשר לעם ישראל להפסיק לנהל מלחמות ולהביע במלואו את טבעו האמיתי, הבלתי מעוכב: לשפוך טוב אינסופי, אור וברכה על העולם כולו.

Yakar And Kavod

One of the highlights of Purim is singing the song La’Yehudim haysa orah v’simchah v’sasson v’yikar — “And there was for the Jews light, and happiness, and gladness, and honor.” The lyrics for that song are taken straight from the Scroll of Esther read on the holiday (Est. 8:16), and that very verse is also traditionally recited every Saturday night as part of the Havdalah ceremony. The last word of that passage v’yikar (“honor”) seems to be synonymous with the word kavod in Hebrew, which likewise refers to “honor.” In this essay, we explore various ways of differentiating between these two apparent synonyms.

Before we try to distinguish between these terms, we should first establish that their respective roots YOD-KUF-REISH (from whence yakar derives) and KAF-BET-DALET (from whence kavod derives) both carry multiple meanings. The former can refer in Biblical Hebrew to something "precious," "expensive," or "honorable," while the later can refer to something "heavy/excessive" or "honorable," as well as to the "liver." The polysemous nature of these two rotos can be understood through the thematic connection between physical weight, value, and honor. This connection reflects a conceptual metaphor deeply embedded in human thought — that is, substantiality equates to importance or worth.

The idea that something physically “heavy” is substantial aligns with the notion that something “valuable” or “expensive” is also substantial in a financial or symbolic sense. In ancient societies, objects made of heavy materials like gold, silver, or stone were often considered precious because of their rarity and durability. Thus, physical weight became a metaphor for financial or intrinsic worth. The more substantial something is—whether in terms of physical weight, financial value, or social importance—the more respect or honor it commands. A “heavy” object was difficult to carry and thus required effort to move, symbolizing its importance. Similarly, something “expensive” or “precious” required significant resources to obtain and hold onto, showing it to be something worth expending those efforts.

Rabbi Eliyahu Bachur in Sefer Tishbi already linked the two meanings of yakar in the sense of “precious” and “expensive,” explaining that everything “precious” becomes “expensive.” Indeed, economists now know that the law of supply and demand dictates that the more precious something is, the rarer it becomes because there is a lower supply, which causes its price/value to rise.

Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh of Carpentras (in Aholei Yehuda) connects the word kaved (“liver”) to this idea by noting that the liver's function is to filter the nutrients that enter the body and distribute them to one’s various limbs and organs according to their needs. This form of distribution is considered an "honorable" way of divvying resources, and thus the very liver is associated with honor. Alternatively, he explains the connection between “liver” and “honor” based on the Talmud (Brachot 60b), which teaches that the liver is the body part that causes “anger.” Given that most cases of anger result from a person perceiving something as slighting or disregarding the honor they feel is due to them, this means that the liver — “the limb of anger” — is intimately tied up with the concept of honor, so it makes sense why the Biblical Hebrew word for “liver” would derive from the same root as the Biblical Hebrew word for “honor.”

In Rabbinic Hebrew, the verb l’chabed not only means "honoring," but also carries the sense of "sweeping" or "cleaning." In contemporary discourse, the term kibud kal refers to "light refreshments" or a "repast." Both concepts — cleaning and providing refreshments — are understood as ways of honoring one’s guests or attendees.

In his introduction to Yeriot Shlomo, Rabbi Shlomo Pappenheim of Breslau speculates that perhaps the triliteral root KAF-BET-DALET was formed as a fusion of the two biliteral roots KAF-BET (“extinguishing”) and BET-DALET (“aloneness/individual”). He does not, however, intimate how this portmanteau could be thematically explained, and in his works Yeriot Shlomo and Cheshek Shlomo, he never revisits this supposition. 

As Rabbi Eliyahu Bachur in Meturgaman notes, Targum tends to translate instances of the Hebrew KAF-BET-DALET both when it appears as “heavy” (Ex. 4:10, 7:14, II Sam. 14:26) and “honor” (Ex. 20:11, I Sam. 2:29, Isa. 43:23) into the Aramaic YOD-KUF-REISH. In light of that fact, a simple way of differentiating between kavod and yakar might be that while the former is a Hebrew word, the latter is an Aramaic word. In this way, the difference between the two synonyms is not semantic, but rather linguistic/etymological. The problem with this solution is that declensions of the root YOD-KUF-REISH (from which yakar derives) appear many times in the Bible, even in sections written in Biblical Hebrew. This makes it difficult to say that yakar is not a Hebrew word, but is only an Aramaic word.

Rabbi Shlomo Pappenheim of Breslau traces the word yakar to the biliteral root KUF-REISH (explaining the initial YOD as radical to the word’s core root). He sees the principal semantic meaning of that root as relating to a “strong impact” that results from extreme weight or velocity. The way he explains it, something that may be branded as yakar is something whose mere mention can yield a great impact. For example, a precious gem is called yakar (Ezek. 27:22) because simply mentioning such gemstones impresses people and elicits strong reactions. In the same way, this term can be applied to anything that is considered especially “important” or “honorable.”

In the Scroll of Esther, the related term yikar refers to "excellence,” “esteem,” or “honorableness." Examples include when Achashverosh's showy party was meant to demonstrate his “honor” (Est. 1:4); when Achashverosh issued a decree demanding that all women give "honor" to their husbands (Est. 1:20); when the king wanted to give "honor" to Mordechai (Est. 6:3, 6:6); and, finally, in the story’s resolution after the Jews were saved from Haman's decree, they were happy and were said to have yikar (Est. 8:16). [We have discussed the two-letter root KUF-REISH in Rabbi Pappenheim’s etymological system many times over the years. For further reference, please see: "Remembering the Wall" (July 2020), "Freezing Cold" (Dec. 2021), "The Shofar's Horn" (Sep. 2022), and "Turning the Corner" (Mar. 2023).]

Rabbi Pappenheim further writes that in the Bible something "rare" is also called yakar, like when the Bible relates that in Samuel's youth, prophecy was considered yakar - "a rarity" (I Sam. 3:1). Rabbi Pappenheim relates this back to the core meaning of the biliteral root in question by explaining that something which occurs only seldomly (making it rare) is more impressive and creates a greater "impact" on people than things that occur on a more regular basis. Additionally, something costly/expensive is also called yakar because that high price is related to either the great esteem in which that commodity is held, or the rarity of its existence. For example, the Psalmist says, "the death for His pious ones is yakar in the eyes of Hashem" (Ps. 116:15). As Rabbi Pappenheim explains it, this means that Hashem is “hesitant” to kill off righteous people without just cause, because such pious people are so “important” to Him that it is “costly” in His eyes for them to die indifferently.

Unlike Rabbi Pappenheim who sees yakar as meaning both “rare” and “honorable/important,” Malbim (in Sefer HaCarmel and in Yair Ohr) splits the difference and uses these two discrete meanings to draw a distinction between the words yakar and kavod. Meaning, Malbim explains that yakar primarily refers to something “rare.” In that way, yakar denotes something that is not inherently important, but is simply important due to the circumstances (i.e., that it has very few equals). Examples of this might be precious metals or gems, which are not particularly valuable in their own right, but rather their “importance” merely stems from the fact that they happen to be rare. On the other hand, kavod describes something which deserves to be honored and venerated because of its own inherent properties. Examples of this are Torah Sages, who have achieved their sagacity through hard work and making right decisions.

It should be noted, though, that the Vilna Gaon's son Rabbi Avraham Vilner (Be'er Avraham to Est. 1:4) writes the exact opposite of the Malbim: kavod refers to one's esteem or importance vis-a-vis others, while yakar refers to one's inherent value without needing to be compared to others. Thus, we are back to square one in trying to differentiate between yakar and kavod.

In defense of the supposition we proposed above that yakar is the Aramaic equivalent to the Hebrew kavod, we point to a rabbinic tradition that sees the word yakar as quintessentially Aramaic: The Talmud (Megillah 9a) asserts that there are appearances of Aramaic in the Scroll of Esther, and one Amoraic sage adduces the following verse to bolster that assertion: “And all women should give honor [yikar] to their husbands” (Est. 1:20). The fact that Esther uses the seemingly-Aramaic word yikar rather than the Hebrew is seen by the Talmud as proof that Aramaic appears in Esther.

Likewise, in asserting that Adam’s spoken language was actually Aramaic, the Talmud (Sanhedrin 38b) cites a verse from Psalms ascribed to Adam: “How honorable to me are Your thoughts, O God?” (Ps. 139:17). As commentaries like Yad Ramah (to Sanhedrin 38b), Maharsha (to Bava Batra 75b), and Aruch L’Ner (to Sanhedrin 38b) explain it, this verse uses the Aramaic word for “honorable” (yakar) found primarily in Targum, in lieu of the Hebrew word kavod. Since Adam used an Aramaic word, this means to the Talmud that he spoke Aramaic. The problem with this understanding, as has already been pointed out by Rabbi Benzion Meir Chai Uziel (in his glosses to Megillah 9a), is that the word yakar also exists in Hebrew, wherein we already have seen it means “precious.” [In an alternate elucidation of this Talmud passage, Yad Ramah explains that the Talmud’s proof was from the word “Your thoughts” (ray’echa), which he understands to be a cognate of the supposedly Aramaic word ra’ayon (“idea”).]

Interestingly, various commentators were bothered by why the Amoraic sage in question offered the appearance of yikar in Est. 1:20 as proof of Aramaic in Esther, if the word yikar already appears earlier in Est. 1:4 when describing Achashverosh’s banquet as showing his “honor.” That question is dealt with by Rabbi Efrayim Zalmen Margulies (responsa Beis Efrayim, Orach Chaim §70), Rabbi Yehuda Aryeh Leib Alter of Gur (Sfat Emet to Megillah 9a), Rabbi Zvi Hirsch Chajes (in his glosses to Megillah 9a and Sanhedrin 38b), and Rabbi Eliezer Harstik (Raglei Mevasser to Sefer HaTishbi).

Rabbi Baruch HaLevi Epstein (in Safah La’ne’emanim pages 34-35) proposes an answer based on the idea that a single word from a different language in a given corpus of text is unsurprising and cannot be sufficient proof that that text “uses” another language (because individual loanwords are used all the time). Rather, he asserts that only the use of multiple words from another language in a single sentence could constitute proof that a text “uses” another language, so the Amoraic sage in question preferred Est. 1:20 to Est. 1:4 as proof of the Scroll of Esther “using” Aramaic. Rabbi Yosef Shaul Nathansohn (Beit Shaul to Yadayim 4:5) answers that the Talmud meant to seek out an instance of an Aramaic word being inflected in a Hebraized way, not just a word whose etymology lies in Aramaic (see also Rabbi Naftali Maskileison’s commentary Miskenot Naphtali to Yadayim 4:5).

There were several Medieval rabbis named Rabbeinu Yakar or Rabbeinu Yakir (for examples, see Tosafot to Eruvin 40b, Avodah Zarah 68a, Chullin 47a). These sages include one whose son Rabbi Yaakov bar Yakar was a teacher of Rashi, and another one whose son Rabbi Yehuda ben Yakar was a teacher of Nachmanides. It has been argued by scholars that Yakar/Yakir was not actually a given name, but was rather a nickname for people named Ephraim (although Rabbi Dr. Ephraim Kanarfogel wrote to me in private correspondence that this is not true across the board). [There’s even a female counterpart to this name, Yakirah.]

The onomastic connection between Ephraim and Yakar/Yakir is based on a Biblical passage in which Hashem rhetorically asks if His son Ephraim (a metonym for the Kingdom of Israel, which was steeped in idolatry) is “precious” (yakir) to Him (Jer. 31:19). This punning is not a unique phenomenon, as other Medieval rabbis with given names from the Bible were also granted other nicknames associated with those Biblical names. Most famously, Rashi’s grandson Rabbi Yaakov ben Meir was nicknamed Rabbeinu Tam because the Biblical Jacob (Yaakov) was described as a “wholesome man” (ish tam) who sat in the tent (Gen. 25:27). Similarly, Rabbeinu Porat (cited by Tosafot to Shabbat 17a, 26b, 28a 35b, 41a, 64b, 80a, 107b, 117b, 120a, 148a, 148b, 149a, 156b, Yoma 21a, 46a) was really named Yosef (see Tosafot to Shabbat 21b, 24b, 134b) based on the Biblical phrase ben porat Yosef (Gen. 49:22). [Ohrnet]

Ayatollah To Give Speech As Soon As Officials Find The Rest Of His Body

 TEHRAN — Iranian officials have promised that Ayatollah Khamenei will give a speech just as soon as they have located the rest of his body.

The Iranian government has said it will prove that the strikes on Iran have been a complete failure by showing Khamenei alive and well. However, the speech will have to wait until they can find his legs.

"The world shall see how the cowardly attacks of America could never touch Allah's chosen one," said an Iranian official. "The Ayatollah himself will speak to his people, as soon as he has, ah, gathered himself. We are waiting only for the moment when the pieces have fallen into place, so to speak."

At publishing time, suspicions had been raised after the speech was given by Khamenei's head on a broomstick with an aide moving his jaw up and down.