1. The Insured Cantor
A cantor proudly announces after a performance that his voice is insured with Lloyd’s of London for one million dollars. A voice from the back calls out: “So what did you do with the money?”
2. The Hebrew School Talent Show
A young girl plays Hava Nagila at a Hebrew school talent show. An elderly grandmother notices a man wiping away tears. “Isn’t it beautiful? Our young people are carrying on our Jewish tradition!” “I’m not Jewish,” he replies. “Then why are you crying?” “I’m a musician…”
3. Noah and the Bureaucracy
G-d tells Noah to build an Ark before the Flood. A year later, the waters are rising, but Noah is still sitting in his front yard. “Noah! Where is the Ark?” G-d thunders. “Lord, I tried! I needed building permits, zoning variances, environmental studies, union approval, and permission from the Army Corps of Engineers. The EPA objected to the Flood, and the ACLU obtained an injunction because it was a religious event! I need another nine years!” Suddenly, the clouds clear, and a rainbow appears. Noah asks hopefully, “Lord, does this mean You’ve decided not to destroy the earth?” G-d sighs. “Noah, I don’t have to. Bureaucracy already has!”
The Miracle of the Olive Leaf
In this week’s Torah portion, Noah sends a dove from the Ark to discover whether the Flood waters have receded. The first time, it returns empty-beaked. Seven days later, it returns with something remarkable: “And behold, an olive leaf freshly plucked was in her mouth.” Why an olive leaf? Why does the Torah specify that it was fresh?
The Rebbe addressed this question during the Yom Kippur War, and it is even more applicable to us three years after October 7 and one month after the miracle on FlyDubai.
The answer begins with the extraordinary olive tree. It can live for thousands of years, withstand drought, and regenerate even when its trunk and branches have been destroyed. Its roots can preserve life beneath the devastation. Mark Twain described the olive tree and cactus as “those fast friends of a worthless soil.”
Two olives were hanging from a tree when one suddenly fell. The remaining olive called down, “Are you okay?” “Olive!” came the reply.
But the olive tree’s greatest lesson is not simply that it survives. It can begin to grow again after everything appears lost.
The Flood had covered the earth, destroyed life, and left Noah with an uncertain future. Yet the dove returned with a fresh leaf—not a decaying remnant of the old world, but evidence that new life had begun. The olive leaf was a message of hope: devastation is not the end.
The Secret of Jewish Survival
Mark Twain once posed a question that has puzzled generations: What is the secret of Jewish immortality?
Empires rose and fell. Egypt, Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome dominated the world, yet eventually disappeared. The Jewish people, despite centuries of exile and persecution, survived.
The Talmud offers an answer. The Psalmist compares Jewish children to olive saplings, and our Sages explain that just as the olive tree endures through summer and winter, so does Israel.
The Jewish people are not immune to suffering. We have endured expulsions, pogroms, and the Holocaust. But our roots have survived the storms of history. Our roots are Torah, faith, family, and an unbreakable bond with G-d.
That is why Jewish education is so vital.
Consider Ulyanovsk, Russia, the birthplace of Vladimir Lenin, whose regime sought to eradicate Jewish religious life. Decades later, a Jewish school opened there, teaching children Hebrew, Jewish traditions, music, and their heritage. It was called the School of Dreams. In the very birthplace of a man whose regime tried to uproot Jewish life, Jewish children were learning and celebrating their identity once again. The roots were growing back.
In 1989, the Dalai Lama met with Jewish leaders to understand how the Jewish people had preserved their identity through nearly two thousand years of exile. He hoped their experience might offer lessons for the Tibetan people.
The answer lies in the olive tree: roots that run deep enough to survive the storm.
We can embrace modern knowledge and engage with the wider world, but we must never let our children become strangers to their own heritage. Jewish education is not merely about preserving the past. It is about ensuring that the future remains Jewish.
The Little Shul in Terezin
Prague is famous for its magnificent synagogues, especially the Alt-Neu Shul, more than 700 years old. But no synagogue compares to a tiny shul in Terezin (Theresienstadt), the Nazi ghetto and transit camp through which more than 150,000 Jews passed. Most were deported to Auschwitz and other killing centers; tens of thousands died.
The shul was a dark, damp room, barely 12 by 15 feet, originally used to store potatoes. Jewish prisoners secretly gathered there to pray, risking torture and death if discovered.
Some prisoners stole paint and brushes to decorate their hidden sanctuary. Their faded Hebrew inscriptions remain on the walls. One reads: “Know before whom you stand.” Another expresses the hope of returning to Zion. But the most heartbreaking inscription is a passage from Tachanun: “Despite everything, O G-d, we have not forgotten You. Please, do not forget us.”
Imagine those words written by people surrounded by death, who had lost their families, their homes, and nearly everything they held dear. They had every reason to despair.
Yet they prayed. “We have not forgotten You. Please—do not forget us.”
That is the voice of our people. That is the spirit of the olive tree.
The world may try to uproot us. History may break our branches and bury us beneath its floods. But if our roots remain alive—if we hold on to our Torah, educate our children, and preserve our faith—we will grow again.
The secret of the olive leaf is that life can emerge from devastation. The secret of the Jewish people is that, no matter how dark the night, we never stop planting the seeds of tomorrow.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky