Keeping Your Heart Young

I once heard a story about a rabbi in Jerusalem who devoted his life to building a new Hesder Yeshiva — a program that would bring young Jews from around the world to Israel to study Torah and serve in the IDF. It was a dream years in the making: to unite spiritual learning with the defense of the Jewish homeland.

When the framework was finally ready, the next great task was funding. The rabbi reached out to his dear friend David, a businessman in Florida, who immediately flew to Israel to help him bring the vision to life.

After days of meetings and long nights of planning over coffee and halva, they finally completed the details. The city was quiet, the air cool and clear. “Let’s walk to the Kotel,” the rabbi said. “It’s time to breathe it all in.”

They wound their way through Jerusalem’s ancient alleys until they reached the softly lit plaza of the Western Wall. A few men prayed quietly; two sat close to the stones. Then they noticed one man beside the Wall, weeping — tears streaming down his face as he swayed gently in prayer.

Thinking he was in distress, they approached him with care. The rabbi spoke softly:

“My friend, forgive us for intruding, but is there anything we can do to help you — with health, livelihood, or family?”

The man looked up, radiant with peace.

“Thank you, but everything is wonderful,” he said with a gentle smile. “I’m overcome with gratitude. Yesterday I accompanied my youngest — the seventh of my children — to the chuppah. All my children are married, healthy, and building Jewish homes. Tonight, I came here simply to say: Thank You, Hashem, for granting me a beautiful life.”

The rabbi stood silently beside David, both their hearts full. Together they sensed that through love, joy, and gratitude to Hashem, one opens the gate to acquiring an understanding heart — a heart that sees blessing not as something we earn, but as something we notice.

The Torah calls this Lev L’da’at — a heart that understands.
Its first mention of the word Lev (heart) appears in Bereishit (Genesis 6:5):

Its last mention appears near the end of Devarim (Deuteronomy 29:3):

Between those two verses lies the story of humanity’s spiritual growth — from a heart that errs to a heart that understands; from confusion to clarity, from fear to faith.

At the end of his life, Moshe stood on the mountain, his eyes undimmed and his strength unabated. The Torah tells us his vigor never faded — because his vision never dimmed. He kept his ideals alive, his purpose renewed, his faith young.

And so, as we now return to Bereishit, we find a sacred link between the end and the beginning. The last word of the Torah, Yisrael (יִשְׂרָאֵל), and the first word of the Torah, Bereishit (בְּרֵאשִׁית), join together — their final and first letters forming Lev (לב), the heart.

The Torah both begins and ends with the heart — the heartbeat of creation, the rhythm of divine relationship, and the source of all renewal.

Centuries later, Rabbi Bachya ibn Paquda, in his timeless work Chovot HaLevavot (Duties of the Heart), would teach that the truest service of G-d is not in the hands or lips, but in the heart. The external mitzvot are incomplete without the inner ones — gratitude, humility, love, and trust.

That is the same wisdom they glimpsed that night at the Kotel — a truth Moshe himself embodied: the heart’s deepest understanding comes not from analysis, but from appreciation.

As we begin the Torah anew this Shabbat, may we do so with hearts open to wonder, gratitude, and faith — for through gratitude we discover closeness, through joy we find renewal, and through love we keep our hearts — and our faith — forever young.

חזק חזק ונתחזק
חג שמח,
שמואל