One of the central themes of this week’s parsha is the story of the blessings—how Yaakov, at Rivka’s instruction, presents himself as Esav and receives the brachos from Yitzchak. The obvious question arises: If Hashem wanted Yaakov to receive these blessings, why wasn’t it arranged in a more straightforward manner? Why require Yaakov to act deceptively, and why place Rivka in a position where she risked her relationship with Yitzchak?
Rabbi Avraham Pam explains that this unusual path was deliberate—it was preparation. In the years that followed, Yaakov would face an unending series of hardships. He flees from Esav and is immediately robbed of all his possessions by his nephew Elifaz. He then spends twenty years enduring his uncle Lavan’s constant deceit. On his journey home, he must again confront Esav, who still wants to kill him. Soon after, his daughter Dina is kidnapped and violated, and later his beloved wife Rachel dies in childbirth.
How did Yaakov find the inner strength to endure so much pain and remain steadfast?
The Midrash teaches that what sustained him was the knowledge that giving up would betray the enormous sacrifice his mother had made for him. Rivka put everything on the line—her standing with Yitzchak, and her future—ready to accept any curse Yitzchak might utter against Yaakov for deceiving him. She knew that Yaakov was destined to carry the mission of the Jewish people. Her devotion became Yaakov’s reservoir of strength throughout every trial. He could not let her sacrifice be for nothing.
We, too, can draw strength from this. When we face difficult moments, we can look back at the parents, teachers, and mentors who invested in us—who sacrificed, guided, and believed in us. Remembering their efforts can give us the courage to keep going, to rise above our struggles, and to become the people they always knew we could be.
Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Shaps and the JET Team

Love this message. Thanks Rabbi.
When I worked, there were times when I, or one of my colleagues was ordered to deal with somethings that we found offensive, possibly causing harm. So, we often passed the ball to someone else who was under our supervision. Then we could stand back and not admit that we were involved at all. We called this “the dump and run.” For many, many people this was similar to passing by someone in need and looking away, pretending we didn’t see him/her.