Writing in Stone, Not in Pencil
There is something striking about this week’s parsha, Re’eh. Moses begins by addressing the lofty destiny of the Jewish people — their choices, their covenant, their future in the Land of Israel. Then, almost abruptly, the Torah interrupts Moshe’s subject and shifts to something seemingly unrelated: the festivals. Shabbos, Passover, Shavuos, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkos — the entire cycle of Jewish sacred time is laid out in the middle of a discussion about national mission and responsibility.
At first glance, this seems out of place. Why would the Torah pause in the middle of talking about the Temple (Mikdash) and suddenly bring up the Jewish holidays (Mo’adim)? Rabbi Berel Wein, who passed away this week, was a beloved rabbi, teacher, and storyteller, asked this question and offered the following answer: the Jewish calendar is not just a way to keep track of days and months. It’s much more than a schedule; it’s a sanctuary. It doesn’t just mark time — it transforms time by creating meaning and giving every moment the chance to connect us to something eternal.
Rabbi Wein illustrated this by recalling the Soviet Jews of the 20th century who risked imprisonment in Siberia just to know when Pesach (Passover) would fall. Think about it: they had no matzah, no wine, no kosher meat — but they were desperate to know the date. Why take such a risk? Because without the Jewish calendar, choices feel fleeting. But when you are connected to the sacred rhythm of Jewish time, even a simple act — refraining from chametz (leaven), whispering Ma Nishtana — carries eternal weight. This is why the festivals are listed here. Just as the Kohanim (priests) sanctify space in the Temple (Mikdash), the Jewish people sanctify time itself.
The ancient Temple in Jerusalem was holiness in space — and the Mo’adim (festivals) are holiness in time. The juxtaposition is deliberate. The Torah is teaching us that holiness is not confined to sacred places; it flows into the very rhythm of life.
We all know what it’s like to have our routines disrupted. You’re running through the week — work deadlines, carpools, bills, laundry — and suddenly, Shabbos arrives or Yom Tov (holiday) lands in the middle of a busy season. To many, it feels like an interruption, but the Torah reminds us that these interruptions are the point.
The Baal Shem Tov taught that every interruption is not a mistake but an example of the Almighty’s intervention (hashgachah pratis, Divine Providence). A phone call that delays you, a chance meeting, or an unplanned challenge are G-d’s way of entering your schedule. There’s something special hidden inside the challenge even though it looks like disruption. Your task is to uncover it.
Space is sanctified by building a Temple in Jerusalem, but time is sanctified by the calendar. The Almighty doesn’t just live in a holy building; He lives in our days and seasons. He steps into our schedules and says: Make room for Me here.
There is a story told about a Jew in the former Soviet Union who, not knowing when Passover was, traveled hundreds of miles to secretly meet a fellow Jew who had smuggled in a Hebrew calendar. He risked his job, his safety, even his freedom — for a date on a page. Why? Because for him, knowing the date of Pesach was knowing when eternity would touch his life. Even if he could not celebrate with matzah and wine, even if his “Seder” was nothing more than eating a boiled potato and whispering words of memory, it was his anchor to the chain of Jewish destiny. That single date lifted his choices from temporary survival into eternal meaning. That is the power of the Jewish calendar.
Our lives are filled with interruptions — the unexpected diagnosis, the plan that collapses, the opportunity that suddenly appears. Do we resent them as detours, or do we recognize them as Divine encounters? Shabbos and Yom Tov arrive precisely in the middle of “regular life” to train us for this. They teach us that sanctity is not found outside the interruptions — it is found inside them.
When G-d interrupts us, do we resist and push back to our own agenda, or do we allow Him to redirect us into a more meaningful and even holier story? Rabbi Berel Wein’s insight reminds us that Jewish time transforms the temporary into the eternal. When we welcome the “interruptions” of Shabbos and Yom Tov (holidays) — and even the unplanned interruptions of life — we discover that they are not intrusions at all. They are G-d weaving His presence into our story, sanctifying every moment, and turning our days into eternity.
May we merit in this Elul (the next Hebrew month, which precedes Rosh HaShanah, the Jewish New Year) and the year ahead to embrace life’s holy interruptions with faith and joy, so that our days — like our calendar — are etched not in pencil, but in eternity.