“From There Hashem Will Take You”
When the Lowest Place Becomes the Beginning of Redemption
There is a strange kind of fear that comes before Rosh Hashanah.
On the one hand, Rosh Hashanah is beautiful. The shofar. The uplifting prayers. The meals. The symbolic foods. The hope for a good new year. The feeling that maybe this year will be better.
But there is also a quiet fear.
What if I am not who I should be? What if I have failed too many times this year? And as a nation, are we in too much danger? What if the world is turning against us again?
What if the problems are too big, the hatred too loud, the politics too broken, and the future too uncertain?
And maybe the deepest fear is this: what if we cannot stand proudly before Hashem on the Day of Judgment?
That is exactly where this week’s parsha begins.
Devarim / Deuteronomy 29:9–10
אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים הַיּוֹם כֻּלְּכֶם לִפְנֵי ה׳ אֱלֹקֵיכֶם רָאשֵׁיכֶם שִׁבְטֵיכֶם זִקְנֵיכֶם וְשֹׁטְרֵיכֶם כֹּל אִישׁ יִשְׂרָאֵל׃
טַפְּכֶם נְשֵׁיכֶם וְגֵרְךָ אֲשֶׁר בְּקֶרֶב מַחֲנֶיךָ מֵחֹטֵב עֵצֶיךָ עַד שֹׁאֵב מֵימֶיךָ׃
“You are standing today, all of you, before Hashem your God: your heads, your tribes, your elders, and your officers, every man of Israel; your small children, your wives, and your convert who is in the midst of your camp, from the woodcutter to the drawer of your water.”
Moshe is speaking to the entire nation. Not only the leaders. Not only the tzaddikim, the righteous people. Not only the scholars, judges, and elders. “כֻּלְּכֶם” — all of you. Every Jew. Every level. Every type. From the highest to the simplest. Everyone gets to stand before Hashem, because we are all His Children and His care for us is deeper than the sum of what we’ve done lately.
And Rashi tells us that there was something deeper happening here.
Rashi on Devarim 29:12
לָמָה נִסְמְכָה פָּרָשַׁת אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים לַקְּלָלוֹת? לְפִי שֶׁשָּׁמְעוּ יִשְׂרָאֵל מֵאָה קְלָלוֹת חָסֵר שְׁתַּיִם, חוּץ מִמּ״ט שֶׁבְּתוֹרַת כֹּהֲנִים, הוֹרִיקוּ פְּנֵיהֶם וְאָמְרוּ: מִי יוּכַל לַעֲמֹד בָּאֵלּוּ? הִתְחִיל מֹשֶׁה לְפַיְּסָם: אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים הַיּוֹם. הַרְבֵּה הִכְעַסְתֶּם לַמָּקוֹם וְלֹא עָשָׂה אִתְּכֶם כְּלָיָה, וַהֲרֵי אַתֶּם קַיָּמִים לְפָנָיו.
“Why is the section of ‘You are standing’ placed next to the curses? Because when Israel heard the ninety-eight curses, besides the forty-nine in Toras Kohanim, their faces turned pale and they said, ‘Who can stand up to these?’ Moshe began to comfort them: ‘You are standing today.’ You have angered Hashem many times, and He has not destroyed you; behold, you are still standing before Him.”
Moshe is not saying the curses are fake or that consequences do not matter. He is not saying that sin is harmless or that Hashem does not care how we live.
He is saying something much deeper: yes, there are consequences, because every real relationship has consequences. A relationship with no consequences is not love; it is neglect. If parents never respond when a child destroys himself, that is not compassion. If a marriage has no standards, no expectations, and no pain when trust is broken, that is not closeness. It means the relationship is empty.
Hashem’s consequences are not a sign that He has abandoned us. They are a sign that the relationship is real. But then Moshe says: look at yourselves. You are still here.
You made the Golden Calf. You believed the Lashon Hara of the spies. You complained about the Manna. You fell repeatedly. You angered Hashem many times. And yet, “אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים הַיּוֹם” — you are standing here today.
Not because failure is meaningless.
Not because sin does not matter.
But because Hashem does not give up on His people.
That is the first message we need as we approach Rosh Hashanah. In the past year we may have had failures. The Jewish people may feel battered and shaken. But Moshe Rabbeinu stands before us and says: you are still here. You are still standing before Hashem. You’re still learning His Torah on a Tuesday Night in September. That itself means the story is not over.
Pause and Think
Why do consequences sometimes feel like rejection, when really they can be a sign that the relationship still matters?
What does it mean to stand before Hashem with all parts of ourselves — the strong parts and the broken parts?
Can a person look at the fact that he is “still here” as a message from Hashem that he can still become great again?
Later in the parsha, the Torah gives another promise. It speaks about a time when the Jewish people will be scattered far from their land, pushed to the edges of the world, seemingly beyond hope.
Devarim / Deuteronomy 30:4
אִם־יִהְיֶה נִדַּחֲךָ בִּקְצֵה הַשָּׁמָיִם מִשָּׁם יְקַבֶּצְךָ ה׳ אֱלֹקֶיךָ וּמִשָּׁם יִקָּחֶךָ׃
“If your dispersed will be at the end of the heavens, from there Hashem your God will gather you, and from there He will take you.”
The words are beautiful, but one word seems extra: “מִשָּׁם” — from there.
The Torah could have said: if your exiles are at the ends of the heavens, Hashem will gather you and take you back. Why emphasize, “from there Hashem will gather you, and from there He will take you”?
The Zera Shimshon gives a powerful answer.
(In case you were wondering, The Zera Shimshon was Rav Shimshon Chaim ben Rav Nachman Michal Nachmani, an eighteenth-century Italian Torah giant, and kabbalist. He lived in Italy, served in rabbinic roles in several communities, and is best known for his sefer Zera Shimshon. His sefer became especially beloved because, after losing his only son, he wrote Torah insights as a kind of spiritual legacy, asking people to learn from his work as a merit for his neshamah, his soul.)
The Zera Shimshon connects our pasuk to a verse in Megillat Esther. When Haman returns home humiliated after being forced to honor Mordechai, his advisers tell him:
Esther 6:13
אִם מִזֶּרַע הַיְּהוּדִים מָרְדֳּכַי אֲשֶׁר הַחִלּוֹתָ לִנְפֹּל לְפָנָיו לֹא־תוּכַל לוֹ כִּי־נָפוֹל תִּפּוֹל לְפָנָיו׃
“If Mordechai, before whom you have begun to fall, is from the seed of the Jews, you will not be able to overcome him; rather, you will surely fall before him.”
The Gemara (Megilla 16A) asks why the verse uses the language of falling twice — “נָפוֹל תִּפּוֹל”, you will surely fall. It explains that the Jewish people are compared both to the dust and to the stars. When they fall, they can fall all the way to the dust. But when they rise, they rise all the way to the heavens. Haman’s advisors were saying to him, the Jews may be now in the dust, but if they have begun to ascend, they will reach to the stars, and as their chief antagonist, it won’t end well for you.
The Zera Shimshon then connects this to another Talmudic statement, about the verse:
Amos 5:2
נָפְלָה לֹא־תוֹסִיף קוּם בְּתוּלַת יִשְׂרָאֵל.
“She has fallen; she will no longer rise — the maiden of Israel.”
But the Talmud says that in Israel, they read it differently.
Berachos 4b
בְּמַעְרְבָא מְתָרְצִי לַהּ הָכִי: נָפְלָה וְלֹא תוֹסִיף לִפּוֹל עוֹד, קוּם בְּתוּלַת יִשְׂרָאֵל.
“In the West, [Israel], they explained it this way: She has fallen, and she will no longer continue to fall. Rise, maiden of Israel.”
This positive interpretation of the verse, like the message of Haman’s advisors, is that the Jewish people can go down, but from the depths, we come back up.
This is the Zera Shimshon’s explanation of “מִשָּׁם” — from there, in the verse in this week’s parsha.
Sometimes the Jewish people are gathered back not before the fall reaches its lowest point, but from the lowest point itself. Sometimes it is specifically when we feel pushed away, rejected, scattered, like the dust on the ground, and unable to fall any further — from there Hashem gathers us.
That does not mean the pain was imaginary. It does not mean the fall was easy. It means that the lowest point is not the end of the story. The lowest point is the turning point.
A person can feel this in his private life too. There are moments when he thinks: I cannot fix this. I cannot save myself. I cannot outsmart this situation. I don’t have the strength, connections, money, influence, reputation, or control to make everything okay.
And it is terrifying.
But sometimes that exact moment becomes holy. Because at that moment he finally says, “Only Hashem can save me.”
That is “מִשָּׁם”.
From that place. From that helplessness. From that honesty and vulnerability.
From that moment when all false securities collapse will Hashem your God will gather you in and lift you up.
This message feels especially important right now.
It is not hard to feel that antisemitism has become fashionable again. Not only in dark corners of the internet, but in respectable places, educated places, political places, and media spaces. Since October 7, Jewish communities around the world have watched antisemitism rise sharply. The ADL reported that antisemitic incidents in the United States reached record levels in 2024, the highest since it began tracking in 1979, and FBI data showed anti-Jewish hate crimes made up nearly seventy percent of religion-based hate crimes in 2024.
Many Jews hear language today that reminds them of darker chapters. In the 1930s, Father Charles Coughlin used radio broadcasts to spread antisemitic ideas to tens of millions of listeners. Today the technology is different — podcasts, livestreams, viral clips, social media — but the feeling is frighteningly familiar. Names like Tucker Carlson, Candace Owens, Nick Fuentes, on the right, Hassan Piker and Briahna Joy Gray on the left, reach tens of millions of listeners daily, and spew hatred to our people and our land almost daily.
And then there is the constant double standard around Israel. Syria butchered 400,000 of its own citizens, Christians are being slaughtered regularly in Nigeria, China put Uyghur Muslims into “re-education camps,” but not a single campus was shut down. But before Israel even began a military response to October 7, campuses were being shut down, Jews harassed on campus, and cries of genocide, apartheid, were being hurled at anyone wearing a Star of David.
Zohran Mamdani, the mayor of the city with the largest Jewish population in the US, said in an ABC interview that he would not support a Jewish State because he’s against “any state that privileges one religion over the other,” but then he enthusiastically supported Pakistan, a country whose constitution states plainly that “Islam shall be the State religion of Pakistan.” Boycotts of Israeli goods by entire countries in Europe hearken back to the Nuremberg Laws enacted by Germany in the 1930s. They are the only boycotted items despite their being over 50 disputed territories in the world
All this can leave a Jew feeling very anxious.
We look at politics and wonder: will the politicians save us?
We look at media and wonder: why is media always against us?
We look at the Jewish wealth, influence, institutions, and think tanks, and wonder: will these protect us? It’s not looking good…
But Rosh Hashanah comes and asks a deeper question: where is your real trust?
In Duties of the Mind, Rabbeinu Bachya ibn Pakuda (11th century Spain), writes:
Chovos Halevavos, Shaar HaBitachon, Introduction
וּמִי שֶׁבָּטַח עַל זוּלַת ה׳, מֵסִיר הָאֱלֹקִים הַשְׁגָּחָתוֹ מֵעָלָיו וּמַנִּיחַ אוֹתוֹ בְּיַד מִי שֶׁבָּטַח עָלָיו.
“Whoever trusts in something other than Hashem, God removes His providence from him and leaves him in the hand of the one in whom he trusted.”
If we say, “Our influence will save us,” Hashem may say, so to speak: then let your influence save you. If we say, “The political system will save us,” Hashem may say: then let the political system save you. If we say, “Public opinion will save us,” Hashem may say: then let public opinion save you.
And anyone paying attention knows how unstable those things can be.
But when a Jew says, “Hashem, I will still do what I must do, but my trust is only in You,” then he has returned to the only place where real security exists, and Hashem rewards his faith by taking the wheel and righting the ship.
That is Rosh Hashanah.
Rosh Hashanah is not only the day we ask Hashem for a year of life, health, livelihood, peace, protection, and blessing. It is the day we crown Him as King. Again and again, the Rosh Hashanah prayer book, declares: “ה׳ מֶלֶךְ” — Hashem is King.
To say Hashem is King means more than believing that God exists. It means that He rules history. He rules nations. He rules elections. He rules armies. He rules markets. He rules media narratives. He rules the hidden places of the human heart.
And therefore, when everything feels too low, too dangerous, too broken, and too far gone, a Jew can say: this is my “מִשָּׁם” From there moment. We’ve reached the place where we cannot trust in all the institutions we trusted before, and we look up and say, “Hashem, You are My King, and we declare my faith in you.”
From there, Hashem will gather us in. From there, Hashem will take us back. From the very place that looked like the end, Hashem will begin the Great Return. Let’s use our Rosh Hashanah to give the sovereignty back to Hashem, and see a 5787 that is truly ascendant.
This is not only a national message. It is deeply personal.
A person may come into Rosh Hashanah thinking: I fell too far this year. I wasted too much time. I damaged too many relationships. I lost too much focus. I became too distracted, too angry, too numb, too cynical, too comfortable, too tired.
Moshe Rabbeinu says: “אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים הַיּוֹם” — you are standing today.
The Zera Shimshon says: “מִשָּׁם” — from there.
Do not wait until you feel perfect to stand before Hashem. Stand before Him from there. From the place where you are. From the place that feels too low. From the place where you finally stop pretending you can save yourself. And reach out to Him.
That is the beginning of your personal geulah, your redemption.
Pause and Think
What are the things people tend to trust in instead of Hashem?
Why is it so tempting to believe that politics, money, or influence will be our ultimate protection?
Can fear itself become holy if it pushes a person to say, “Only Hashem can save me”?
What would it mean, practically, to crown Hashem as King this Rosh Hashanah?
Takeaway
As we enter Rosh Hashanah, the world can feel frightening. The Jewish people can feel isolated. A person can look at his own life and wonder whether he has fallen too far.
The parsha answers with two words.
First: נִצָּבִים — you are standing. You are still here. Hashem has not given up on you.
Second: מִשָּׁם — from there. Not from the place you wish you were. Not from the polished, perfect version of yourself. From there, from the low place, from the moment of fear, from the point where you finally realize that only Hashem can save you.
That is not the end.
That may be exactly where the return begins.
May we merit to enter 5787 with the clarity of Avinu Malkeinu — that Hashem is our Father and our King. May we stop placing our deepest trust in unstable human powers and return our hearts to Him. And from there, may Hashem gather us, lift us, protect us, and bless all of Klal Yisrael with a year of life, peace, unity, redemption, and revealed good.
