First of all, I want to take this opportunity to extend condolences to Asher on the loss of your father, alav hashalom. What was his name?

Eliyahu ben Porchah Avrahami.

Eliyahu ben Porchah Avrahami. The neshama should have an aliyah. We extend our heartfelt condolences. We did not have the opportunity to participate in the shiva in Eretz Yisrael or the shloshim, and we bless you with Hamakom yenachem etchem b’toch sha’ar aveilei Tzion v’Yerushalayim, and that you should know no more sorrow.

Additionally, today is the yahrzeit of Mr. Redlich’s father, Reuven ben Shlomo.

It almost feels like when there are two Adars—Adar Rishon and Adar Sheini—and the passing occurred in a regular Adar, then to fulfill all opinions, the yahrzeit is observed twice: once in Adar Rishon and again in Adar Sheini. If there is only one Adar, then of course it is observed only once. But when the original passing was in a year with one Adar, and the current year has two Adars, we observe it in both months to cover all views.

It almost resembles the idea of Pesach Sheini—that if something was missed, one is given another opportunity to make up for it and do it properly.

So too with a yahrzeit—it can feel like an additional opportunity to remember, to reconnect, and to elevate.

I want to connect this idea to today’s portion in the Chumash.

Today’s parsha discusses a very great and exciting moment in the history of the Jewish people—the erection of the Mishkan in the desert. For seven days, Moshe Rabbeinu served as the Kohen, assembling and disassembling the Mishkan each day, but the Divine Presence did not yet dwell there.

It was only on the eighth day—Yom HaShemini—that the Shechinah rested upon the Mishkan. It was an incredibly uplifting and joyous moment.

Yet, on that very same day, a tragic event occurred.

Aharon had four sons, and two of them—the older sons, Nadav and Avihu—passed away on that very day, which was Rosh Chodesh Nissan, a day of immense joy and spiritual elevation.

Following this, a halachic discussion arose between Moshe Rabbeinu and Aharon regarding whether the Kohanim were permitted to eat certain korbanos.

In addition to the inauguration offerings of the eighth day, it was also Rosh Chodesh, which had its own sacrifices. Furthermore, the Nesi’im—the leaders of the tribes—were bringing their offerings, beginning with Nachshon ben Aminadav from the tribe of Yehudah.

The question was: since Aharon and his sons were in a state of mourning (onus), were they permitted to eat from the korbanos?

Generally, a Kohen who is an onen is not allowed to eat sacred offerings. Just as one must be physically pure, there must also be an emotional and spiritual state of readiness.

Moshe Rabbeinu initially thought that since there was a special instruction (hora’as sha’ah) permitting the eating of certain offerings on that day, it should apply broadly. However, Aharon held that it did not apply to all offerings, and therefore they refrained from eating them.

Moshe became upset, and we learn from here that even when one becomes angry for a justified reason, it can lead to error. Indeed, Moshe later acknowledged that Aharon was correct.

The lesson here is very powerful.

When a person is in mourning, it is naturally difficult to focus on holy matters, to connect to kedushah. Yet we see that even in such a state, there are times when one must rise above the pain and continue to connect.

A yahrzeit is a difficult time. The loss of a parent is deeply felt, regardless of one’s age or stage in life. There is always a unique and irreplaceable bond between a child and a parent—especially between a son and his father.

Yet, the response is not to withdraw, but to come closer.

One comes to shul, joins a minyan, says Kaddish, davens, gives tzedakah, and performs mitzvos. In doing so, we fill the void—we bring light into the space of loss.

During shiva, one refrains from certain activities, including Torah study, but afterward one returns to life, reconnects, and continues to grow.

Parents care for their children during their lifetime. After their passing, it is the children who care for the parents—through Kaddish, through remembrance, through mitzvos done in their merit.

This is a form of hakaras hatov—recognition and gratitude—for everything they have done.

So may Hashem help that even during these difficult times, we are strengthened, that the neshamos have aliyos, and that we find comfort.

And now we will daven Maariv.

Mr. Redlich, and everyone, please also note that tomorrow, im yirtzeh Hashem, we will have a baby naming here—a simcha—so we should continue from moments of difficulty to moments of joy.

Baruch Hashem, we should only share simchos.