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What does a good life actually look like?


Is it lying on the beach with nothing to do? Sitting on the couch watching movies? Playing video games, shopping, eating and drinking? Just having free, unstructured, unbridled fun and pleasure?


All of these things can be enjoyable for a time. But eventually something happens. The novelty wears off. The enjoyment fades. What once felt exciting starts to feel empty, or at best insufficient.


It seems that a truly good life requires more than pleasure alone. We need a balance of structure and freedom, effort and rest, work and play, social connection and purpose. We also need something deeper, a sense of spirituality and connection that anchors us beyond the physical and the momentary. Without that inner dimension, even a full life can still feel hollow.


The same is true for society. For a society to function, there must be structure and shared rules that protect everyone within it. Laws create trust, and trust allows people to live together without constant fear or suspicion.


A simple example is traffic lights. We stop at a red light not because stopping is enjoyable, but because we trust the system. When my light is green, I can drive through the intersection with confidence, knowing the cars coming from the other direction will stop. Then the light changes and I stop so others can go. That structure allows everyone to reach their destination safely and efficiently.


If there were no rules and no structure, if everyone simply did what pleased them, life would quickly become chaotic and unsafe. No one could truly coexist. Ironically, the absence of limits would not create freedom, but suffering.


This idea comes through powerfully in this week’s parsha. The Jewish people receive the Ten Commandments engraved on the tablets, along with the broader framework of mitzvot that form the foundation of Jewish life and, in many ways, the moral foundation of Western civilisation. These laws are not only about order, but about shaping a life of meaning, responsibility, and connection to something greater than ourselves.


There is a well-known story of a person who came to Hillel the Elder and asked him to teach the entire Torah while standing on one foot. Hillel replied, “What you do not like, do not do to others. The rest is commentary. Go and learn.” At its core, Torah is about how we relate to one another and how we live with awareness, empathy, and spiritual sensitivity.


At times, structure can feel frustrating. We do not always like being told no. We may want to rush through the red light to get where we are going faster. But those limits exist not to restrict life, but to protect it. They dramatically increase the chances that we actually arrive alive, intact, and able to continue the journey.


A good life is not one without boundaries. It is one where structure, purpose, spirituality, and connection come together to create space for meaning, growth, and lasting fulfilment.

And perhaps that is the deeper message. True freedom is not doing whatever we want in the moment. It is living in a way that allows us, and those around us, to truly thrive.



One of the most powerful moments in this week’s parsha, Beshalach, is not the splitting of the sea but what happens before it. The Jewish people have left Egypt, slavery is behind them. Yet they now stand trapped between Pharaoh’s advancing army and the Reed Sea. Fear sets in. Confusion reigns. Different opinions fly around. No one knows what to do.


Moshe turns to G-d and the response is surprising: “Go forward.”


Go forward… where? There is no plan. No visible miracle. No clarity.


It is only when Nachshon ben Aminadav, leader of the tribe of Yehuda, steps into the water walking forward until it reaches his neck that the sea finally splits. The path opens after he moves.


This moment teaches a timeless lesson, Clarity often comes after action, not before it.

How often do we do the opposite? We make New Year’s resolutions but don’t start because we haven’t figured out the “perfect” system. We intend to exercise but wait until motivation magically appears.  We want to grow but delay until fear disappears and then three months pass… and nothing has changed.


Nachshon shows us another way. Growth doesn’t begin when fear leaves, it begins when we move despite fear, One simple but powerful tool emerges from this moment:

Start before you’re ready, Don’t wait to feel confident. Take one small step forward and let momentum do the rest, as the Nike line goes, just do it!. Action creates movement. Movement creates clarity.


But Beshalach doesn’t stop there, soon after crossing the sea, the Jewish people are attacked by Amalek. The Torah describes Amalek not just as an enemy, but as a force that brings doubt, weakness, and coldness of spirit. Their goal is not only to fight, but to drain confidence and hope.


Here is a nation that has just witnessed miracles, left centuries of slavery, and tasted freedom, yet they are still vulnerable to doubt.


Why? Because while they had left Egypt physically, Egypt had not yet left them mentally.

In Hebrew, Mitzrayim (Egypt) shares the same root as meitzarim, constraints, boundaries. Slavery doesn’t only create external limitations; it implants internal ones: “I can’t.” “It’s safer not to try.” “Who do I think I am?”


This is why personal growth requires more than external change. A new job, a new habit, or a brave decision is only the beginning. Inner freedom takes work. Amalek Lives in the Mind, Chassidic teachings explain that Amalek represents inner doubt, the quiet voice that undermines courage and convinces us to retreat.


The Torah commands us to constantly “erase Amalek.” On a personal level, this means learning to interrupt destructive thinking patterns.


Here’s a second practical tool from this week’s parsha: Stop negative thoughts in their tracks. When doubt arises, don’t debate it endlessly. Say Stop. “I will not entertain this thought.” “I choose courage over fear.”


Just as the sea didn’t split through analysis, inner breakthroughs don’t happen through overthinking. They happen through decisive action.


Beshalach teaches us that freedom has two stages:

  1. The courage to step into the water before it splits

  2. The commitment to uproot the inner limiting thoughts that may linger afterward


True growth means taking responsibility for both. If you feel stuck, perhaps you’re waiting for clarity that only action can bring. If you’ve already taken steps but still feel doubt, perhaps you’re still shedding Egypt from within.


Either way, the message is the same: Jump in. Change what you’re focusing on. Take control of the direction.  You don’t need the whole path—just the courage to take the next step. The sea still splits for those who move forward.


This week’s parsha is called Bo—a small word with a powerful message. Bo means come, not go. When G-d instructs Moshe to confront Pharaoh, He does not say, “Go to Pharaoh.” He says, “Bo el Paroh”come to Pharaoh. In other words: You are not going alone. I am with you. We are doing this together.


That subtle shift in language carries an enduring life lesson.


So often, we feel that if something matters, we must handle it entirely on our own. We tell ourselves that unless we can see the whole path clearly—unless we have the energy, confidence, resources, and certainty of success—it’s not worth starting. Anything less than full control feels like failure.


But Judaism teaches a different way of thinking.


The Mishnah in Pirkei Avot reminds us: “You are not free to desist from the work, but neither are you obligated to complete it.” Our responsibility is not to finish everything. Our responsibility is to begin.


This applies on a global level—and just as much on a deeply personal one. There are dreams we carry that feel distant. Ideals that inspire us, yet seem out of reach. We may lack the time, the stamina, the clarity, or the tools to see them through. And so we wait. We postpone. We convince ourselves that when conditions are perfect, then we’ll act.

Parshat Bo tells us: don’t wait to go—come.


Come with what you have. Come with uncertainty. Come with doubts. Come with small steps. You are not alone in the process.


What matters most is the willingness to start—to move forward a little each day. Progress does not usually arrive in dramatic breakthroughs, but through steady, consistent effort. Over time, those small steps compound. What once felt impossible begins to take shape.

We sabotage ourselves when we allow fear, doubt, or imagined expectations to paralyse us. When perfection becomes the gatekeeper, nothing gets done. Growth begins the moment we get out of our own way.


Bo reminds us that wherever we are asked to go in life, we are not being sent alone. We are coming—with the blessings, abilities, and resources already placed within us. We are here on a mission, capable of far more than we realise.


Set the goal. Aim for it. Push forward, gently but persistently. And trust that you are not walking this path by yourself.


We are not meant to finish the world—but we are meant to improve it, one step at a time, leaving it better than we found it.

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