Many of us know kiruv is important. We have heard the lectures. We agree that bringing Jews closer to Torah is a great mitzvah.

A person approaches the rabbi with a sincere request: "I want to come to shul on Shabbat, but I live too far to walk. The only way I can make it is if I drive." The rabbi faces a choice. Does he say yes to bring the person closer, or does he hold the line and protect Shabbat?

Some rabbis today permit violations of Shabbat—such as driving to shul—claiming this strategy helps people draw closer to Torah. The reasoning sounds compassionate: let them drive to Bet Knesset for now, and eventually, they will do teshuvah and stop.

Before Pirkei Avot teaches us how to perfect our character, it does something surprising. It opens by declaring that all Israel has a share in the world to come. This is not a casual introduction.

A rabbi stands before his congregation. A major donor has asked a question about a business practice. The rabbi knows the halachah clearly forbids it, but he also knows this donor gives hundreds of thousands of dollars every year. What does he do?

We live in a world that operates by convenience. Secular culture trains us to evaluate decisions by what feels fair, what saves time, what appears practical, or what "makes sense" to us personally. But the Torah was never given to us on that basis.