TMT, Rabbi Zakheim, Hasmada, 4

Good morning.

We continue our discussion on hasmadah—consistency in Torah learning. Interestingly, there are two Hebrew words that carry this idea: tamid, meaning “constant,” and tadir, meaning “frequent” or “regular.” Both reflect the incredible power of doing something all the time.

One of my dearest friends is making a siyum today on an entire Seder of Mishnayos—an extraordinary achievement. But accomplishments like that don’t come from occasional efforts or taking multi-year breaks. They come from a steady, step-by-step commitment. Just a little bit, done consistently, can lead to massive success.

This is the secret behind Daf Yomi—2,711 blatt of Gemara, one page a day. My own father, zichrono livracha, didn’t finish a full daf of Gemara on his own until he was around 50 years old. But once he began Daf Yomi, he never stopped—and 2,711 days later, he completed Shas. It’s consistency, not speed, that gets you across the finish line.

This value is even codified in halacha. We have the rule: tadir v’she’eino tadir, tadir kodem—when two mitzvos present themselves, you give precedence to the one that is done more regularly. Consistency gives something weight and priority.

I want to share two meaningful insights.

The first comes from Rav Chaim Volozhiner, the great disciple of the Vilna Gaon and founder of the yeshiva movement. He’s quoted as saying something surprising. We often hear about the greatness of kevius ittim—setting aside specific times for learning Torah. But Rav Chaim flipped the perspective. He said: make Torah your tamid—your constant. Let everything else in life work around it. Set your time for distractions, for bittul Torah, if needed—but everything else should be built around learning.

My Rebbe’s father, zichrono livracha, learned in Radin for 16 years. There aren’t many stories told about him. Why? Because he did the same thing every single day. He never missed a seder, never missed a tefillah, for 16 years straight. He didn’t stay up late past night seder, and he didn’t rise before dawn to learn either. He was concerned that such efforts would interfere with being consistent. His greatness was in never missing—not once—what he was supposed to do.

There is enormous strength in that model.

So today, I want to wish a heartfelt mazal tov to my dear friend on his siyum. His consistency has lit a fire in me, and I hope to follow his path and one day make a siyum on Mishnayos myself. May all of us be inspired to take on great things—one small, steady step at a time.

Have a wonderful day, b’ezras Hashem.