Parshat Vayelech: Embracing Knesset Yisrael

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Parshat Vayelech presents the mitzvah of hakhel (assembly), when the entire Jewish people gathered during Sukkot at the end of the shemita year to hear the Torah read aloud. While this mitzvah could only be fully observed when the Mikdash stood, the commentaries emphasize that its essence carries enduring relevance.

The Torah commands that all participate in hakhel: men, women, and children. Rashi explains that men came to learn, women (who were then less educated) to hear, and young children to give “s’char” (reward) to their parents who brought them. Regardless of one’s level of knowledge, the Torah reading would touch the heart of each person in some way. Rambam explains that whether a person was exceptionally learned or couldn’t understand the words, everyone stood and listened together recalling the giving of Torah at Sinai. Hakhel was inclusive of all, no matter one’s level of understanding, knowledge and commitment. 

The Kli Yakar draws a parallel between hakhel and Yom Kippur: “The essence of hakhel is repentance.” Just as the Ten Days of Repentance focus on the individual, hakhel represents the collective dimension—a rare opportunity for communal teshuva, for the entire people to return together. Rav Soloveitchik similarly observes that Yom Kippur contains both dimensions: the shorter, personal vidui (confession) is followed by the longer, more powerful, communal one. Both are necessary, but the power of the collective confession lies in its voice as Knesset Yisrael—binding us not only to our present community but also to Jews across generations and to the entirety of Israel.

May we be blessed this year to experience the strength of hakhel and the embrace of Knesset Yisrael. May we find ways to deepen our unity and draw closer to the whole Jewish people. Shabbat Shalom and Gmar Chatima Tova – Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Nitzavim: The Call of Jewish Peoplehood

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We usually think of teshuva (repentance or return) as applying to individuals. Yet Parshat Nitzavim teaches us about another layer—one especially resonant at this moment in Jewish history—national teshuva.

The Ramban derives the mitzvah of teshuva from our parsha, traditionally read on the Shabbat before Rosh Hashana. The Hebrew root sh.u.v is repeated seven times in this section, characterizing teshuva as an ongoing process. It encompasses both the individual aspect: “You will return to your God…” and the collective dimension: “God will return and gather you from all the nations…” What, then, does national teshuva look like?

Rav Kook teaches that the Jewish people’s return to the Land of Israel is the foundation of the greatest teshuva. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, building on the Ramban, described teshuva as a “double homecoming”—physically to the land and spiritually to God. Perhaps, too, there is a dimension of spiritual return to the Jewish people themselves: a reawakening of responsibility, solidarity, and shared destiny. As Rabbi Sacks asked, can we hear “the divine call (‘Where are you?’) within the events that happen to us, whether individually as personal fate or collectively as Jewish history”?

The prophet Hosea offers further insight into national teshuva when he calls on Israel to return to God. The core of teshuva is through words: “Take words with you and return to God… Instead of bulls, we will pay [with offering of] our lips.”(14:3) National teshuva is achieved through words of prayer and in using language that fosters healing and repair. 

Especially now, amid today’s challenges and uncertainties, the call to teshuva resounds on both the individual and national level. How can each of us respond—through prayer, action, and words—in a way which strengthens Israel, the Jewish people, and the wider world? Shabbat Shalom & Shana Tova🇮🇱🍎🍯-Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Ki Tavo: Today

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“Never leave that till tomorrow which you can do today.” — Benjamin Franklin

Parshat Ki Tavo, in its list of blessings and curses, repeatedly emphasizes the word ha-yom (“today” or “this day”). Why such stress on the present moment?

Rashi, commenting on the verse “The Lord your God commands you this day to observe these laws…”, explains that mitzvot should feel new each day, as though we are receiving them afresh at Sinai. The Chafetz Chaim offers another perspective: ha-yom, the emphasis on today, reminds us not to take our days for granted. Additionally, he teaches that real growth comes not through lofty, overwhelming long-term goals, but through small, achievable steps we commit to today.

This theme of ha-yom also runs through the Rosh Hashana liturgy: “Today is the birthday of the world… today all creatures stand in judgment.” The Netivot Shalom links this emphasis on ha-yom to hitchadshut (renewal)– teaching that Rosh Hashana, the day of creation according to Rabbi Eliezer, carries unique potential for new beginnings in our relationship with God and with one another. Similarly, in the haftarah of Rosh Hashana, ha-yom marks the day Hannah’s prayers for a child were finally answered—a reminder that each new day holds the possibility of hope and change.

This week, in Israel and in the U.S., we have seen too many precious lives cut short through terrorism and hatred. Ha-yom—so central in our parsha and on the day of judgment—calls us to treasure what we have, to believe in the power of prayer for what we yearn for, and to begin today the work of building a safer, kinder, and more humane world. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Ki Tetze: Preventing Strife in Society

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“When you go out to war…” These opening words of the parsha are sobering to read as we approach the two-year mark of this war. Even more striking is their placement at the beginning of Parshat Ki Tetze, where they serve as a stark reminder of the toll war exacts—not only on individual soldiers but also on the wider society back home.

The parsha begins with the law of the eshet yefat to’ar, the foreign woman taken captive, whom a soldier may desire during wartime. While the Torah permits him to bring her home, it imposes strict conditions: she must be given a month to mourn her family, and afterwards he must either marry her or set her free. For its time, this law was revolutionary, significantly limiting the abuse of women in wartime. After this, the parsha shifts to matters of family and society.

It is striking that Ki Tetze begins here, after the laws of war were already given in Shoftim. Why is this law brought in this week’s parsha, and what message does its placement convey?

Some commentaries find a thematic link between the eshet yefat to’ar and the laws that follow. The midrash Tanhuma, noting its juxtaposition with the laws of polygamy and the rebellious son, teaches: “one sin leads to another sin.” In other words, a relationship born solely of physical desire will inevitably lead to family strife and ultimately catastrophe.

But there is another lesson here as well. War—even when necessary, even when far from home—carries deep consequences: for the enemy, for the soldiers who risk their lives, and for the nation they fight to defend. The Torah places this law at the head of the parsha precisely before the societal laws that follow, reminding us that responsibility extends beyond the battlefield. We must be vigilant, too, in preventing conflict within our homes and communities, and in preserving our nation as one family. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

* photo of car burnt in Jerusalem from TOI

Parshat Shoftim: Supporting Our Soldiers

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I can’t stop thinking about a deeply moving video clip that went viral in Israel this week. Udi Kagan—an extraordinarily courageous and talented performer—shared his personal journey of living with and overcoming PTSD, both after his army service and again after October 7. His testimony illuminated the Torah’s discussion of soldiers and fear in Parshat Shoftim.

In Devarim 20, the Torah describes the mobilization for a voluntary war. Before the people go out to battle, the kohen addresses them with words of encouragement: “אל ירך לבבכם”—“Let your hearts not be faint”—reminding them to place their trust in Hashem as their source of strength. Rashi notes that the verse uses four distinct expressions for fear, each describing a different dimension of the terrors of war. The Torah thus affirms that fear is natural. True courage, it teaches, comes not from denying fear but from acknowledging it and striving to overcome it.

At the same time, the Torah recognizes that for some, fear and anxiety can be overwhelming. The one who is “הירא ורך הלבב”—fearful and fainthearted—is exempted from battle, lest he spread panic to others. The Mishnah in Sotah offers two interpretations: Rabbi Akiva understands it literally—terror at the prospect of war. Rabbi Yose HaGlili explains it as spiritual anxiety—a sense of unworthiness because of sin. Either way, the Torah demonstrates a keen psychological understanding of fear and trauma, and openly addresses it with understanding and compassion.

Fear and trauma are not sources of shame, but part of the human reality. Many of our soldiers carry hidden struggles from what they have endured. Our task is to make it easier for them to seek help, and to be the kind of friends, families, and communities who meet them with compassion and support. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

To hear Udi Kagan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3sVqhVJYSzk

Parshat Re’eh: Remembering Our “We”

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At times in Jewish history, diversity and debate have been celebrated as sources of strength; at others, discord has threatened to tear us apart, making unity essential. One verse in Parshat Re’eh offers a powerful reminder of this balance.

“You are children of the LORD your God. You shall not gash yourselves (lo titgodedu) or shave the front of your heads (karha) because of the dead…God chose you… to be His treasured people.” What is the connection between these ancient mourning rituals and our status as God’s children, the chosen people? Rashi explains that the Torah prohibits these mourning rituals because they compromise bodily dignity as the “children of God.” The Rabbis, however, interpret the verse differently: lo titgodedu means “lo ta’asu agudot agudot”—“do not split into factions.” In halakha, this is applied to communal disputes, such as when different courts or synagogues in one city follow conflicting practices. The issue grew even sharper with the ingathering of Jews from diverse communities to Israel, raising the challenge of preserving distinct customs without fragmenting into factions.

What is the purpose of this mitzvah? Rashi comments that it should not look like there are two Torahs. According to Rambam it is to prevent great conflict between Jews. Similarly, Yalkut Shimoni interprets the word “karha,” as an allusion to the kind of discord sown by “Korah” – don’t make a “karha” (deep divide) within the Jewish people. Perhaps this is why this prohibition is bracketed by reminders of our status as God’s children, the chosen people.

As we enter Elul, this message is particularly resonant. It is a call for the Jewish people and for Israeli society to reaffirm our collective identity, to resist the pull of division, and to focus on what Rabbi Jonathan Sacks called a covenant of “we.” Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson  

Parshat Eikev: The State of Israel and Us

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What makes the land of Israel unique? Parshat Eikev offers key insights into the distinctive blessings and challenges that characterize the promised land, then and now.

As Moshe prepares the people for their entry into the land, the significance of Eretz Yisrael, and our relationship with it, is emphasized through several literary allusions. The parsha mentions three times that this is the land which “the Lord brings you to…” instilling a sense of faith and humility. Each of these references is followed by a caution: Do not take the land’s bounty for granted, do not forget God’s goodness, and do not assimilate into surrounding cultures. Additionally, Rabbenu Bahya notes that in Devarim 8, the phrase “the land” appears seven times within four consecutive verses. Israel is a place where the Jewish people can achieve the greatest blessings and accomplishments, but these gifts are not guaranteed—they depend on our actions and faithfulness.

The uniqueness of Eretz Yisrael is further described in Devarim 11:10: “For the land that you are about to enter and possess is not like the land of Egypt…”  In Egypt, says Rashi, the land was irrigated by water from the Nile. Israel is superior in that it “soaks up its water from the heavens,” emphasizing that blessings in Israel are bestowed by God, rather than solely through human effort. The Ramban however, disagrees and argues that Israel is more vulnerable than Egypt because its water supply is directly controlled by God, making it dependent on the people’s moral behavior and spiritual state.

Israel’s uniqueness lies in its inseparable bond with the Jewish nation dwelling within it. Then and now, Israel’s flourishing (agriculturally and in other pursuits), remains intertwined with us, its caretakers. May we not lose sight of our appreciation of the land and may God bless us with rains of security and goodness. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Va’etchanan: Faith & Hope

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The unique status of the Shema prayer is not immediately apparent from its original context in Parshat Va’etchanan. Yet the interpretation of just two words helps explain why it has become such a cherished prayer and a powerful symbol of enduring hope.

There is a well-known tannaitic debate regarding the words “בְּשָׁכְבְּךָ וּבְקוּמֶךָ” (“when you lie down and when you get up”). Beit Shammai taught that one must literally lie down at night and stand up in the morning while saying Shema. Rabbi Tarfon once followed this opinion and endangered himself while traveling at night. In contrast, Beit Hillel interpreted these words as referring to the times of recitation: “at the time” when people typically lie down (evening) and rise (morning). The law is decided according to Beit Hillel, who understood the essence of Shema as framing our days and nights. This view rejects the idea that Shema should be a separate, isolated moment in the day; rather, it teaches that Shema embodies an enduring faith that flows through the everyday rhythms of our lives.

These same words also explain why the Oral Torah begins with the question: “From when does one recite the evening Shema?” Why begin with the nighttime Shema before the morning Shema? The primary proof-text for this order is again “when you lie down and when you get up.” The timing of Shema is not set by objective astronomical markers, but by the lived, daily rhythm of human beings. On a deeper level, this pattern mirrors the rhythm of Jewish history itself: holding fast to faith through the dark nights of persecution and exile, and then emerging into the light of independence and redemption.

With each passing day, amidst the hovering threats, the Shema remains a steady anchor of faith. We continue to pray that each new day will bring light and redemption—for the hostages, for our chayalim, and for all of Am Yisrael. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Devarim: Seeking Truth

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The book of Devarim opens in an unexpected way – with Moshe recounting one of Israel’s greatest failures: the sin of the meraglim. His retelling, however, differs significantly from the original narrative in Bamidbar and, at first glance, even seems to contradict it. Why tell it this way? Moshe’s words offer a powerful lesson for our world which is quick to call out faults and eager to embrace narratives that simplify or distort the truth.

In Devarim, it is not God who initiates the sending of scouts, but rather the nation. And it is not the spies—the tribal leaders—who spread criticism of the land, but the people. Rav Tamir Granot explains that Moshe chose to begin with this story, and to retell it in this way, because its lessons were most relevant for this second generation. Bamidbar emphasizes the failures of the leaders. Devarim emphasizes the people’s responsibility – teaching that a nation cannot simply blame its leadership; every individual bears a share of accountability.

The rabbis adopt a similar approach in retelling the story of the churban, commemorated on Tisha B’Av. Historical sources and the Talmud recount corrupt priests during the final years of the Second Temple, and the infamous story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza, along with the silence of the rabbis who witnessed it, contributed to the destruction of Jerusalem. Yet, the Sages ultimately teach that the Temple fell not because of leadership failures alone, but because of sinat chinam – pointless hatred among the people.

These retellings do not seek to manipulate or distort the truth. Instead, they model something rare and vital: the courage to confront failure honestly and learn from it. In an age when truth is often twisted and responsibility deflected, Moshe’s words call us to a higher standard – to speak with integrity, to take ownership of our actions, and to recognize that each of us can shape a more honest and hopeful future. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Matot-Masei: Israel and Diaspora Jews — One Family?

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Can one truly love Israel from afar? Do Israeli and Diaspora Jews still see themselves as one family? Parshat Matot-Masei speaks directly to these questions.

As Bnei Yisrael prepare to enter the land, a moment of crisis arises: Reuven, Gad, and half of Menashe request to settle east of the Jordan for its rich grazing land. Their request seems practical, yet Moshe responds sharply: “Shall your brothers go to war while you stay here?” It becomes clear that he fears a repeat of the meraglim story and worries these tribes will weaken national resolve. Additionally, when the tribes make this request, they prioritize their cattle before their children. Rashi explains that Moshe subtly rebukes them by reversing the order of their words, teaching that children must always come first. As Rabbi Sacks observed, Jewish communities have endured throughout history by “putting children and their education first.”

In essence, Moshe sets two conditions for living outside the land: they must fight alongside their brothers and foster a strong and positive Jewish identity. The tribes agree, demonstrating unity and commitment. This narrative reminds us that love for Israel carries responsibility—solidarity, support, and a shared destiny.

As I write to you from the U.S., I wonder if, after nearly two years of war and Israel’s remarkable resilience, perhaps it is time to ask what we can do for our Diaspora family. This week, I witnessed a local shul conducting a terror drill and met with communal leaders who expressed both unwavering support for Israel and deep concern over the rise in antisemitism and anti-Zionism. The American Jewish community is fighting a battle too—not only for Israel’s reputation but for its own spiritual survival and sense of security. It was a powerful reminder: we are one people, one family. Now, perhaps more than ever, is the moment to stand with them, as they have stood with us. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson