Parshat Pinchas: Israel Advocacy

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The daughters of Tzelofchad, featured in Parshat Pinchas, offer a powerful model for modern-day Israel advocacy and passionate Zionism.

Following the Torah’s description of how the Land of Israel would be apportioned, these five sisters boldly step forward, approaching Moshe with a groundbreaking request: to inherit a portion of the land in the absence of male heirs. Who were these women, and what fueled their deep attachment to the land?

The midrash reveals them as courageous, devoted lovers of Eretz Yisrael. The Torah emphasizes twice that they descend from the tribe of Menashe, and the second time it specifies, “Menashe the son of Yosef.” Rashi explains that this repetition links their love of the land to Yosef, who also cherished the land—chibev et ha’aretz—and insisted his bones be brought back to be buried there. Their passion was inherited. Further, in a Talmudic debate about their father’s identity, Rabbi Shimon identifies Tzelofchad as one of the ma’apilim—those who attempted to enter the land even after God had decreed otherwise. Though their act was misguided, it reflected an overwhelming love for the land—one that clearly lived on in his daughters.

Beyond their passionate Zionism, the daughters of Tzelofchad exemplify how to seek justice through constructive, respectful engagement. Bamidbar Rabbah presents them as a counterforce to the fear, cynicism, and rebellion that plagued their generation. When Moshe brings their case before God, the response is striking: “The daughters of Tzelofchad speak rightly.” Their words are affirmed by God.Bnot Tzelofchad remain a timeless inspiration. They teach us that it is not only what we say about Israel that matters—but how we say it. To speak up, and to speak well—for the sake of our people, our land, and our future. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Balak: A Nation of Lions and Lionesses

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“Am Kelavi Yakum”  -Bamidbar 23:24

This verse, a timeless symbol of Jewish perseverance, fittingly became the name of Israel’s war with Iran—in which we truly rose with pride and strength like a lion. Strikingly, in Parshat Balak, Bilaam employs the image of a lion twice, and Rashi offers two very different, yet equally resonant, interpretations.

On the words “Here is a people that rises like a lion,” Rashi comments: “When they rise from sleep in the morning, they show themselves strong as a lion to ‘snatch’ the mitzvot—tallit, Shema, and tefillin—with enthusiasm.” In the next chapter, on the verse “They crouch and lie down like a lion…?” Rashi, citing Targum Onkelos, offers a very different image: “They will be settled in their land in strength and might.” Why such contrasting interpretations?

The second Rashi feels especially resonant in our times. These lions of “strength and might” symbolize national sovereignty and military power. They are the lions and lionesses who have defended the State of Israel, astonishing the world with their resilience, ingenuity, and unwavering determination. Yet Rashi’s first interpretation is no less compelling. Rising each morning to “snatch” mitzvot reminds us that our national strength is rooted in the spiritual courage of generations past—Jews who risked everything just to lay tefillin, whisper Shema Yisrael, and cling to mitzvot with quiet resolve.

This dual image captures the essence of today’s lions and lionesses – heroes who rise each morning with purpose. We see them on the battlefield, in the skies, and behind computer screens. We see them in lone soldiers who leave everything behind to serve their people, in tireless advocates working for the release of the hostages, in the miluim wives holding their families together, and in those who, despite profound grief, wake each day committed to healing and strengthening Israeli society. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Chukat: Renewed Hope

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Parshat Chukat marks a transformational moment for Bnei Yisrael, as they begin to find their confidence and commitment as a nation—ready to live in and appreciate their promised land.

As Ibn Ezra notes, the parsha fast-forwards to the 40th year of desert wanderings, after the first generation has mostly passed away. A new generation has arisen, yet their words echo familiar complaints: “The soul of the people grew discouraged on the journey… Why did you make us leave Egypt to die in the wilderness? … We have come to loathe this miserable food.” They sound tired—and “hangry.” Rashi observes that, unlike other instances, the Torah does not explain the cause of their kotzer nefesh (discouragement). It was, he teaches, the journey itself that wore them down. But here, there is a crucial difference: their frustration stems from an impatient longing to finally enter the Land of Israel.

This pivotal shift is reflected in the continuation of the parsha. First, after complaining, the people quickly correct themselves and ask forgiveness. They stumble, but their faith is restored. Second, after the miraculous well disappears, the people don’t despair. Instead, they sing for water: “Az yashir Yisrael…” At the sea, they sang with Moshe and Miriam; now, they sing on their own. Third, they fight two battles—against Sichon and Og—relying less on miracles and more on their own courage and faith. The Ha’amek Davar writes that this parsha marks the beginning of Israel’s spiritual maturation: a move from dependence on overt miracles to experiencing God concealed through nature. 

After 637 days of war, many of us understandably feel a kind of kotzer nefesh—weariness and impatience. And yet, like the second generation in the wilderness, we too are discovering a reinvigorated sense of strength, unity, and commitment to our land and our people – a renewed source of hope. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Korach: The Battle for Truth

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The sin of Korach and his followers is ambiguous in the biblical text, leaving room for multiple interpretations. Yet when we read Parshat Korach today, one perspective stands out: their sin lay in their duplicity. It is a story that speaks directly to our world today, where the value of truth is increasingly under threat.

The Torah does not specify how Korach incited rebellion, but Rashi interprets the words “And Korach took” to mean he took others through persuasive and manipulative speech. According to the Midrash, Korach swayed followers with a fictional story about a widow exploited by Moshe and Aharon – misusing biblical verses and portraying them as corrupt leaders who demanded her last possessions. As Nechama Leibowitz notes, Korach’s choice of a widow is no accident. It is a calculated move to arouse the compassion and indignation of his audience. He crafts a narrative of victimhood, cloaked in the language of Torah.

Korach’s allies, Datan and Aviram, similarly distort the truth. “Is it not enough that you brought us out of a land flowing with milk and honey to kill us in the wilderness?” they ask—referring not to the Promised Land, but to Egypt. In the wake of the spies’ report, they exploit the people’s despair, twisting sacred words once used by God and Moshe to describe the Land of Israel. 

This is the essence of post-truth: misinformation that appeals to emotion while obscuring reality. We saw this just this week—in misleading headlines and political campaigns built on lies about Israel. The Talmud notes that the letters in שקר (falsehood) are close together in the Hebrew alphabet, while those in אמת (truth) are far apart—teaching that falsehood is easily found, but truth must be pursued with great effort. That is the enduring lesson of the Korach story: seek truth, and pursue it. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Shelach: Our Shlichut Today

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The story of the meraglim is among the Torah’s most consequential, resulting in a generation denied entry to the Land of Israel. Told in this week’s parsha, Shelach, and retold in Devarim, the two accounts highlight its lessons then—and what they still mean for us today.

Shelach emphasizes the role of leaders. The heads of tribes—important men—are listed by name, setting a high expectation for their mission. One word in Shelach captures their task: latur, to scout the land. In Devarim, there is much less emphasis on the spies themselves. Also, their mission is described instead with the words lachfor and leragel—to search out and to spy. Why the difference in language? The Malbim teaches that latur, in Shelach, implies seeking out goodness. God had already guaranteed that the land was good. At this critical moment, the leaders were expected to affirm that vision. Instead, ten of the twelve returned with words that spread fear and demoralization.

In Devarim, the responsibility shifts to the people. In this retelling, Moshe does not blame the spies. In fact, they are portrayed as speaking positively about the land. It is the nation who misinterprets their words and lacks the confidence to rise up and conquer. And it is not only the generation of the midbar who bear responsibility. Moshe addresses their children, on the verge of entering the land, in the present tense: “Then all of YOU came to me and said, ‘Let us send men ahead to reconnoiter the land for US…’” This highlights that every generation of Jews has a role to play in correcting the sin of the meraglim.

Today, as we witness the miracles and heroism unfolding in this historic moment for Israel, Parshat Shelach reminds us that we each have a shlichut—a mission—to fulfill. Leaders and nation alike are called to see the good, to strengthen one another, and to move forward with courage and faith into the future. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Beha’alotcha: “Let Your Enemies Be Scattered”

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Parshat Beha’alotcha marks a dramatic turning point in Bnei Yisrael’s journey through the desert. The commentaries find deep significance in this moment — not only within the biblical narrative, but for all time.

At the height of the nation’s preparations to enter the Land of Israel, we read: “When the Ark would journey, Moshe said, ‘Arise, God, and let Your enemies be scattered, and let those who hate You flee before You.’ And when it rested, he would say, ‘Return, God, to the myriad thousands of Israel.’” Immediately after these verses comes the troubling episode of the mitonenim — bitter complainers who sow unrest among the people. Notably, these two verses are bracketed by two inverted letter “nuns,” and Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi famously taught that this section constitutes “a book unto itself.”

The Ha’amek Davar sees this as the beginning of the generation’s spiritual decline. Despite witnessing the greatest divine providence, the mitonenim spark a cycle of criticism and complaint that ultimately leads to the sin of the spies — and the decree that this generation would not enter the Land. These two verses, then, become a symbolic dividing line: before and after. Before — hope, preparation, and purpose. After — a tragic unraveling of faith and commitment.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch offers a more hopeful reading. He suggests that these two verses are placed here because they capture the eternal rhythm of Jewish history: there will always be enemies and haters. But when we lead with the Aron Kodesh — when we are rooted in our identity, faith, and values — our adversaries are scattered, and we find our way back: back to God, to one another, and to our connection with the Land of Israel.

This, the parsha reminds us, remains our challenge today: to stay strong and faithful despite the haters from without and the voices of discord from within. Shabbat Shalom and Am Yisrael Chai -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Naso: A Jewish View on Virtue

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We live in an age that often encourages moral crusaders—individuals who publicly promote their “saintliness,” sometimes in ways that feel disingenuous. The discussion of the Nazir in Parshat Naso offers a thought-provoking perspective on this phenomenon and reveals a certain wariness toward overt displays of holiness.

The Nazir is a man or woman who takes a vow to abstain from all vineyard products, all forms of alcohol, and haircuts for a set period. The Torah describes the Nazir as “set apart for God” and “holy to God.” Yet it clearly does not promote this as a permanent lifestyle, as it provides specific guidelines for concluding the nezirut period, including the requirement to bring a korban.

The commentaries debate whether this form of asceticism is praiseworthy. The Ramban explains that the Nazir brings a korban because, after departing from a heightened state of holiness, atonement is required. The Rambam offers a more complex view. In Hilchot Nezirut, he states that if it is done properly the Nazir’s choice “delightful and praiseworthy,” yet in Hilchot Deot, he warns against extremes and argues one should not fully abstain from wine or meat. From this perspective, the Nazir brings a korban for deviating from the balanced path advocated by the Torah.

Rabbi Sacks explains this apparent contradiction by noting that saints—like the Nazir—seek personal perfection, which can be admirable but is often inward-focused. Judaism, he writes, “calls on us to live in the world, not to escape from it.” Holiness is found not in withdrawal, but in engagement.

In an age of virtue signaling and performative activism, the Nazir reminds us to be wary of those who champion moral causes more for image or trend than for genuine impact. True holiness, by contrast, lies in the quiet, consistent work of engaging with the world and its challenges with sincerity and moral integrity. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Bamidbar & Shavuot: Unity with Diversity

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Parshat Bamidbar and Shavuot both highlight a central question: How can the Jewish people preserve their individuality and diversity while maintaining their unity as a nation?

Bamidbar – also called by the rabbis “Chumash HaPekudim” (Numbers) – opens with God commanding Moshe to count military-age males in preparation for entering the land of Israel. Rashi comments: “Because of God’s love for Israel, He counts them often…” This contrasts with King David’s census in Divrei Hayamim, where God is displeased. What was the difference?

In Bamidbar, the count is commanded by God; David’s was his own initiative. Sforno notes that in Bamidbar, the people were counted “with names” – each person recognized for their unique contribution. This respectful, personalized counting stands in contrast to the danger of reducing people to mere numbers – a lesson tragically reinforced by Jewish history. Additionally, Ramban notes that there is a significant difference in language between Bamidbar and Divrei Hayamim. In Bamidbar, the word used for counting is from the root p.k.d, which can also mean redemption. In the David narrative it is s.p.r, which only means to count. Ramban explains that counting should be rare and purposeful – only for redemptive purposes.

This theme echoes on Shavuot. Rashi teaches that the people stood at Sinai “like one person with one heart” – a moment of deep unity. At the same time, Ramban points out that the Ten Commandments were given in the singular, emphasizing that each individual was personally addressed and carries their own responsibility. This Shavuot, may we each find strength in our unique voices and unity in our shared purpose as Am Yisrael. Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach -Karen Miller Jackson

Behar-Bechukotai: Stand Upright for Israel

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This week was a whirlwind: the inspiring bravery of Yuval Rephael, the painful rhetoric of some Israeli leaders, and a tragic antisemitic attack in Washington, DC. One word in Parshat Behar-Bechukotai offers timely insight into how we confront antisemitism and draw the line between legitimate critique and harmful condemnation of Israel.

Vayikra 26 outlines the blessings and curses that hinge on our faithfulness to God’s laws. The blessings include prosperity, military strength, security, peace in our land, and the feeling of God’s presence among us. The curses are lengthy and severe, ending in estrangement from God and our land. One image recurs throughout the blessings: the act of walking, and specifically, walking upright. “If you walk in My statutes,” God says, “I will walk among you.” The blessings conclude with a powerful reminder: God broke the yoke of our enslavement in Egypt and enabled us to “walk upright.” Why this emphasis?

The Hebrew word komemiyut – uprightness – comes from the root k.u.m, meaning to rise or stand. The Targum Onkelos translates it as freedom. Rashi explains it as standing tall, and Rashbam adds, “when the yoke is removed, one can hold their head high.” Sometimes, to hold our heads high, we must remember the long walk of our history, and the dangers of bowing our heads instead of standing tall and proud in who we are.
We pray daily for God to bring us komemiyut l’artzenu – upright to our land. In modern Hebrew, komemiyut connotes sovereignty, and it appears in the very first line of Israel’s Declaration of Independence. As we mark Yom Yerushalayim, may we each find the courage – wherever we are – to walk and speak uprightly in our Jewish and Zionist identity. May the memories of Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Lynn Milgrim be for a blessing. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Emor: Our Journey from Egypt to Sinai

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As we mark Lag BaOmer, how fitting that this week’s parsha, Emor, contains the biblical source for Sefirat HaOmer. What is the significance of counting the days between Pesach and Shavuot? Many commentaries understand this period as a time for mindfulness and personal growth.

One approach highlights the value of elevating ourselves beyond mere physical and material concerns. The Omer period marks an agricultural transition in the Land of Israel — from the barley harvest to the wheat harvest. Sforno explains that counting each day is like a tefilla, a prayer of gratitude to God for the harvest, which we must not take for granted. This culminates in Shavuot, also known as Chag HaBikkurim, the festival of first fruits. In this way, counting the Omer becomes a daily reminder to be grateful for the Land of Israel and to never take its blessings for granted.

A second approach views the Omer as connecting two foundational events in Jewish history — the Exodus and the giving of the Torah. The Sefer HaChinuch explains that by counting, we mirror the journey of Am Yisrael, who moved from physical freedom to spiritual purpose. The Lubavitcher Rebbe adds that each person must count individually, underscoring the unique potential and personal agency of every Jew in the journey toward Torah. Similarly, Rabbi Shaul Yisraeli wrote that recalling our starting point as slaves gives us strength and deepens our appreciation for where we are going.

These two perspectives — one agricultural and the other historical — offer us meaningful orientation both in times of abundance and in times of challenge. This is a moment to be mindful of the privilege of living in Israel and to appreciate the miracle of its existence. It is also a time to look back on Jewish history, drawing strength from the perseverance and hope that continue to carry us forward toward better days. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson