Vayishlach: Names as Destiny

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Names in Tanach often reveal character and destiny. The first appearance of the name Israel in Parshat Vayishlach offers deep insight into both the individual, Yaacov, who receives this name, and the nation destined to bear it.

Twice in the parsha, Yaacov is blessed: “Your name will no longer be Yaacov, but Israel..” – once by the man/angel he wrestles with and again by God. Unlike other biblical name changes, such as Avraham, Sarah, and Yehoshua, where a letter is added, Yaacov receives a completely new name and his names are used interchangeably throughout Tanach. 

The commentaries attempt to make sense of this and they see these names as having lasting resonance for the Jewish people. Rashi explains Yisrael signifies noble leadership (serara), while Yaacov is associated with duplicity and concealment. The Ramban notes that at the end of Bereshit, God calls him Yaacov and Yisrael to hint that while in Egyptian exile, Israel will be in a state of vulnerability (Yaacov) before they’re honorable status (Yisrael) is restored. 

Hasidic thinkers highlight another aspect of the dual name Yaacov/Yisrael. Yaacov represents the earthly, physical strength – he lifts a heavy rock, experiences economic success, and prepares for battle with Esau. Yisrael, on the other hand, embodies spiritual strength – wrestling with God. He retains both names because both aspects are essential; the physical and spiritual are intertwined.
This combined name defines our destiny today as well. As Yaacov, the Jewish people, can only overcome the hate of Esav, of antisemitism, by embracing the confidence and forthrightness of Yisrael. Moreover, our national success lies in synthesizing our physical and spiritual strength, embodying both aspects of our name and calling. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Toldot: Strength through Hope

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How does one remain hopeful when facing long-term challenges and adversity? The commentaries glean insight from Yitzchak and Rivka in parshat Toldot. 

After twenty years of infertility, prayers and longing to have a child, Rivka becomes pregnant. The word for prayer here – vaye’etar –  is unique. It is used twice to mean (1) Yitzchak entreats God and (2) God responds to his plea. This mirroring of language highlights that the tefillot were heard and answered. The Sages debate the deeper meaning of the word “vaye’etar.” One interpretation: Yitzchak’s prayers become more frequent and urgent. Alternatively, it relates to the idea that prayer can overturn harsh decrees, akin to a pitchfork (a.t.r) turning over grain. This prayer becomes a model of holding out hope in the face of long-term yearning and challenges.

The midrash adds another layer, emphasizing that Rivka played an essential role in the tefillot being answered. Yitzchak prays “l’nochach ishto,” in the presence of his wife. They were both equally devoted and synchronized in their tefillot – each stood in one corner, but together in the same room – drawing strength from one another. A final midrash teaches that their prayers were ultimately answered when Yitzchak brought Rivka to Mount Moriah, the site of the Akedah. This place, likely fraught with personal trauma and pain for Yitzchak, underscores how deep healing and personal growth can enhance prayer’s efficacy.

Yitzchak is associated with gevurah (strength) in Hassidut. Perhaps this refers to strength of faith, despite hardship. The Jewish people inherit this legacy, reminding us that hope stems from persistence, inner strength, shared struggles, and collective faith. May we find inspiration through Yitzchak and Rivka to remain hopeful and resilient. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Chayei Sarah: Living Values

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The righteous, even in their death, are called living” (Talmud Brachot). This insight sheds light on the name of this week’s parsha, Chayei Sarah –“the lifetime of Sarah.” Although the parsha begins with Sarah’s death and later records Avraham’s passing, their traits and values live on through the next generation, in particular through Rivka.

Rivka exemplifies the balance of inner strength with the ability to shine outward, following the model of Avraham and Sarah. The midrash applies the verse from Shir HaShirim, “a lily among thorns,” to Rivka, highlighting her ability to rise above her trickster family. She shows chesed toward Eliezer and his camels and courageously leaves home to marry Yitzchak, echoing Avraham and Sarah’s uncertain journey and ability to inspire others along the way. 

After Yitzchak marries Rivka, he brings her “into the tent of his mother Sarah.” Why mention Sarah’s tent? Rashi explains that when Sarah died, the miracles of her tent – shabbat candles lit from one erev shabbat to the next, blessed dough and a cloud which hovered above her tent – ceased, but they returned with Rivka. These signs are expressions of bracha and kedusha, of light, abundance and divine protection, associated with Sarah and now with Rivka. The Midrash adds a fourth miracle: Sarah’s doors were always open to guests, and this quality also reappeared with Rivka.

Rivka, like Sarah and Avraham, embodied strong faith and spiritual light with the ability to be a teacher and positive influencer in the outside world. How can we cultivate this balance – strong faith alongside openness – in our own homes and in the world today? Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson 

Parshat Vayera: Remaining Hopeful

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In Parshat Vayera, amidst the backdrop of sinfulness and destruction, Avraham stands out as a beacon of optimism and faith in human goodness. The interpretation of this story sends a strong message to his descendents about the power of prayer and not giving up hope.

Avaraham eagerly welcomes visitors (angels) and receives God’s blessing and promise that he will have a child with Sarah and become a great nation. As Avraham sees his guests off, the Torah shifts to the situation in Sodom, underscoring the stark contrast between the kindness of Avraham and the cruelty of Sodom. Yet, before Sodom’s destruction, God chooses to share His intentions with Avraham, asking, “Shall I hide from Avraham what I am about to do?” Why does God need to inform Avraham of His intentions? Similarly, a few verses later, just before Avraham pleads with God, hoping that there were a few righteous people left in the city, we hear: “Abraham remained standing before the Lord.” Bereshit Rabbah teaches that actually, it was God who waited for Avraham, inviting him to intercede. However, the Scribes revised the verse to appear less irreverent. Both these verses imply that God encouraged Avraham to protest and pray, despite the seeming hopelessness and dire state of Sodom.

A similar idea is seen in a midrashic story about King Hezekiah in Talmud Berakhot. Hezekiah prays despite Jeremiah’s prophecy that he will soon die, asserting, “I have received a tradition from the house of my father’s father: Even if a sharp sword rests upon a person’s neck, he should not prevent himself from praying.” Hezekiah prays and holds onto hope, even in the bleakest and most hopeless of times. 

Amidst our war-weariness, the rise of antisemitism across the West, and the long wait for the return of the hostages, we can draw strength from Avraham and Hezekiah, who teach us never to give up hope. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Lech-lecha: from Avarham to Us

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Why was Avraham chosen? We hear nothing about his faith or righteousness before God calls out to him “Lech lecha.” However, the biblical commentaries develop a fuller picture of Avraham’s moral clarity and spiritual strength, teaching us a valuable lesson about standing strong in our faith and devotion to Israel today.   

There are many descriptions from the midrash to Rambam about how Avraham discovered and embraced monotheism and became the father of the Jewish people. Bereshit Rabbah teaches: Avraham wandered from place to place and saw a palace in flames. He said, “how can it be that this palace has no leader?!” The owner of the castle (God) peered out and said, “I am the master of this palace (this world).” Here, Avraham’s faith came about through questioning, through not being able to make sense of the world. As Rabbi Sacks zt”l wrote: “What moved Abraham was not philosophical harmony but moral discord. For Abraham, faith began in cognitive dissonance. There is only one way of resolving this dissonance: by protesting evil and fighting it… It is as if God were saying to Abraham: I need you to help Me to put out the flames.”

Avraham’s distinctiveness may also be alluded to when he is later called “ha-ivri,” which means “the Hebrew” or “from the other side.” One midrashic opinion suggests a meaning which particularly resonates today: The entire world was on one side and he was on the other side [ever]. We will continue to speak the truth even when it goes against popular world opinion.

Perhaps the reason God chose Avraham was because of his response to God’s call “Lech lecha…” Avraham answers the call fully even though it involves uncertainty and sacrifice. This too, is the story of the Jewish people and their love and commitment to Israel through the ages. 

Avraham models faith despite disorder and evil in the world, moral clarity even while in the minority, and strength of commitment to Israel – that is why he was chosen and inspires us to hear the call of “Lech lecha…” Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Noah: Living up to Yourself

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Noah is often criticized, especially when compared with other biblical characters. The greatest disappointment however, may be that he could not fully live up to his own potential.

Noah’s beginnings are filled with hope, with word-plays on his name hinting at relief and grace: His father names him “Noah,” saying, “This one will provide us relief (yenachameinu),” though his name actually means “rest.” Noah (נח) also finds grace (חן) in God’s eyes. Living ten generations after Adam and before Abraham, he echoes Adam, who was tasked to “work and preserve the land.” Noah emerges from the ark and becomes “a man of the land.” Yet, both of them sin and are punished by God.

Noah is introduced as “a righteous man in his generation,” yet the midrash questions if this was only relative. He “walked with God,” but had he lived with Abraham—who walked “before God”—he might not have stood out. The Zohar contrasts the two sharply: Noah never prays to save others, while Abraham pleads with God on their behalf.

The midrash also compares Noah to Moshe. This at first seems far-fetched. However, their stories contain the only two mentions of a tevah (ark) in all of Tanach, both of which were built to save people’s lives. Yet, their paths diverge when it comes to their spiritual growth. Bereshit Rabbah teaches: Noah shifts from “a righteous man” to “a man of the land,” while Moshe transforms from an “Egyptian man” to “a man of God.”

Noah’s story is a poignant tale of great promise that took a tragic turn. He lacked what Abraham and Moshe possessed: optimism about humanity’s potential and faith in the Jewish people. This outlook enabled them to become their best selves and great leaders. Shabbat Shalom🇮🇱 -Karen Miller Jackson

Bereshit: Between Darkness and Light

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Why does the Torah begin by distinguishing between darkness and light? The commentaries see this contrast as fundamental to parshat Bereshit and derive timeless resonance from this imagery.

In all other acts of creation, the Torah does not describe what existed before. Only here does the Torah tell us that there was “tohu va-vohu,” the world was desolate and void, covered in darkness. Rashi explains that a person would have been astonished by its emptiness. All this contrasts with the creation of light. The Netivot Shalom explains that light is Godliness, while “tohu va-vohu” is confusion and a world empty of values. Moreover, the midrash teaches that God hid away some of the light of creation for future generations, so that when they encounter darkness and evil, they can seek out God, and plead, “let there be light.”

“Let there be light,” are the first words spoken by God in the Torah. The Lubavitcher Rebbe explains that there is a two-stage formula for human creativity: first setting and stating a goal: “let there be light,” and then taking steps to achieve it: “and there was light.” The midrashic hidden light then awaits human action and partnership, which makes the world a better place and increases God’s light in the world. Rabbi Sacks adds a third stage in – “And God saw that it was good” – when we can see the good in others and help them discover their light and creativity.

There is too much darkness in our world. Antisemitism, terrorism and hatred, hostages underground, and so much pain and loss. May the “tohu va-vohu” be replaced by “let there be light,” the light of creativity and redemption, for the hostages, for the wounded and grieving, for Am Yisrael and all who seek the light. Shabbat Shalom🌔🇮🇱 -Karen Miller Jackson

V’zot Ha-bracha: This Simchat Torah

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“This is the blessing…” Moshe’s final act is to bless the people of Israel in Parshat V’zot Ha-bracha, which is always read on Simchat Torah. Given the emotions surrounding this day, the Torah concludes with a message that feels particularly appropriate.

The midrashim provide two beautiful ideas about the power of blessings: 1) The Sifrei Devarim sees a link to the previous parsha, which was filled with rebuke of Israel, followed by Moshe’s blessings. This teaches that one who gives harsh criticism should always follow it up with words of comfort. 2) The midrash Tanhuma looks back at the giving of blessings in Bereshit which were mixed – some positive, and some highlighting the negative. In contrast, Moshe’s brachot to the people here, were given with an “ayin yafeh,” a good eye, accentuating the positive in others.

One more lesson can be drawn from the final words of the Torah, praising Moshe upon his death: “That Moshe did before the eyes of all Israel.” Rashi comments: “This refers to the fact that his heart inspired him to shatter the tablets before their eyes (following the sin of the Golden Calf),” after which God congratulates Moshe. The Lubavitcher Rebbe asks why, after the blessings and praise, does Rashi bring up this incident which seems disparaging of Israel? In fact, says the Lubavitcher Rebbe, the mention of breaking the tablets is meant positively. It opened up the possibility of teshuva, of renewal for Am Yisrael. Moreover, while the first luchot came from God, the second luchot represents God’s commending Moshe and the people’s aspiring and choosing wholeheartedly to accept the Torah.    

This Simchat Torah let’s hope for blessings for Israel and the Jewish people: That we can give words of comfort, see each other with a “good eye,” and that we carry the memory of all that has broken and find healing and redemption. May it be a Chag Sameach! -Karen Miller Jackson

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Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelech: National Repair and Return

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We usually think about teshuva (repentance or return) as applying to individuals. Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelech teaches about an additional layer of teshuva, one which is perhaps more relevant at this time 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 national dimension: “God will return and gather you from all the nations…” What does national teshuva look like? Rav Kook teaches that the return of the Jewish people to the land of Israel is the foundation of the greatest teshuva. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, based on the Ramban, wrote about the dual nature of teshuva as a “double homecoming” – physically to Israel and spiritually to God. Perhaps there can be a notion of spiritual return to the Jewish people as well. Can we hear, in the words of Rabbi Sacks, “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 the people of 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 this year, how can we respond to the call to national return in light of the parsha and Hosea’s message? How can each of us contribute to the strengthening and healing of Israel and the Jewish people? Shabbat Shalom & Shana Tova -Karen Miller Jackson 

Parshat Ki Tavo: Individual and National Gratitude

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Parshat Ki Tavo opens with the mitzvah of bikkurim, the offering of first fruits. This ceremony, echoing previous biblical stories, carries a relevant message for our generation’s relationship with the land of Israel.

After settling the land, the people are commanded to bring their first fruits to the Beit Hamikdash and recite a declaration recounting their journey from Egypt to Israel. On an individual level, Rashi explains that bringing bikkurim demonstrated that a person was not “kafui tova,” ungrateful to God. This recalls the story of Kayin, who also brought “fruit of the soil” but is depicted in midrash as offering a sub-standard gift to God and fighting with his brother about what belonged to him. In contrast, offering the first and most precious fruits to God teaches us to express gratitude and appreciate the land and its blessings.

The same is true on a national level. Rashi teaches that the mitzvah of bikkurim applied only after Bnei Yisrael, the nation, had inherited the land. This underscores the communal dimension of bikkurim. This is further reinforced by the parallels between bikkurim and the story of the spies. Both involve the fruit of Israel and reflect how we speak about the land. Rabbi Elchanan Samet explains that the spies brought back supersized fruit not to amaze the people, but to dissuade and demotivate them. Bikkurim serve as a tikkun (rectification) for the meraglim. While the spies spread negativity about the land, bikkurim is a way of speaking positively and expressing gratitude for the land’s bounty.


The bikkurim ceremony took place only while the Temple stood. Yet, the declaration is preserved and read out each year at the Pesach seder. The enduring message of this declaration reminds us of the responsibility we bear in how we speak, both individually and as a nation, about the land of Israel today. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson