Parshat Yitro: Embracing the Yitros of Today

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How striking that the parsha describing God’s covenant with Israel at Sinai—a defining moment for Jewish nationhood—is named after someone outside the nation: Yitro. This highlights a timeless lesson on Jewish identity, antisemitism, and the importance of recognizing true allies.

The parsha begins after Amalek wages war on a vulnerable Israel as they journey through the desert. It then recounts how Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, travels from Midian to meet Moshe at the mountain of God after hearing about “what God had done for Israel.” Following this, Israel encamps at Har Sinai for Matan Torah. The commentaries see deep connections between these events.

The midrash Mekhilta contains a debate focusing on the ambiguity of what Yitro heard. R’ Yehoshua says that he heard about the victory over Amalek, seeing the contrast between Amalek’s hostility and God’s protection of Israel. R’ Elazar Hamodai, however, teaches that Yitro heard about the wonders of Matan Torah, which would mean the Torah tells these events out of chronological order. If Yitro arrived after Matan Torah, why is his arrival placed between Amalek and Matan Torah? Ibn Ezra explains that this juxtaposition teaches us that when recalling the hate-attack by Amalek, we should also remember that we, the Jewish nation, have genuine friends and admirers, like Yitro. 

Both interpretations contain a message for contemporary times. First, antisemitism should not define Jewish identity; rather, it should be built on positive Jewish values, with Matan Torah as its foundation. Second, while we must call out and confront antisemitism, we should not let it distort our perception of the world. Just as the Torah reminds us of Yitro’s support, we too must recognize and embrace the Yitros of our time—those who stand with the Jewish people. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Beshallach: How Song Can Move Us Forward

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“When the soul longs to break free of the gravitational pull of the earth, it modulates into song.” – Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks

“Az Yashir,” the Song at the Sea, is a song of faith, victory, and gratitude. To the Sages, it was more than a response to one historical moment—it became the template for Hallel and inspired Jewish song throughout history. What makes it so unique?

Sung in the middle of Parshat Beshallach, the song is framed by Bnei Yisrael’s wavering faith—they take leaps toward God yet fall back into doubt and fear. Dr. Aviva Zornberg highlights this through a linguistic back and forth in the biblical text: va-yar/va-yire’u— meaning to see or to fear.

Their physical journey mirrors this struggle. God leads them on a longer route as they leave Egypt. According to the Mekhilta, this was to prevent their wanting to turn back to Egypt, a sentiment they express soon after, as they find themselves closed in between the Egyptians and the sea. God’s command, “Tell the Israelites to move forward,” highlights their reluctance. Even after the sea splits, Shemot Rabbah describes them hesitating on the muddy ground of the sea floor. 

In this context, Az Yashir is a song of transformation, turning fear into forward movement. Susan Cain writes about the transcendent power of song and calls this bittersweet creativity—which “has the power to look pain in the eye, and to decide to turn it into something better.” In Israel too, we have seen many talented musicians channel the bitter along with the sweet to transform the sorrow, loss and fears of the Jewish nation into hope and pride. In the words of Hanan Ben Ari’s Moledet: “(I’ll) sing an old song. We will stay faithful, forever. We will never break, neither in peace nor in trial, neither in sweet (times) nor bitter.” Az Yashir is the model for songs that continues to carry us forward. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Bo: Experiencing Redemption

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The Exodus story is more than a historical account of liberation from slavery in Egypt. It serves as an enduring model of transformation—from oppression to survival and ultimately to thriving in every generation. This process begins in parshat Bo, by empowering the people of Israel to embrace their identity and destiny as a nation.

Before their liberation, Bnei Yisrael were given a few mitzvot, including Kiddush HaChodesh (sanctifying the new moon). The Torah emphasizes that this mitzvah is for you—addressed to all of Israel. This command to take ownership of time was a powerful message to an enslaved people with no control over their own lives and time. As the midrash teaches, God was declaring that from now on, they would establish Jewish time—a key step toward Torah observance.

Another mitzvah given in Egypt was the korban Pesach. Bnei Yisrael were commanded to take the animal and prepare it four days before the sacrifice. The Mekhilta explains that this was because they had no merits, remaining in a state of spiritual “nakedness,” as Ezekiel describes: “You were still naked and bare.” By actively participating in this ritual, they took their first steps toward redemption.

Beginning with these mitzvot reinforces that the Exodus was not just a one-time liberation but an enduring model of ge’ula (redemption). It teaches that true freedom is not only freedom from oppression but also freedom for a life of holiness and purpose. The recent images and stories of our hostages returning home—marked by their unimaginable courage and deep commitment to Am Yisrael—reflect this ongoing story of redemption. May they find strength, healing, and the ability to thrive. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

(Photo of released hostage Agam Berger and her unbelievable faith and strength)

Parshat Va’era and Yuval Raphael

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What common message emerges from Yuval Raphael’s story and the Exodus?

Parshat Va’era begins with the declaration: “I am God…and I will remember My covenant with My people.” This is followed by the ten plagues,  transforming Bnei Yisrael’s circumstances and revealing the hand of God to them and Pharaoh. Before this, the Israelites endured slavery and suffering in Egypt, for which the Torah provides no explicit reason. Commentators offer differing perspectives on this.

During the “covenant between the pieces” in Bereshit, God tells Avraham about the future enslavement and redemption of his descendants. Nechama Leibowitz notes that while their descent to Egypt was certain, the children of Jacob had a choice about how they would live when in Egypt. They chose to settle deeply there, as reflected in the term “va-ye’ahazu bah” (they procured property). Therefore, some interpreters suggest their suffering was a consequence of neglecting their traditions and destiny.

Others view the experience not as punitive but instead as a source of educational and developmental lessons. The Torah frequently commands empathy for the stranger, rooted in our memory of being strangers in Egypt. Leon Kass writes that this internalization of the experience of suffering is transformed into a core value of our national identity—compassion for the vulnerable. The Ha’amek Davar views the Egyptian experience as refining and strengthening the national character of Israel, building our resilience for future challenges.

Yuval Raphael, a Nova survivor, endured unimaginable trauma. Yet, like so many Jews in history, she found hope and strength, transforming tragedy into a source of purpose. This resilience reflects the enduring Jewish ability to turn suffering, from Egypt through today, into growth and hope. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

  • photo from Jerusalem Post

Shemot: Pinning Our Hope on Am Yisrael

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Reading parshat Shemot, with its emphasis on names and identity, during this momentous week, offers both solace and hope. 

The Ramban calls the book of Shemot “The Book of Redemption.” Even before the oppression begins, the keys to redemption are already present. The opening verse repeats the names of the children of Jacob who went down to Egypt, even though these names were already listed at the end of Bereishit. Rashi explains that God lists them again to “show how dear they were to God — like the stars, which God brings out and in by number and name.” This highlights the balance the Jewish people must maintain between their individual and collective identities, even when they do not always align. Rav Amital zt”l, a survivor of the Shoah, writes that being part of Am Yisrael means balancing the “number” — our collective purpose — with the “name” — our unique individual identity and beliefs.

Yet, the story continues with an increase in number but not in name. While the children of Israel proliferate greatly in number, their individual names are absent. They are referred to as “midwives,” “a man from the house of Levi,” “daughter of Levi,” and “daughter of Pharaoh.” Biblical interpreters see this shift between named and nameless figures as a reflection of the strengthening or weakening of Jewish identity in exile. A powerful midrash teaches that one of the main reasons Bnei Yisrael were ultimately redeemed from Egypt was that they preserved their Hebrew names. This act of remembering — holding fast to our names, values, and aspirations — has been a cornerstone of Jewish survival and resilience.

The coming weeks will be filled with emotional reflections on both numbers and names. “Ve’eileh Shemot” reminds us to honor the names of the individual heroes we have lost as we try to move forward, into what we pray will be a time of redemption for the Jewish nation. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Vayigash: National Unity

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Vayigash is the parsha of achdut (Jewish unity). How can we preserve some of the achdut we have seen in Israeli society over the past year and how can we further foster a shared national vision, despite our differences? The approach of Yehuda toward Yosef provides some insight.

“Then Yehuda approached him [Yosef]…” This was a pivotal moment in the story of Yaacov’s sons. At their lowest point, the brothers could not speak peaceably with Yosef. Rashi describes their disdain as having “moved on from all feelings of brotherhood.” However, in Parshat Vayigash, Yehuda—still unaware that Yosef is his brother—pleads with Yosef at length on behalf of Binyamin, determined to fulfill the promise he made to his father.

Bereshit Rabbah likens this encounter to a well with good, cold water at the bottom, which is out of reach until someone ties rope to rope and draws from it and drinks. So too, Yehuda approached Yosef with many words until he found the ones which touched Yosef’s heart. The physical approach, along with words, communication, are the keys to bridging deep divides. 

The haftorah too, contains a vision for Jewish unity, particularly for modern Israel. Yechezkel is told by God to take two sticks and write on one the name Yosef (Ephraim and the tribes of Yisrael) and the other Yehuda and then, “Bring them close to each other, so that they become one stick.” Rav Kook quoted this prophecy in his eulogy for Theodor Herzl and refers to the secular Zionist movement as the “footsteps of the messiah son of Yosef.”

Rav Kook exemplified the ability to approach and draw closer to parts of Israeli society that thought and lived differently. How can we follow in the footsteps of Yehuda, Yechezkel, and Rav Kook to bridge divides and foster deeper unity? Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Vayeshev: Prayers for the Return of the Hostages

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The name of this week’s parsha, Vayeshev, underscores the delicate balance between seeking tranquility and the risk of falling into complacency. After a life filled with challenges—fleeing Esav, enduring Lavan’s deceit, and the trauma of Dina’s kidnapping—Yaakov settles in Canaan. The midrash elaborates that he hoped for “shalva,” tranquility, a wish we can easily understand.

Yet Chazal critique this desire. Rashi, citing the midrash, comments: “Yaakov wished to live at ease, but the ordeal of Yosef sprang upon him.” God’s response, as portrayed in the midrash, is striking: “The peace of the world-to-come awaits tzadikim, yet they also want tranquility in this world?!” This connects Yaakov’s longing for rest with the subsequent turmoil—his sons’ jealousy, Yosef’s sale, and Yaakov’s grief. What was wrong with Yaacov’s request? Must tzadikim always be in motion, never settled?

A contrasting perspective is seen in the laws of Hanukkah. The Shulchan Aruch cites the custom for women to refrain from work during the lighting of Hanukkah candles. The Magen Avraham explains that this pause reflects their role in the Hanukkah miracle. Here, rest is valued—a moment to reflect, give thanks, and draw inspiration from the candles.

Perhaps this is the difference: Yaacov wanted prolonged tranquility with no end. But endless repose is not the way to live out one’s life. We never fully “retire.” In contrast, women pause on Hanukkah temporarily, at a designated time. Periodic rest and reflection provide the opportunity to recharge ourselves, to renew our creativity, energy and purpose in life.

This Shabbat, let us not be complacent. Just as the Hanukkah candles inspire us to pause and draw strength, let us channel our prayers and unity toward a modern-day miracle—the safe and swift return of the hostages. Shabbat Shalom and Hanukkah Sameach! 🇮🇱🕎- Karen Miller Jackson

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