Parshat Bereshit: Valuing LIfe

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Parshat Bereshit introduces the idea that all humankind was created b’tzelem Elokim, in the image of God. Ancient and modern interpreters alike view this as a foundational concept about the value of life. 

Rabbi Akiva is cited in Pirkei Avot as teaching that “beloved is the person created in God’s image.” The awareness that we are created in God’s image is a reminder of God’s love for humankind. In another midrash Hillel Hazaken cites this concept as the halakhic source for the mitzvah to care for our physical bodies as he was on his way to wash at the bathhouse. Yet another midrash explains that when we “shame” others, we are in fact shaming the likeness of God. So, the midrashic conception of tzelem Elokim ranges from the imperative to physically care for our bodies, to acting humanely and with love toward others. In other sources, creativity and procreation are seen as enhancing the divine image, while murder is the ultimate diminishing of tzelem Elokim in this world.  

Two contemporary rabbis and great thinkers expand on these ideas. Rabbi Yitz Greenberg defines tzelem Elokim as meaning that humans are created with infinite value, equality and uniqueness which should be used to enhance human relationships and improve the world. Rabbi Yuval Cherlow writes that the concept of the Divine image is the basis for all interpersonal mitzvot, and also teaches us to relate to the physical body and pleasure positively, within the framework of Jewish law. 

Now in particular, as we grapple with loss and with loved ones struggling with emotional well-being, “tzelem Elokim” reminds us of the preciousness of every life and the duty to protect and save lives. May we all find ways to see the tzelem Elokim in ourselves and others. Shabbat Shalom.

Creation of Adam by Michelangelo

Healthy Sexuality

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Parshat Ki Tetze opens with a disturbing law: when a Jewish man goes to war and desires a foreign woman among the captives, he may take her home on the condition that he waits one month during which her beauty is neglected and must then marry or free her. When seen in its biblical milieu and through the eyes of the midrashic rabbis, this law teaches us a lesson about healthy approaches to sexuality and the necessity of consent, and is particularly relevant for Israeli society this week.

The Torah emphasizes the soldier’s physical desire: He takes her based solely on her physical appearance: he “sees” her, “desires” her. She is known as “eshet yefat to’ar,” a beautiful woman. The woman has no voice or choice. The Torah’s concession to human weakness in allowing this woman to be taken would be unthinkable today and would be deemed a war crime. However, in the context of antiquity, the idea of putting constraints on victorious soldiers was revolutionary and significantly limited wartime rape. The midrash further discourages this behavior. Noting the incongruous placement of this law next to a law regarding polygamy and then the rebelious son (ben sorer u-moreh), the midrash teaches, “one sin leads to another sin.” Meaning, taking the eshet yefat to’ar into one’s house will cause conflict and a catastrophic breakdown of family relationships. It might be permitted, but it is toxic for everyone involved.

The Torah and the midrash were beacons of morality in a world where a female captive had no rights, which thank G-d is no longer the case. They remind us that sexual relations without consent has disastrous effects, and healthy sexuality goes beyond mere physical attraction.

Chayei Sarah: Inner Strength in a World of Difference

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This week, two contrasting images filled my social media feeds: Omer Adam and Boy George celebrating Jewish and Israeli pride in packed arenas, and decisive electoral victories in the US for candidates who ran on largely anti-Israel platforms. At a time when Israel feels increasingly isolated, the strength of character displayed in Parshat Chayei Sarah reminds us to stand tall and remain proud of who we are.

Avraham sends his servant to find a suitable wife for Yitzchak. Rivka emerges as the ideal match, embodying the finest qualities of both Avraham and Sarah. The Midrash describes her as a “lily among thorns,” a tzadeket who stood out among her dishonest family and community. Like other great biblical leaders, she demonstrates hesed and compassion, not only toward Eliezer but also toward his camels. She then shows remarkable courage in leaving her family and homeland to marry Yitzchak, echoing Avraham and Sarah’s uncertain lech lecha journey.

Rashi famously teaches that when Sarah died, the miracles associated with her tent ceased: Shabbat candles that burned from one Erev Shabbat to the next, blessed dough, and a cloud hovering above her tent. When Rivka entered Sarah’s tent, these miracles returned, symbolizing the light, abundance, and divine presence that characterized both women. Later, according to several commentaries, Rivka displays the moral clarity to ensure that Yaakov receives the rightful bracha, even when Yitzchak fails to recognize it.

According to one Midrash, Avraham is called HaIvri because “the entire world stood on one side, and he stood on the other (ever).” Like Avraham, Rivka models the courage to remain true to her values and convictions, even when standing alone. Their moral clarity and inner strength offer a powerful model of inspiration for Jews and Israel today. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Vayera: The Abrahamic Covenant & Israel’s Elections

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The recent elections raised important questions about who embraces Israel’s social covenant – recognizing Israel as the national homeland of the Jewish people. A similar theme emerges in Parshat Vayera: Who upholds Avraham’s values, expressed through the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim, welcoming guests?

The parsha opens with Avraham sitting at the entrance of his tent, looking for passersby to welcome, as Rashi explains. In the next chapter, Lot also welcomes guests, but significant differences reveal that he has not internalized Avraham’s values. While Avraham runs toward his guests, Lot merely rises to greet them. Avraham involves Sarah and his household in caring for the visitors, while Lot’s family is absent. Most disturbingly, Lot offers his daughters to the mob in place of his guests. Beneath his hospitality lies a distorted sense of righteousness. Despite being Avraham’s nephew, Lot fails to carry on his values. Sodom represents the opposite of Avraham’s open tent.

But what about Yishmael? After Yitzchak is weaned, Sarah sees Yishmael “playing.” The midrash interprets this seemingly innocent behavior as sinister: Yishmael was shooting arrows at Yitzchak. Like Lot, Yishmael fails to embrace Avraham’s values of justice and righteousness. Yet another midrashic tradition portrays Yishmael later repenting, with his household practicing hachnasat orchim by welcoming Avraham into their home.

These contrasting portrayals of Yishmael raise the question of what relationship his descendants will choose to have with Israel. The election results highlight tensions between many Arab citizens and the Jewish state. Will voices of rejection prevail, or can Jewish and Arab Israelis embrace Avraham’s values and his model of an open tent, building a shared future in mutual respect and peace? Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Lech Lecha: From “Me” to “We”

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“If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am only for myself, what am I?” – Pirkei Avot 1:14

Avraham is the paradigm of chesed and compassion, of caring for others. For this reason, Rashi’s commentary on the opening words of Parshat Lech Lecha is surprising. Noting the kefel lashon, the seemingly repetitive language, Rashi interprets “Lech lecha” as “Go for yourself.” Avraham’s journey to an unspecified destination was ultimately for his own benefit. By setting forth with faith in Hashem, Avraham would be rewarded with becoming the father of a great nation. The Zohar similarly interprets “Lech lecha” as “Go unto yourself… to know and to fix yourself.” Before Avraham could inspire others, he first needed to journey inward and strengthen himself.

A similar idea is expressed by two great Jewish thinkers in their reflections on how we begin each day. Rav Kook, in Olat Reiyah, comments on the Modeh Ani prayer. When we awaken and contemplate the vastness of the universe, we might feel small and insignificant. Yet, by emphasizing the “I” (ani) and drawing on our inner strength and gratitude to God, “the individual self remains undaunted, the ‘I’ finds divine confirmation and validation.” Rebbe Nachman of Breslov offers a related insight in his commentary on the opening words of the Shulchan Aruch, which instruct us to awaken with the strength of a lion. Rebbe Nachman understood that people sometimes wake up feeling unhappy with themselves, distant from God, or unmotivated. He therefore encourages us to find a nekuda tova, a good point within ourselves, on which to focus and build.

These teachings offer a powerful lesson about leadership. Avraham reminds us that inspiring others begins with cultivating our strengths, deepening our faith, and preparing for the responsibilities ahead. Personal growth is not the end in itself, but the basis for making a difference in the lives of others. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Noach: Recognizing True Leadership

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Parshat Noach introduces the Torah’s first tyrant, whose story and classical commentaries offer moral clarity about the tactics of tyranny, both ancient and modern.

Between the stories of the Flood and the Tower of Babel, we encounter a few verses about Nimrod. The biblical account does not initially seem particularly harsh: “He was a mighty hunter before the Lord… The beginning of his kingdom was Babel” (Genesis 10:8–10). Yet the classical commentators portray him as the archetypal tyrant: The repeated emphasis on his might, the reference to Babel, and the association of his name with rebellion (mered) all contribute to this interpretation. Even the description of Nimrod as a hunter “before the Lord” takes on a sinister meaning.

Rashi teaches that Nimrod would “ensnare people’s minds with his words and mislead them into rebelling against God.” Nimrod emerges as a ruler who captivates people through charisma and manipulates them through rhetoric. He “hunts” people’s minds, sacrificing truth for power. The Midrash further portrays Nimrod as an instigator of the rebellion against God in the Tower of Babel story. Babel becomes a failed experiment in enforced uniformity, where collective power comes at the expense of individual freedom.

In stark contrast to Nimrod stands Abraham. Breaking with his pagan surroundings, Abraham champions difference and pursues truth even when it means standing alone. While Abraham seeks truth through reason and conviction, Nimrod demands obedience through manipulation and force.

These contrasting models offer a timeless lesson in recognizing tyranny. True leadership is measured not by power, but by how it is used. Parshat Noach teaches us how to distinguish between truth and manipulation, moral courage and coercion, and genuine unity and enforced conformity. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Bereshit: Taking Responsibility

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Why does the Torah begin with stories of human failings? Parshat Bereshit offers insight into human nature and the foundations of moral responsibility.

Adam and Chava are permitted to eat from any tree in the Garden of Eden except the Tree of Knowledge. Yet temptation gets the better of them, and they sin. Worse still, neither takes responsibility. When God asks Adam, “Ayeka?” (“Where are you?”), Adam blames Chava, who in turn blames the serpent. Their son Kayin becomes the first murderer. After killing his brother Hevel, God asks, “Where is your brother?” Kayin notoriously responds, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Once again, responsibility is evaded.

Nechama Leibowitz describes Parshat Bereshit as portraying the gradual “decline of man.” Adam and Kayin are followed by Lemech, who boasts of killing a man, and the bnei ha’elohim, who, now acting as a group, take women as they please, reflecting a widespread abuse of power. Perhaps this is precisely the Torah’s message: When individuals, and ultimately societies, fail to take responsibility for their actions, the consequences extend beyond the original wrongdoing, leading to further moral decline.

Yet Bereshit Rabbah offers a more hopeful perspective. After Kayin is judged by God, Adam asks about his sentence. Kayin replies that he repented and received a reduced punishment. Astonished, Adam exclaims, “Such is the power of teshuva, and I did not know!” He then recites the words, “It is good to give thanks to God” (Psalm 92), with the Hebrew lehodot suggesting both gratitude and confession.

By acknowledging wrongdoing and taking responsibility, we can break the cycle of blame and moral decline. Perhaps this is why the Torah begins with human failings: to remind us that moral growth begins with responsibility, both individual and collective. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

V’zot HaBracha/ Simchat Torah: An Unfinished Story

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Simchat Torah will never be the same. Three years after October 7, this day will always carry a sense of before and after. A day associated with joy and dancing is now also a time to honor those we lost and ensure that their devotion and legacy live on through us.

This message is embedded in the day itself: On Shemini Atzeret/Simchat Torah, we complete the Torah with the account of Moshe’s death. This raises a question: If Moshe died before completing the Torah, who wrote its final verses?

One answer in Talmud Bava Batra is that Moshe’s disciple Yehoshua completed them. This points to a deeper idea about Torah and human mortality: No single person, not even Moshe, can encompass all of Torah’s truth and wisdom. Rabbi Eliezer expresses a similar idea on his deathbed. Surrounded by his students, he likens himself to a Torah scroll being rolled up, never to be opened again, and laments how much Torah he still wished to learn and how little of his knowledge he had imparted. Yet, his Torah endures through the pages of the Talmud. Torah is larger than any one person’s lifetime, just as the Jewish people’s story is greater than any one generation. While we must strive to fulfill our potential, we are part of a much larger, unfolding story. As Rabbi Tarfon teaches in Pirkei Avot: “It is not your duty to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.”

On Simchat Torah, we do not only finish the Torah; we immediately begin it anew. Doing so on the very Hebrew date on which we lost so many heroes in the Otef now takes on new significance. Each life lost carries a legacy, a story cut tragically short. We are charged with remembering them and carrying forward their stories, their Torah, and their Zionism.

As Rabbi Sacks taught: “That bond of the generations we call covenant…is what rescues life from tragedy, and death from having the final word.” Simchat Torah is now a day of unfinished stories, but also a celebration of new beginnings and the stories still waiting to unfold. Shabbat Shalom & Chag Sameach -Karen Miller Jackson

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Ha’azinu: Enduring Truth

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How do we respond when people distort the truth or create false narratives about the Jewish people? Surprisingly, the first Rashi on Parshat Ha’azinu speaks directly to this question and offers a reassuring answer.

Moshe calls upon the heavens and earth: “Listen, O heavens, and I will speak! And let the earth hear the words of my mouth,” as he reminds Bnei Yisrael of their story and their unbreakable brit with God. Why must heaven and earth hear his words? Based on the Midrash, Rashi explains that Moshe summons them as witnesses. He anticipates a future, after his death, in which the Jewish people might deny the covenant and asks: “Who will come and refute them?” Heaven and earth, which endure forever, will testify to the truth. But these witnesses do more than testify. Rashi explains that when Israel is worthy, the earth yields its produce and the heavens give their dew. The land itself becomes testimony to the enduring relationship between God and the Jewish people.

Writing in 11th-century France, Rashi knew what it meant to live in a world of Jew-hatred and distorted narratives. His commentary reminds us that accusations and falsehoods may come and go, but there are truths that stand firm. We look to the heavens, to the Land of Israel, and to the generations of Jews who have carried our story through history.

We have lived through Holocaust denial, distortion of the atrocities of October 7, and, once again this week, deeply troubling narratives about Israel and our soldiers. Ha’azinu reminds us that we are not the first generation to confront those who challenge our story or deny our truth. Moshe’s answer is not despair, but testimony and faith. Heaven and earth endure. The Jewish people endure. And the flourishing of the Land of Israel continues to bear witness to the strength of an ancient brit that has carried us through history. Shabbat Shalom and Chatima Tova -Karen Miller Jackson

Nitzavim-Vayelech: Relationship Repair

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Teshuva, one of the central mitzvot of Elul and the Yamim Noraim, has its biblical source in Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelech. The Torah portrays teshuva as a dynamic of return between Am Yisrael and God that can also serve as a model for repairing relationships and fostering positive change in our own lives.

Ramban derives the mitzvah of teshuva from the verse, “And you will return to the Lord your God…” Notably, the root sh.u.v – return – appears seven times in this section. Rashi, commenting on the Torah’s unusual language, “And God will return…,” teaches that once we initiate our return to God, God returns with us. This surprising characterization of teshuva as a two-way process between Israel and God can also serve as a model for interpersonal relationships. When we take the first step toward someone, we create the possibility that they will reciprocate, allowing the relationship to move forward together.

This gradual movement also suggests that teshuva is a progression. Abarbanel points out that the Torah frequently uses the language of a journey: evildoers are warned to abandon their “ways,” while some of our greatest leaders are described as “walking with God.” Am Yisrael, too, is commanded to “walk in the ways of God.” The image of walking reminds us that teshuva often happens step by step, through small changes and gestures. Similarly, the Lubavitcher Rebbe teaches that the name of each parsha conveys this message. “Nitzavim” (standing) suggests standing firmly in our faith and identity, while “Vayelech” (going) signifies our potential to move forward and grow spiritually – gradually, one step at a time.

May these days of teshuva be an opportunity to reaffirm our faith and relationships, and to continue moving forward in our own spiritual growth. Shabbat Shalom and Shana Tova! -Karen Miller Jackson

Ki Tavo: How We Speak About Israel

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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

Ki Tetze: Fostering Compassion

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Parshat Ki Tetze contains many mitzvot. One in particular relates to a central theme of Elul and Rosh Hashanah: fostering and praying for mercy and compassion.

What is the purpose of the mitzvah of shiluach ha-ken, sending away the mother bird before taking her young or eggs? Mishna Berakhot teaches that one may not add to tefilla the statement: Be merciful with us as “Your mercy extends to a bird’s nest.” One explanation in the Gemara of this ambiguous teaching is that it is best not to attach reasons to mitzvot. Still, many biblical commentaries see a deep connection between shiluach ha-ken and the trait of compassion.

Rambam, in the Guide to the Perplexed, explains that if the Torah warns against causing such grief to birds, how much more careful should we be not to cause grief to people. The Ha’amek Davar highlights the bravery of the mother bird, whose instinct is to remain and protect her young – an image of compassion par excellence. The word rachamim (mercy) is also related to rechem (womb), evoking the compassion a mother feels toward her child. Perhaps for this reason, mothers – Sarah, Hagar, and Hannah – feature prominently in the Rosh Hashanah liturgy, when we pray fervently for God’s compassion.

The shofar, blown throughout Elul in the lead-up to Rosh Hashanah, is also associated with rachamim. According to the Midrash, God called Moshe to ascend Mount Sinai a second time on Rosh Chodesh Elul. The shofar was blown then to awaken the people to repentance as they sought God’s mercy and forgiveness.

By emulating the compassion God shows us – toward others and toward ourselves – we merit the words of the Talmud: “Anyone who has compassion for God’s creatures will receive compassion from Heaven.” Shabbat Shalom🇮🇱 -Karen Miller Jackson