Chukat: Sources of Well-being

Leave a comment

Parshat Chukat reminds us to care not only for our own well-being, but also for those around us. It highlights how easily we take precious relationships and sources of support for granted.

The parsha begins with Miriam’s death and Bnei Yisrael crying out for water. The Tosefta Sotah explains that a be’er accompanied and sustained Israel throughout their forty years in the desert in Miriam’s merit. After she died, the well disappeared and later returned in Moshe’s merit. This midrashic tradition highlights how easy it is to overlook the gifts and people who sustain us. Often, only a crisis reveals how much we depend on them for our physical and emotional well-being.

The Ramban suggests that the well which returns may actually be a new one, rather than Miriam’s original well. There are numerous elements which support this position. For the first time the people themselves sing for the water: “Az yashir Yisrael.” Also, unlike at the splitting of the sea, where they sang alongside Moshe and Miriam, here they sing independently. This be’er represents a generation becoming more mature, empowered, and responsible for its own future.

Miriam remains a model of caring for ourselves and one another. She is repeatedly associated with water and the preservation of life: watching over her baby brother Moshe at the Nile and leading the women in songs of praise at Yam Suf, demonstrating faith in God’s salvation even when the future was unclear. Centuries later, the Beit Yosef records a tradition that Miriam’s well reappears on Motzaei Shabbat and brings healing to those who drink from it. Miriam’s well disappears and then reappears, symbolizing sustenance, renewal, and refuah.

May all those who are in need of healing find their sources of strength, renewal, and recovery. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Korach: Toxic Alliances

Leave a comment

At first glance, Korach’s rebellion appears to be a cohesive protest movement. But a closer look at its participants uncovers a coalition bound more by opposition than by a shared vision – a timely lesson about causes and the alliances they attract.

The Torah introduces Korach’s followers: “And Korach took… together with Datan and Aviram… descendants of Reuven.” Who were Datan and Aviram, and what was their connection to Korach and his cause? Rashi explains that the camps of Levi and Reuven were situated next to one another. Hence, “Woe to the wicked, woe to his neighbor.” Proximity led these groups, each harboring grievances, to influence one another and join forces. Yet, as Ha’amek Davar notes, they were not motivated by the same concerns. Korach sought leadership, driven by an aspiration that may have been misguided but was not entirely self-serving. Datan and Aviram, by contrast, were habitual dissenters who attached themselves to any cause that fueled resentment and division.

The Midrash identifies Datan and Aviram as recurring antagonists throughout the wilderness journey. They were the Hebrews who informed on Moshe after he killed the Egyptian, those who defied God’s command by leaving manna overnight, those who spread panic at the Sea, and those who helped inflame the people’s rebellion after the spies’ report. More than an exercise in identifying biblical characters, the Midrash offers a portrait of a particular type of person – one whose defining characteristic is opposition itself.

The story of Datan and Aviram challenges us to think carefully about the people and movements with whom we align ourselves. Shared interests or common enemies can create unlikely alliances, but not all partnerships are wise. “Woe to the wicked, woe to his neighbor” – The people with whom we choose to stand ultimately shape not only our causes, but ourselves. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Shelach: Lessons on Leadership

Leave a comment

“A leader is a dealer in hope.” – Napoleon 

What was the failing of the meraglim in Parshat Shelach? Reading this story alongside another account of spies in the haftorah suggests that, at its core, it was a failure of leadership.

The Midrash Tanhuma interprets the words “Shelach lecha” (“Send for yourself”) to mean that the spies were sent as a concession to Bnei Yisrael’s lack of faith. This is, in fact, how the episode is retold in Sefer Devarim. God had promised that the people would successfully inherit the Land, but they harbored doubts. Moshe sends leaders, each identified by name, underscoring his status as a leader of his tribe. Rashi notes that the spies are initially described as anashim, connoting distinction and worthiness. Ramban explains that God instructed Moshe to send the strongest leaders, hoping they would inspire confidence and strengthen the nation’s faith in God’s promise. Instead, the opposite occurred. Ten of the twelve returned and spread fear throughout the camp. Their pessimism infected the people with doubt and helplessness.

This stands in sharp contrast to Joshua chapter 2, where Joshua also sends spies to scout the Land. Here, however, no names are mentioned. Radak explains that the mission was conducted in secret, hidden from the nation. The purpose of the mission also differs. In Shelach, the repeated use of the word latur suggests a political and national mission: to explore and affirm the land God had promised them. In Joshua, the spies are sent leragel—to gather military intelligence and determine the best strategy for conquering Jericho.

Contrasting these two stories highlights one of the most important qualities of leadership: the ability to provide a compelling vision and inspire hope. Great leaders help their people see not only what is, but what can be. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson 

Bamidbar: Truthful and Redemptive Counting

Leave a comment

The Book of Bamidbar is also called by the rabbis Chumash HaPekudim – the “Book of Numbers” – because it contains two lengthy censuses of Bnei Yisrael. Yet throughout Tanach, counting people is sometimes viewed positively and at other times as a sin. What determines whether counting is an act of blessing or of transgression?

Parshat Bamidbar opens with God commanding Moshe to count the men of military age, preparing the nation to enter the Land of Israel. Rashi comments: “Because of God’s love for Israel, He counts them often…” This stands in sharp contrast to when King David counts the people. The book of Divrei Hayamim states that God was displeased with his counting. What was the difference?

In Bamidbar God commands the counting, whereas later, David initiates it. Moreover, Sforno explains that in Bamidbar they were counted “with names,” emphasizing each individual and his unique contribution to the nation. Thinking of people as numbers is dangerous, as we know too well from Jewish history. One final insight comes from Ramban, who notes a striking linguistic difference. In Bamidbar, the Torah uses the root פקד, which can also imply remembrance or redemption; in David’s census, the verb is ספר, simply “to count.” Counting, Ramban suggests, should be done rarely – only when necessary, and only for constructive, redemptive purposes.

This week, once again, we heard false “counts” used to demonize Israel – alongside less publicized evidence-based reports of the atrocities of October 7. May the world’s countings be truthful, and may they always serve purposes of justice and redemption. Shabbat Shalom🇮🇱 -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Pinchas: Israel Advocacy

Leave a comment

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

Leave a comment

“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

Leave a comment

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

Leave a comment

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

Leave a comment

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”

Leave a comment

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