Bereshit: Faith and Gratitude

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“Each and every blade of grass has a special song of its own.” – Naomi Shemer, based on Rebbe Nachman of Breslav

In the midst of the creation narrative, before humankind even enters the scene, parshat Bereishit offers a lesson about the power of faith and gratitude, one we have witnessed so vividly in each and every hostage who, thank God, has returned home. 

In the retelling of creation in Bereishit, chapter 2, just before Adam is formed, the Torah states: “When no shrub of the field was yet on earth and no grasses of the field had yet sprouted, because God had not sent rain upon the earth and there were no human beings to till the soil.” Why did God withhold the rain? And why are two reasons given for why the vegetation had not grown? Rashi connects these two explanations: God withheld the rain because there were not yet human beings who could be makir tov (to appreciate the rain). Only once Adam sensed the world’s need for sustenance did he pray for rain, and it was that prayer that brought the grasses and trees to life.

Rashi’s insight highlights several key ideas. First, Adam prays not only for himself, but for the sake of the world. Second, tefilla cultivates within us the capacity to be makir tov — to feel and express gratitude to God and to others for the good we receive. Finally, the world itself reached its completion — the grasses only began to grow — when Adam prayed. Our very sustenance, and the flourishing of the world, depend on our tefillot.

This message finds powerful expression in the chatufim, who have shown almost superhuman strength, faith, and gratitude. With radiant smiles, wrapped in Israeli flags, and in their renewed embrace of mitzvot like tefillin and tefilla. Their example is not only a source of inspiration but also a wellspring of strength — one that will help us recreate, renew, and heal Israeli society. 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 

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