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

Parshat Ha’azinu & Sukkot: Strength from Former Hostages

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The poetic parsha of Ha’azinu, which we will read just before Sukkot, reminds us of the blessings God has bestowed upon the people of Israel throughout history. By recalling both our failures and our faith, Ha’azinu becomes a verbal act of hakarat hatov, gratitude for all the good God has granted us.

The Midrash Sifrei teaches that this song encompasses the past, present, and future of the Jewish people. Ramban adds that it is both our testimony about God’s benevolence to us and God’s testimony about Israel—that even when we stray, God will forgive and return to us.

The mitzvah of sitting in the sukkah carries a similar message. The Torah commands us to dwell in sukkot “so that future generations will know that I caused the Israelites to dwell in booths” after the Exodus (Vayikra 23). Yet the Torah never describes these sukkot explicitly, leading to a rabbinic debate about whether they were physical booths, or the ananei hakavod—the Clouds of Glory—symbolizing divine protection. Whether they were actual shelters or the miraculous clouds, the sukkah teaches that it is precisely in moments of fragility and uncertainty that we are reminded to rely on God’s care.

We have also learned this lesson from many former hostages—may the remaining ones come home soon. In his book, Eli Sharabi describes how, at his most vulnerable, in the dark, cramped, airless tunnels of Gaza, he drew strength from the words of Kiddush and Shema. Ha’azinu and the sukkah together remind us that as we emerge from this month of chagim, when we feel most attuned to God’s presence, we can strive to hold on to these reminders of faith and protection throughout the year ahead. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Va’etchanan: Faith & Hope

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The unique status of the Shema prayer is not immediately apparent from its original context in Parshat Va’etchanan. Yet the interpretation of just two words helps explain why it has become such a cherished prayer and a powerful symbol of enduring hope.

There is a well-known tannaitic debate regarding the words “בְּשָׁכְבְּךָ וּבְקוּמֶךָ” (“when you lie down and when you get up”). Beit Shammai taught that one must literally lie down at night and stand up in the morning while saying Shema. Rabbi Tarfon once followed this opinion and endangered himself while traveling at night. In contrast, Beit Hillel interpreted these words as referring to the times of recitation: “at the time” when people typically lie down (evening) and rise (morning). The law is decided according to Beit Hillel, who understood the essence of Shema as framing our days and nights. This view rejects the idea that Shema should be a separate, isolated moment in the day; rather, it teaches that Shema embodies an enduring faith that flows through the everyday rhythms of our lives.

These same words also explain why the Oral Torah begins with the question: “From when does one recite the evening Shema?” Why begin with the nighttime Shema before the morning Shema? The primary proof-text for this order is again “when you lie down and when you get up.” The timing of Shema is not set by objective astronomical markers, but by the lived, daily rhythm of human beings. On a deeper level, this pattern mirrors the rhythm of Jewish history itself: holding fast to faith through the dark nights of persecution and exile, and then emerging into the light of independence and redemption.

With each passing day, amidst the hovering threats, the Shema remains a steady anchor of faith. We continue to pray that each new day will bring light and redemption—for the hostages, for our chayalim, and for all of Am Yisrael. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Ki Tissa & Purim: Modern Day Esthers

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As we enter Shabbat Ki Tissa, which coincides with Purim, a common theme emerges: finding faith in moments of crisis and ensuring its message endures l’dorot, for generations to come.

The sin of the Golden Calf stands as one of Am Yisrael’s greatest failings, to the point that God initially intends to destroy them. Moshe pleads for their salvation, even offering to be erased from the Torah. The Sages teach that its effects linger in every generation: “There is no generation that does not bear an ounce of the sin of the Golden Calf.” Many commentaries see the Mishkan as a tikkun (atonement) – particularly through the donation of gold, transforming the very substance of their downfall into a means of holiness. Yet, the lasting message is clear: do not lose faith so swiftly when Moshe and God’s presence seem out of reach.

Similarly, according to the Talmud, Esther had to persuade the Sages to record her story for future generations (kitvuni l’dorot). While they hesitated, she understood the ongoing relevance of Megillat Esther: a model of faith when the face of God seems hidden. Perhaps for this reason, the laws of Megillah reading are so stringent. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi teaches that the obligation to read it twice—once at night and once in the day—is derived from the verse in Psalms: “O my God, I call by day but You do not answer; and at night, and there is no respite for me.” Reading the Megillah serves as an antidote to the natural feeling of divine abandonment. It is a written reminder for every generation of God’s hidden presence, even in the darkest times.

Today, returned hostages who have shared stories of bravery and faith, despite overwhelming despair, serve as a modern manifestation of kitvuni l’dorot. Like Esther, they remind us of the power of faith, even when redemption seems distant. Purim Sameach and 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)

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

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

Parshat Shoftim: Great Responsibility

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“With great power comes great responsibility.” In Parshat Shoftim, societal leaders—whether judges, prophets, sages, or kings—are commanded to pursue justice and adhere to a strict code of ethical behavior. However, there are times when every individual is called upon to engage in introspection and take responsibility for the welfare of society as well.

Devarim 21 describes the mysterious ceremony, done in biblical times, of “eglah arufah.” When a murder victim is discovered outside a city and the identity of the killer is unknown, the elders of the closest city take an unworked heifer and break its neck. Then there is a two-part tikkun. First, the leaders are called upon to take responsibility, which consists of a declaration: “Our hands did not shed this blood, nor did our eyes see it done,” and then a prayer to God: “Absolve Your people Israel whom You redeemed…” 

What is the purpose of the leaders declaring “our hands did not shed this blood”? Rashi, citing midrash Sifrei asks, “do we really think the elders are murderers?” Rather, they mean that they never encountered this victim, and they did not leave a vulnerable person without help. This ritual underscores the value the Torah places on each and every life and the heavy responsibility on leaders to protect their people. Why, then, do they pray that God absolves all of Israel and not just themselves? When an innocent life is taken and justice is not served, the moral deficiency can reverberate in the nearby city and throughout all of Israel. So all of Israel must pause and reflect on what has occurred. This is why the tefillah seeks redemption for the entire nation. 

The eglah arufah is no longer practiced, but its core ideas remain relevant—especially this week. May the memories of Alexander, Almog, Carmel, Eden, Hersh, and Ori be a source of societal healing and redemption in our time. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Va’etchanan: Shema and Enduring Faith

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The unique status of the Shema prayer is not immediately apparent from its original context in parshat Va’etchanan. However, the interpretation of just two words helps us understand why it has become such a cherished prayer and a powerful symbol of enduring hope.

There is a well-known tannaitic debate regarding the words “בְּשָׁכְבְּךָ וּבְקוּמֶךָ” (“when you lie down and when you get up”). Beit Shammai taught that one must literally lie down at night and stand up in the morning while saying Shema. Rabbi Tarfon once followed this opinion and endangered himself while traveling at night. In contrast, Beit Hillel interpreted these words as referring to the times of recitation: “at the time” when people typically lie down (evening) and rise (morning). The law is decided according to Beit Hillel, who understood the essence of Shema as framing our days and nights. It also rejects the notion that the Shema should be a separate moment from life each day. Instead, it suggests that Shema embodies an enduring faith that flows through the everyday moments of our busy lives.

These same words are used to explain why the Oral Torah begins with the question: “From when does one recite the evening Shema?” Why does the Mishna start with the nighttime Shema before discussing the morning Shema? The main proof-text for this order is indeed “when you lie down and when you get up.” As Rav Yehuda Brandes points out, the timing for Shema is determined not by objective astronomical signs, but rather by the subjective daily rhythm of human beings. Moreover, this pattern reflects the rhythm of Jewish history: holding onto faith through the dark nights of persecution and challenges, and then emerging into the light of independence and redemption.
With each passing day, amidst the hovering threats, the Shema remains a steady anchor of faith. We continue to pray that each new day brings light and redemption—for the hostages and for all of Am Yisrael. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Behar: Bring Them Home!

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Today is day 31 of the Omer and day 231 of praying for the return of the hostages. Parshat Behar highlights the significance and impact of quantifying time.

When the Torah tells us to count time, it uses the language: “count for yourself/yourselves.” This connotes taking responsibility. The Sifrei teaches that in order to fulfill the mitzvah of sefirat ha-omer, each individual has to count for himself. Additionally, the ritually impure zav and zavah, must count the days until they may immerse in a mikveh. Our parsha contains the command to count seven times seven years, until the Jubilee (yovel) year, when debts were forgiven and slaves freed. Here, the beit din counts for the people. 

What do these countings have in common? All three signify a transformation, individually or nationally. Today, the zavah count is preserved in the seven clean days counted by a woman in niddah. As she moves into a state of taharah, there is renewed opportunity for new life or renewed love in the husband-wife relationship. Similarly, the Sefer HaChinuch teaches, as we count the omer days between Pesach and Shavuot we undergo a process of preparation to receive and recommit to the Torah and its values. Yovel, according to Rabbbenu Bahya, is an opportunity to pause and look back at previous generations and focus on a return to our roots, a reset, so to speak. It is a time to undertake a societal tikun, and refocus our commitment to God and the land, and to our origins and national beginning.  
As we count each day in prayer for the hostages, let’s apply the lesson of the yovel year and draw on our common bond with our land and our people, until they please G-d return home soon. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

* photo of the 5 tatzpitaniyot hostages from ynet.