Shemini: The Day After?

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This week, Israelis (other than those up north) were asked to shift almost overnight – from 39 days of war marked by sirens, running to shelters, and sleepless nights – to a return to routine: work, school, and, hopefully, a full night’s sleep. How do we understand this “day after” in light of all we have just been through? Parshat Shemini offers a meaningful framework.

After seven days of miluim, preparing for the inauguration of the Mishkan, Aharon and his sons are called on the eighth day to bring offerings, and God’s Presence descends upon the Sanctuary. The commentaries ask: is this eighth day a continuation of the seven, or something entirely new? The number seven in Judaism represents the natural order, as in the story of creation, whereas eight points beyond it – to a higher level of holiness. The Kli Yakar understands this eighth day as wholly kodesh, distinct from the seven preparatory days that reflect the natural world. Even the opening word of the parsha – vayehi – echoes creation, suggesting a shift from chol to kodesh.

Yet the Lubavitcher Rebbe offers a reading that resonates deeply with our moment: the eighth day is not separate, but a completion of the seven days of human effort and dedication. So too with sefirat ha-omer – the Torah commands us to count fifty days, yet we actively count only forty-nine; the fiftieth day follows as a culmination of that process, sanctified by God.

We may not yet be finished counting the days of war. But Parshat Shemini reminds us that moments of kedusha do not stand alone, they grow out of what precedes them. If we carry forward what we have seen over the last 39 days – strength, pride, compassion, and faith – then this ongoing “fortieth day” can become not just a return to routine, but the beginning of something elevated and enduring. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Vayikra: The Call to Us

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The opening of parshat Vayikra – when God calls to Moshe and invites him into the Mishkan – offers a powerful perspective on, and deep appreciation for, the challenging yet historic time we are living through in Israel.

Although Sefer Vayikra begins a new book with seemingly different themes, the Ramban sees it as a direct continuation of Sefer Shemot. The final verses of Shemot describe a striking moment: “Moshe could not enter the Tent of Meeting, because the cloud had settled upon it and the Presence of the Lord filled the Tabernacle.” Moshe stands outside, unable to enter the very space he helped create. Yet the story does not end there. The opening words of Vayikra – “And the Lord called…” – complete that scene. Even the first letter, the vav hachibbur, signals continuity: what appears to be a new beginning is, in truth, part of an unfolding story. The Torah reminds us that even when we cannot immediately perceive the connections between moments, they are present, waiting to be uncovered.

Why, then, must Moshe wait to be called before entering the Mishkan? Perhaps the Torah is teaching that even Moshe, the greatest of prophets, does not presume access to holiness. Entry requires invitation, humility, and awareness. Sacred spaces – even those we help build – must never be taken for granted. This, too, contains a lesson for us. We live in an era in which the State of Israel exists, strong and vibrant, yet we must never take its existence for granted.

In these challenging times in Israel, it is not always easy to see how the events of recent years fit into a larger narrative. Vayikra – the call to us – reminds us that we are living through a significant chapter in the unfolding Jewish and Israeli story, and that, like Moshe, each of us is called upon not to take this historic moment for granted. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Balak: A Nation of Lions and Lionesses

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“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