Parshat Terumah: On Bees and National Responsibility

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Parshat Terumah’s description of the building of the Mishkan—a holy sanctuary built through the collective effort of the Jewish people—offers a powerful model for the relationship between Jews and the State of Israel today.

The word terumah (contribution) appears three times at the beginning of the parsha. Rashi explains that these refer to three distinct donations: two which were “chova” (required) and given equally by everyone, known as the machatzit hashekel, and one which was “nedava” (voluntary), giving as much as their “heart inspires” them. What emerges is two kinds of giving: the first ensures giving at a national scale while upholding the equal and noteworthy value of each individual offering, while the second embraces individual diversity and personal devotion. Rav Amital, based on the Maharal, taught that this combination is necessary within Jewish life, a balance between first, “chova” (required commitment) and then, “nedava” (voluntary dedication). 

Similarly, The Lubavitcher Rebbe interprets the different materials of the Mishkan as representing the diversity of the Jewish people, with different levels of Torah commitment and religious practice. The Mishkan only works if it includes everyone. The Mishkan was a great unifier, including even those who think or practice differently. 

These ideas were reinforced for me during a recent visit to a bee farm, where I observed how bees work together as a community, each fulfilling a unique role to sustain both their hive and the environment. A thriving society depends on the ability of all its members to contribute and collaborate in shaping their shared home. Just as every individual played a role in constructing the Mishkan, every Jew who seeks to live in or be connected to Israeli society must find their place in shaping and sustaining the State of Israel as both a spiritual and national home. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson 

Parshat Mishpatim: Between Cruelty and Compassion

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Children – dependent, vulnerable, defenseless – are the litmus test of our humanity. -Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks 

Parshat Mishpatim teaches what real compassion looks like. It highlights that cruelty, especially toward children, is a mark of unfathomable evil, whereas prioritizing and educating children in moral values is the greatest statement of hope for the future. 

The Torah commands us not to oppress the ger, the widow, or the orphan—the most vulnerable members of the biblical world: “If you mistreat them, as soon as they cry out to Me, I will hear their outcry.” The double language—aneh ta’aneh, tza’ok yitzak, shamoa eshma—underscores that just as the victim feels their pain deeply, God hears and responds with urgency.

Rabbi Sacks looked to the Shoah to contrast unimaginable evil with extraordinary humanity toward children. Janusz Korczak, a Polish-Jewish doctor and educator, exemplified moral courage and compassion when he refused to abandon the orphans in his care, even as they were sent to their deaths.

In Judaism, cruelty toward children is especially heinous because they embody our hope and future. Talmud Sotah teaches that after Israel crossed the Yam Suf, the infants were among the first to sing to God, recognizing His miracles. To the sages, children symbolize pure faith, goodness, and unshakable hope. That is why when we remember the redemption from Egypt, they are at the heart of our collective memory and moral responsibility.

Ariel and Kfir Bibas symbolize the stark contrast between their society and ours: theirs is steeped in cruelty, while we are rooted in compassion, faith, and hope. May we honor all the children we have lost by securing and shaping a country and future worthy of the next generation. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson 

Parshat Yitro: Embracing the Yitros of Today

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How striking that the parsha describing God’s covenant with Israel at Sinai—a defining moment for Jewish nationhood—is named after someone outside the nation: Yitro. This highlights a timeless lesson on Jewish identity, antisemitism, and the importance of recognizing true allies.

The parsha begins after Amalek wages war on a vulnerable Israel as they journey through the desert. It then recounts how Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, travels from Midian to meet Moshe at the mountain of God after hearing about “what God had done for Israel.” Following this, Israel encamps at Har Sinai for Matan Torah. The commentaries see deep connections between these events.

The midrash Mekhilta contains a debate focusing on the ambiguity of what Yitro heard. R’ Yehoshua says that he heard about the victory over Amalek, seeing the contrast between Amalek’s hostility and God’s protection of Israel. R’ Elazar Hamodai, however, teaches that Yitro heard about the wonders of Matan Torah, which would mean the Torah tells these events out of chronological order. If Yitro arrived after Matan Torah, why is his arrival placed between Amalek and Matan Torah? Ibn Ezra explains that this juxtaposition teaches us that when recalling the hate-attack by Amalek, we should also remember that we, the Jewish nation, have genuine friends and admirers, like Yitro. 

Both interpretations contain a message for contemporary times. First, antisemitism should not define Jewish identity; rather, it should be built on positive Jewish values, with Matan Torah as its foundation. Second, while we must call out and confront antisemitism, we should not let it distort our perception of the world. Just as the Torah reminds us of Yitro’s support, we too must recognize and embrace the Yitros of our time—those who stand with the Jewish people. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Beshallach: How Song Can Move Us Forward

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“When the soul longs to break free of the gravitational pull of the earth, it modulates into song.” – Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks

“Az Yashir,” the Song at the Sea, is a song of faith, victory, and gratitude. To the Sages, it was more than a response to one historical moment—it became the template for Hallel and inspired Jewish song throughout history. What makes it so unique?

Sung in the middle of Parshat Beshallach, the song is framed by Bnei Yisrael’s wavering faith—they take leaps toward God yet fall back into doubt and fear. Dr. Aviva Zornberg highlights this through a linguistic back and forth in the biblical text: va-yar/va-yire’u— meaning to see or to fear.

Their physical journey mirrors this struggle. God leads them on a longer route as they leave Egypt. According to the Mekhilta, this was to prevent their wanting to turn back to Egypt, a sentiment they express soon after, as they find themselves closed in between the Egyptians and the sea. God’s command, “Tell the Israelites to move forward,” highlights their reluctance. Even after the sea splits, Shemot Rabbah describes them hesitating on the muddy ground of the sea floor. 

In this context, Az Yashir is a song of transformation, turning fear into forward movement. Susan Cain writes about the transcendent power of song and calls this bittersweet creativity—which “has the power to look pain in the eye, and to decide to turn it into something better.” In Israel too, we have seen many talented musicians channel the bitter along with the sweet to transform the sorrow, loss and fears of the Jewish nation into hope and pride. In the words of Hanan Ben Ari’s Moledet: “(I’ll) sing an old song. We will stay faithful, forever. We will never break, neither in peace nor in trial, neither in sweet (times) nor bitter.” Az Yashir is the model for songs that continues to carry us forward. 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

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 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

V’zot Ha-bracha: This Simchat Torah

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“This is the blessing…” Moshe’s final act is to bless the people of Israel in Parshat V’zot Ha-bracha, which is always read on Simchat Torah. Given the emotions surrounding this day, the Torah concludes with a message that feels particularly appropriate.

The midrashim provide two beautiful ideas about the power of blessings: 1) The Sifrei Devarim sees a link to the previous parsha, which was filled with rebuke of Israel, followed by Moshe’s blessings. This teaches that one who gives harsh criticism should always follow it up with words of comfort. 2) The midrash Tanhuma looks back at the giving of blessings in Bereshit which were mixed – some positive, and some highlighting the negative. In contrast, Moshe’s brachot to the people here, were given with an “ayin yafeh,” a good eye, accentuating the positive in others.

One more lesson can be drawn from the final words of the Torah, praising Moshe upon his death: “That Moshe did before the eyes of all Israel.” Rashi comments: “This refers to the fact that his heart inspired him to shatter the tablets before their eyes (following the sin of the Golden Calf),” after which God congratulates Moshe. The Lubavitcher Rebbe asks why, after the blessings and praise, does Rashi bring up this incident which seems disparaging of Israel? In fact, says the Lubavitcher Rebbe, the mention of breaking the tablets is meant positively. It opened up the possibility of teshuva, of renewal for Am Yisrael. Moreover, while the first luchot came from God, the second luchot represents God’s commending Moshe and the people’s aspiring and choosing wholeheartedly to accept the Torah.    

This Simchat Torah let’s hope for blessings for Israel and the Jewish people: That we can give words of comfort, see each other with a “good eye,” and that we carry the memory of all that has broken and find healing and redemption. May it be a Chag Sameach! -Karen Miller Jackson

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Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelech: National Repair and Return

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We usually think about teshuva (repentance or return) as applying to individuals. Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelech teaches about an additional layer of teshuva, one which is perhaps more relevant at this time in Jewish history – national teshuva.  

The Ramban derives the mitzvah of teshuva from our parsha, traditionally read on the Shabbat before Rosh Hashana. The Hebrew root sh.u.v is repeated seven times in this section, characterizing teshuva as an ongoing process. It encompasses both the individual aspect: “You will return to your God…” and the national dimension: “God will return and gather you from all the nations…” What does national teshuva look like? Rav Kook teaches that the return of the Jewish people to the land of Israel is the foundation of the greatest teshuva. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, based on the Ramban, wrote about the dual nature of teshuva as a “double homecoming” – physically to Israel and spiritually to God. Perhaps there can be a notion of spiritual return to the Jewish people as well. Can we hear, in the words of Rabbi Sacks, “the divine call (‘Where are you?’) within the events that happen to us, whether individually as personal fate or collectively as Jewish history.” 

The prophet Hosea offers further insight into national teshuva when he calls on the people of Israel to return to God. The core of teshuva is through words: “Take words with you and return to God… Instead of bulls, we will pay [with offering of] our lips.”(14:3) National teshuva is achieved through words of prayer and in using language that fosters healing and repair. 

Especially this year, how can we respond to the call to national return in light of the parsha and Hosea’s message? How can each of us contribute to the strengthening and healing of Israel and the Jewish people? Shabbat Shalom & Shana Tova -Karen Miller Jackson