Bamidbar: On Encampments and Flags

Parshat Bamidbar begins with Bnei Yisrael’s encampments, organized by tribe, each with their own flag. Encampments?! Flags?! Today, these have contributed to polarization, hate and moral distortion in society. How did the biblical encampments differ from what we are currently experiencing?

First, the Torah highlights that Bnei Yisrael should camp each according to his “standard” (diglo), under the “signs” (otot) of their ancestral house. Why this emphasis on tribal identity within the nation? Rashi comments that these unique flags highlight the diversity of the tribes, each one having unique character and potential strengths. The midrash Tanhuma teaches that this layout emphasized the potential for some tribes to influence others. Korah from Kehat was next to Reuven, who they pulled into their attempt to sow discord. The midrash calls this: “woe to the wicked person and woe to his neighbor.” Conversely, Levi, containing Moshe and Aharon, was next to three tribes who became “great in Torah” — “fortunate is the righteous person and fortunate is his neighbor.” Meaning, we are influenced by those we choose to be surrounded by.

The second theme relates to the trait of humility. The journey through the midbar is significant. The desert, says Bamidbar Rabbah, is ownerless space. Hence, the Torah was given in the desert to teach that one needs to humble him/herself to accept it, and it is free and open for all to take part. Shemot Rabbah says the “midbar” is related to “dibbur” (speech). The desert ideally could have been a place for good communication – which requires some humility, the ability to listen and to use speech positively and constructively.

Instead of flags and encampments which promote hate and discrimination, Bamidbar presents us with an ideal – a proud nation whose flags balance unity with diversity, and which encourages constructive communication and seeking positive influences. Shabbat Shalom🇮🇱 -Karen Miller Jackson


Parshat Behar: Bring Them Home!

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.


Emor: Countering Hate Speech

Parshat Emor teaches an important lesson about language – that how we speak can have a profound impact on our behavior and influence the world around us.

Emor (literally “speak”) begins: “Speak (emor) to the priests and say to them…” Based on this unusual phrasing for the Torah, Vayikra Rabbah teaches that God’s speech is pure and God is modeling “pure” and responsible speech for us. The parsha continues to emphasize the power of language through the command not to desecrate God’s name and the mitzvah of kiddush Hashem, to sanctify God’s name. 

Against this backdrop, it is all the more shocking to read the story of the “megadef,” the blasphemer, at the end of the parsha. The son of an Egyptian man and Israelite woman has an argument with an Israelite. Out of hatred and rage he then pronounces God’s name and curses God. This sin is so grievous in the eyes of Chazal that it is euphemistically referred to as “birkat Hashem,” blessing God, suggesting that even saying the word blasphemy can have a negative impact. Moreover, the Rambam teaches that one who hears blasphemy must do kriya, a sign of mourning, symbolizing the gravity of this prohibition. One unusual feature of this Torah narrative is that all who heard his blasphemy must place their hand on the megadef’s head before he is executed, the biblical punishment for this crime. The Ha’amek Davar explains that this is to compensate for the effects that hearing such profanity may have had on the listeners. 

These sources take on new significance as hate speech surges against Jews and Israel. As Eli Weisel wrote: “Hate is contagious… Ultimately hate is both destructive and self-destructive.” Yet, there are also voices of clarity and support. May the pure and positive voices drown out the hate. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson


Metzora and Pesach: Hope for our Home & Homeland

This week we triumphed over an existential threat that impacted us individually and nationally. Parshat Metzora and Pesach both focus on our homes and homeland as a source of strength, hope and protection. 

The parsha describes the purification process from tzara’at. This was a disease which affected not only a person’s body, but also can appear on one’s clothing and one’s home. However, tzara’at of the home is distinguished from that of the body and clothes as it only can appear once the people enter the land of Israel. While tzara’at is generally thought of as a punishment, when it appears on a home it can be seen in a positive light. Rashi teaches that it was a “besora,” good tidings, or a blessing, since the previous owners of the houses (Canaanites) hid their jewels in the walls which would be uncovered by Bnei Yisrael. Additionally, the kohen oversaw a process of renovation and purification which “attones for,” and renews the home. Establishing a home in Israel may entail hardship, but God provides hidden glimmers of hope and blessings. 

The home also plays a key role in the story of Pesach. Before they leave Egypt, God commands Bnei Yisrael to put blood on their doorposts. Rashi, citing the Mekhilta, explains that the blood was put on the inside of the doorpost, “as a sign for you.” And, God would see the people of Israel involved in performing mitzvot and would then protect them. The blood on the doorposts teaches that by fostering commitment in our individual homes, we will merit God’s national protection.

This Pesach, many homes are incomplete. Some have lost loved ones, some are still healing, some are away defending our homeland and some are still held captive, may Hashem redeem them. May this Pesach bring strength, nechama and renewal to our individual homes and may God see our commitment to our homeland and reward us with protection and salvation. Shabbat Shalom and Chag Kasher ve-Sameach –Karen Miller Jackson


Tzav: An Attitude of Gratitude

Parshat Tzav, literally “command,” offers a blueprint for embracing duties and responsibilities within the Torah and towards the State of Israel with eagerness and fervor.

A central theme in parshat Tzav is “zerizut,” acting with urgency and enthusiasm, expressed in a number of ways. First, the opening verse: “Command (tzav) Aaron and his sons…” Rashi comments that when this language “tzav” is used it connotes “zerizut,” and should be carried out without delay. Amidst the description of this important service, there is a command to the priests to clean the ashes on the altar each morning before beginning again each day. Many ask why the Kohanim, who do such holy work, also need to sweep up the ashes, a seemingly lowly job?! Nechama Leibowitz quotes Rabbi S.R. Hirsch who compares us all to the kohanim: The ashes from the previous day are removed to convey that we have an opportunity each day to approach mitzvot with “new zest.” 

Similarly, the parsha also describes the korban of thanksgiving, which was brought after a dangerous experience. Today, this is expressed through the recitation of the “hagomel” blessing. Rav Kook explains that it is human nature to take basic goodness for granted. However, after a traumatic experience one is given a new perspective on life and feels an urgency to express gratitude. Also, the Shulchan Aruch teaches that it should ideally be said as soon as possible (within 3 days), indicating it should not be delayed unnecessarily. Here too, there is built into the service in the mishkan and our tefillot, an element of “zerizut.” 

Like the Kohanim in the Mishkan, our people’s response to the “tzav 8” of our day is a true expression of fervor and devotion to Israel. May this be a source of inspiration – in how we approach mitzvot and in our people’s ability to hear the call to safeguard this land. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson


Vayakhel: What needs to happen for Haredim to join the IDF

“Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country” -John F. Kennedy

Parshat Vayakhel emphasizes the generous contributions to the Mishkan, from everyone – men and women – to the point that Moshe needs to stop them from donating. Deeper analysis of the Torah’s description of contributing to the Mishkan can shed light on the current debate about who should be contributing to defending Medinat Yisrael. 

The Torah emphasizes the generosity of the donations. Moshe instructs the people to “take gifts from among you,” and then encourages everyone, whose “heart is so moved,” to bring gifts to the Mishkan. The Hebrew root n.d.v (to donate) appears numerous times, and as Rabbanit Sharon Rimon points out, the word “lev” (heart) appears fourteen times in this section. The Ramban interprets this verse as referring only to voluntary gifts. This highlights that the Mishkan, the center of Jewish life, was built with heart and a spirit of collective giving. 

Yet, we also know that there was an aspect of contributing to the Mishkan which was mandatory for all. The language of “take” implies that everyone had to give gifts to the Mishkan. Elsewhere, the people are commanded to each give a half-shekel toward the tabernacle, a required tax. So which is it then? Voluntary or mandatory? The Kli Yakar says that the words “take gifts” refer to both required giving (the half shekel) and voluntary giving, which were combined to build the Mishkan. 

The idea that contributions to the Mishkan were a combination of mandatory and voluntary was echoed in our nation’s response to October 7th. Our heroic soldiers were called up with a command, a “tzav 8.” And we also witnessed an unparalleled nedivut (generosity) of heart and spirit, of most others giving what they could. This is what Rabbi Sacks zt”l called a nation built on a covenant of “We,” – “bound by a sense of shared belonging and collective responsibility.”

As we face a need to increase the numbers of soldiers needed to defend our country, how can we deepen the conversation to help foster this sense of national loyalty alongside Zionist pride, so that all Israeli citizens feel they are a part of the “We,” and can embrace the call to serve the Jewish nation? Shabbat Shalom – Karen Miller Jackson

Photo credit: Utra-Orthodox Jews walk outside an army recruitment office in Jerusalem, August 16, 2023. (Chaim Goldberg/Flash90) From TOI News site.


Terumah: From Mishkan to Israel

The word “terumah” (contribution) is mentioned three times in the beginning of parshat Terumah, prompting the commentaries to explore the significance of the type of donations made to build the mishkan. Amazingly, their insights reflect the spirit of commitment and giving which we have seen across Am Yisrael recently.

Rashi explains that there were 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 initial pair involves giving at a national scale while upholding the equal and noteworthy value of each individual offering. The third form embraces variety in individual contributions. 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 Jews with different levels of Torah commitment and religiosity. The mishkan only works if it includes everyone. The mishkan was a great unifier, including even those who think or practice differently. 
Today, Israel exhibits resemblances to these characteristics of the mishkan, underscoring the vital importance of the medinat Yisrael as a center and homeland for the Jewish people. We have witnessed ongoing contributions based on “chova” – young Israelis responding without hesitation to the call to serve. We also see the continuing “nedava” – service, gifts and solidarity from Israelis and Jews around the world who gave with “generosity of the heart.” Terumah is a timely reminder: Let’s preserve this spirit of connection and commitment, required alongside voluntary, and based on unity with diversity. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson


Mishpatim: Truth AND Compassion

Parshat Mishpatim contains laws which contribute to building a moral and compassionate society. Two mitzvot stand out as deserving special consideration within the framework of our contemporary world.

First, “keep far away from falsehood” (Shemot 23:7) – the language implies more than a command to be truthful, one should actively distance oneself from falsehood. The midrash Mekhilta contains a debate about whether this applies only to judges or to everyone. Elsewhere, the Torah clearly commands everyone not to lie. Here, we learn a key principle of Torah is that judges – societal leaders – should strive for truth and justice. Today, perhaps more than ever, lies and fake news are easier to access through social media. World leaders too have embraced lies and made it more acceptable to spread falsehood. In this context, “keep away…” has new resonance.

Second, “Do not oppress the stranger as we were once strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Shemot 23:9) This is one of numerous mitzvot in the parsha about protecting the vulnerable in society. Why does the Torah recall our time in Egypt? The Minchat Chinuch explains that reminding us of the anxiety and suffering our ancestors felt as strangers in Egypt “will move us to compassion for every person in a similar situation.” Drawing on our past experience in caring for the weak and vulnerable is also a core value in Torah.

 
What happens when one of these is praised and the other neglected? Sadly, we are seeing this in today’s “post-truth” world, where altruism is at times held above the truth. Courts, journalists and institutions which should be the embodiment of fairness and truth-seeking have lost objectivity. Perpetrators of evil have won over people’s sympathy. Rabbi Sacks presciently called this trend “altruistic evil,” when injustice and hatred spread under the flag of human rights. Parshat Mishpatim is a call to re-align the values of altruism and truth and to practice compassion when it is truly warranted. Shabbat Shalom and chodesh tov -Karen Miller Jackson


Parshat Yitro: Between Amalek and Yitro

Since October 7th, Israelis have been battling the pure evil which was unleashed on us and which shattered our feeling of relative security. For Jews around the world, October 7th was a similar watershed moment, as the true face and breadth of antisemitism and anti-zionism was revealed. Given this, it is natural to wonder if we have friends and allies in the world. Parshat Yitro reminds us how to balance this worldview and contains a message about antisemitism and Jewish identity.

The parsha begins after Amalek waged war on a vulnerable Israel, as they journey through the desert. Next, it is recounted that 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 encamped at Har Sinai for Matan Torah. The commentaries see deep connections between these events.

The midrash Mekhilta contains a debate regarding the chronology of these events related to the ambiguity of what Yitro heard about. R’ Yehoshua says that he heard about the victory over Amalek. R’ Elazar Hamodai 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 comments that this is to teach that when we mention the hate-attack by Amalek we should also remember that we have genuine friends and admirers, like Yitro. 

Both readings contain a message for contemporary times. First, antisemitism should not define Jewish identity. Rather, it should be built on positive Jewish values, the basis of which is Matan Torah. Second, we need to call out antisemitism clearly and not ignore it. However, we must not let it distort our view of the whole world. We should embrace and encourage support from our non-Jewish friends, the Yitros of our time. Shabbat Shalom – Karen Miller Jackson

*photo with one of the cowgirls who support Israel.


Parshat Beshallach: Seeking Emunah

In parshat Beshallach Pharaoh finally “lets the people go.” Yet, instead of feeling elation, the people of Israel waver. They take leaps of faith toward God and then fall back and express doubt and fear. What can their wavering teach us about emunah (faith) today?

Given Bnei Yisrael’s fragility, God leads them on a long route to avoid war. The Mekhilta explains that by taking the nearer route they may have tried to return to Egypt. This is exactly their sentiment as they find themselves closed in between “Egypt” and the sea. Yet, their fear abates when they see God’s miracles and the sea parts for them. Talmud Sotah adds to the story of wavering faith when it depicts the heads of the tribes arguing over who will jump into the sea first, until Benjamin jumps in. Another version teaches that each tribe refused to jump in, until Nachshon ben Aminadav (Judah) took the initiative. Dr. Aviva Zornberg points out a linguistic back and forth throughout the narrative – va-yar/va-yire’u – to see and to fear, from the same Hebrew root. The antidote to their fear of Egypt is to see God’s wonders and to see Egypt disappear. 

After the splitting of the sea, the people fear only God and have emunah. Yet, almost immediately, their faith wavers repeatedly, as they cry out for water, then bread and question “Is Hashem among us or not?” Next, they face war with Amalek. But here, the people display courage and faith. As they fight, Moshe stands on a hill and holds up his hands. When he weakens, Aaron and Hur help him and his arms remain steady – “vayehi yadav emunah.” Rashi teaches that the word emunah is used here because his hands held up toward heaven inspired faithfulness in the people.

To quote Rabbi Sacks z”l: “A small people that, in the face of difficulty, continues to look up will win great victories and achieve great things.”

The parsha acknowledges that people’s emunah fluctuates during difficult periods. Simultaneously, it urges us to look around and find sources of strength and inspiration – in the commitment of our soldiers, the unity of our people and in our connection to God. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson