Behar-Bechukotai: Stand Upright for Israel

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This week was a whirlwind: the inspiring bravery of Yuval Rephael, the painful rhetoric of some Israeli leaders, and a tragic antisemitic attack in Washington, DC. One word in Parshat Behar-Bechukotai offers timely insight into how we confront antisemitism and draw the line between legitimate critique and harmful condemnation of Israel.

Vayikra 26 outlines the blessings and curses that hinge on our faithfulness to God’s laws. The blessings include prosperity, military strength, security, peace in our land, and the feeling of God’s presence among us. The curses are lengthy and severe, ending in estrangement from God and our land. One image recurs throughout the blessings: the act of walking, and specifically, walking upright. “If you walk in My statutes,” God says, “I will walk among you.” The blessings conclude with a powerful reminder: God broke the yoke of our enslavement in Egypt and enabled us to “walk upright.” Why this emphasis?

The Hebrew word komemiyut – uprightness – comes from the root k.u.m, meaning to rise or stand. The Targum Onkelos translates it as freedom. Rashi explains it as standing tall, and Rashbam adds, “when the yoke is removed, one can hold their head high.” Sometimes, to hold our heads high, we must remember the long walk of our history, and the dangers of bowing our heads instead of standing tall and proud in who we are.
We pray daily for God to bring us komemiyut l’artzenu – upright to our land. In modern Hebrew, komemiyut connotes sovereignty, and it appears in the very first line of Israel’s Declaration of Independence. As we mark Yom Yerushalayim, may we each find the courage – wherever we are – to walk and speak uprightly in our Jewish and Zionist identity. May the memories of Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Lynn Milgrim be for a blessing. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Tazria-Metzora: From Destructive to Redemptive

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As fires raged through the beautiful Jerusalem Hills this week—just as we moved from Yom HaZikaron to Yom Ha’atzmaut—many were asking: is this a Divine message, and if so, what are we meant to learn? 

Parshat Tazria-Metzora teaches about tzara’at, a condition that appeared not only on a person’s skin, but also on clothing and even homes. While some interpret skin tzara’at as a physical ailment, the afflictions on garments and houses have no medical basis. For this reason, Rambam explains that they are supernatural signs—stages of spiritual warning. He describes a progression: the lesions appear first on the home, then on clothing, and finally on the person, signaling increasing distance from God—often due to speaking negatively about others.

Yet tzara’at isn’t only a punishment. The Torah teaches that when the people enter the land of Israel they will have tzara’at on their houses.  Surprisingly, Rashi calls this a “besora,” good news, because hidden treasures left in the walls by the previous inhabitants would be uncovered through the affliction. What seemed destructive was actually redemptive. The kohen would then oversee a process of purification—restoring and renewing the home.

We may no longer live in a biblical world of manifest miracles or clear signs of reward and punishment. Yet tzara’at teaches us to listen more closely for God’s messages. As the chilling final words found on Shauli Greenglick’s phone after he fell in Gaza remind us: “God speaks to me much more than I speak to Him.” As we witness the fires on the outskirts of Jerusalem, we are called to reflect inward—on our land, our homes, and ourselves. It is a time to examine how we speak about others, and how, through that process, we might emerge renewed and draw closer to Hashem. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Shemini: Humility and Hope

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Reading Parshat Shemini after Yom Hashoah and before Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut feels especially resonant this year. Aaron emerges as a model of leadership rooted in humility and responsibility, and finds the courage to live with hope despite deep grief.

The parsha opens with God commanding Aaron and the people to bring offerings—including a calf (egel). Midrash Tanchuma explains this was an atonement for the sin of the Golden Calf, in which Aaron played a significant role. Yet Moshe must tell Aaron a second time to draw near and bring the offering. Rashi notes that Aaron was ashamed and afraid, and only with Moshe’s encouragement did he step forward to atone for himself and the people. It is precisely Aaron’s humility, especially after his earlier failing, that enables him to lead the people toward forgiveness.

Aaron provides another lesson in leadership when, tragically, on the eighth day of the inauguration of the Mishkan, his sons Nadav and Avihu offer a “foreign fire” and are instantly killed by God. Their sin is not entirely clear. The Sages suggest various interpretations of what they did wrong: sacrificing a korban which was not commanded, teaching Torah in front of their teacher Moshe, entering the sanctuary naked, performing their duties while drunk, refusing to marry or have children. In the midrash, Nadav and Avihu are portrayed as irresponsible and full of hubris. In contrast, Aaron responds to their death with silent grief, yet finds the strength to carry on. As Moshe instructs him to forgo the usual mourning rituals, Aaron continues his service as Kohen Gadol.

Aaron, like many survivors and the heroes we have witnessed this year, is a model for leaders and all of Am Yisrael—to have humility before God and others, and, despite the grief, to find the strength to continue and to live. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Tzav and Pesach

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This week, Parshat Tzav coincides with Pesach—each centered on a sacrifice no longer offered, yet rich with enduring lessons about Jewish identity and observance.

The word “tzav” introduces the command to Aaron regarding the olah, the burnt offering. This sacrifice remained burning through the night, and each morning the priests began by clearing the ashes before starting anew. Rashi explains that tzav conveys zerizut—urgency and enthusiasm—applying both now and l’dorot for all generations. Chizkuni adds that such motivation was needed for a task done daily, which could easily become monotonous. How does this speak directly to our own lives today (l’dorot)? Just as the kohanim were called to maintain passion in their daily service, we are challenged to keep our Torah study and prayer fresh and meaningful despite their routine nature.

These same values—zerizut and l’dorot—are central to Pesach. As Bnei Yisrael prepared to leave Egypt, they were commanded to eat the korban Pesach b’hipazon: “with your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it in haste.” Though we no longer bring this offering, we recall it at the seder. We retell how the people marked their doorposts with its blood. There is a debate about whether the blood was placed inside, where only they could see it—Rashi explains this was to strengthen their observance and emunah—or outside, as Rambam suggests, a public rejection of Egyptian idolatry and immoral culture. Today, we need both: inward faith and outward expressions of Jewish identity.

The messages of these ancient offerings—bringing passion to our observance and strengthening our identity—are as relevant today as ever. Shabbat Shalom and Chag Kasher ve’Sameach – Karen Miller Jackson

Parshat Vayikra: A Call to Achdut

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What is the call of “Vayikra” for the Jewish people today?

Numerous commentaries explain that parshat Vayikra is a direct continuation of Shemot, which ended with Moshe outside the Mishkan. Even Moshe, the greatest prophet of all time, could not enter the holiest place at all times. Vayikra teaches that when an individual was impure, they too could not enter the Mikdash. Human experiences of holiness have a rhythm of ebbs and flows, highs and lows. Similarly, Rabbi S.R. Hirsch teaches that the root of the word “korban” is “k.r.v,” meaning to come close. The korbanot in the time of the Mikdash (and today, our tefillot) are a way to draw closer to Hashem, highlighting that one cannot stay in a continuous state of holiness. We are human beings, not angels.

Perhaps Rashi alludes to this in interpreting “Vayikra” as an expression of God’s affection (hibba) for Moshe and an invitation to draw closer to holiness and hear God’s words. Rashi relates this to the call of angels in Isaiah—which we say in the kedusha of the Amidah—“And one called (ve-karah) out to the other, holy, holy, holy…” In entering the Ohel Moed, Moshe becomes angel-like. In standing with feet together and saying kedusha, we strive to be holy like angels (whose feet were like a straight foot). However, we can’t stay this way permanently.

Regarding the position of feet in prayer, Rav Kook writes that our feet are for both walking and standing. When we walk, legs apart, we advance and grow in Torah knowledge. When standing with feet together in prayer, we solidify ourselves through unity (achdut).

There is also a rhythm within the Jewish nation. There are times when we, as a people, can debate constructively and move in different directions, at different paces. And then there are times when we need to pause in order to solidify, to draw closer in holiness, and to focus on achdut. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Bechukotai: Judaism and Zionism with Confidence

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“Our hope is not yet lost. It is two thousand years old. To be a free people in our land, the land of Zion and Jerusalem.” –Hatikvah

Parshat Bechukotai emphasizes the strong and unbreakable bond between the Jewish people, God and the land of Israel. One key word is a reminder that even with Israel’s imperfections, we need to convey our commitment to Zionism with pride and confidence.

Vayikra 26 contains the wondrous blessings and the harsh curses which will come our way if we don’t follow God’s laws. The blessings include prosperity, military strength, security and peace in our land and feeling God’s presence among us. The curses are long and harsh and culminate with a distancing of the Jewish people from God and our land. One image repeats itself throughout the blessings – to walk, specifically to walk upright: “If you walk in my laws, you will be blessed, and God will “walk among you.” The brachot conclude with the declaration that God broke the yoke of our enslavement in Egypt and enabled us to “walk upright.” Why this emphasis on walking upright?

The word for upright – komemiyut – is from the root k.u.m – to get up! The Targum Onkelos translates it as freedom. Rashi says it means to stand upright. Rashbam writes, “when the yoke is removed, he can hold his head high.” Sometimes in order to hold our heads high, we need to be reminded of the long walk of our history, the dangers of bowing our heads and not standing up tall and proud of who we are. 

We pray daily for God to take us komemiyut l’artzenu, upright to our land. In modern Hebrew komemiyut means sovereignty and it appears in the first line of Israel’s declaration of Independence. May we all find ways – wherever we are – to be blessed with the strength to “walk upright” in our Jewish and Zionist identity. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson 

Kedoshim: An Antidote to Hate

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Parshat Kedoshim contains one of the most important chapters in the Torah according to the commentaries. It also contains mitzvot which are at the forefront of contemporary society and the challenges we face.

After focusing on the holiness of the mikdash and kohanim, Vayikra 19 marks a revolutionary shift where everyone is commanded: “Be holy.” Midrash Sifra teaches that this was one of the sections read out to the whole community during hakhel, emphasizing the potential for all to infuse their lives with holiness. Moreover, it lists many interpersonal mitzvot as the path to holiness. One of these mitzvot – “love your neighbor as yourself,” – was considered by Rabbi Akiva to be the overarching rule of the Torah.

New challenges have arisen accentuating the importance of these mitzvot which strive to enhance human relationships. Smartphones and social media have made it easy and trendy to criticize others publicly. This has led to hurtful and alienating behaviors such as virtue signaling, shaming and canceling. More sinisterly, it has also fueled the spread of fake news, hatred and extremism. One mitzvah in particular speaks to this challenge: “You shall not hate your brother in your heart, rebuke your kinsman, but incur no guilt because of him.” This verse seems to support criticizing others. Yet, the Talmud Arachin limits the scope of “tochecha,” when it teaches that the criticism must stop if it results in public shaming. The sages themselves acknowledge that most of them were incapable of receiving or giving rebuke effectively as it was meant to diminish hatred in one’s heart.

What is the antidote to the spread of falsehood, hatred and anger? Frank Bruni writes that in this era “overwhelmed by grievance,” we need more humility. Even more, Kedoshim provides a moral and practical framework for calling out injustice from a desire to spread holiness instead of hatred. Shabbat Shalom🇮🇱 -Karen Miller Jackson

Achrei Mot: Remember Where You Came From and Where You Are Going

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Parshat Acharei Mot contains a unique command which relates to remembering our past in order to preserve our identity and values. This is also an integral part of sefirat ha-omer and how we commemorate Yom HaShoah.

The second half of the parsha contains a number of prohibitions, including:  “You shall not copy the practices of the land of Egypt where you dwelt or of the land of Canaan to which I am taking you…” Rather, we must follow the laws and statutes of God. How should we understand this vague command? This verse precedes the list of arayot, sexual sins. Hence, Ramban understands this as referring to the sexual promiscuity and immorality that was widespread in ancient Egyptian and Canaanite culture, from which we need to distance ourselves. Rashi, however, understands this as a broader warning: By observing the laws of Torah we move away from the generally immoral culture of ancient Egypt and Canaan and aspire to live a holy life.

Similarly, the imperative to remember our point of origin (Egypt) and to move toward holiness or freedom (Matan Torah) is the reason why we count the omer, according to the Sefer Hachinuch. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks zt”l teaches that the omer marks cyclical time (the agricultural year) as well as historical time. While it was common in the ancient near east to mark cyclical time, the Torah is unique and revolutionary in its call to count historical or “covenantal” time. Through counting, we reenact moving from Egypt to Sinai, from enslavement and exodus to revelation and positive liberty. 

This is also the way we approach and commemorate Yom HaShoah. This year in particular, we are reminded of the necessity to remember, to internalize the lessons of history and to pray that this year’s counting brings about true freedom and redemption. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson

Metzora and Pesach: Hope for our Home & Homeland

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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

Shemini: Conflicting Emotions

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The eighth day, which should have been the pinnacle of celebration, was pierced by tragedy. Parshat Shemini describes the ambiguous sin of Nadav and Avihu and their instant death. This is followed by the challenge of recovery for their father Aaron, who wants to grieve, and at the same time, needs to continue to fulfill his leadership role as Kohen. How does one cope with such conflicting emotions and responsibilities? 

After Aaron’s two sons offer up a “foreign fire” to God and are killed, Moshe attempts to console his brother. Aaron’s reaction is heartrending: “And Aaron was silent.” Even harder, Moshe then commands Aaron and his remaining sons that they may not follow the usual mourning rituals since they must continue serving as kohanim. One midrash interprets Aaron’s silence as a statement of faith in the face of the tragic and unexplained loss of his sons. However, some commentaries explain the silence as the only way Aaron could express his pain and inability to mourn properly. 

Aaron’s quiet pain is reinforced a few verses later when Moshe loses his temper and criticizes Aaron’s remaining sons (by extension Aaron too) for not eating the sin-offering (chatat). Aaron reacts by teaching Moshe that it would have been inappropriate to eat that sacrifice. The Talmud Zevachim explains that Aaron was correct to eat only of the sacrifices which were related to the inauguration of the mishkan, whereas it was inappropriate for an onen (mourner) to eat of the regular Rosh Chodesh sin-offering. 
This story is particularly resonant now, as it highlights the challenge and possibility of holding on to conflicting emotions. Amidst the grief, Am Yisrael finds the strength to continue and live. We can feel pride in the valor of our heroic soldiers and be committed to winning this war, and at the same time, we can feel and express sympathy and regret for this week’s tragic loss of life. Shabbat Shalom -Karen Miller Jackson