To Come In Peace – Parshat Shoftim 5784

It’s hard to look at this week’s Torah portion and not think about what we as a Jewish people have gone through in the past week or what peace-loving people everywhere have endured over the 11 months since October 7th. Parshat Shoftim primarily focuses on the legal system, on justice, and on understanding context for rulings, but amid these laws, we read about going to war. Especially prescient is chapter 20, verse 10: “When you approach a town to attack it, you shall offer it in terms of peace.” It’s in this section that we are guided by what most of us would argue is the basic code of humanity, which prohibits hostage-taking, rape, and murder, atrocities that have been all too present on our minds thousands of years later.  

As more hostages are murdered, as the conditions in Gaza worsen, and as hundreds of thousands of Israelis line city streets in protest, the future is unclear. Over the past year, it has become normal for regular conversations to include an almost daily reflection on the morality, necessity, and effectiveness of military strategy. Each of us has an opinion of Israel and how the country’s leaders have responded to Hamas’s attack on October 7th and the way in which this response has been carried out. But these opinions do us no good, because here we are, still stuck and unable to end the horror. 

Though we’re not engaged in war on American soil, what makes things difficult for Jewish people on this side of the world is that the past year has thrown the values and ethics of being Jewish into question. As Jews we’re asked to defend our right to a homeland or the right to exist at all. The word Zionist has become a pejorative. Fear and misinformation refuse to loosen their grip on the world. 

Let me back up to say that broad strokes are not helpful in any of this conversation; there is far too much nuance to cover meaningfully in this short writing. However, it is in these moments when I feel frozen in this destructive cycle that I turn to the Torah as the guide for what to do. Even in horrific times, the text tells us that our initial instinct should not be violence, but peaceful negotiation and discussion first. Peace is the preferred option, always.  

I’m not naïve enough to believe that this is how the world works. It’s true that the Torah is also filled with examples of war as a necessity, which seem to go against this commandment. But I do believe that peace, however long it takes, is the best way forward. The Torah is our Tree of Life, a living history from which we learn, grow, and one day become the society it prescribes. May it be soon in our day that peace will embrace our whole world and nation will not threaten nation.  

Come Together – Parshat Re’eh 5784

Do you have a summer birthday like Matan and I do? Or a birthday that often falls during winter or spring break in school? As an early August birthday, I never quite fit into the “have a party and be celebrated” norm. In fact, I don’t recall ever having a traditional birthday party on my actual birthday as a kid. For many summers, I was at camp, so I didn’t even celebrate with my family. True, camp traditions can be fun too, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was missing out on some essential part of childhood. The good news is it doesn’t matter quite as much as an adult, and I have a whole new enjoyment and appreciation for my birthday celebrations now. 

Certain times of the year call for parties. There’s something powerful about having these milestone gathering moments. Celebrating becomes about more than the event; it’s about being in one another’s presence. The Torah this week establishes this quite helpfully.  

In our Torah portion this week, Parshat Re’eh, we hear about the importance of having this type of village surrounding us. In our parshah we learn of the blessings and curses that will come with observance (or lack thereof) of the mitzvot we’re given. We receive some final warnings about following the laws against idolatry, laws for keeping kosher, and the importance of treating each other as equals. Finally, we receive some more information on our three pilgrimage festivals: Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot. 

The meaning behind the “pilgrimage” festivals is self-explanatory. Instead of celebrating at home, we were to travel and celebrate communally. Why do we have this commandment not to stay home, but to gather as a people for these festivals? The Torah answers this question by suggesting that celebrating together automatically increases the significance of these holidays. If we’re not around each other, what if we forget the importance of these festivals or forget them altogether? 

In other words, celebrations are meant to be had together, and multiple times a year. It’s a helpful reminder that while there are holidays that don’t require a minyan or a congregational event, gathering together, especially when it’s “out of season,” can elevate our tradition in ways that go beyond the prescribed rituals. With that in mind, I’ll see you at Shabbat services. 

Meaning in the Mundane – Parshat Eikev 5784

Hearing good news, seeing a head of state, and going to the bathroom. They all have one thing in common. No, they’re not random cards from a game of Apples to Apples. Our tradition has a blessing to follow all three. Blessings for everyday and ordinary situations are, in my opinion, one of Judaism’s subtle beauties. Sure, we have the ceremonial grandeur of the High Holidays and the weekly joy and recharge of Shabbat, but there’s something special about finding meaning in the mundane, and I’d extend this to include seemingly mundane commandments. 

Parshat Eikev contains a related, and powerful, message that connects mitzvot (commandments) and blessings. The portion begins with the word eikev itself, which is often translated as “because,” suggesting that the blessings we receive are a direct result of our actions. But eikev also means “heel,” hinting at those mitzvot that are often overlooked or taken lightly, the ones that we might not even notice as we step through our lives. This dual meaning is a reminder that our everyday actions, even those that seem small or insignificant, can have just as much an effect on our lives as the big milestone moments. Our mitzvot aren’t a checklist of to-dos; they’re individual and unique opportunities to bring good into our lives and the world.

The text this week promises that if we observe the commandments, we will be blessed in many ways—through fertility, abundant harvests, protection from enemies, and good health. These blessings aren’t just rewards; they are the natural outcome of living a life aligned with the values and principles that God has laid out. When we live in accordance with basic values—kindness, justice, humility—we create an environment where blessings can flourish.

What we have to remember is that blessings aren’t always immediate or obvious. Sometimes, the blessings come in forms we don’t expect, or they arrive in subtle ways. But Judaism isn’t about a one-for-one exchange of good deeds and rewards. It’s about having faith that our efforts to do good will ultimately bring goodness into the world, even if the results aren’t always abundantly clear. This is especially true with the “heel” mitzvot, the ones we might think don’t matter as much. It’s far too easy to focus on the big, dramatic acts (literally, the ten huge ones on the side of our building come to mind) and overlook the small, daily opportunities to do good.

Parshat Eikev teaches us that every action counts. We don’t just receive blessings, we create them through our actions and attitudes. There’s a reason the Jewish value of gratitude is hakarat hatov in Hebrew, or “noticing the good.” By paying attention to the small mitzvot, and by cultivating gratitude for the everyday, we can create a world where blessings abound. This week’s parshah calls us to recognize the power we have to bring blessings into our lives and the lives of others, one small act at a time. The small acts of kindness, the quiet moments of gratitude, the everyday decisions to do what’s right—these are the building blocks of a life filled with blessings.

Place of Refuge – Parshat Vaetchanan 5784

I love visiting summer camps; it’s a highlight of every summer. I just visited Camp Solomon Schechter earlier this month, and walking through the gates of Schechter or BB Camp and seeing the vast expanse of nature and the cheerful sounds of joyful kids brings me peace and contentment on a whole other level. Do you know what’s funny about that? I hated being a camper at overnight camp. To clarify, I tolerated most of camp. From 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. I was a pretty happy camper. It’s just that by the end of the day, I was peopled out. Back in the 80s and 90s, we didn’t understand sensory processing disorders or introversion the way we do today. There was no safe place for me to take refuge when the noise and excitement of camp got too overwhelming for me. So while camp is supposed to be a refuge from the rest of the chaos in our world, it started out for me as its own chaotic space that just left me wanting for quiet.  

Yet, this time in my childhood represents one of my most important and treasured experiences because of the lesson it still provides. As a rabbi now, this is a constant reminder to me to hold the balance between the variety of needs our congregants have in order to feel a place of calm. It has often been said that we lead from the place of our own brokenness to create a new wholeness, that is indeed true not only of my own leadership, but of Moses as well.  

Parshat Vaetchanan continues with the retelling of the laws here again in the book of Deuteronomy. We also read about God’s persistent refusal to allow Moshe to enter the Land of Israel. The Torah then issues a caution to uphold the mitzvot as the key to building an Israelite society. Moshe then sets three cities of refuge, and we receive probably the most well-known instruction in the Torah, the Shema.  

In chapter 4, verses 41-42 the text reads: “Then Moses set aside three cities on the east side of the Jordan to which a manslayer could escape, one who unwittingly slew a fellow without having been hostile to him in the past; he could flee to one of these cities and live.” These verses follow an address but were not directly spoken by Moses; it’s simply narrative. Commentary asks the question “Why would this act be so important to Moses that it interrupts his address to the nation?” The answer is because Moses himself had to flee when he struck a man in Egypt. In other words, as a leader, Moses knows what it is to need a place of refuge to regroup and understands the importance of those places in a society. 

Parshat Vaetchanan makes it clear that a place of refuge can look different for each person. What matters is not what or where the place is, but how we can be supportive of the environment that allows for refuge to take place. As we move slowly to the final encampment of the Israelites in the land of Israel, Moses and the Torah give us this message: find your place, find your peace. 

Be Yourself and Have Fun – Parshat Devarim 5784

When I used to go to camp, or on a big trip, my father would put notes throughout my duffle bags or backpacks for me to discover throughout the trip. They were sticky notes and letters hidden with messages of encouragement, love, and, very often, reminders. It wasn’t that he and my mother didn’t tell me these things all the time before I left, it was more like him wanting to make sure that even when we were not in direct contact, in the days before email and texting, that the important life lessons they wanted me to carry with me were always there. I’ve adopted this habit as well, and when I send Shiri off to camp each summer, I have so much fun writing little notes to discover during that time away. “Don’t forget to change your underwear.” “Be kind and smile.” “You’re wonderful.” “I love you!”Even when I leave for a trip, I often leave notes for my kids or Duncan to find. Except for the one about the underwear – I don’t have to remind Duncan to do that.

It turns out my father was not alone in his need to pass on those last-minute reminders and messages. In fact, this very action of cramming final words into those remaining few minutes before a departure either in person or in written form comes from the Torah. 

Parshat Devarim begins the final book of the Torah, which shows the Israelites totally unmoored by the change in leadership and location ahead of them. Devarim stresses the covenant between God and Israel and looks toward Israel’s future in a new land as they build a society that pursues justice and righteousness. The central theme of this section of text is monotheism, the belief in one God, and building a society around the laws we’ve been given over the course of the four previous books.

The book of Devarim is called Deuteronomy in English, originally from Greek, meaning literally the “second telling” because it is comprised of a repetition of the laws and rules shared earlier in the Torah. Interestingly though, 70 of the 100 laws that are given in this book are brand new to the Israelite nation. It almost reads as though God is getting ready to send them off on an adventure and has a list of 70 last-minute reminders on how to be human before they can officially start this next phase of their lives.

However, I don’t see this as procrastination. I don’t think God waited until the last minute, God was setting an example for the kind of leadership we need in our world, the kind that guides and encourages. True leaders want others to succeed, and so they pass along every piece of advice they can think of. What advice would you share?