This week’s Parashah opens with a statement that, far from being a biographical detail, is an existential manifesto: “And the life (the lives) of Sarah was: one hundred years, twenty years, and seven years—these were the years of Sarah’s life.” The Torah repeats “the life of Sarah” at the end of the very first verse, almost as if to remind us that her death is not the end—that her presence keeps pulsing in those who remember her, who speak her name, who walk in the path she c

In the beginning of Parashat Vayera, Abraham interrupts his reflections, and some comentarist say even a moment of connection with the Lord, to welcome three strangers who appear in the heat of the day. It’s a brief yet decisive moment: the encounter with the ineffable —with God, for the believer— is revealed in the encounter with another human being, in our ability to see the other even amid our own pain and worries. Our sages teach that God appeared to Abraham while he was

There is a section in our parashah that is often overlooked—perhaps because the opening verses are so powerful that they eclipse everything else. After all, they give the portion its very name: Lech Lecha.  It’s hard to compete for attention with something as extraordinary as God’s call to a man who seems quite ordinary, and that man’s selfless and wholehearted response—a response that would make him the founding father of a people, just as promised.   But this time, the text

Shabbat Parshat Noach. Noach—the one of the Flood, the one of the Ark. The survivor whose first act upon leaving the ark is to plant a vineyard, make wine, and become drunk… perhaps to drown his sorrow in the face of total destruction. Noach—the one of anguish, perplexity, and perhaps still, hope.  Just two years ago, the world began to sink once again into a mabul, a flood of violence and disorientation. At the time, we thought humanity had hit rock bottom, that the storm co

Botanists often tell us that the sequoias — those colossal trees that grow in California — are the longest-living species on earth. Some have reached two thousand years of age. It is humbling, almost overwhelming, to think that they were planted in the days of Rabbi Akiva and still breathe under the same sky.  Yet, according to a fascinating and little-known midrash, the oldest living creature in the world is not a tree, but a bird called the Jol — or Maljás. Tradition tells

As we approach the end of Sukkot, a question arises that many ask: What do we celebrate on Shemini Atzeret? At first glance, it seems to...

This week’s portion, Haazinu, is Moses’ farewell song. At the threshold of his death, aware that he will not enter the Promised Land, he...

Parashat Vayelech places us before Moses on the threshold of his farewell: a leader who knows he will not cross over, yet hands the...

In Parashat Nitzavim, Moses addresses the gathered people to remind them that God’s covenant includes them and all generations to come:...