Tag: Weekly Torah Portion

The parashah 'Vayakhel' begins with the words:
"And Moses gathered the All the congregation of the children of Israel, and said unto them, These are the words which the Lord hath commanded, that ye should do them' (Exodus 35:1), and later it is said again, "And Moses said unto the children of Israel, Build ye unto me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them" (Exodus 25:42). All The congregation of the children of Israel, as it is written (Leviticus 4).
The word All She plays a leading role in the story, teaching us that the entire community of Israel, men and women alike, took part in building the Tabernacle. Everyone contributed, and everyone worked on the project.

These words are written on the afternoon of Purim. Last night we read the Book of Esther, in which Esther also asks
From Mordechai, "Go gather the All The Jews who are in Shushan.".

commandments The audience and the gathering, emphasizing Everything In both cases, during the inauguration of the Tabernacle and in times of trouble and distress, we are taught about the importance of unity and cohesion and the danger of division and fragmentation. "And Haman said to King Ahasuerus, "There is a certain people scattered and dispersed among the peoples in all the provinces of your kingdom. Haman the Agagite, of the seed of Amalek, points out the The separation As a sign that he would be able to defeat Mordechai and his people.

Even in the description of the Tabernacle, the Tent of Meeting, after the detailed description of all the various materials and the multitude of parts and tools, their descriptions and measurements, the text returns and mentions twice the cohesion and completeness of all the parts.
.(The Tabernacle. "To connect the tent to be one" (Luke 19 ). "And the tabernacle was one"(Luke 13).

The Tabernacle vessels symbolize the union of opposites. to unite The United:
A special commandment was given regarding the menorah of the Tabernacle: "He shall make the menorah of pure gold" (37:17). "Three branches of the menorah shall be on one side, and three branches of the menorah shall be on the other side" (37:18). "Its stems, its bowls, its knobs, and its flowers shall be of one piece with it" (37:17). "It shall be made of pure gold, hammered work" (Exodus 37:22).

The union of opposites is also reflected in the priestly garments, particularly the sash and the ephod. They are made of shatnez, a mixture of wool and linen, with special permission from the Torah, during Temple service.

The unification of opposites also characterizes the breastplate. Twelve stones, each stone unique "And the stones shall be according to the names of the children of Israel: twelve according to their names, engraved like the engravings of a signet, each according to his name, for the twelve tribes" (Leviticus 39:14). All twelve stones, symbolizing the twelve tribes, are united on the square of the breastplate.
The symbolic meaning of the union of opposites in the breastplate and staffs, the rods of the menorah, in the national context, is an expression of unity with Israel in all its diversity and colors.

"This is the essence of perfect peace.
Strive for peace
Between two extremes.". 
Rabbi Nachman of Breslov
Abbreviation of Likutei Moharan, letter A.

The parashah "Vayakhel" opens with the first commandment, "Six days you shall do work, but on the seventh day you shall have a holy sabbath" (Leviticus 24:31). After this first commandment, there is a transition back to the work of building the Tabernacle, a kind of parallel between the six days of God's creation of the universe, the six days of work, and the work of building the Tabernacle.

The words "and God finished" and "work" appear at the end of God's creation of the world."And he finished God finished His work on the seventh day (Genesis 2:2), and with the completion of the Tabernacle, "And he finished Moses completed the work" (Exodus 33). Both works end with a blessing, "And God blessed them" (Genesis 1:28), "And God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it" (Genesis 2:3). In the portion of Hakhel, upon completion of the Tabernacle, 'And Moses saw all the work, and behold, they had done it as the Lord had commanded, and Moses blessed them' (Exodus 39:43).
According to the Sages, the blessing included a special prayer that the Shechina would dwell in their work and that the Tabernacle would be stable and permanent.

The founding physicist, Isaac Newton, saw in the Temple an accurate physical model of the universe and the heliocentric solar system. In his view, the structure of the Temple contained the dimensions of the universe and was built with divine inspiration.
The parts of the temple conceal ancient wisdom about the structure of the cosmos. The altar in the center represents the sun, and the entire temple reflects divine order and physical harmony, what Newton called 'the divine plan.'.
This concept also applies to the structure of the Tabernacle and its vessels, which were built according to the instructions of the "divine plan,' 'as He showed you on the mountain" (Exodus 27:8), a divine instruction to Moses to build the Tabernacle and its vessels exactly according to the pattern presented to him on Mount Sinai.

The Haftarah for the portion of Hakhel deals with the construction of the Temple vessels in parallel to the construction of the Tabernacle in the portion. It describes in detail the construction of the Temple pillars, until 'and they finished the work of the pillars' (I Kings 7:22). These are the pillars "Yakin," the right pillar, and 'Boaz,' the left pillar. The pillars 'Yakin' and 'Boaz' are the 'foundation pillars' of the Temple and of the existence of the Jewish people.

And if we are wise,
All The people,
To establish (from the word "prepare") unity,
"The Lord will give strength (from the word bo-az) to His people,
May God bless His people.
Peace be with you.".
(Psalms 29:11)

The "Because you will carry" It is one of the most dramatic in the Torah, ranging from spiritual exaltation to the depths of the sin of the golden calf. The order of events is not chronological (the census takes place only a year later in the Book of Numbers).

The parashah opens with a census, conducted by means of a uniform contribution of half a shekel, which will be used to build the Tabernacle. It then details some of the Tabernacle's vessels and appoints craftsmen to carry out the work. Further details on the commandments of Shabbat complete the opening of the parashah (with the linking of the commandments of Shabbat to the construction of the Tabernacle serving as the traditional interpretation for the formulation of the list of 39 types of work prohibited on Shabbat). 

The main part of the passage deals with "The sin of the golden calf" – the original sin of Israeli/Jewish culture for thousands of years. Moses delays on the mountain for 40 days. The people, under pressure and anxiety, demand a replacement for Aaron. Aaron creates the The Golden Calf. God informs Moses of the sin and wants to destroy the people. Moses prays for the people, but when he comes down and sees the dancing around the calf, he Breaks the tablets of the covenant. Moses punishes the sinners with the help of the Levites, who pass through the camp and kill 3,000 people. Afterward, Moses climbs the mountain again to ask for forgiveness. He asks God, "Please show me your glory." In response, God reveals to him the The Thirteen Attributes of Mercy , the main prayer for asking forgiveness to this day.

Moses carves new stone tablets. After another 40 days, he comes down with The second tablets. Due to his immense closeness to God, Moses' face is glowing The light was so strong that he had to put a veil over his face when he spoke to the people (statues of Moses with horns throughout Europe originate from a faulty translation). 

From "We will do and we will hear" to "The sin of the golden calf"

The connection between "We will do and we will hear" and the sin of the golden calf seems, at first glance, to be a complete contradiction. How could a people that had reached a spiritual state of self-nullification ("We will do" before "We will hear") crash and burn within forty days into idolatry of a golden calf? However, when we look at the psychological sequence of events, we can see in the sin of the golden calf Direct continuation The extremism of "we will do and we will hear," and an ancient expression of FOMO, the fear of missing out.

"We will do and we will hear" – spiritual ecstasy without preparation

The mass cry"We will do and we will hear." expresses a state of ecstasy. The Israelites gave up intellectual understanding and critical thinking ("we will hear") in favor of total commitment ("we will do"). It is a moment of spiritual "high" in which the boundaries between man and his beliefs become blurred, and man loses control.

The challenge:  Peak moments pass quickly. As soon as Moses ascended the mountain and the fog took over, the people were left in a vacuum of faith. Without the "hearing"—that is, without deep understanding, critical thinking, a gradual process, and tools to contain the spiritual experience in everyday life—enthusiasm quickly turns to anxiety. When Moses was "late" in coming down, the emptiness turned to fear, and the people sought a security blanket.

The sin of the golden calf FOMO   collective

FOMO is the fear that something important is happening and we are not part of it, or that the source of our security/happiness has disappeared and we have been left behind. After 40 days, the people develop a "film" of anxieties and fears:

The fear of losing the leader: "For this is Moses the man... we did not know what had become of him." The people are afraid that their connection with God has been severed and that they are "missing out" on the opportunity to continue the experience of Sinai.

The need for "here and now"":  FOMO requires quick solutions. The calf was not an attempt to rebel against God, but an attempt moor The same in substance. The people need "a God who will go before us"—a God who can be seen with the eyes, who is available and immediate, who does not require waiting in the fog.

Social pressure: As on social media, the anxiety surrounding the sin of the golden calf feeds on itself. "And the people gathered around Aaron" – this is a movement stemming from social pressure and mass anxiety that "everyone knows something I don't know" about Moses' disappearance.

Dealing with the FOMO – Building a "safe place" for anxiety

The sin of the golden calf teaches us that we cannot live only by "we will do and we will hear," by moments of peak emotion and blind faith, without building everyday tools. The calf is "Shortcut" To achieve a sense of "divinity" without going through the work, the waiting, and the uncertainty. The Tabernacle is a correction – Unlike the calf, which was created in a moment of outburst and anxiety, the Tabernacle was built with detail, painstaking work, and planning. It teaches that the way to deal with spiritual FOMO is not by chasing instant gratification, but by creating a routine of sacred work.

The second tablets Moshe's sculptures reinforce the motif of Sisyphean labor versus religious and spiritual ecstasy. The most significant difference between the panels is their origin. The first panels were """The work of God is the letter, and the letter is the work of God.""". They represent a gift from heaven, a total experience that requires no human effort—like the initial "We will do and we will hear." In contrast, in the second set of tablets, God commands Moses""" Carve two stone tablets like the first ones.""" . Here, Moses is the one who must carve the stone, and God "only" writes on them. 

The first boards were like a perfect "story," everything looked amazing and effortless—  "We will do and we will hear.". The second tablets are a correction—they teach that holiness requires Hard work and genuine involvement. We cannot rely solely on divine ecstasy; we must carve out the tools ourselves so that we do not fall apart in every moment of anxiety and difficulty.

In the Midrash Exodus Rabbah, it is recounted that Moses regretted breaking the first tablets, but the Holy One, blessed be He, comforted him, saying, "Do not regret the first ones, for they contained only the Ten Commandments, but in the second tablets I give you more than that." Halakhot, Midrash, and Aggadah"Here too, the Midrash teaches that it was precisely the breaking and repairing that gave rise to a new depth – theOral Torah. FOMO seeks the quick answer, but the second boards represent the longer, more interpretive, and richer path that develops alongside the individual. 

The Gemara in Bava Batra (14b) notes that both the complete tablets and the broken tablets were placed inside the Ark. """broken slabs """Asher Shiber Moshe. From this we can learn that profound correction does not ignore situations of brokenness. Correction does not mean ignoring failure, but rather making room for brokenness. Brokenness reminds us that even failures (such as the sin of the golden calf) have value. Failure is part of the story. The attempt to be "perfect" (as in the first tablets) is what causes anxiety and leads to brokenness. Accepting brokenness allows us to cope and grow. 

Summary

The sin of the golden calf is the story of a people who rose too quickly and too high in "We will do and we will hear.", and were unable to cope when their leader disappeared. The fear of being left alone in the fog without a tangible God drove them to create a glittering substitute in the form of the golden calf. And so today, we too must remember that it is precisely in moments of uncertainty, crisis, and difficulty, when we feel that we are "missing out" or being left behind, that the wise thing to do is not to run after shiny, fast-moving "golden calves," but to patiently build up inner strength that will carry us even when the fog covers the mountain.

The relationship between Moses and Aaron was completely different from the dramatic stories of brothers in the Book of Genesis, which are characterized by rivalry, murder, arrogance, a struggle for primogeniture, the sale of a brother, revenge, and reconciliation.

Moses and Aaron were not just brothers. They were a team. Their goal was to lead the Israelites from slavery to freedom. Although God chose Moses to lead the people, he needed Aaron to stand by his side and help him convey the message. To do so, the synergy and cooperation between them had to be perfect. And for many years, it was. Moses and Aaron worked together as a team.

Then came the breaking point, or the change that took place in the cohesive team. In this week's Torah portion, Tetzaveh, we begin to see a separation between the two – while Aaron and his sons are invited to continue serving God through the priesthood, Moses' children are left without a specific leadership role in this new phase of the Israelites' lives. Moses does not yet know it, but he is not expected to lead the people as they enter the Land of Israel. In contrast, Aaron and his descendants will continue to be a spiritual pillar of the Jewish people from this point onward. This change is even reflected in the text itself in a literary gesture – Moses' name is not mentioned even once in the parashah.

Nevertheless, Moses' presence is still felt, albeit in a new and different way. Moses is asked to supervise the preparation of the magnificent priestly garments. This demand is further emphasized when God commands Moses to elevate his brothers and nephews to their new status. Unlike the other tasks that Moses delegated to the craftsmen, this transition is presented as a commandment that God gives to Moses himself – 'and you" – and which only he can fulfill.

When God commands Moses to bring Aaron and his sons before Him to serve as priests and ordain them to their new role, Aaron is repeatedly referred to as 'your brother," reminding us that their brotherhood and partnership was the "trademark" of their relationship for many years.

I felt a twinge in my heart. What did Moses think when he anointed his brother and nephews to the priesthood? Or rather, what did he feel? Was he able to fulfill his role as a loyal brother and rejoice for his brother, Aaron, who had finally been recognized as a leader in his own right? Did jealousy pierce his heart, even for a moment, or a sense of loss, when he realized that his brother Aaron, who until then had been his supportive partner, would now leave him and enter a new phase of sacred service, while he would not?

I want to believe that Moses, in his great wisdom, embraced change and understood that their many years of working together as a team had prepared them precisely for this moment. As a prophet, teacher, and leader, it was surely clear to Moses that he needed Aaron and his support in his early years, when he first took on the role of leader, and that now the time had come for Aaron and his sons to forge a new path for themselves. This brief episode in our parashah sheds new light on Moses and his leadership, teaching us that sometimes it is the simple ability to make room for others that demonstrates our true leadership and our capacity for teamwork.

On a personal note, I recently accompanied my sister, who is 20 years older than me, who is hospitalized due to a health crisis. It was a challenging situation for me that stirred up mixed feelings, because in the past there had been a lot of tension between us over the issue of "firstborn status," and we hadn't really managed to have a dialogue about our differences. .

Difficulty can separate, but it can also unite.

Many families are destroyed and torn apart by inheritance and will disputes and are unable to maintain family unity.

How do you build family resilience? How do you strengthen relationships of openness, mutual respect, and mutual support within the family? This is a challenge that every family faces, and it is also a challenge that each of us faces in the choices we make based on our beliefs, values, and, above all, the understanding that even if you invest, you will not always receive a return or gratitude.

Sometimes we discover leadership in small ways, like Moses, based on our values: for the sake of the goal, for the sake of building, for the sake of family, and we must accept the meaning from our actions without expecting anything in return.

Finally, I would like to recommend a moving film called "Moving Mountains" (in English, DJ Mehmet).

which describes, among other things, the relationship between two brothers who live in a village in northern Macedonia and have lost their mother.

And so they comfort each other: "Mom said that when things get tough, it's better to be together."

Shabbat Shalom!

Acknowledgements:
I drew on an article by Dr. Julie Lieber of the Lindenbaum Midrasha, whose words aptly captured and expressed my thoughts.

The Torah portion Terumah opens with the commandment: "And they shall take for Me an offering from every man whose heart moves him... and they shall make Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them." God asks the Israelites to build Him a home. According to Rashi and many commentators, this commandment came chronologically after the sin of the golden calf – after the tablets were broken, after trust was shattered. It is precisely then, in a state of brokenness, that the commandment to build something together comes. And the question that preoccupies me today is: How do you build something together when everyone wants a different "dwelling place"? When each camp sees "holiness" in a different place?

Two points from the episode

The passage offers two key points that may help us think about this question: The first point: "among them" – not "within it." God does not say, "I will dwell within it" – within the structure. He says, "I will dwell among them" – among the people. Holiness is not found in the physical structure, in the institution, in the Holy Ark itself. It is found in the connection between the people who build it together. 

This is an important point: the temple may be perfect in its details—in gold and silver, in blue and purple—but if it does not live within the people, if the connection between them is broken, then the holiness disappears.

The second point: "From every man whose heart prompts him to give." The Tabernacle was built solely from voluntary donations. No taxes were imposed, no coercion, no obligation. "Whose heart prompts him" – those whose hearts move them to give.

And what is exciting is that everyone contributes. The rich give gold, the less wealthy give silver, and those who do not have much give copper or cloth. There is no hierarchy of contributions—everyone builds the shared tabernacle.

The Tabernacle and the Sabbath – Two Sides of the Same Coin

This year, we are studying "Shabbat of Freedom" at Beit Tefilah – an attempt to chart a new Israeli path for Shabbat. Not a Shabbat of legal coercion, nor a Shabbat that becomes just another day of shopping and consumption, but a Shabbat as a space of true freedom – freedom to pause, to return to ourselves, to be with family and community. There is a deep connection between the Tabernacle and Shabbat. If Shabbat is "sanctuary in time," then the Tabernacle is "sanctuary in place." Both require the same thing: free choice. The Tabernacle was built out of generosity – not because someone forced the people to do so, but because their hearts "spoke." And the Sabbath, as we try to rethink it, must be built from the same place: not because someone forces me to, but because I want to be a part of it. This is "freedom for something" and not just "freedom from something" – as we are learning these days: true freedom is not just freedom from chores, but the free choice to give meaning to our shared space.

And today – where are we??

When I think about Israel today, I see a society that is struggling to find its holiness. Where is our "tabernacle"? Is it in the Knesset? In the Supreme Court? In the army? In the synagogue? Each camp points to a different place and says, "This is our holiness." And there are heated debates surrounding the most basic questions.

The Draft Law – Who Contributes to the Common Tabernacle? Do All Contribute, or Only Some of the People?

Separation of powers – what is "holy" and what is "most holy"? Who guards the boundaries between them?

The upcoming elections – each camp offers a different "Tabernacle," a different vision for the country, for society, for the future. And there is a crisis of confidence in institutions, in leadership, and sometimes even in each other.

So what do we do??

I don't know the answer. I'm not sure there is a simple answer. But the starting point is to remember two things. 

First, holiness is "within" – in the connection between people, not in the institution itself. Perhaps instead of focusing only on institutions – which Knesset? Which court? Which army? – we should ask where we truly meet? Where do we feel that we have something in common?

Sometimes it's not in the Knesset or in court. Sometimes it's at the Shabbat table, on a family trip, in a small community, in a conversation with a friend who thinks differently from you but with whom you can still talk. Maybe that's where holiness resides. Second, the Tabernacle was built when the heart "speaks." Not by coercion. Not by saying, "You must serve," "You must observe Shabbat," "You must agree with me." But with a simple question: What do you want to contribute? What does your heart motivate you to give to our shared home? Because only when everyone contributes willingly—rich and poor, religious and secular, right and left—only then can we build something that is truly shared.

Last

There is something else beautiful about this parashah. Inside the Tabernacle, on the Ark, there are two cherubim. The Sages say that the cherubim face each other when Israel does God's will, and turn away when they do not. 

There is a profound lesson here – even when there is a barrier (the curtain separating the Holy Place from the Holy of Holies), even when there are differences, it is possible and necessary to reach out to one another. Not to turn away. 

I don't know how to build today's shared sanctuary. But the starting point is to remember that the temple was not built "within" – within a single perfect structure – but "among" – within the context of our relationships with one another. Perhaps today's sanctuary is not a specific law or a single institution, but rather new norms of behavior that we build together – listening, respect, the ability to hear the other even when we disagree with them. Our sanctuary can be the place where we take responsibility for one another, not out of coercion but out of choice.

And the question everyone should ask themselves is not "What should they give?", but "What do I want to contribute? What motivates me to give?"

The situation is as follows: The Israelites stand at the foot of the smoking Mount Sinai. God has already delivered the Ten Commandments through a spectacular and frightening display of visions. The people see the voices, hear the shofar, and move fearfully, standing at a distance and asking for Moses to mediate.

Here begins the parashah Mishpatim: God opens and says to Moses: "And these are the judgments which you shall set before them." A long and varied list of laws and commandments unfolds before us: laws concerning slaves, a person who causes harm – bodily injury, an ox that causes harm – bodily injury, financial damage, and dozens of other laws. I can picture the majesty of the Israelites in ancient times, yet at the same time, I feel as if I have entered a law school classroom or a courtroom.

To what extent are these laws and commandments, concepts and expressions relevant to our times? Let's start with language. Expressions such as: underground thief, sabbatical arrangements, three pilgrimages, harvest festival, harvest festival, pierce his ear with an awl, do not cook a kid in its mother's milk, and also – an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth... and so on and so forth. These are common expressions in modern Hebrew, and we still use them today.

And what about the laws themselves? The laws concerning slaves, their ownership and freedom, for example: "When you buy a Hebrew slave, he shall serve six years. And on the seventh day, he shall go out free. (Exodus 21:2) At first glance, slavery seems irrelevant to our times. But in fact, slavery ended in the United States only 160 years ago, its consequences still reverberate today, and human trafficking is still a real and problematic phenomenon. In general, if we broaden our view from "slave' to "employee," we can agree that the issue of the relationship between powerful employers and powerless employees is still very relevant today. What about the rulings on the issues raised? Here, the situation is more complex. Let's look at a few examples: What will be your punishment if your ox gores another person? What is your responsibility? "And if an ox gores a man or a woman and they die..." (Exodus 21:8). A bit excessive today, right? So let's adapt the situation to our times: What is your responsibility if your dog bites and injures another person? Or another question: What is your responsibility if your dog is known to be aggressive and has injured or killed a person? According to the Mishpatim section, you must be very careful and take responsibility.... And if the ox gored yesterday or the day before, and its owner was warned but did not guard it, And if a man or woman is killed, the ox shall be stoned, and its owner shall also be put to death. (Exodus 21:9). Would you sign this sentence?

Another example: What would happen if someone got hurt because you dug a hole and didn't cover it up? And if a man opens a pit Or if a man digs a pit and does not cover it, and an ox or a donkey falls into it, The owner of the pit shall pay; he shall give money, and the ox or donkey shall be restored to him; and he that is slain shall be his. (Exodus 21:33-34). Is this law relevant today? In your opinion, if there is a hole in the sidewalk that has not been repaired, is the municipality responsible for compensating you for the damage if you are injured? If so, in this parashah we are exposed to a long list of laws and judgments dealing with issues of
Responsibility, guilt, intent. Many of the ideas are still relevant today and even serve as a foundation.
Moral for us.

However, given the severity of the sentences, I suggest that anyone considering living according to these rules under a halachic state should think again! The rulings of today's courts, even when they pursue justice, offer more humane and compassionate solutions and responses than those offered in ancient times. In light of the many rulings that mandate death, I would certainly not want to live in a society that operates according to the letter of the Torah, in a state governed by Jewish law. We must remain vigilant.

Finally, what about the issues of morality and social justice raised in the parashah Mishpatim? Similar to a person's responsibility as a result of negligence, issues of morality and social justice are also relevant to our private and public lives today. I invite you to take a special look at the collection of verses that, in my opinion, form the moral foundation of our people. A moral foundation that I hope we have not forgotten, that we must not forget, that we must fight for: justice for the poor, not lying, not taking bribes, knowing the soul of the stranger in our land."Do not pervert justice in the judgment of your poor. Keep away from false accusations, and do not put to death the innocent and righteous, for I will not justify the wicked.
And you shall not take a bribe, for a bribe blinds the discerning and perverts the words of the righteous. And you shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the heart of the stranger,you were strangers in the land of Egypt. (Exodus 23:6-8)

The parashah of Yitro has two main parts. In the first part, Yitro comes to visit Moses, together with Zipporah and their two sons, Gershom and Eliezer. He is received with honor by Aaron and the elders of Israel, and watches Moses sitting and judging the people from morning until evening. Yitro's advice to Moses is to appoint judges – "officials over thousands, officials over hundreds, officials over fifties, and officials over tens" (Exodus 18:21) – who would handle day-to-day matters and allow Moses to focus on the main issues.

The second part of the parashah describes the events at Mount Sinai: the people are commanded to sanctify themselves, wash their clothes, and not touch the mountain, and Moses ascends the mountain and receives the Ten Commandments. Additional instructions are then given regarding the prohibition of idolatry, the construction of altars, and modesty in the work of the priests.

Yeshayahu Leibowitz wrote that "the central theme of the Yitro portion is Mount Sinai, the giving of the Torah, and the Ten Commandments... and it is doubtful whether anything new can be said on the subject of the revelation of the Divine Presence, the giving of the Torah, and the Ten Commandments.".

Therefore, I have chosen to focus specifically on the first part of the parashah: Jethro's advice to Moses, and the question of leadership and judgment.

Before continuing, please take a pen and paper and write down the qualities you consider important in a leader or judge..

Jethro suggests that Moses choose "men of valor, men who fear God, men of truth, men who hate covetousness." The leaders who are chosen are not prophets who speak the word of God, but human beings who act based on human qualities and natural limitations. The Sages understood that the Torah "is not in heaven," and that it must be translated into practical life through human leadership, and therefore emphasized the moral and intellectual qualities required of judges.

It is easy to understand the meaning of "men of truth" and "haters of greed." Fear of God is a belief already described in the story of Abraham in the parashah Vayera. But what does "men of valor" mean? The Midrash explains that these are active people, people of action, not idlers. Similar to the "woman of valor" in Proverbs 31 – a figure who acts, leads, and cares for her home and community. Thus, it becomes clear that the Torah, which was given from heaven, needs to be realized through human intervention on earth and proper leadership.

A generation later, in the Book of Deuteronomy, Moses returns to describe the appointment of judges, but lists different qualities:
"Wise, understanding, and knowledgeable men from your tribes" (Deuteronomy 1:12–13).

Three additional characteristics are added here: wisdom, intelligence, and familiarity with the community—those who are known and recognized by it, and therefore influential.

The addition of these three characteristics in the Book of Deuteronomy joins those of Jethro, and in the Midrash they are combined into a single list of qualities required of the leaders of the people.

Thus, Chazakuni (Rabbi Chazakiah ben Manoach, 13th century) lists seven qualities for a judge: wise and knowledgeable, men of valor, God-fearing, men of truth, and haters of greed.

Why do they not all appear together in Moses' words?
Perhaps this is to teach us that there is no single model of leadership, or perhaps because it is very difficult to find leaders who possess all of these qualities together. It is said that if all seven qualities cannot be found, four or three will suffice, but one quality cannot be waived: men of valor.

Rabbi Bachai (Rabbi Bachai ben Joseph ibn Pakuda, 11th century) adds an important layer: the righteous and prophets in the Torah are not described in terms of wisdom or knowledge, but in terms of character traits. Noah is "a righteous man, blameless," Abraham "was blameless," and Moses "was very humble." It is not knowledge that is essential, but integrity of character and way of life.

Here, a central insight of the parashah becomes clear: the Torah does not seek perfect leadership, but rather worthy human leadership. Not charisma or genius, but responsibility, humility, and good character. Thus, even before the giving of the Torah, the parashah of Yitro presents a sober model of leadership—one that knows how to operate in a complex world, with compromises, limitations, and daily decisions.

This raises a question for us, as individuals and as a community, here and now:
How many of the qualities you chose overlap with the seven qualities listed in the Torah? And how many of the qualities you wrote down do you recognize in our leaders today?

The parasha Beshalach, known as Shabbat Shira, places the Song of the Sea at the heart of the story of the Exodus from Egypt. The parasha tells of the beginning of the Israelites' wanderings in the desert and of several miracles that occurred along the way under Moses' leadership: God brings down bread from heaven to feed the hungry people and gives them quail in the evening. Moses throws a piece of wood into the bitter waters and they become sweet. Moses strikes a rock and water, drinking water, comes out of it. Moses stands with his staff and his hands raised, and Israel defeats Amalek. And finally, the event of the splitting of the Red Sea, during which the Israelites crossed the sea and the Egyptians drowned. The people and Moses give thanks and praise to God for the obvious and supernatural miracle, inSong of the Sea, marking the end of slavery and the beginning of freedom.

The song does not end at a clear point. The Israelites are no longer slaves, but they are not yet a free people. Egypt is behind them, the Promised Land is still far away, and the desert stretches out before them. This is a moment between the old that is no longer and the new that has not yet taken shape. In this space, between a familiar past and an unknown future, song bursts forth.

The Torah describes that God does not lead the people by the short route. ..." And God did not lead them by the way of the land of the Philistines, for it was near; but God said, "Lestthe people might change their minds when they see war and return to Egypt. (Exodus 13:17). Rashi explains that returning to Egypt is dangerous; a people that has just been freed from slavery may be broken by an early encounter with war and ask to return. Freedom, then, is not just an external change of circumstances, but a process of conscious maturation. Sometimes the long road is the only road that leads to a future.

The moment before the sea is split is a moment of chaos: the sea ahead, Egypt behind, and the desert closing in on all sides. There is nowhere to run and no clear way forward. Maimonides describes the “chaos” as a state of desolation with no foothold, a state that arouses bewilderment and loss of direction. It is a moment when no solution is in sight and there is still no language for hope. Within this lack of foothold, the passage opens up—the sea splits, and the possibility of moving forward is revealed.

According to the Midrash, the Israelites were afraid to enter the sea, and only Nachshon ben Amminadav jumped in, and then the sea split. Therefore, there is a lesson here about faith. Faith and action precede miracles.

At the heart of the parashah stands one commandment, seemingly quiet but revolutionary: "This month shall be unto you the beginning of months.".

This is the first commandment given to the Jewish people as a nation. Not the exodus from Egypt, not a social law, not a moral imperative, but taking responsibility for time. This is not a random choice. It touches on the heart of the concept of freedom, and therefore also on the heart of the meaning of hope.

The Sages interpreted the words "This month shall be unto you" not merely as a technical commandment, but as a transfer of authority. Not "I define the time for you," but "you shall determine it." This is a profound and bold move: time passes from the hands of Heaven to the responsibility of man. From this arises a whole system of human responsibility: sanctifying the month, determining the calendar, passing on knowledge of the months to distant communities, constructing a calendar that takes pilgrims into account. It is a method that invites controversy, uncertainty, and arguments about authority, but insists on human freedom and choice. An early form of liberal thought.

There was an alternative, a solar calendar in which everything was predetermined. Orderly, predictable, and convenient, with almost no room for human decision-making. A calendar in which history "moves forward on its own." But the choice was not for convenience, but for a lunar calendar, human, dependent on testimony and decision-making. Less elegant and established, but requiring humans to take responsibility. This is the source of the deep connection between time and freedom: slavery is a situation in which time is predetermined for you; freedom is a situation in which you can, and above all are required to, choose and decide, even at the cost of imperfection.

In Egypt, the Israelites were slaves not only to Pharaoh, but also to time. They did not determine when the day began, when the week ended, or when reality changed. Time was the property of the ruling class. Therefore, just before leaving Egypt, they were told: if you want to be free, start by saying when the month begins. Start by saying: now.

The same position was powerfully articulated by the prophet of human freedom, the black pastor Martin Luther King, in his "I Have a Dream" speech. He repeated the call again and again: "Now is the time." He warned against moral procrastination, against the argument that "it is right, but not now." Time, he said, does not heal injustices. It is neutral. Only human action gives it moral direction.

In the parashah "Bo," the Israelites are commanded to sanctify the month while they are still in darkness. The plague of darkness is still here, Pharaoh has not yet truly released them, and the future is unclear. Nevertheless, they are required to begin to conduct themselves as a free people within the reality of slavery. Not to wait for "after," but to begin now.

In the Beit Midrash, whose theme this year is Shabbat, we discussed how the calendar itself is a human construct. There is no such thing as a "week" in nature, nor is there a "new moon." And that is precisely why it has power: humans draw a framework within time, and within it they choose meaning, commitment, and action. Without a framework, everything is postponed, smeared, and dissolved.

As the poet Yankele Rotblit said, "Don't say 'the day will come'—bring the day.".

So even today, faced with a sense of civil disintegration, it is easy to fall into a new kind of slavery: slavery to procrastination. "It's not the right time," "Let's wait," "Soon." But in the parashah "Ba," the Sages, Martin Luther King, all teach: "There are moments when waiting itself is an injustice.".

And the civil significance is clear:
The upcoming elections are not an abstract idea or a distant prospect. These are the most important elections in the history of the State of Israel. The time between now and election day is the most important civic resource we have.

And just as we knew to shout "Everyone—now!" because we knew that in human life, time means life, so too in elections there is a "now."

Now is the time to affiliate,
Now is the time to make an impact from within.,
Now is the time to talk to those who are still undecided.,
Now is the time to choose engagement over cynicism, action over despair.

Time is not neutral. It will not "do its thing." When we do nothing, it works in favor of those who already hold power. When we act, it can become a tool for change. As the members of Hadag Nahash say, it's time to wake up. Democracy doesn't disappear in a day, and it won't be saved in a day either. It depends on what we choose to do with the time we have.

Now!