Weekly Torah Commentaries

The offering and Priest — the Shepherd and the Lamb Glory to the One who died and rose again And is the great I Am The Shepherd and the Lamb Hallelujah!

Our sages recognized the importance of distinction and taught us to bless the “One who makes creatures different,” affirming that diversity itself is part of the Divine wisdom. Each person, each animal, each role, reflects a different facet of God’s glory. When these distinctions are honored within a framework of love and covenant, they do not divide us—they deepen our capacity to see one another and to see God more fully.

As a congregational leader, I am often asked questions pertaining to belief. People want to know the biblically correct perspective on eschatology, salvation, and the nature of God. I am always happy to answer these questions to the best of my ability, but it’s far less frequently that I’m asked more practical questions: How should I live? What should I do? What sort of person should I strive to be?

When we first moved to Ann Arbor, more than forty years ago, there was a Chinese restaurant nearby with a giant lobster in a tank in its foyer. The creature was nearly three feet long and must have weighed close to twenty pounds. No one knew for sure how old it was—perhaps seventy-five years, give or take. So why am I talking about lobsters and what does it have to do with our parasha?

In the modern world, no text has spoken more profoundly to people about their potential to achieve freedom. The message to Israel for all time is clear. The God who has raised you up in fulfillment of his promises to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob will not forget his promises to you.

It is only after Moses turns aside that God speaks. Moses first hears God through the miracle of the bush that burns without being consumed. Only then does he truly listen—by pausing, turning, and giving his full attention to what is unfolding before him.

Chanukah is usually told as the story of a jar of oil. Yet the oil miracle, beautiful as it is, appears only in the Talmud—recorded centuries after the Maccabean revolt. If we look more closely at the earliest sources, something surprising emerges. Chanukah was once focused not on the menorah, but on the altar.

The relationship between Jacob and Esau is a foundational relationship in the Scriptures: Israel and the Nations in shalom, under one Shepherd, sharing in each other's destinies through humility and turning toward the other.

In the one place where life is lived daily under threat, where rockets, wars, and uncertainty are part of the national daily experience, Israel stands unique among western nations in maintaining a sustainable, even vibrant, birth rate.

As we move through this sacred time of reflection and renewal from Rosh Hashana to Yom Kippur, many of us carry questions that linger beneath the surface. As we bring our heartfelt petitions before the throne, perhaps the most tender of questions is this: Where is God in the midst of our suffering?

A modern reader may have difficulty accepting the prodigious acts that accompanied the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt. But perhaps more challenging, given our culture’s commitment to the equality of all people, is the idea that God would choose one people in particular.

Midrash Rabbah 21.12 attributes to the daughters of Zelophehad the role of judges of the law, even in Moses’ presence, for as the Lord says, they “speak what is right” (Num 27:6). That is quite startling!

Parashat Chukat is one of the most enigmatic portions in the entire Torah. It seems to flow with contradiction: it begins with a mysterious ordinance, introduces a miraculous yet perplexing deliverance, and ends in what feels like a strange and tragic justice. Midrash teaches us that hidden within these paradoxes are holy lessons, if we’re willing to live with the mystery.