“On the eighth day Moshe called Aaron and his sons, and the elders of Israel.”

(Leviticus 9:1)

Shemini Glossary 5786

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In this week’s parsha, the Torah returns to something it had seemingly stepped away from.

After the final parshiyot of Sefer Shemot detail the construction of the Mishkan in remarkable depth, Sefer Vayikra shifts focus. The Mishkan remains present, but it recedes into the background as the Torah turns toward the laws of korbanot.

And then, in the third parsha of Vayikra, it returns to center stage.

Why here? Why now?

Perhaps the answer lies in that very number: three.

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For Three? BANG!

In 1989, Ray Oldenburg introduced the concept of the “third place” in his work The Great Good Place. He described the importance of spaces outside of home and work—places like cafés, coffee shops, and bookstores that sit at the heart of a community.

A third place is not about productivity or obligation. It is a place to simply be—to connect, to recharge, to feel part of something larger.

Without such spaces, something subtle begins to erode. Life becomes divided between responsibility and routine, leaving little room for restoration. Connection weakens. Fatigue lingers. People have fewer places to return to.

Oldenburg already noted that these spaces were disappearing. Today, with so much of life moving online, that absence can feel even more pronounced.

The Restorative Mishkan

According to Midrash Tanchuma (Terumah 8), the Mishkan was not part of the original plan. Prior to the sin of the Golden Calf, the Jewish people experienced a more direct relationship with God. It was only after that rupture that the Mishkan became necessary.

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch, in his commentary at the beginning of Parshat Vayakhel (Exodus 35:1), offers a powerful insight. The Mishkan was not only a dwelling place for the Divine, but a place where the Jewish people could return after moments of failure—where they could regain strength, rebuild, and move forward.

In this sense, the Mishkan was not only about God’s presence. It was about the people’s restoration. A place to gather. A place to recalibrate. A place to begin again.

Perhaps, in today’s language, we might call this a third place.

Three’s Company

This idea appears to echo throughout Jewish life.

A synagogue is called a Beit Knesset—a house of gathering. Its essence is not only prayer or study, but coming together. Three times a year, the Jewish people would ascend to the Beit HaMikdash, returning again and again to a shared spiritual center. And in halachic language, the concept of chazakah teaches that something established three times attains permanence.

Three is not just repetition. It is stability. It is something that holds.

Return Again

Perhaps this is why the Mishkan returns here, in the third parsha of Vayikra—not only as a culmination of its construction, but as a reminder of its purpose.

The Mishkan is not just a place. It is a response—to rupture, to distance, to loneliness. It is a place of return, where a broken connection can begin to heal.

Because sometimes we need not only a place to return to, but a place we can return to again—and again.

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What is my third place—and what do I need from it right now?

Glossary

Beit HaMikdash

The Holy Temple in Jerusalem, the central place where the Jewish people gathered for worship and brought offerings.

Beit Knesset

A synagogue; literally a “house of gathering,” emphasizing its role as a communal space for connection, not just prayer.

Chazakah

A legal principle in Jewish law that something repeated three times is considered established or permanent.

Korbanot

Offerings brought in the Mishkan or Beit HaMikdash, intended to create a sense of closeness between people and God.

Midrash Tanchuma

A collection of rabbinic teachings that expand on the Torah’s text, often providing ethical or interpretive insights.

Mishkan

The portable sanctuary built in the desert, serving as a central place for gathering, worship, and connection with God.

Parsha

The weekly portion of the Torah that is read and studied.

Sefer Shemot

The Book of Exodus, which includes the story of the Jewish people leaving Egypt and the construction of the Mishkan.

Sefer Vayikra

The Book of Leviticus, focusing on offerings, ritual practice, and the role of the Mishkan.

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch

A 19th-century rabbi and commentator known for explaining how Torah concepts speak to personal growth and communal life. In this context, he describes the Mishkan as a place where individuals and the community can regain strength and reconnect after moments of failure.

Passover Glossary 5786

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“People could not see one another, and for three days no one could

move about; but all the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings.”

(Exodus 10:23)

Among the ten plagues, Choshech — darkness — stands apart. The Torah’s description is striking in its physicality: this was not simply an absence of light. The verse describes a darkness va’yamesh choshech — a darkness that could be touched, felt, palpably present in a way that ordinary darkness is not.

But there is more. The Torah describes two distinct phases. In the first three days, there was impenetrable darkness — the Egyptians simply could not see. In the final three days, however, the darkness deepened into something more paralyzing: lo kamu ish mitachtav — no person could rise from their place. They were frozen. Not merely blind, but immobilized. The darkness did not just obscure the world around them; it stole their capacity to move through it.

And yet — for the Jewish people, there was light in their dwellings. Same Egypt. Same moment in history. Completely different realities.

This is quite puzzling. The fact that the Jewish people had light is the heart of the plague. How is it possible that two groups of people, living in the same place at the same time, can have two different realities?

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Part of Our Worlds

Rabbi Reuven Gross ZT”L , drawing on R’ Wolbe’s interpretation of the Alter of Slobodka, offers a remarkable framework for understanding this. The Alter’s teaching, as R’ Wolbe unpacks it, is not merely philosophical but deeply personal: the world was created for you. Each person inhabits their own world — shaped by their unique perceptions, experiences, and most critically, their choices about how to respond to what life presents.

In a very real sense, no two people live in the same world. Two family members, two neighbors, two people sitting side by side — they may share the same room, the same table, the same moment, and yet inhabit entirely different realities. The world one person seeis is simply not the world the other person sees.

Rabbi Gross illustrates this with a simple, relatable example: a couple in which one partner is cold and the other is warm. Both are having a genuine experience. Neither is wrong. And yet their realities in that moment are entirely different.

Rabbi Gross is careful to make an important distinction, however. There are situations that are overwhelming — moments where we need additional support, and that is entirely okay. But in the everyday choices we face, we often have more agency than we realize. At times we allow a situation to send us into a tailspin — and at other times, that same situation can become an opportunity. As Rabbi Gross puts it: “The whole experience could be ennobling, something that lifts them into a higher place.”

The Jewish people and the Egyptians stood in the physical place. They did not live in the same world.

In With The Bad, Out With The Good

That selective perception, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy would call a cognitive distortion — a systematic error in thinking that skews how we process reality. One of the most common is known as the mental filter: the tendency to focus exclusively and persistently on the negative aspects of a situation while filtering out anything positive. It is as though looking through mud-colored glasses.

From a clinical standpoint, I like to explain why this happens. The mental filter does not develop randomly or out of malice. In many cases, it starts as a defense mechanism — a response to pain, disappointment, or unpredictability. If I expect the worst, I will not be caught off guard. If I focus on what went wrong, I can protect myself from being blindsided again. In the short term, this serves a function. It is the psyche trying to keep us safe.

But over time, what begins as protection becomes a prison. The filter that once shielded us from pain now prevents us from seeing anything else. We stop noticing the moments of light, connection, and success — not because they aren’t there, but because our filter has learned to screen them out. The darkness becomes, in a very real sense, all we can see.

And this filter, crucially, is specifically a negative filter. It is not neutral. It does not simply reduce what we see — it actively distorts in one direction, amplifying the difficult and diminishing the good. A person running this filter could have nine things go right and one thing go wrong, and walk away from the day certain that it was a failure.

Above Average Average

One way I like to help shift perspective is through a metaphor from baseball. In 1941, Ted Williams batted .406, making him the last player to hit over .400. He is widely regarded as one of the greatest to ever play the game — a legend, a Hall of Famer. Yet even at his absolute peak, Williams failed more than half the time. Out of every ten at-bats, he did not get a hit six times. And yet, that average is still above average.

If we apply a mental filter to Ted Williams — if we count only his outs — he is a failure by any measure. If we count his hits and compare them to everyone else who ever picked up a bat, he is immortal. The numbers do not change. The frame does.

Seeing The Light

With the concept of mental filter in mind, perhaps we can better understand what the Jewish people were experiencing. After generations of slavery — backbreaking labor it would be entirely reasonable if they had internalized that darkness as their identity. Slavery does not only break the body. It reshapes the mind. It teaches people that they are worthless, that their suffering is deserved, that no good will come.

By the ninth plague, the Jewish people were no longer performing that backbreaking labor — but perhaps they still carried the mindset of a slave. Perhaps they still did not feel worthy of what was coming. And so, as the Exodus draws near, Hashem gives them something enlightening: light. While the Egyptians are frozen in darkness, the Jewish people have light in their dwellings. As if to say: are you seeing the light?

Perhaps this is why the Haggadah instructs us — b’chol dor vador — that in every generation, each person is obligated to see themselves as if they personally left Egypt. Not as a historical exercise. As a living practice. Because the bondage the Torah is asking us to examine is not only the slavery of Egypt. It is the bondage we carry within ourselves — the mental filters, the internalized narratives, the darkness we choose to see.

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Reflect, Review, Relearn

• • Where in your life have you been applying a mental filter — measuring yourself only by the outs, and filtering out the hits?

• As you sit at the Seder this year and declare yourself a person who left Egypt, what inner bondage are you naming — and what light in your dwelling are you ready to finally acknowledge?

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Glossary

Alter of Slobodka — Title for Rabbi Nosson Tzvi Finkel (1849–1927), one of

the most influential figures in the Mussar movement, a 19th century Eastern

European Jewish movement focused on ethical and spiritual self-improvement.

He is known for his emphasis on the inherent dignity and greatness of every

human being.

B’chol dor vador — Literally “in every generation.” A phrase from the

Passover Haggadah obligating each person in every generation to see

themselves as if they personally left Egypt.

Choshech — Literally “darkness.” The ninth of the ten plagues brought upon

Egypt, described in the Torah as a tangible, palpable darkness.

Haggadah — The text read at the Passover Seder that retells the story of the

Exodus from Egypt. The word means “telling” or “recounting.”

Hashem — Literally “the Name.” A common way of referring to God in Jewish

tradition, used in place of pronouncing the divine name directly.

Lo kamu ish mitachtav — Literally “no person could rise from their place.”

The Torah’s description of the second and more severe phase of the plague of

darkness, in which the Egyptians were completely immobilized.

Mitzrayim — The Hebrew name for Egypt. The word shares a root with the

Hebrew word for “narrow” or “constricted,” often interpreted as a metaphor

for personal limitation and bondage.

Rabbi Reuven Gross ZT”L — (d. 2022) A beloved Chicago-based Orthodox

rabbi who founded Shaarei Tzedek Mishkan Yair congregation and taught at

Ida Crown Jewish Academy for many years. ZT”L is an acronym meaning “may

the memory of the righteous be a blessing.”

Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe — (1914–2005) One of the foremost Mussar teachers of

the twentieth century, known for his landmark work Alei Shur on Jewish ethics

and character development.

U’l’chol Bnei Yisrael hayah ohr b’moshvotam — “And for all the Children

of Israel there was light in their dwellings.” The Torah’s description of the

Jewish people’s experience during the plague of darkness.

Va’yamesh choshech — A phrase describing the plague of darkness, often

translated as “a darkness that could be felt.” It conveys the tangible, almost

physical weight of the darkness that descended upon Egypt.

Parshat Tzav Glossary 5786

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“The fire on the altar shall be kept burning, not to go out: every

morning the priest shall feed wood to it, lay out the burnt offering on

it, and turn into smoke the fat parts of the offerings of well-being.”

(Leviticus 6:4)

This week’s parsha continues to discuss the service that took place in the Mishkan and the Beit HaMikdash. To a certain extent, it might feel like a repetition of what we already know. But perhaps there is an underlying theme worth pausing on.

The Torah begins to paint a picture of what the day-to-day service actually looked like. It was a specific, unchanging routine — beginning each morning with the removal of ash from the previous day’s sacrifices (Leviticus 6:2-3). Wood was placed on the altar daily to keep the fire burning, and the Torah is explicit: the fire was never to go out (Leviticus 6:5-6). The daily offering was brought every morning and every afternoon, without exception. Rain, shine, or thunder — the routine stayed the same.

Rav Noach Weinberg zt”l, founder of Aish HaTorah, offers a fascinating observation on this. He notes that the Torah is showing us something profound about the nature of growth — that it does not come from sudden bursts of inspiration, but from consistent, unwavering action, day after day.

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Drop in the Sea

Rav Weinberg cites Avos D’Rebbe Nosson (6:2) regarding Rabbi Akiva, who did not know the aleph beis until the age of 40. One day, he noticed that a rock had a hole worn through it — not from any great force, but from a steady drip of water, falling in the same spot, day after day. As Shlock Rock, the Jewish musical parody group, playfully notes, this moment taught Rabbi Akiva that it is never too late to change. But perhaps even more than that — it taught him that through small, consistent actions, tremendous transformation becomes possible.

Rabbi Akiva understood that it was not the intensity of the water that carved the rock. It was the continuity.

Modern psychology has arrived at a remarkably similar conclusion. Lally and colleagues (2010), in a landmark study published in the European Journal of Social Psychology, found that habit formation takes an average of 66 days — and that the key variable is not how hard a person tries, but how consistently they show up. A follow-up longitudinal study by van der Weiden and colleagues (2020), published in Frontiers in Psychology, tracked participants over 90 days and found that consistent repetition — more than motivation or willpower — was the primary driver of lasting habit formation.

The timing of that repetition matters too. Reinholdsson and colleagues (2024), in a systematic review and meta-analysis, found that performing habits in the morning leads to stronger formation than performing them in the evening. The morning, it appears, is when routines take root most deeply.

Perhaps this is precisely why the Temple service was structured the way it was. It was not simply “get it done whenever.” It was a precise routine — beginning each morning, followed faithfully, day after day. Each day, another drop. Each drop, part of something much larger.

That is what the sea is made of.

A Small Flame

There is a popular saying: “if you’re not growing, you’re dying.” We tend to associate growth with big, dramatic change — the breakthrough moment, the complete overhaul, the transformation that everyone notices. But the Torah offers us a different manual entirely.

Within the Temple service, the Torah prescribes something quieter: repetition. A routine that returned, without fail, every single morning. What the research confirms, and what the Torah perhaps always knew, is that habit formation — like meaningful change — is not about intensity. It is about consistency. Routines are not merely convenient. They are what allow us to continue.

Perhaps this is what the Torah is teaching us when it commands that the fire on the altar must never go out. Because there is always a small flame within each of us — and all it takes for that flame to grow is small pieces of wood, placed consistently, day after day.

Reflect, Review, Relearn

• What is one routine or habit in your life that has quietly shaped who you are?

• What is one small, consistent action you can commit to this week?

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Tzav Sources 5786

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Glossary

Aleph Beis — The Hebrew alphabet; the first two letters are aleph and beis.

Avos D’Rebbe Nosson — A Tannaitic text that expands on Pirkei Avos; one of the

external tractates related to the Mishnah.

Beit HaMikdash — The Holy Temple in Jerusalem; the permanent successor to the

Mishkan.

Hashem — Literally “the Name”; used in place of God’s name out of reverence.

Korban Tamid — The daily mandatory offering brought every morning and

afternoon in the Mishkan and Beit HaMikdash; literally “the continuous offering.”

Mishkan — The portable sanctuary built by the Israelites in the wilderness; often

translated as “Tabernacle.”

Parsha — The weekly Torah portion.

Rav Noach Weinberg zt”l — Rabbi Noah Weinberg (1930–2009); founder of Aish

HaTorah and one of the most influential Jewish educators of the 20th century.

Rabbi Akiva — One of the greatest sages in Jewish history, known for beginning his

Torah study at age 40 and becoming a teacher of thousands.

Terumas Hadeshen — The daily removal of ash from the altar; the first act of the

Temple service each morning.

Tzav — This week’s parsha, meaning “command”; the second portion in the book of

Vayikra.

Parshat Vayikra Glossary 5786

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This week, we begin the book of Vayikra (Leviticus), where much of the discussion centers on the sacrifices that took place during the times of the Mishkan and Beit HaMikdash. At first glance, some of these practices might seem outdated — or perhaps uncomfortably similar to the idol worship that Judaism stands in opposition to.

Within this system, however, lies a fundamental debate about the purpose of the sacrifices themselves. The Ramban, in his commentary to Leviticus 1:9, maintains that the sacrifices carry deep symbolic significance — representing a profound personal offering to Hashem. It is the Rambam, however, whose insight speaks most directly to our moment. In the Guide for the Perplexed (3:32), he argues that the sacrifices were a temporary practice, designed to ease the transition away from the idol worship the Jewish people had been immersed in throughout their years in Egypt. To ask them to disconnect completely and immediately from everything they had ever known would have been, in the Rambam’s view, simply impossible.

As the Rambam writes — cited by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks — the principle behind this approach is as psychologically resonant today as it was then:

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SMARTy Sacrifices

The Rambam was not writing a self-help manual — but his insight maps onto one of the most practical frameworks in modern goal-setting. We have touched on the importance of small, consistent steps in a previous newsletter. But the Rambam offers something a little different here — and perhaps deeper. It is not only that small steps are more manageable. It is that meaningful change is more likely to persist when we begin by meeting ourselves where we are. As the Rambam suggests, we cannot immediately leap to the ideal and abandon everything we have been accustomed to. We need to first honor where we stand — and walk forward from there.

This principle has a modern parallel in both the business and mental health worlds. In 1981, George T. Doran introduced what has become one of the most widely used frameworks in goal-setting: SMART goals — Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic, and Time-bound.

While all five criteria matter, two speak most directly to the Rambam’s insight, and psychologically relevant. The “A” and the “R” — Achievable and Realistic — speak directly to the Rambam’s insight. Goals that are achievable and realistic do not demand that we leap beyond our current abilities. They invite us to meet ourselves where we are. When our goals are neither achievable nor realistic, we become overwhelmed — and retreat to the familiar, not out of failure, but because the distance between where we are and where we are trying to go has simply become too great.

With this in mind, the Rambam’s framework offers us something practical. Meaningful change — whether personal, emotional, or spiritual — cannot happen overnight. It requires us to meet ourselves, and others, where we are, and to ensure that the steps we set are ones we can actually take.

Slow and Steady Wins The Race

The Rambam was not simply explaining a historical footnote about ancient sacrifices. He was describing something true about human beings — that we are not built for sudden, total transformation. That meaningful change is not a leap, it is a walk. And that the first step is not always the most dramatic one. It is simply the one we can actually take.

This week, as we open Vayikra and encounter a world of ritual that can feel far removed from our own, perhaps we can hear beneath it a quiet and enduring message. That Hashem did not demand the impossible from the Jewish people. He met them where they were, honored what they knew, and walked with them toward something new.

We can offer ourselves the same compassion. Whatever change we are working toward — the goal does not need to be perfect. It needs to be achievable. It needs to be the next right step. And perhaps, as the Ramban might suggest, each step carries its own meaning — not only as a means to an end, but as a worthy offering in itself.

Reflect, Review, Relearn

• What is a change I made in the past that felt manageable enough to actually begin?

• What is one achievable and realistic goal I can set for this week?

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Glossary

Beit HaMikdash — The Holy Temple in Jerusalem; the permanent successor to the Mishkan.

Guide for the Perplexed — A major philosophical work by the Rambam, written in the 12th century, addressing the relationship between Torah and reason.

Hashem — Literally “the Name”; used in place of God’s name out of reverence.

Mishkan — The portable sanctuary built by the Israelites in the wilderness; often translated as “Tabernacle.”

Parsha — The weekly Torah portion.

Ramban — Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, also known as Nachmanides (1194–1270); a leading medieval Torah commentator and kabbalist.

Rambam — Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, also known as Maimonides (1138–1204); one of the most influential Torah scholars and Jewish philosophers in history.

Vayikra — The third book of the Torah, known in English as Leviticus; literally means “and He called.”

“And Moshe said to the Israelites: See. Hashem has singled out by name Betzalel, son of Uri, son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah.”
(Exodus 35:30)

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One theme that often arises in therapy is intergenerational trauma — the way trauma passes from one generation to the next. When we lack awareness of the patterns we carry, we can transmit them, often without realizing it. This week's parsha, however, appears to suggest the opposite: generational resilience.

The parsha introduces us to Betzalel, who helped Moshe build the Mishkan, and takes care to trace his lineage — his father Uri, and his grandfather Hur. The Yalkut Shimoni offers some insight into why. It explains that Hur stood up to the Jewish people in an attempt to stop them from creating the Golden Calf — and lost his life in the process.

Rashi, however, goes one step further, noting that Hur's mother was Miriam. Why does Rashi feel the need to tell us this as well?

From the Top Down
The Tolner Rebbe sheds some light on Rashi's comment. He suggests that Hur inherited his ability to stand up from his mother, Miriam. When Pharaoh decreed that all male children be thrown into the Nile, Miriam's father Amram responded by divorcing his wife Yocheved — reasoning that there was no point in bringing more children into the world. Miriam challenged him directly, arguing that his decision was actually worse than Pharaoh's: Pharaoh only prevented boys from being born, while Amram's choice prevented girls as well. Amram listened. He remarried Yocheved, and from that union came Moshe — the eventual leader of the Jewish people.

Perhaps we can take this one step further. The Talmud (Sotah 11b) tells us that Miriam was married to Kalev. Kalev was one of the twelve spies sent to assess the land of Israel, and one of only two who gave an honest report about what he saw. Like Miriam, Kalev was able to stand up under enormous pressure — and do what was right.

The Other Inheritance
The question that remains is: what gave this family the ability to stand up, again and again, when it would have been so much easier not to?

Psychologically speaking, children do not learn from instruction alone — they learn from watching. Psychologists refer to this as observational learning. The American Psychological Association defines observational learning as "the acquisition of information, skills, or behavior through watching the performance of others." This works in both directions, for positive and negative behaviors alike. When a child witnesses authenticity, courage, and the ability to tolerate discomfort, it gets internalized. It becomes part of how they naturally respond to difficulty — and ultimately, part of who they are.

Hur was not the first in his family to stand up. He witnessed Miriam challenge her father Amram, who was the leading figure of the Jewish people at the time. He saw Kalev stand up for what was right and honest — the man Hashem Himself described as having ruach acheret, "a different spirit" (Numbers 14:24). By the time Hur faced his own impossible moment, standing up was not a calculation. It was instinct.

With this in mind, perhaps we can understand why Betzalel was chosen to build the Mishkan. He came from a lineage of people who stood up against the odds — and it was precisely that lineage that made him fitting to build the dwelling place of Hashem before all the nations of the world.

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Down The Chain

Perhaps we can conclude that Betzalel's presence in building the Mishkan was not only about the physical structure — it was about what was imbued within it. The Torah goes out of its way to trace his lineage, not simply to identify the builder, but to tell us something about who he was. Betzalel was not just a skilled craftsman. He was someone with a foundation — emotional, moral, and resilient — that had been laid long before he ever picked up a tool.

While it can be easier to notice the negative traits that pass through families, the Torah here emphasizes the other side. Strength, courage, and integrity can travel the same paths that pain and unhealthy patterns do. What we model in front of the people watching us matters. But so does what we model for ourselves — the habits we build, the choices we make when no one is looking. All of it gets internalized, and carried forward.

And yet this is not only a story about inheritance. It is also about transmission. Even if we have absorbed ways of seeing or reacting that no longer serve us, we are not bound by them. We can interrupt those patterns and begin to build something.

Reflect, Review, Relearn
What is one thing I would like to model differently this week — for myself, and for those around me?

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Vayakhel Pekudei Sources 5786

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Glossary of Terms

Amram — Moses’s father and a leading figure among the Jewish people in Egypt.

Betzalel — The master craftsman chosen by Hashem to build the Mishkan.

Hashem — Literally “the Name”; used in place of God’s name out of reverence.

Hur (Chur) — Betzalel’s grandfather, who gave his life trying to stop the sin of the

Golden Calf.

Kalev — One of the twelve spies sent to scout the land of Israel; one of only two who

gave an honest report.

Miriam — Moses’s sister; a prophetess and leader of the Jewish people.

Mishkan — The portable sanctuary built by the Israelites in the wilderness; often

translated as “Tabernacle.”

Moshe — Moses.

Parsha — The weekly Torah portion.

Parshat Shlach — The Torah portion recounting the episode of the twelve spies.

Rashi — Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki (1040–1105); the most widely studied Torah

commentator.

Ruach Acheret — Literally “a different spirit”; the phrase Hashem uses to describe

Kalev in Numbers 14:24.

Tolner Rebbe — A Chassidic master whose teachings are cited in this newsletter.

Vayakhel-Pekudei — This week’s double parsha, covering the building of the

Mishkan and an accounting of all its materials.

Yalkut Shimoni — A classical midrashic anthology on the Torah.

Yam Suf — The Red Sea, literally “Sea of Reeds.”

Yocheved — Moses’s mother; wife of Amram

"Upon finishing speaking with him on Mount Sinai, Hashem gave Moses the two tablets of the Pact, stone tablets inscribed with the finger of Hashem."(Exodus 31:18)

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In this week's parsha, the Torah appears to interrupt a narrative moving in a very particular direction. The two parshiot before Ki Tisa describe the design of the Mishkan in tremendous detail — the materials, the measurements, the garments of the Kohanim. Following Ki Tisa, we return to the construction of the Mishkan. But right in the middle of these intricate details, we come across one of the biggest missteps in Jewish history: the sin of the Golden Calf.

Why is this story placed here? The commentators discuss the timing of this event.

Some suggest the sin of the Golden Calf happened after the command to build the Mishkan. Others maintain it happened prior to that commandment, and that the Torah is simply out of chronological order — as Rashi famously notes, the Torah is not always written in sequence. But the question persists. Even if the Golden Calf occurred earlier, why is it placed here, in the middle of the discussion of the Mishkan?

Changing the Dynamic

The Sforno perhaps provides some insight into this. He appears to indicate that the sin of the Golden Calf fundamentally changed the spiritual reality of the Jewish people. Without the sin, a Mishkan would not have been necessary — but following it, the Jewish people needed a different route to reach Hashem.

The Mishkan, then, becomes the place where the relationship with Hashem could continue. In that sense, it is not just a dwelling place — it is part of the process of repair.

Inspection and Repair

With this in mind, the placement of this story starts to feel meaningful. The Torah envelops the Golden Calf with construction — the Mishkan is being built before the rupture, and it continues to be built after. Both before and after the failure, we hear about building.

The failure, while real, does not stand alone. It exists within a larger story of a relationship.

There is often a great deal of fear around the rifts that arise between people. Conflict, disappointment, and betrayal can all threaten a connection. But what often matters more than the rupture is the repair — repair is what allows the relationship to continue.

Lucky 13

As we look further into the parsha, this is exactly what unfolds. After the sin, Moshe begs and pleads on behalf of the Jewish people. There is anger and disappointment — but also forgiveness. Hashem provides Moshe with the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy, and ultimately, the Jewish people are forgiven.

The relationship does not end with the rupture, but nor does it return to what it was before. There is a new normal — one that now requires the Mishkan as the intermediary between the Jewish people and Hashem.

We see this dynamic in personal relationships as well. When conflict goes unresolved, it often lingers beneath the surface, quietly building into resentment or distance. But when a rupture is returned to, acknowledged, and repaired, the relationship can not only continue — it may even grow stronger.

Can We Fix It? Yes We Can!

Perhaps that is part of the message embedded in the structure of Ki Tisa. The Torah does not ignore ruptures — not this one, nor the many others that occur throughout. And yet, through all of it, the covenant endures. The commitment to the Jewish people continues because of repair, and because of a willingness to rebuild the relationship in a new way.

There is something telling in how the parsha itself opens. Ki Tisa begins with a counting of the Jewish people through the half-shekel. Later, in Parshat Bamidbar, Rashi notes that the Jewish people are counted repeatedly because they are beloved — each counting an expression of care.

The rupture does not cancel the love. It is the repair that proves it.

Reflect, Review, Relearn
Think of a rupture in your life that led to repair. What changed in the relationship — and what changed in you?

Glossary

Parsha / Parshiot — The weekly Torah portion; parshiot is the plural.
Ki Tisa — This week's parsha, meaning "when you take" or "when you count." Mishkan — The portable sanctuary the Israelites built in the wilderness; often translated as "Tabernacle."
Kohanim — The priests; descendants of Aaron who served in the Mishkan and later the Temple.
Hashem — Literally "the Name"; used in place of God's name out of reverence. Moshe — Moses.
Rashi — Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki (1040–1105); one of the most important and widely-read commentators on the Torah and Talmud.
Sforno — Rabbi Ovadia Sforno (c. 1470–1550); an Italian rabbi and Torah commentator.
Thirteen Attributes of Mercy — A passage in Exodus 34 listing God's qualities of compassion, recited after the Golden Calf episode and throughout Jewish liturgy.
Half-shekel — A coin-based census in which every Israelite contributed equally, regardless of status.

Ki Tisa Sources 5786

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Parshat Vayigash 5786 Glossary

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"When they spoke to him of all of Yosef's words that he had spoken to them,
and he saw the wagons that Yosef had sent to carry him,
the spirit of their father Yaakov revived."
(Genesis 45:27)

In Parshat Vayigash, Yosef finally reveals himself to his brothers, and they return to their father Yaakov with the astounding news that Yosef is alive and a leader of Egypt. At first, however, Yaakov does not believe them (Genesis 45:26). Only after the brothers relay Yosef's words and seeing the wagons does something shift.

However, the Torah doesn't say that he just believed it—the Torah tells us "Va-techi ruach Yaakov" —his spirit revives. What was so special about what they said and these wagons that it "revived" Yaakov's spirit?

Rashi explains that the wagons were a sign of what Yaakov and Yosef had last learned together prior to Yosef's disappearance. However, earlier (45:19) the Torah tells us the wagons were Pharaoh's idea. How, then, could this have served as such a convincing sign that Yosef was alive and well?

Seeing is More Than Believing

Some of the commentators seem bothered by this as well, suggesting that the wagons were not meant merely to inform Yaakov, but to initiate something internal.

In Game 1 of the 1988 World Series, an injured Kirk Gibson limped to the plate as a pinch hitter against Dennis Eckersley. When Gibson hit the game-winning home run, announcer Jack Buck famously exclaimed, "I don't believe what I just saw!" That moment was so exceptional that seeing it felt unbelievable.

Yaakov's experience appears to be the opposite. His seeing integrates him. The Kli Yakar explains that "seeing" here leads to "hitbonenut"—reflection and contemplation. Yaakov does not just notice the wagons; he takes in what they represent..

The Radak adds a fascinating detail. Since Yaakov's spirit had returned to him, there must have been some measure of joy that accompanied this moment. The Bechor Shor expands on this further, describing Yaakov is shaken awake—reinvigorated, energized, and eager.

Taken together, these explanations describe a gradual change. Yaakov does not move instantly from denial to conviction. Rather, something small and significant begins to return: his capacity to move forward and believe.

The Rashbam strengthens this point further. He explains that Yaakov's spirit is revived because he long held onto the belief that Yosef was destined to rule. Seeing the wagons confirmed that belief, since such wagons could not be sent without the authority of a ruler. Yaakov is invigorated by the realization that something he had quietly preserved for years was, in fact, true.

The First Signal of Safety

In modern psychological language, we might refer to this moment as a glimmer. A glimmer is a small signal of safety and connection—something that helps us feel more at ease in the world. It is a source of comfort amid the chaos that can accompany daily life, a sign that perhaps things are not as they seem.

For Yaakov, seeing the wagons did not take away his fear, as he still needed to be reassured by God(Genesis 46:2-5). It enabled him however, to have the strength to start the journey.

Reflect, Review, Relearn

What is one glimmer that you can recognize on a regular basis—something that quietly reminds you that you are safe, seen, or not alone?

Glossary:
Bechor Shor – Rabbi Joseph ben Isaac Bekhor Shor (12th century), a French biblical commentator and Tosafist known for his rational approach to Torah interpretation.

Hitbonenut – Hebrew term meaning "contemplation" or "reflection"; deep, meditative consideration.

Kli Yakar – A commentary on the Torah written by Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim Luntschitz (1550-1619), known for its ethical and homiletical insights.

Parshat Vayigash – "And he approached"; the name of this week's Torah portion (Genesis 44:18-47:27), which describes Yosef's revelation to his brothers and Yaakov's journey to Egypt.

Pharaoh – The title for ancient Egyptian rulers; in this parsha, refers to the Pharaoh who ruled during Yosef's time as viceroy.

Radak – Acronym for Rabbi David Kimchi (1160-1235), a medieval biblical commentator known for his grammatical precision and clear explanations.

Rashbam – Acronym for Rabbi Samuel ben Meir (1085-1158), grandson of Rashi and a biblical commentator known for his focus on the plain meaning of the text.

Rashi – Acronym for Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki (1040-1105), the most fundamental medieval commentator on the Torah and Talmud.

Va-techi ruach Yaakov – Hebrew phrase meaning "the spirit of Yaakov revived" or "Yaakov's spirit came alive."

Yaakov – Jacob, the third patriarch of the Jewish people and father of the twelve tribes; also called Yisrael (Israel).

Yosef – Joseph, Yaakov's son who was sold into slavery and rose to become viceroy of Egypt.

"And the food will be a reserve for the land for the seven years of famine that will be in the land of Egypt; and the land will not perish from the famine."(Genesis 41:36)

Parshat Miketz Chanukah 5786 Glossary

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In this week’s parsha, we encounter a turning point within Yosef's life. After years of imprisonment, Yosef is released and brought before Pharaoh to interpret his dreams. The Torah has already told us of Pharaoh's dreams, one of which is seven healthy cows swallowed by seven unhealthy cows — an image that shook Pharaoh to his core.

Yosef provides a seemingly simple explanation: seven years of plenty will be followed by seven years of tremendous famine. However, Yosef doesn't just interpret the dream; he offers Pharaoh advice urging him to store food during the surplus to survive the years of hunger.

At first glance, this appears like a sound economic policy. But the commentaries suggest that Yosef isn't just providing policy advice. Rabbeinu Bachya explains that the purpose of this plan is "so that the land would not perish in famine, just as the thin cows did not die in the dream." Yosef is not responding to crisis — he is preventing collapse before it begins.

That is a crucial distinction.

Preventing or Responding

There is a saying in sports that “defense is the best offense.” And yet, practically speaking, that may be one of the hardest ideas to internalize. Effort feels most urgent when things are already falling apart, but it is often in moments of calm that effort matters most. When life feels stable, it is deeply tempting to take our foot off the gas.

We often speak about the difference between preventing and responding. Yosef understands that difference well — and the challenge it presents. He does not wait for crisis to arrive before acting. Instead, he insists on preparation while there is still time, offering a plan not in reaction to disaster, but in anticipation of it. As I once heard, "failing to prepare is preparing to fail."

The Prison of Darkness

The timing of this week’s parsha is striking. Miketz always falls on or around Chanukah, a point in the year when, at least in the Northern Hemisphere, the nights are long and the days feel especially short. As winter stretches on, many begin to feel the weight of that darkness — not only physically, but emotionally as well.

For some, this experience has a name. Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) is a form of depression that tends to emerge during the winter months and can significantly impact mood, energy, and motivation. The American Psychiatric Association estimates that one in five American adults experiences SAD, while two in five Americans report their mood worsens in the winter. While the exact cause is not fully understood, decreased exposure to sunlight— and related drops in vitamin D — is often cited as a contributing factor.

Shine Bright Like a Menorah

Rav Tzadok HaKohen of Lublin, in his Pri Tzadik (20), describes Chanukah not as a moment of completion, but as a time of preparation and training. He cautions against the idea that everything has been fixed, and teaches instead that Chanukah is to lay groundwork for what comes next.

With this in mind, the placement of Miketz during Chanukah fits beautifully. Yosef teaches us the importance of preparing over reacting, and building capacity before calamity arrives. Chanukah echoes that same lesson, reminding us not only to respond to darkness once it becomes overwhelming but to prepare while there is still time.

Interestingly, Chanukah occurs at the beginning of the winter with many long and cold nights still to come. And yet, paradoxically, this is also the moment the nights start to slowly shorten and the days begin to lengthen. In Haneirot Halalu we state "we are not permitted to use them (the candles), only to see them." That light provides us hope, but it does more than that — perhaps it gives us something to store up, something to look forward to in the coming months during these cold and dark times.

Perhaps this is the deeper connection between Yosef and Chanukah. Yosef teaches that when times are good, it does not mean we are “fixed.” It means we have an opportunity — maybe even a responsibility — to store what we will need for the inevitable downturn. Grain for famine. Light for winter. Hope for the long nights still to come.

Reflect, Review, Relearn
1. What is one "surplus" you have right now — a strength, resource, or support — that you could intentionally store up for harder times ahead?
2. If you were to create your own "seven years of plenty" plan for your mental health, what would you be storing up? (Relationships? Practices? Knowledge? Boundaries?)

Glossary:

Chanukah – An eight-day Jewish festival celebrating the rededication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem and the miracle of oil that burned for eight days. Falls in winter, usually in December.

Haneirot Halalu – A prayer recited after lighting the Chanukah candles, meaning “These lights.” It describes the holiness of the candles and states they are only for seeing, not for practical use.

Menorah – A candelabrum; specifically during Chanukah, refers to the nine-branched candelabrum (also called a chanukiah) used to light the holiday candles.

Miketz – “At the end”; the name of this week’s Torah portion (Genesis 41:1-44:17), which tells the story of Yosef interpreting Pharaoh’s dreams and rising to power in Egypt.

Parsha – The weekly Torah portion read in synagogue; plural: parshiyot.

Pharaoh – The title for ancient Egyptian rulers; in this parsha, refers to the Pharaoh who had dreams of cows and grain that Yosef interpreted.

Pri Tzadik – A collection of chassidic teachings written by Rav Tzadok HaKohen of Lublin (1823-1900).

Rabbeinu Bachya – Bahya ben Asher (1255-1340), a Spanish biblical commentator known for his comprehensive Torah commentary incorporating mystical and philosophical insights.

Rav Tzadok HaKohen of Lublin – Rabbi Tzadok Rabinowitz (1823-1900), a leading Hasidic thinker and author known for his profound psychological and spiritual insights.

Yosef – Joseph, the son of Jacob, whose story dominates the final portions of the book of Genesis. Known for his dreams, his coat of many colors, and his rise to power in Egypt.

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“They said to one another, “Here comes that dreamer!” (Genesis 37:19)

In this week’s parsha we start to see the arc that is Yosef’s life. From what we see this week it appears rather bleak—Yosef is hated by his brothers, admonished by his father, threatened with death, thrown in a pit, sold into slavery, falsely accused, and thrown in jail. To quote Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, this weeks parsha “ writes like a Greek tragedy,” as at the end, Yosef requested the cupbearer to remember him, but he does not.

If we fast forward to the end, we know this isn’t the end of Yosef’s story. Yosef eventually gets out of jail, interprets Pharaoh’s dreams, and becomes the viceroy of Egypt.

What enabled Yosef endure all this hardship?

Permission to Hope

The answer is perhaps alluded to early in this week’s parsha. When Yosef starts approaching his brothers, they refer to him as the “dreamer.” While this appears on the surface to be literal—referring to the dreams he had while sleeping—perhaps this is something more. The Rashbam might even be hinting at this when he states that the word “halazeh” refers to someone who sees something from afar. Rav Hirsch echoes this, stating that a “man of dreams” is one whose dreams are a tool of his intentions. Modern psychology might call this hope.

Hope is defined as “a state of mind in which we imagine that a certain outcome is possible, and we wish for it to come true (Garrard & Wrigley, 2009).” This is further expounded in Hope Theory (Synder, 1991), which proposes that there are multiple elements to hope. First, hope enables us to think about how to achieve our goals. Second, by being hopeful, we can focus on how to attain and accomplish those goals.

Yosef embodies both elements. When he interprets the cupbearer’s dream in prison, he doesn’t stop at offering interpretation—he asks the cupbearer to remember him and mention him to Pharaoh (Genesis 40:14). Yosef had a clear goal (freedom) and was actively thinking about how to reach it. This wasn’t passive wishing; this was hope in action.

Alon Ohel, one of the hostages abducted on October 7, 2023, was held in captivity for two years and experienced abuse of all kinds. When asked what helped him get through those difficult times, Ohel reported that at one point, his captors showed him a picture of a protest where a protester held up a sign with his image. Ohel recalled telling himself at that moment: “Now there’s really no way I’m giving up. If people who I don’t even know are taking to the streets and holding up my signs, who am I to even consider giving up, even for a moment? There’s no way.” That hope is what kept Ohel going while alone in captivity and experiencing tremendous hardships. Ohel, like Yosef, saw a goal in mind, grabbed onto it, and saw his path forward.

Do You Believe in Miracles?

It is no coincidence that this parsha is always read around the time of Chanukah. The Greeks attacked the Jewish people primarily by attempting to sever their connection to their religion. They were aware that the Jewish people had a strong connection to hope and believed that by taking away their spirituality, they would ruin their spirit and extinguish their flame.

In Greek mythology, hope (elpis) is locked in Pandora’s box. According to some interpretations, the ancient Greeks viewed hope as dangerous—it tricks you, blinds you, and lets you down. The Jewish people, however, have time and time again clung to hope. We see this played out in the story of Chanukah with the Maccabees—they were vastly outnumbered, and significantly weaker yet they did not allow that to stop them. They allowed that tiny flame to light a fire underneath them to defeat the Greeks, and then did the same with the Menorah. Instead of waiting for new oil, they hoped it would last, and it did. While the Greeks saw hoe as deceptive and dangerous, the Jewish people saw it as essential to survival.

The Eternal Flame of Hope

Perhaps we can conclude that the Maccabees had this hope instilled in them from Yosef. Fittingly, the prophet Ovadiah (1:18) calls the house of Yosef a flame. This flame of hope stayed lit in Yosef throughout all his years of hardship. This flame of hope stayed lit in the Maccabees. This flame of hope stayed lit with Alon Ohel, with Holocaust survivors, and with so many more throughout Jewish history. That flame refuses to go out.

Perhaps this is also a message within Chanukah: this flame of hope might start with one small candle, but it grows and grows.

Reflect, Review, Relearn

Has there ever been a time in your life when hope felt foolish, but you held on anyway? What happened?

What is one way you can take action toward a goal this week even if the outcome is uncertain?

Glossary of Jewish Terms

Chanukah - The eight-day Jewish festival commemorating the rededication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem and the miracle of the oil that burned for eight days; also known as the Festival of Lights.

Maccabees - The Jewish rebel army led by Judah Maccabee that fought against the Seleucid Greek empire and won back the Temple in Jerusalem, leading to the events commemorated during Chanukah.

Menorah - The seven-branched candelabrum used in the Temple; during Chanukah, refers to the nine-branched candelabrum (chanukiah) used to light the holiday candles.

Ovadiah - Obadiah; one of the twelve minor prophets in the Hebrew Bible. Parsha - The weekly Torah portion read in synagogue on Shabbat. Pharaoh - The title for the king of ancient Egypt.

Rashbam - Rabbi Samuel ben Meir (1085-1158), grandson of Rashi and a biblical commentator known for his literal interpretations of the text.

Rav Hirsch - Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888), German rabbi and philosopher known for his Torah commentary and leadership of Modern Orthodox Judaism.

Torah - The Five Books of Moses; the foundational text of Judaism.

Yosef - Joseph; the eleventh son of Jacob, known for his dreams and for becoming viceroy of Egypt.

“Yaakov was greatly frightened; in his anxiety, he divided the people with him, and the flocks and herds and camels, into two camps.” (Genesis 32:8)

In this week’s parsha, we come across a story that is tremendously human. Yaakov hears that Esav is coming to him, and the verse indicates that Yaakov is afraid and anxious.

The commentaries expound further on Yaakov’s mindset at that time. The Radak notes that the Torah uses two words to explain the amount of Yaakov’s distress. The Netziv echoes the same message, saying that the two words convey the magnitude of fear Yaakov was feeling in that moment.

It has been 22 years since Yaakov last saw Esav. He has endured tremendous difficulties with Lavan, married, and raised his children—yet he is still afraid of Esav. Wouldn’t we think Yaakov would be less distressed by the prospect of facing his brother after all this time?

The Psychology of Yaakov

The Abarbanel1 helps shed some light on this and provides insight into Yaakov’s psychological state by describing much of what we now classify as “traumatic responses.”

The Abarbanel explains that when Yaakov’s messengers told him Esav was sending 400 men2, they intended to comfort him—suggesting that Esav was sending an escort. Yaakov, however, perceived this as a threat, sensing danger. In psychological terms, we would call this hypervigilance: a heightened awareness of danger and feeling constantly on guard.

The Chizkuni also elaborates on Yaakov’s hypervigilance. He notes that when Yaakov divided his family, he changed his plans, intended to go a different way, and split up his family strategically3. The Chizkuni adds4 that if Esav were to see him fleeing, the hatred would return to Esav’s heart.

Undoing The Past

When we experience trauma, we may sometimes want to attempt to undo the past. The Ramban5 notes that Yaakov tried to do this as well. He explains that Yaakov used the words “to my lord Esav” and “your servant” as a way of showing Esav that he was the rightful firstborn—almost attempting to nullify the sale of the birthright in order to appease Esav and remove the hatred from his heart.

Keeping the Score

In 2014, Bessel van der Kolk wrote the groundbreaking work on trauma called The Body Keeps The Score. Van der Kolk discusses some of the dynamics mentioned above that occurred with Yaakov. He found that trauma isn’t just about past events but also leaves a significant impact on the body, brain, and mind(van der Kolk, 2014)6. Trauma collapses time—22 years can feel like one day. Neutral signs feel threatening as our nervous system is heightened, making it more difficult to regulate our emotions.

Feet on the Ground, Prayers in the Air

Yaakov, however, is aware of what is occurring within him. Rashi7 notes that Yaakov prepared for Esav in three ways, one of them being prayer. Perhaps we can say Yaakov, in this moment, was grounding himself—using prayer as a moment to connect and regulate his emotions.

Furthermore, one of the most common symptoms of trauma is avoidance: avoiding reminders, people, and places. Yaakov, however, didn’t avoid. He grounded himself and faced Esav head-on, providing us all with a lesson in how to cope when our emotions are heightened and we would prefer to avoid.

*A note: Bessel van der Kolk has been associated with several serious concerns, including allegations of fostering a harmful work environment and making antisemitic remarks. My reference here is limited strictly to widely accepted observations in trauma research, not an endorsement of him or his behavior.

Reflect, Review, Relearn

When have you noticed a stressful event “collapsing time” in your own life—where a past hurt feels like it happened yesterday?

Similar to Yaakov, what is one practice you can use to ground yourself when facing something that heightens your emotions?

Glossary of Jewish Terms

Abarbanel - Don Isaac Abarbanel (1437-1508), Portuguese Jewish statesman, philosopher, and biblical commentator known for his extensive Torah commentary.

Chizkuni - Rabbi Hezekiah ben Manoah (13th century), French rabbi and biblical commentator known for his concise Torah commentary.

Esav - Esau; the elder twin brother of Yaakov, known as a hunter and from whom Yaakov purchased the birthright.

Lavan - Laban; Yaakov’s father-in-law and uncle, known for his deceptive treatment of Yaakov during his years of service.

Netziv - Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin (1816-1893), head of the Volozhin Yeshiva and author of the Torah commentary Ha’amek Davar.

Parsha - The weekly Torah portion read in synagogue on Shabbat.

Radak - Rabbi David Kimchi (1160-1235), French biblical commentator and grammarian; acronym of his Hebrew name.

Ramban - Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman (1194-1270), also known as Nachmanides; prominent medieval Spanish rabbi and Torah commentator.

Rashi - Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki (1040-1105), the most widely read commentator on the Torah and Talmud.

Torah - The Five Books of Moses; the foundational text of Judaism.

Yaakov - Jacob; one of the three patriarchs of the Jewish people; son of Isaac and Rebecca, and father of the twelve tribes of Israel.