Last week, someone wrote on Facebook asking why I didn’t say anything in my Drasha about Iran and the possibility of a new war. My silence was not indifference. It was honesty. I didn’t speak because I didn’t know. Because no one knew. Because too much depends on factors that were impossible to decipher — among them, what is happening inside the mind of the President of the United States. Today, we woke up with the breaking news about the Israeli and US attack. All of us want

There is something, at first glance, that unsettles us in Parashat Trumah. After the majestic drama of Sinai — thunder, lightning, revelation, commandments — and after the laws of human responsibility that flow from those commandments, which we read last week, the Torah shifts abruptly in tone. We move from the sublime to the meticulous. From the divine voice that shakes a people, to extended descriptions of wood, fabrics, measurements, rings, curtains, cherubim. And we canno

Parashat Mishpatim often makes us uncomfortable. Not because it is harsh, but because it is not epic. We come from Sinai: fire, thunder, revelation, the Ten Commandments. And suddenly, almost without transition, the Torah begins to speak about oxen that gore, about loans, damages, and civil responsibility. It feels like an abrupt descent from the sublime to the trivial. But Judaism never understood this as a fall. Quite the opposite. This is the proof that the revelation was

Parashat Yitro brings us to one of the most decisive moments in the history of Western civilization: the revelation at Mount Sinai. It is not only a central episode of Judaism; in many ways, it is a point of departure for moral civilization as we know it. At Sinai, Israel is not only born as a covenantal people; a revolutionary idea for humanity itself is born. The Midrash Mechilta deRabbi Ishmael asks why the Torah was given in the desert rather than in an inhabited land. It

This week we read Parashat Beshalach, one of the most foundational portions of the entire Torah. The parashah recounts “Yetzi´at Mitzrayim”, the definitive departure from slavery in Egypt and the crossing of the Sea, and at the same time marks the birth of a people with its own voice. It is no coincidence that this Shabbat carries a special name: Shabbat Shirah, the Shabbat of Song. Because there are moments in history when silence is no longer enough, and the soul must sing.

Parashat Bo places us at the very heart of the drama of the Exodus. The final three plagues—locusts, darkness, and the death of the firstborn—are not merely spectacular punishments preceding liberation. Rather, they form a pedagogical process, a profound confrontation with the ways power, indifference, and denial dehumanize both the oppressed and the oppressor. God says to Moses: “Bo el Par´oh” — “Come to Pharaoh” (Exodus 10:1). The Midrash (Shemot Rabbah 13:3) lingers on thi

Parashat Va’era places us at the very heart of the drama of the Exodus. If Shemot introduced us to darkness—slavery, the forgetting of Joseph, the denial of the other’s humanity—Va’era marks the beginning of movement. Not yet the departure, not yet freedom, but the start of a long, painful, and deeply human process. God reveals Himself to Moses with words that speak of continuity and spiritual evolution: “I appeared to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob as El Shaddai, but by My

Parashat Shemot introduces us, abruptly, to one of the darkest chapters in our history. “A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph” (Exodus 1:8). Our sages ask: was he truly a new king, or the same Pharaoh with a heart newly committed to evil? The Midrash (Shemot Rabbah 1:8) suggests that he was not new to the throne, but new in his decrees. He changed the story, rewrote history, and constructed a conspiratorial narrative, declaring: “Behold, the people of the child

Parashat Vayechi is a deeply symbolic portion. It not only brings the life of Jacob our Patriarch to a close; it closes the entire book of Bereishit. And our sages teach us that endings are never merely endings—they are always gateways to something new. Bereishit is, essentially, a book of individuals and families. Adam, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob. Intimate relationships: parents and children, siblings, domestic conflicts, personal choices. The Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 68:1

Light Amid So Much Darkness Parashat Miketz, Shabbat Hanukkah. Kol Shalom, 2025 On this Shabbat Hanukkah we read Parashat Miketz, a portion that speaks of endings and  beginnings, of unexpected turns, of darkness transformed into possibility, and of dreams  that—even in the deepest night—announce a dawn. Miketz literally means “at the end,” placing us at that critical moment when there seems  to be no way out. Joseph is in prison—forgotten, silenced. The world around him is 

Attitudes That Build or Destroy Worlds Parashat Vayeshev – Kol Shalom, 2025 Parashat Vayeshev introduces us to a family seemingly destined for greatness, yet caught  in a deep internal crisis. As is often the case, the Torah does not present them as a perfect  family; instead, it shows a home where pride, jealousy, and parental favoritism shape  relationships and ultimately set in motion events that will change not only their lives, but  the entire future of the people of Isr

The Struggle That Gives Us Our Name Parashat Vayishlach — Kol Shalom, 2025 Parashat Vayishlach places us at one of the most intense and deeply human moments in  the entire Torah. Jacob is about to meet his brother Esau after twenty years apart,  carrying a history full of tension, deceit, fear, and unresolved wounds. And on the eve of  that encounter—while everyone sleeps—Jacob remains alone. And it is precisely in that solitude that the struggle takes place, the one that wil

Parashat Lech Lecha marks a turning point in both human and spiritual history. This Parasha truly begins the story of the people of Israel, through one man: Avraham Avinu, our patriarch Abraham. Abraham was born in Ur Kasdim, a prosperous civilization dominated by idolatry. According to the Midrash, his father Terach was an idol maker, and it was within his own home that Abraham began his spiritual quest. One day, when left alone in the shop, he smashed his father’s statues a

Among the ancient civilizations of the Near East, the story of a great flood appears more than once. One of the best - known versions is the Epic of Gilgamesh, written on clay tablets, centuries before the Torah was given. There, too, we find a corrupt humanity, a god who decides to destroy it through a flood, and a man — Utnapishtim — who receives a divine warning and builds a vessel to save his family and some animals. The similarities are evident: water as both punishment

We begin a new cycle. We finish reading the Torah and begin again, as if for the very first  Time. Each year, the same text, the same words… and yet, something changes. It isn’t the Torah that changes — it’s us. Because we have lived, we have felt, we have learned, we have  Suffered. And that is why, when we return to Bereshit, we are no longer the  same as we were a year ago. Bereshit — “In the beginning” — is not only a phrase about the  Past. It is an invitation to the pre

This Shabbat of Chol Hamoed Sukkot finds us dwelling in fragile  huts open to the sky. Sukkot invites us to step out from the security  of our walls, to accept our human fragility, and to open ourselves to  the experience of the Divine Presence. It is no coincidence that the  texts we read on this Shabbat speak of that same tension:  vulnerability and presence, judgment and mercy, destruction and  Hope. In the Torah reading, Moses finds himself in a moment of deep  despair. T

This week we read Parashat Haazinu. It is one of the most special  texts in the Torah because it is not a narrative, nor a list of laws, but  a song. It is Moshe’s final message before saying farewell to the  people. And when someone bids farewell, they choose their words  very carefully. That is why Moshe does not speak of politics, nor of  military strategies, nor of logistics: he speaks with poetry. He calls  upon heaven and earth as witnesses, and leaves behind a spiritua

Beginning with Rosh Hashanah, we have spent the last ten days  immersing ourselves in a process of reflection, analysis, and prayer. We...

In my teenage years, the Yom Kippur midday service always  included a moving Yizkor.  I remember a phrase we always read that deeply...

During Rosh Hashanah we spoke about Oneness. We began with the Oneness of the Jewish People, and what I  believe we must emphasize in our...