“This week’s parsha contains the Torah’s most radical demand — not sacrifice, not ritual, but love. Rabbi Creditor put it to music and the world has been singing it ever since.” Love your neighbor as yourself, Lev. 19:18 — v’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha. The centerpiece of the Holiness Code is not ritual but relationship.
Listen to this beautiful music shared by Chazan Daniel Mutlu and Rabbi Angela Buchdahl of Central Synagogue.
Shabbat Shalom
No other nation on earth asks its people to do what Israel asks each spring: to sit in the ashes of devastating loss on one day, and dance in the streets the next. Yom Hazikaron — Israel’s Day of Remembrance for fallen soldiers and victims of terror — flows directly, by design, into Yom Ha’atzmaut, Independence Day. The transition is not an accident of the calendar. It is a theological statement.
In Israel, when the siren sounds, an entire country stops — on highways, in markets, mid-sentence. Over 24,000 soldiers and thousands of civilians are remembered not as statistics but as names and faces, beloved. Then, within hours, fireworks rise over the same sky. The whiplash is intentional. Joy built on forgotten grief is shallow. And grief without the horizon of hope becomes a tomb.
During my year as a rabbinical student in Jerusalem, I had the privilege of standing on Har Herzl, Mount Herzl, Israel’s national cemetery, for the ceremony that bridges these two days. There, among the graves of soldiers and statesmen, surrounded by thousands of Israelis, young and old, grief transformed in real time. The final notes of the memorial prayers gave way to the lighting of the torches, and the air itself seemed to shift. It was not that the sadness lifted; rather, hope rose to stand alongside it. I experienced more than a transition. This is a theology. In that moment, the narrative of the Jewish state and the narrative of my own Jewish heart were woven together into a whole cloth; each thread distinct yet inseparable from the other.
That sequence — lived in the body, not merely studied in a book — is the pedagogy. You cannot fully understand Yom Ha’atzmaut without first standing in the silence of Yom Hazikaron. The independence feels different when you know what it cost.
We are not asked to choose between memory and celebration. We are asked to hold both and to let the weight of one lend depth to the other.
As American Jews, we stand at a particular intersection in these days. We did not lose children in those wars. We were not present for 1948’s desperate birth, 1967’s breathtaking turn, or October 7th’s shattering grief. And yet, we are not strangers. Israel is not a foreign country to the Jewish soul. It is the address of our deepest longings, the landscape of our prayers, and at the core of our peoplehood.
These two days invite us into belonging, not as spectators but as members of an ancient family. To observe Yom Hazikaron is to say: their loss is part of our story. To celebrate Yom Ha’atzmaut is to say: their miracle is part of our story, too. The spiritual architecture of this sequence teaches us that meaning is forged at the intersection of sorrow and hope. This is the Jewish way. This has always been the Jewish way.
May we honor those who fell, celebrate what they made possible, and carry both truths — as one people, from wherever in the world we stand.
A beloved poet sharing his musical gift. This Shabbat I share Yusuf/Cat Stevens’ Where do the Children Play.
Wishing a peaceful Shabbat for all.
Oseh shalom bimromav, hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu, v’al kol Yisrael, v’al kol yoshvei tevel v’imru amen.
May the One who makes peace in the high places, bring peace upon us, and upon all Israel, and all humankind, and let us say: Amen.
Shabbat Shalom
As Shabbat approaches, our world finds itself broken. Love and understanding are under assault by hatred and violence. Cantor Leon Sher’s beautiful prayer Heal Us Now is our plea for Tikkun- repair.
עוֹשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם בִּמְרוֹמָיו הוּא יַעֲשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם עָלֵינוּ וְעַל כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל וְעַל כָּל יוֺשְׁבֵי תֵבֶל
וְאִמְרוּ אָמֵן
Oseh shalom bimromav, hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu, v’al kol Yisrael, v’al kol yoshvei tevel v’imru amen.
Shabbat Shalom
Shabbat chol hamoed Pesach, I wanted to share Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwo’ole’s extraordinary rendition of Somewhere over the Rainbow. His candle only burned briefly but this message of hope for something better lives on.
Praying for Peace- Shabbat Shalom
עֹשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם בִּמְרוֹמָיו, הוּא יַעֲשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם עָלֵינוּ וְעַל כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל וְעַל כָּל יוֹשְׁבֵי תֵבֵל, וְאִמְרוּ: אָמֵן
May the One who makes peace in the Heavens bring peace to us all!
This song has always resonated for me. The message that we can give comfort to someone who needs to be held is a beautiful way to honor Shabbat and remind us that we can make a difference to that person who needs us.
Shabbat Shalom
The Book of Leviticus, Parshat Vayikrah, is often seen as an outdated and mysterious guide for animal sacrifice. However, beneath the “flesh and fire” lies a sophisticated psychological framework for accountability. Vayikrah teaches us that for a community to survive its members’ shortcomings or failures, it requires a social reset built on four distinct pillars.
Accountability starts with Semikhah—the person physically places their hands on the animal’s head [1]. The Ramban, Nachmanides, explains that this act makes the individual recognize the sacrifice as a substitute for themselves; it establishes a visceral link between the person and the cost of their mistake [2]. In modern leadership, this shifts from the passive and all-too-common phrase of “Mistakes were made” to taking personal accountability: “I am responsible.” You can’t pass the blame for an error; you must accept it and embrace the consequence, along with the need to fix it.
II. The Taxonomy of Error- Chatat vs. Asham
Vayikrah distinguishes between the Chatat, the offering for unintentional errors [3], and the Asham offered for breaches of trust or trespass [4]. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch notes that while a Chatat is a “missing of the mark,” an Asham implies a desolation of the conscience [5]. This framework teaches that accountability isn’t just for malice or punishment; even unintentional negligence requires a public “clean-up.” It highlights that the impact of our actions matters just as much as our intent.
III. Radical Transparency –Vidui
A sacrifice is invalid without Vidui, or verbal confession. Maimonides, the Rambam, states that no sacrifice achieves atonement unless the offender “makes a verbal confession” [6]. Accountability involves acknowledging the harm for which we are responsible. By speaking the mistake aloud, the offender brings the error out of secrecy and into the open, allowing the community to process the breach.
IV. Restorative Justice -The “Fifth”
Regarding robbery, the Torah mandates that the offender cannot seek Divine forgiveness until they settle the human debt: “He shall restore it in full, and shall add the fifth part more thereto” [7]. Rashi emphasizes that restitution must come before the sacrifice [8]. This is the gold standard of restorative justice. True accountability is “Principal Plus 20%,” recognizing that the victim lost not just property but also time and trust.
Conclusion
Vayikrah teaches us that forgiveness is an earned state, not an entitlement. The sacrificial system ensured that the victim was compensated, the mistake was acknowledged, and the offender faced a tangible consequence. By following these steps—Ownership, Categorization, Verbalization, and Restitution—we transform ancient rituals into a timeless blueprint for integrity that remains relevant today.
Citations
I find myself drawn to the folk music and protest songs of an earlier tumultuous time in this nation’s history and some of the current balladeers singing about the need for justice in a time of injustice.
As Black History month draws to a close, and the work of civil rights seems more urgent than ever, I wanted to welcome Shabbat with Teach Your Children, the classic from Crosby Stills and Nash.
Wishing everyone Shabbat Shalom
The Hollies recorded this classic in 1969. The words still resonate for me and this Shabbat I hope we are a little bit close to realizing the message.
Shabbat Shalom
We mourn the death of Reverend Jesse Jackson. Jackson was a complex individual and a person of great accomplishment.
In this world of purity litmus tests, cancel culture, and identity politics, it is easy for some to write off this icon of the civil rights movement, focusing on shortcomings and missteps rather than accomplishments.
He helped move the arc of justice forward. We can and should remember him for all the good he did, and hopefully find space in our hearts, even though he, like all of us, had flaws. Jackson fostered a sense of pride and self-esteem in those who struggled in a society determined to deny them, as captured in his well-known saying, “I am Somebody.” Jesse Jackson was Somebody.
This is a moment to rededicate ourselves to the vision of respect and dignity for every person that Jackson preached. The work is far from over, and it is ours to do.
May his memory be for a blessing.
