Parashat Ki Tisa: What Can We Learn from Parashat Ki Tisa About Israel’s Current War?

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Parashat Ki Tisa
What Can We Learn from Parashat Ki Tisa About Israel’s Current War?

What Does it Mean that Jews are Called “A Stiff-Necked People”?
This week, in Kuzari class, we discussed proof for the authenticity of the Torah. I asked my students to imagine the possibility that Moshe came to his people and told them that 500 years ago everyone in the world spoke only one language – the language of Ever. In one day – when they built the Tower of Babylon – the whole of humanity became separated into different peoples, each one with his own individual language. In the same breath, Moshe spoke in detail about the relationship of each nation with its forefather, whether Shem, Cham, or Yafet. Would the people, known for being stiff-necked, critical, and skeptical, accept such revolutionary claims about human history if they had never heard of them before? I have personally experienced this difference between Jews and gentiles. For example, when a Jew from a secular home decides to embrace a Torah-observant lifestyle, they often encounter strong resistance from family members. Arguments like “Why would G-d care about all these nitty-gritty details of observance?” or “Why are you regressing to a medieval lifestyle?”  have been hurled at many a good ba’al teshuva (newcomer to Judaism) by his or her family. In contrast, I recently interviewed a potential conversion student whose parents, though atheists with no Jewish background, were willing to support her conversion in Israel with a $500 monthly stipend. Even after funding her college education, they wanted to continue supporting her, despite their disagreement with her religious choice. The following day, when I taught Rambam on Character Development, Nutrition, and Health, we discussed how the same trait can be either a gift or a detriment depending on how it is employed. This concept also applies to the notorious Jewish stiff-necked character trait explicitly addressed in Parashat Ki Tisa.

Does Being a Stiff-necked People Justify Divine Withdrawal or Divine Attachment?
Whereas stiff-neckedness is typically seen as a stubborn flaw, the Eish Kodesh offers a different perspective. Following the sin of the Golden Calf, Hashem tells Moshe that He will remove His Shechinah (Divine Presence) from accompanying the Israelites:

ספר שמות פרק לג פסוק ג אֶל אֶרֶץ זָבַת חָלָב וּדְבָשׁ כִּי לֹא אֶעֱלֶה בְּקִרְבְּךָ כִּי עַם קְשֵׁה עֹרֶף אַתָּה פֶּן אֲכֶלְךָ בַּדָּרֶךְ:

“[Go ascend] to a land flowing with milk and honey, for I will not go up in your midst, because you are a stiff-necked people, lest I destroy you on the way” (Shemot 33:3).

Due to their disobedience and stiff-necked worship of the Golden calf, Hashem intends to punish them by withdrawing His Presence from them on their journey to the Promised Land. However, Moshe later uses this same trait as a justification for Hashem’s continued presence: “Let Hashem go in our midst, for they are a stiff-necked people” (Shemot 34:9). How can the same trait justify both divine withdrawal and divine attachment? Hashem declares that because they are stiff-necked, He will not go with them, yet Moshe argues that precisely because they are stiff-necked, they deserve His presence! The answer is that קְשֵׁה עֹרֶף /ke’shei oref – ‘stiff-necked’ can be one of the greatest virtues. Someone who lacks this trait is fickle – easily swayed in different directions. At one moment, he may wish to serve Hashem, and the next moment, he might abandon that commitment. Such a person cannot withstand tests of faith. By contrast, a stiff-necked person – stubborn and strong-willed – is resolute and dependable. Once he makes a firm decision to serve Hashem, we can trust that he remains steadfast when facing trials. Therefore, Moshe Rabbeinu argued that being stiff-necked makes the Israelites worthy of Hashem Himself dwelling among them. However, stubbornness can be destructive when misused. If directed toward negativity – stubbornly clinging to bad behaviors and corrupt character traits – becomes a liability (Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, Piaseczner Rebbe, Sefer Eish Kodesh, Parashat Noach).

Why is Emigrating to Israel Called: “Making Aliyah”?

Parashat Ki Tisa is most often associated with Moshe’s fervent intercession for the Jewish people for the sin of the Golden Calf.  Yet, interwoven within the Parasha are powerful messages about the holiness of Eretz Yisrael and its role in the divine covenant, as a conduit for spiritual elevation. The unique bond between the Land of Israel and the Jewish people reveals how Eretz Yisrael is not just a physical inheritance but a reflection of divine reality. When a Jew emigrates to the land of Israel, it’s called to make ‘Aliyah.’ Literally, to ascend. The source for this expression may be found in Parasha Ki Tisa:

ספר שמות פרק לג פסוק א

עֲלֵה מִזֶּה אַתָּה וְהָעָם אֲשֶׁר הֶעֱלִיתָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם אֶל הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּעְתִּי לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב לֵאמֹר לְזַרְעֲךָ אֶתְּנֶנָּה:

“Go, ascend from here, you and the people you have brought up from the land of Egypt, to the land that I swore to Avraham, Yitzchak, and Ya’acov, saying: ‘I will give it to your descendants’” (Shemot 33:1). 

Rashi, citing Babylonian Talmud, Zevarim 54b) notes that the land of Israel is higher than all [other] lands. That is why it says, ‘ascend.’ This concept of ascending to the Land of Israel is not limited to typography. Rather, it alludes to the spiritual heights that can be attained in the Land of Israel. The Torah is replete with references to how the Land of Israel is intrinsically connected to the Shechinah, the Divine Presence. See for example, “You shall not defile the land where you reside, in which I dwell, for I am the Hashem Who dwells among the children of Israel (Bamidbar 35:34). Eretz Yisrael’s very identity is as a dwelling place for Hashem’s Presence. Thus, the absence of the Shechinah would not simply mean a lessened experience – it would undermine the very essence of the land. “…This is why Eretz Yisrael is called אֶרֶץ הַחַיִּים – the Land of the living. One who emigrates to Israel is called an עוֹלֶה/Oleh – ‘one who ascends,’ and one who leaves the Land is called a יוֹרֵד/Yored – ‘one who descends,’ just like hell is called She’ol, the underworld, which involves descent (Maharal of Prague, Be’er HaGola 6:13).

Why Would Sending an Angel to Accompany the Israelites be Catastrophic?

At first glance, Shemot 33:1 - 4 appears to focus on the punishment for the Israelites’ sin,  depriving them of direct divine accompaniment. However, we can also read this passage as a revelation of Eretz Yisrael’s true nature: a land inherently linked with the Shechinah. The very essence of the Holy Land is G-d’s Presence within her. Hashem’s statement, “I will not go up in your midst,” (Shemot 33:3) signified a devastating withdrawal of divine intimacy. The Jewish people mourned not just because of a punishment but because they understood that entering the land without divine closeness would be an empty, incomplete experience. The Bat Ayin expands on this idea, explaining that Eretz Yisrael is the only land where divine revelation is fully manifest in the physical world. Just as Shabbat is the spiritual core (nekudah penimit) of the week, so too is Eretz Yisrael the spiritual core of the world. Within Eretz Yisrael, Jerusalem, the Beit Hamikdash, and the Kodesh HaKodashim radiate holiness throughout the land and beyond (Bat Ayin, Parashat Masei). Thus, the land reflects the Shefa Eloki (divine influx) while this revelation is concealed outside the Land. Moshe protested against Hashem’s decision because an intermediary (an angel) would imply a spiritual distance, which is uncharacteristic of the holy Land. “Eretz Yisrael is beloved, for Hashem chose it. When He created the world, He assigned each land to an angelic minister, but He reserved the Land of Israel for Himself…” (Midrash Tanchuma, Parshat Re’eh 8). There are no angelic intermediaries in the Holy Land. Whereas angels are appointed in charge of Chutz LaAretz (Outside of Israel), in the Land of Israel only Hashem is in charge of Eretz Yisrael.

Eretz Yisrael as the Conduit of Redemption

ספר שמות פרק לד פסוק י

וַיֹּאמֶר הִנֵּה אָנֹכִי כֹּרֵת בְּרִית נֶגֶד כָּל עַמְּךָ… הִנְנִי גֹרֵשׁ מִפָּנֶיךָ אֶת הָאֱמֹרִי וְהַכְּנַעֲנִי וְהַחִתִּי וְהַפְּרִזִּי וְהַחִוִּי וְהַיְבוּסִי:

“Behold, I will form a covenant in the presence of all your people… For I will drive out before you the Emorite, the Canaanite, the Hittite, the Perizzite, the Hivite, and the Jebusite” (Shemot 34:10-11).

This promise is not just about physical conquest – it reflects a metaphysical process. According to Lurianic Kabbalah, Yisrael is the epicenter of tikkun olam (cosmic rectification). The process of elevating divine sparks begins in the Holy Land (See Arizal, Sha’ar Hamitzvot, Parashat Re’eh). The tikkun (rectification) of the world begins in the Holy Land. The expulsion of the seven nations occupying the land is not merely a military event but a necessary step in preparing the land to be a vessel for divine light. Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook emphasized that every war for the land is a phase in Israel’s redemption. Moshe’s plea for divine presence reminds us that Eretz Yisrael is far more than a physical inheritance – it is the very place where heaven and earth can meet. As we navigate our own journey toward spiritual fulfillment, we look to the Land of Israel as a guiding light, a reminder that our highest purpose is to bring divine consciousness into the world.

Parashat Tetzaveh: What is the Inner Connection Between the Menorah and the Land of Israel?

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Parashat Tetzaveh
 What is the Inner Connection Between the Menorah and the Land of Israel?

How Can We Connect with Eternal Light?
From the earliest moments of my spiritual journey, I have felt a deep, intrinsic connection to the concept of light. Light is not merely an external phenomenon but an inner force that guides, uplifts, and transforms. I have always been drawn to the idea that light represents Divine wisdom, clarity, and the ability to illuminate even the darkest circumstances. The Torah is replete with light imagery – linking it to the Torah as the source of creation, the essence of wisdom, and the very presence of the Divine in the world. The very first word my youngest granddaughter said when she was barely one was אוֹר/Ohr – “light”! She was standing on a stool, pointing to the Shabbat candles I had just ignited. Since then, I have been praying for her to remain deeply connected with light. What does it mean to be connected with light? First and foremost, it is about walking the Torah path, as it states, כִּי נֵר מִצְוָה וְתוֹרָה אוֹר – “For a mitzvah is a candle, and the Torah is light” (Mishlei 6:23). Walking in Torah is the light of my life. Some people can’t understand why I labor so hard to produce yet another Torah book – I certainly don’t do it for the money. I am addicted to expressing the light of Torah, for the more Torah we share, the more Torah we receive – like nursing a baby or drawing water from a wellspring. This is why I love to teach Torah, living for those moments of epiphany when Hashem grants me a chiddush – a new Torah insight. נֵר הַשֵׁם נִשְׁמַת אָדָם – “The candle of Hashem is the soul of a person” (Mishlei 20:27). When we live with Torah, we awaken our Divine soul. We become less obsessed with fleeting pleasures – gold and diamonds, fancy clothes, extravagant travels, and gourmet food and wine. We evolve from being like a child who rushes to gather as many sweets as possible in a candy store to a spiritually mature person who learns to pursue the eternal rather than the ephemeral. And yes, light is all about eternity. Darkness will ultimately give way to eternal light, as expressed in the Temple Menorah, whose middle candle never extinguishes (Babylonian Talmud, Menachot 86b). We can tap into this divine light, especially in the Land of Israel – the Land of Light – where the Shechinah dwells and Divine wisdom shines most brightly. The more we connect with Torah in the Holy Land, the more we internalize and reflect this everlasting light, aligning ourselves with the ultimate destiny of creation – when “Hashem will be an everlasting light” (Yesha’yahu 60:19).

How Does the Land of Israel Reflect the Light of the Menorah?
Parashat Tetzaveh does not explicitly mention the land, yet concealed within its intricate descriptions lies a deep connection to the Land of Israel. Its themes of spiritual leadership, Divine service, and sanctity are inextricably tied to Eretz Yisrael – the ultimate place where these ideals find full expression. Our parasha opens with the mitzvah to bring pure olive oil for the Ner Tamid, the eternal flame of the Menorah.

ספר שמות פרק כז פסוק כ וְאַתָּה תְּצַוֶּה אֶת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְיִקְחוּ אֵלֶיךָ שֶׁמֶן זַיִת זָךְ כָּתִית לַמָּאוֹר לְהַעֲלֹת נֵר תָּמִיד:

“You shall command the children of Israel, and they shall take to you pure olive oil, crushed for lighting, to kindle the perpetual candle (Shemot 27:20).

Olive oil is one of the seven species of Eretz Yisrael, symbolizing the land’s spiritual and material richness. It embodies the purity of Israel and the light that the land provides to the Jewish people and the world. The eternal flame of the Menorah is ultimately kindled in the Holy Temple in the heart of the Land of Israel. Furthermore, the Menorah’s light represents Divine wisdom and the mission of Israel to be a light unto the nations – a mission that can only be fully realized within the Land of Israel: 

“They shall bring you pure olive oil…” (Shemot 27:20). Just as oil provides light, so too does the Beit Hamikdash illuminate the entire world as Scripture states: “The nations shall walk by your light” (Yesha’yahu 60:3). Therefore, G-d said to Moshe, “They shall bring you pure olive oil” (Midrash Shemot Rabbah 36:1).

How Does the Eternal Flame of the Menorah Shine Forth from Israel to the World?
The Menorah’s glow in the Beit Hamikdash was more than a physical light; it was a beacon of spiritual enlightenment emanating from Eretz Yisrael to the world. The Menorah’s seven branches correspond to the seven lower Sefirot, which mirror the seven species of Eretz Yisrael. The oil represents Chochmah (Divine wisdom), which flows freely only when Israel is in its rightful place (Zohar Part 2:158a). Israel is compared to olives. Just as the olive only brings forth its oil when beaten, so does Israel only return and become refined through difficulties and hardships (Babylonian Talmud, Menachot 53b). The process of refining oil, crushing it to extract its essence, parallels how the Jewish people undergo challenges and refinement in exile, during our long winding exile preparing us for the spiritual refinement necessary to access the holiness of the Eretz Yisrael. The crushing hardships we have endured return us to Eretz Yisrael as a purer, more radiant nation. The oil of the Menorah is linked to the righteousness of Israel: Just as olive oil rises above other liquids, so too will Israel rise above all nations (Midrash Devarim Rabbah 7:3), when we return to our land and fulfill our mission, as it is written: “Hashem your G-d will place you supreme above all the nations of the earth” (Devarim 28:1). The light of the Menorah is a reminder that our ultimate source of clarity and inspiration comes from our bond with Hashem in Eretz Yisrael – where His presence dwells most fully and where the Jewish mission reaches its highest potential.

The Land of Israel – Source of Our Inner Light
The Menorah was not merely a source of light within the Temple but a reflection of the spiritual illumination that flows from Eretz Yisrael. As we have learned, the Menorah’s light symbolized Hashem’s presence dwelling among Israel, spreading its glow to the entire world (Midrash Shemot Rabbah 36:1). In Chassidut, the Menorah represents the innate holiness of the Jewish soul, which, like the flames, continually strives upward, reaching toward the Divine. Just as the flames are kindled anew each day, so too is our spiritual mission in Eretz Yisrael constantly renewed, reaffirming our role as bearers of Divine light. The wordְּתְּצַוֶּה /tetzaveh connotes connection and attachment. True unity is obstructed by impurities and unclarity. Just as the process of pressing olives removes impurities and refines the oil, so too do the Jewish people achieve spiritual refinement through humility and unity. Becoming free of arrogance and divisions enables us to kindle the eternal flame, for personal spiritual achievements are temporary, while illumination that stems from the collective soul of Israel is everlasting. True, enduring light comes through integrating oneself within the general community of Israel – becoming part of the whole rather than seeking individual elevation alone (Sefat Emet, Likutim, Parashat Tetzaveh). This alludes to a profound insight into the connection between the Menorah and Eretz Yisrael. The light of the Menorah represents the unity and refinement of the collective soul of Israel, which reaches its highest fulfillment in the Land of Israel, where the Shechinah dwells. Rav Kook further expounds: “The return to a life of full Israeli expression, to a life illuminated by Torah in its highest revelation, occurs in Eretz Yisrael, the land of our life. The Spirit of G-d in the inner Israeli soul unites with the Spirit of G-d in the land, and the outcast lover returns to her original love, renewing the holy marriage of yore. This happens when the nation, the Torah, and all of the mitzvot are reunited with the life-giving Spirit of G-d in the land” (Orot, Eretz Yisrael Chapter 8).

The Emblem of the Land of Israel – The Light of our Mission

The Menorah is a powerful symbol of the Jewish people’s role in the world – illuminating the darkness with Divine wisdom and righteousness. Just as the light of the Beit Hamikdash shone forth, so too does the spiritual radiance of Eretz Yisrael continue to guide us. The Land of Israel is not merely a physical homeland; it is the center of our spiritual identity, where our connection to Hashem reaches its fullest expression. Just as the Menorah’s light was fueled by pure olive oil, so too is the Jewish faith and clarity nourished by the sanctity of the land.  In this way, the Land of Israel is not only the physical home of the Jewish people but the very source of their inner light and spiritual awakening. By dwelling in Eretz Yisrael, we embrace our mission as a light unto the nations, bringing Hashem’s presence into the world. Thus, it is fitting that the modern State of Israel emblem is a Menorah flanked by olive branches, symbolizing the eternal connection between Eretz Yisrael and the divine light it radiates to the world.

Parashat Teruma: How Can We Create a Sacred Space in our Lives and Land?

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Parashat Teruma
How Can We Create a Sacred Space in our Lives and Land?

How did My Childhood Quest for Sacred Space Lead Me to True Holiness?

Since childhood, I have always sought to create sacred spaces around me. As a young girl scout, I would adorn the entrance to our tent with magnificent rocks and other intriguing objects I found in nature. I wasn’t just decorating; I was marking the threshold with beauty and meaning as if to invite a deeper presence into that space. Even then, without fully understanding the concept, I was trying to create a sacred space – infused with intention and reverence. As I grew older, my yearning for sacred space deepened. When I became a teenager, I claimed the basement of our family villa as my own – a privilege I was granted as the eldest of three sisters. With wall hangings, psychedelic colors, crystals, and the ethereal sound of Pink Floyd, I transformed an ordinary upper-middle-class suburban basement into a mystical, kaleidoscopic refuge for spiritual seekers. It was more than a teenage hangout – it became my sanctuary. I created an atmosphere where the mundane dissolved into something transcendent, a space where I could explore my spiritual yearnings. Even as I traveled, whether for a day or longer, I would leave my mark on the spaces I temporarily inhabited. Draping scarves and hanging necklaces – was my attempt to infuse each temporary dwelling with an atmosphere of sacredness, however imperfect. It was the best I could do with my limited understanding of true holiness. Yet, I got a glimpse – perhaps more accurately, a scent – of something deeper. When I visited my grandparents in Israel, I was welcomed by the fragrance of citrus groves, a sacred scent that imprinted itself upon my soul. It was as if my heart was being prepared, softened, and opened to receive something greater. And then, when I stood before the Western Wall for the first time, I knew – without scarves or necklaces or any adornment that this was kedusha – true holiness. My childhood instinct to sanctify space had found its source.

The Eternal Repercussions of the Mitzvah to Create Sacred Space
In Parashat Teruma, Hashem commands the Children of Israel:

ספר שמות פרק כה פסוק ח וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם:

“They shall make for Me a Mikdash (Sanctuary), and I will dwell among them” (Shemot 25:8).

This verse encapsulates a profound spiritual truth – our mission to create sacred spaces where the Shechinah (Divine Presence), can reside. The command to build the Mishkan (Tabernacle) in the wilderness was not merely a physical task; it was a spiritual act – a calling to transform the physical space into a dwelling for the Divine. A fascinating passage from Pesikta Zutarta offers deep insight into our verse attributing the Shechinah dwelling among Israel with eternal significance: This refers to both the present world and the world to come. It refers to the eternal dwelling, for all time. The Holy One, Blessed be He, expresses extraordinary affection for the people of Israel by constricting His Presence within them. Happy is the nation for whom this is true. Happy is the nation that Hashem is his G-d (Pesikta Zutarta, Shemot 25:8). The sanctuary is not only a physical structure in this world but primarily imbues us with a profound and everlasting relationship – our eternal bond with the Divine that transcends into the world to come. Hashem’s special love for Israel is manifested in the choice to have His Presence contained within us, making Israel a vessel for the Divine. While the Mishkan served a critical role in the wilderness as a portable sanctuary – a place where Heaven and Earth converge, and the Israelites could experience the presence of Hashem in their midst – its true fulfillment was always intended to be in the Land of Israel. There, the Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple) would be built, a permanent home for the Shechinah. The connection between these sacred spaces highlights a deeper truth: our mission to create a sacred space extends beyond the temporary buildings we construct or the lands we inhabit during exile.

What is the Connection Between The Mishkan and the Land of Israel?

The holiness of the Mishkan extends into the Land of Israel by serving as a place of Divine guidance – just as Hashem spoke to Moshe from the Kodesh HaKodashim (Holy of Holies), prophecy flourished only in the Land of Israel. It is the land where the voice of Hashem is most clearly heard. The Beit HaMikdash became the central point from which divine wisdom and guidance were transmitted to the people of Israel. Moreover, the Mishkan was a place of service to Hashem; similarly, the Land of Israel is a place of service, where mitzvot such as terumot, ma’aserot, and shemitah sanctify the very acts of eating, working, and living on the land. The daily lives of the Israelites are infused with sanctity, as the land itself reflects the holiness of the Mishkan. Thus, the portable Mishkan in the desert was only a temporary construction, whereas our permanent sanctuary can exist only in the Holy Land. As Ralbag explains, the ultimate mitzvah of building a Mikdash is not to be carried out in just any location, but in the specific place that Hashem will choose when the people cross the Jordan and settle in the land. The Mishkan in the desert was merely a temporary dwelling, designed to train the Israelites in divine service and prepare them for their inheritance of the land. They did not stray from this path, as they did not have a permanent sanctuary until Hashem revealed to them the location of the eternal Temple on Mount Moriah (Rabbi Levi ben Gershon, Shemot 25:8). The Promised Land is so much more than just a geographical location. Only in the Land of Israel do the spiritual and physical meet in perfect harmony. Just as the Mishkan was fashioned from earthly materials to house the Divine, the Land of Israel is the soil where Hashem’s Presence can take root among His people. The very earth of Israel holds the potential to become a dwelling place for the Divine. This connection reinforces the deep sanctity of both the Mishkan and the Land, highlighting that Israel is not only a place for the Jewish people to live but the place where Hashem’s glory is to be revealed (Based on Yoel Yakoby, Parashat Teruma: The Encounter Between Two Types of Sanctity).

To Build or Not to Build the Beit Hamikdash?

We all pray and yearn for the rebuilding of the permanent Beit HaMikdash on the Temple Mount. But why don’t we begin the construction already? One reason often cited is the belief that the Temple is meant to descend from Heaven. However, this view is not as clear-cut as it may seem. It is based on one interpretation of Rashi’s commentary on the Babylonian Talmud (Sukkah 41a). Yet that interpretation of Rashi is disputed among our Sages (see, for example, the Me’iri on that Talmudic passage). Rabbi Jacob Ettlinger succinctly reconciles these differing perspectives: “Certainly, the future Beit HaMikdash will be built literally by humans. That which is written, ‘The Mikdash, Hashem, Your hands established’ (Shemot 15:17), as expounded in the Midrash Tanchuma – that it will descend from above—refers to the spiritual Beit HaMikdash, which will enter the physical, already-built Beit HaMikdash, like a soul within a body” (Aruch LaNer on Sukkah 41a). Another widely held assumption is that the mitzvah of building the Beit HaMikdash is contingent on the majority of Am Yisrael (Jewish People) residing in Eretz Yisrael. Yet this claim is also unclear. In contrast, the Minchat Chinuch asserts: “Even today, it is possible that if the nations were to grant permission to build the Beit HaMikdash, there would be a mitzvah to do so, as is evident from the Midrash, which recounts that in the days of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananya, permission was granted, and they began construction” (Minchat Chinuch, Mitzvah 95). Similarly, Rav Teichtal states that the Beit HaMikdash can be built whenever the opportunity presents itself: “If permission were given to Am Yisrael to build the Beit HaBechirah (Chosen House). …it is a mitzvah for all generations, as we are commanded to build the Beit HaMikdash. Therefore, Chazal said, ‘A generation in which the Beit HaMikdash is not built in its time is as if it were destroyed in its time.’ (Em Habanim Semecha). The reason is that whenever Bnei Yisrael contribute wholeheartedly, yearning to build Him a house, they will be able to attain their aspirations” (Sefat Emet, Parashat Teruma, Year 1850). Based on these authoritative Torah scholars, I venture to ask: So what are we waiting for?!

How Can We Bring the Mishkan into Our Lives Today?

Although our final Beit HaMikdash has not yet been rebuilt, the message of Parashat Teruma remains deeply relevant. Every home in the Land of Israel – and every Jewish heart –  can serve as a mini-Mikdash. By filling our lives with Torah, kindness, and devotion to Hashem, we continue the legacy of Parashat Teruma, creating a space where the Divine Presence can dwell.

The connection between creating sacred space and our role as partners with Hashem in building a dwelling place for the Shechinah is profound. The Land itself is holy, as it is the place where the Shechinah dwells most intimately. Every act of sanctifying the space around us – whether through physical action or spiritual devotion—brings us closer to fulfilling the mitzvah of Parashat Teruma: “They shall make for Me a Sanctuary, and I will dwell among them.” This call is not just for the Israelites of the past but for us today, as we continue to build sacred spaces where the Divine can reside among us. May we merit seeing the rebuilding of the Beit HaMikdash speedily in our days, when its holiness will once again shine in its full glory. The lesson of creating sacred spaces – whether in our homes, our communities, or our land – continues to guide us toward a deeper connection with Hashem, inviting His Presence to dwell among us. Just as I instinctively sought to transform my surroundings into sacred spaces, the Torah calls on all of us to recognize that every space, every moment, and every act can become an opportunity to invite holiness into our lives. The Land of Israel, in particular, is where this sacred work is most fully realized. It is not merely a home for the Jewish people but the very foundation of our relationship with Hashem.

Parashat Mishpatim: How are the Interpersonal Mitzvot Linked to the Holiness of the Land?

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Parashat Mishpatim
How are the Interpersonal Mitzvot Linked to the Holiness of the Land?

Can Social Justice Exist Without a Spiritual Foundation?

I’ve been a truth seeker since childhood. Even before I could define it, I was searching for a model of social justice rooted in spiritual and moral principles. I suppose I was born a spiritual seeker, always feeling like an outsider in a culture so focused on materialism. Never having experienced physical lack in life, I was drawn instead to advocate for the repair I felt was needed in the emotional and spiritual dimensions. As a teenager, I had many Marxist friends, largely due to my enrollment in the Free Gymnasium – an alternative high school where students helped run the institution. My parents agreed to let me attend only after I had first tried a regular high school.  In hindsight, I understand their reluctance. The Free Gymnasium was not only a hub for leftist ideals but also a stronghold of vehement anti-Zionism, which often went hand in hand. I still remember walking into class one day in 1975 to find “Zionism is Racism” scrawled in bold letters across the blackboard – the same year the United Nations General Assembly declared Zionism a form of racial discrimination. Although I deeply believed in social equality, I couldn’t help but feel shaken by that statement, which seemed to be directed personally against me. The Kibbutz principle of working according to one’s ability and receiving compensation according to one’s needs resonated with me, yet I struggled to embrace Marxism. It would have been easier – and more comfortable – to align with my Marxist friends, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t accept its foundation: historical materialism, which argues that material conditions drive human history and transformation. I could never agree that the material framework determines how human beings evolve and shape the world. For me, the spiritual dimension has always been the true force behind everything that unfolds in the universe. Needless to say, when I discovered the Torah, its religious, ethical, and social laws resonated deeply with my soul.

 

Are our Divinely Ordained Ethical Laws Designed Particularly for the Holy Land?

Parashat Mishpatim, which follows the revelation at Mount Sinai, presents an extensive array of laws covering diverse aspects of life – ranging from the treatment of slaves to the justice system, from civil laws to moral conduct in daily day life. One of the most profound themes of Parashat Mishpatim is the intrinsic connection between these laws and the unique holiness of the Land of Israel. The Torah repeatedly emphasizes that the land is holy and that dwelling in it comes with divine responsibilities. The Land of Israel is not merely a geographical territory; it is the sacred place where the Jewish people are meant to fulfill their covenant with G-d. Parashat Mishpatim offers a glimpse into how the Torah’s legal system is intricately tied to the spiritual nature of the land. While many of its laws focus on interpersonal relationships, property rights, and communal obligations, they also reflect a deeper, spiritual bond with Hashem that the land itself nurtures. This connection is established from the opening verse of Mishpatim, which determines the divine foundation of these interpersonal laws:

 

ספר שמות פרק כא פסוק א וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים אֲשֶׁר תָּשִׂים לִפְנֵיהֶם:

“And these are the judgments that you shall set before them” (Shemot 21:1).

 

From this verse, we learn that even the ethical principles governing human relationships – that upright people may have established on their own – are divinely ordained.  As Rashi explains, the phrase “And these” (וְאֵלֶּה/ve’eleh) comes to add to what has been previously stated (Tanchuma Mishpatim 3). The phrase serves to link mishpatim (interpersonal laws) to the Ten Commandments, underscoring that just as the laws at Sinai were divinely given, so too are the mitzvot of Parashat Mishpatim. Although these mitzvot appear to be merely laws of human behavior, they are divine imperatives that shape a nation embodying G-d’s will. Their fulfillment is especially significant in the Land of Israel. This is so because the Jewish people are meant to establish a society based on divine justice and ethical responsibility, particularly in the Promised Land (Ramban, Shemot 21:1).

 

How does Shemitah (the Sabbatical Year) Foster a Special Relationship with the Land?

One of the core themes throughout the Torah is that the Land of Israel is a divine gift to the Jewish people – the place where Hashem’s presence is uniquely manifest. Anyone who has made Aliyah or even visited Israel can testify to this truth. The principles of justice and communal responsibility in Parashat Mishpatim lay down the foundation for the relationship between the Jewish people and the land. For example, the mitzvah to observe the Shemitah year:

 

ספר שמות פרק כג פסוק י וְשֵׁשׁ שָׁנִים תִּזְרַע אֶת אַרְצֶךָ וְאָסַפְתָּ אֶת תְּבוּאָתָהּ:

(יא) וְהַשְּׁבִיעִת תִּשְׁמְטֶנָּה וּנְטַשְׁתָּהּ וְאָכְלוּ אֶבְיֹנֵי עַמֶּךָ וְיִתְרָם תֹּאכַל חַיַּת הַשָּׂדֶה כֵּן תַּעֲשֶׂה לְכַרְמְךָ לְזֵיתֶךָ:

“Six years you shall sow your land and gather in its produce. But the seventh year you shall let it rest and lie fallow” (Shemot 23:10-11).

This mitzvah exemplifies the Torah’s holistic vision of justice, extending beyond human relationships to encompass the land itself. The concept of Shemitah teaches us that Eretz Yisrael is not merely a piece of real estate – it is a living, entity. By relinquishing ownership and allowing the land to rest, we affirm that it ultimately belongs to Hashem. This act of emunah acknowledges that our sustenance doesn’t mainly derive from human labor but from divine blessing. The Shemitah year serves as a societal reset and a reminder that the land is on loan to the Israelites from G-d, and we are only its stewards. This understanding instills humility and dependence on divine providence, reinforcing the idea that rather than being self-sufficient we are always relying on Hashem (Babylonian Talmud, Shemita 9a). Moreover, the Sefer HaChinuch (Mitzvah 430) emphasizes that the observance of Shemitah is not merely an agricultural decree but a spiritual discipline, teaching us to care for our eternal inheritance according to Hashem’s will. Just as the land rests, so too must the people pause – to renew their relationship with Hashem and with each other.  On a practical level, we relinquish ownership of the land during the Shemitah year, not just conceptually, but in a very tangible way. The produce that grows in “our own backyard” is open for all to take, embodying the concept that the holy land belongs equally to everyone, for it ultimately belongs to G-d alone. I have personally experienced the renewal that comes from surrendering ownership and seeing how land flourishes after its year of rest. It has also instilled in me a deeper connection to the land, as the excitement to once again “get dirt under my fingernails” speaks to a more profound relationship with the earth – a relationship based not on possession but on loving caretaking, humility, and faith.

Which Mitzvot Engender Compassionate Justice in the Land of Israel?

Another vital connection between the land and the Mishpatim is the principle of Tzedakah –  compassionate justice, which leans toward kindness. The Torah directs us to ensure that all people – especially the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the stranger – are treated with the utmost fairness and compassion:

ספר שמות פרק כב פסוק כ

וְגֵֶר לא תוֹנֶה וְלא תִלְחָצֶנְנוּ כִּי גֵרִים הְיִיתֶם בְּאֵרֶץ מִצְרִים: (כא) כָּל אַלְמָנָה וְיָתוֹם לֹא תְעַנּוּן:

“You shall not mistreat a convert, nor shall you oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” You shall not oppress any widow or orphan (Shemot 22:20-21).

Caring for the most vulnerable among us – those without a social network – is not merely an abstract ideal; it is an existential, practical reality of life in the Land of Israel. We are called to make a special effort never to exploit those lacking support, whether by underpaying them or being overly controlling and demanding. We must never shame a convert by reminding him of his past or speaking harshly to a widow or orphan. Rather, as practiced in our community in Bat Ayin, we open our homes and hearts to ensure these individuals feel welcome, supported, and cherished. The Torah further reinforces the need to provide for the poor, release debts, and create opportunities for everyone to thrive. The law requiring the return of property during the Jubilee year (Vayikra 25:10–16) reflects the profound understanding that land cannot be sold permanently – it ultimately reverts to its divinely appointed owner (Rashi on Vayikra 25:10). When my husband and I decided to settle in Gush Etzion, we were driven by the desire to live a life fully aligned with Torah values. Over the years, we have witnessed how the mitzvot of justice and kindness form the bedrock of our community. Whether helping a neighbor in need, supporting local agricultural initiatives, or welcoming newcomers, living in Eretz Yisrael provides countless opportunities to put the lessons of Parashat Mishpatim into practice.

How am I Resolving My Quest for Truth and Divine Social Justice in the Land?

The laws of Mishpatim, such as those governing loans and the return of property in the Jubilee year, affirm that the land must be maintained with social justice at its core. Living in this land is not merely a physical reality – it is a spiritual calling that demands commitment to ethical conduct, adherence to G-d’s laws, and deep reverence for the sanctity of the land itself. Without these values, the land risks desecration, and the people risk severing our connection to the divine. Neglecting the poor and the needy is not just a moral failure; it is a violation of the land’s sacred purpose, which was entrusted to the Jewish people to uphold justice and righteousness (Babylonian Talmud Baba Batra 8a). For me, the spiritual foundation of building a just and compassionate society in the Land of Israel stands in direct contrast to Marx’s historical materialism. It is not material conditions that shape human history but rather our connection with Hashem – expressed through the fulfillment of His laws in both their spiritual and practical dimensions – that drives true transformation. I am profoundly grateful that my childhood search for a model of social justice rooted in spiritual and moral principles has been fulfilled. Over the years, it has become clear to me that striving to uphold divine law within the land invites the Shechinah to dwell among us, allowing the Holy Land – and in due course, the entire world – to flourish and fulfill its ultimate divine purpose.

Parashat Yitro: What is the connection between Honoring Our Parents and Eretz Yisrael?

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Parashat Yitro
What is the connection between Honoring Our Parents and Eretz Yisrael? 

Does Honoring Parents Override Keeping the Mitzvah of Living in Israel?

When I became a Ba’alat Teshuva (returnee to the Torah) in 1980, the question of whether moving to Israel would infringe upon the mitzvah to honor my parents did not cross my mind. First of all, the concept of honoring parents was quite novel to me, and secondly, my new Torah observance was so intertwined with living in the Torah community I was part of in Jerusalem, that even entertaining the thought of leaving Israel would be tantamount to leaving the Torah and thus cutting myself off from true life as it states: “For that is your life and the length of your days, to dwell on the land which Hashem swore to your forefathers to Avraham, to Yitzchak, and to Ya’acov to give to them” (Devarim 30:20). My husband-to-be had joined the Yeshiva community in between completing medical school and carrying out his internship. His parents, who had pinned great hopes upon their only son’s medical career, insisted that he return to the States to fulfill his internship and his conditional scholarship to work in a physician shortage area. His dilemma elicited a heated discussion in the Yeshiva, regarding whether the mitzvot to live in Israel and learn Torah override the mitzvah of honoring parents. Our Rabbi ruled that the former overrides the latter. As support for his ruling, the Rabbi quoted Rashi’s commentary on: “Every man shall fear his mother and his father, but you shall observe My Shabbats. I am Hashem, your G-d” (Vayikra 19:3). This verse implies that although we must fear our parents, we must nevertheless keep Shabbat; thus, should a parent ask the child to violate Shabbat, the laws of Shabbat override the parents’ wishes as the Talmud states, “Although I have admonished you regarding the fear of your father, nevertheless, if he tells you to desecrate the Shabbat, do not listen to him. This is also the case with all the [other] mitzvot.  (Babylonian Talmud, Baba Metzia 32a). Our Rabbi taught us that based on the above, even if our parents request that we leave Israel, the mitzvot of living in Israel and learning Torah supersede their request. Due to following this ruling, to this day, we still – 45 years later – live on our homestead in Gush Etzion. We, our two sons and four granddaughters, who grew up here in Israel, have no intentions to leave our homeland. Had we heeded my in-laws’ demand to return to the US who knows whether we would be keeping the Torah today? 

By Honoring our Parents, we Acknowledge and Honor Hashem – Our Ultimate Parent

A classical question is why the fifth commandment to honor our parents is placed on the first tablet describing the five mitzvot between man and G-d when it seems to belong to the category of the mitzvot on the second tablet dealing with the five commandments between man and man. The well-known answer is that although honoring our parents is essentially an obligation between people, it is also related to G-d since there are three partners in the team bringing about the birth of a child. “There are three partners in the creation of a person: The Holy One, Blessed be He, his father, and his mother. His father emits the white seed…  His mother emits red seed…  And the Holy One, Blessed be He, inserts into him a spirit, a soul, astral energy field (countenance), eyesight, hearing of the ear, the capability of speech of the mouth, the capability of walking with the legs, understanding, and wisdom… (Babylonian Talmud, Niddah 31a). If I respect my father and mother who are the ones who created my physical body – which will eventually wither and die – how much more must I honor my Father in Heaven, who granted me with the superior component, my eternal soul! (Kli Yakar, Shemot 20:12). Our parents are merely junior partners with G-d in the creation of life. They did not actually bring us into the world, they only planted a seed in the ground. Yet the Divine power alone is capable of transforming the seed into a living and breathing being. Thus, when we honor our parents, we all the more so honor G-d, the true Creator, Who provides our life and soul (Based on Ramban, Shemot 20:12). By commanding us to honor our parents, G-d informs us that each and every individual exists due to His specific will. If we, as individuals, were created by chance, there would be no reason to honor parents. Therefore, when we honor our parents, it is considered as honoring G-d Himself, for by honoring them we demonstrate our awareness of G-d’s involvement in our own creation (Maharal, Tiferet Yisrael, Chapter 41).  Thus, respecting our parents enables us to acknowledge and appreciate that it is ultimately G-d who brought us into existence, and sustains and guides the world.

Why is the Reward for Honoring Parents Specifically a Long Life in the Land of Israel?

ספר שמות פרק כ פסוק יב כַּבֵּד אֶת אָבִיךָ וְאֶת אִמֶּךָ לְמַעַן יַאֲרִכוּן יָמֶיךָ עַל הָאֲדָמָה אֲשֶׁר הָשֵׁם אֱלֹהֶיךָ נֹתֵן לָךְ:

“Honor your father and your mother, so that your days be lengthened on the land that Hashem, your G-d, is giving you” (Shemot 20:12).

The reward of a long life is promised specifically “on the land that Hashem, your G-d, is giving you.” Not only is the reward for honoring parents to live a long life, the reward also includes the privilege of living in the promised land. This second lesser-known reward for honoring parents is surely no less valuable than the first. But what is the connection between honoring parents and being fortunate to live in the land of Israel?  By honoring our parents, we demonstrate the humility to understand that the world did not originate with us, rather, we acknowledge that Hashem runs every detail of this world. Being a Divine mitzvah it is appropriate that its reward be realized in Hashem’s Land together with His chosen people in Eretz Yisrael. G-d created the world, and when it suited Him, He allowed temporary control of the Land to the Canaanites until the Jewish people fulfilled the divine mitzvah of conquering the Promised Land, which He had granted us eternally (Rashi, Bereishit 1:1). Since then – a period of approximately 3300 years – the Land has never been devoid of Jews. “If it were possible that the Children of Israel would be completely absent from the Land of Israel, G-d forbid, that Hashem would do this, for He has already promised that He will never completely wipe out or uproot the Jewish nation, then there would be no possibility of calculating the months or declaring leap years” (Rambam, Sefer HaMitzvot, Positive Mitzvah 153). Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch explains the connection between honoring parents and the reward of long life specifically in the land of Israel by adding the national element. Honoring our parents is a necessary condition for Am Yisrael to be able to remain within Eretz Yisrael. This is so because recognizing our personal roots will lead to recognizing our national roots, which are cast deep within the Land of Israel. This connects the reward for honoring our parents with a long life specifically in Eretz Yisrael; for it is not simply a matter of our individual length of days, but that of our entire nation. Honoring parents stems from recognizing that we are part of the Jewish people who have been planted deeply within the Land since time immemorial. Our nation’s yearning for the Land has not changed and will never change throughout the generations. Thus, the Torah teaches that the reward for honoring parents is longevity specifically in the Land of Israel (Based on Nir Shaul, presented by Yedidya Solomon, Honoring Parents and Eretz Yisrael).

Honoring Parents Confirms the Transmission of the Torah Fully Applicable in Israel

Honoring parents highlights the importance of each previous generation’s role in transmitting the Jewish tradition. It makes us aware of our place in the world, understanding that we are merely like dwarves standing on the shoulders of giants, with the previous generations having built towers of Torah and of faith and imbued Am Yisrael with sanctity. This outlook brings us to recognize the true historical connection between the Nation and the Land of Israel. Since our faith is based on the transmission of our ancestors; disrespect for parents would be disrespect for the tradition they bequeath to us, G-d forbid. In my weekly Kuzari class, we just discussed the importance of proving the truth of the Torah. The Jewish people knew about the Exodus, Hashem’s miracles during the desert wandering, the giving of the Torah, and leading the Israelites to the promised land, originally from personal experience, and afterward through uninterrupted tradition, (from parents to children) which is equal to the former (Rabbi Yehuda Halevi, The Kuzari 1:31). The prerequisite to accepting traditions from our ancestors is honoring our parents, the bearers of those traditions. The mitzvah of honoring parents is the fact that the very basis of our faith is what has been transmitted to us by our parents and ancestors, as it is written “Recall the days of old, ponder the years of each generation. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders and they will speak to you” (Devarim 32:7). We can only accept the traditions that we receive from our ancestors if we have an attitude of respect toward them (Based on Abarbanel, Shemot 20:12). Likewise, the more contemporary Torah scholar Rabbi David Elimelech Yoles conveys  a similar outlook. We received our faith from our parents and ancestors who transmitted to us the miracles and wonders that G-d performed for us during the Exodus from Egypt, in the desert, and at the revelation at Sinai. Therefore, showing disregard toward our parents and ancestors undermines the strength of the tradition we receive, for how can we know that our faith is true if we disrespect those who have transmitted it? (Sefer Keren le’David, Yitro). The ultimate purpose and destination of our uninterrupted tradition is its complete fulfillment in the Divinely imbued Holy Land: The mitzvot are primarily for those who dwell in the Land of Hashem.  “We were commanded to take possession of the Land that G-d, may He be blessed, gave to our forefathers, Avraham, Yitzchak, and Ya’acov; and we must not leave it in the hands of any other nation or let it remain desolate” (Addendum to Rambam’s Sefer HaMitzvot, Positive Commandment 4).

Honoring our Ancestors Entitles us to Our Ancestral Promise of Inheriting the Land

Although the mitzvah of honoring our parents is a rational, humanistic mitzvah, it is still connected – like all other mitzvot – specifically to Eretz Yisrael. Therefore, through promising the reward “that your days will be lengthened upon the land that Hashem, your G-d is giving you,” the Torah emphasizes that even mitzvot such as honoring our parents apply especially to Eretz Yisrael. When we observe the early tradition (of honoring our parents), we will be worthy of the rightful privilege of the early ones, which Hashem communicated to Avraham initially, “Go forth from your land ... to the land that I will show you ... To your offspring I will give this land” (Bereishit 12:1-7); “For all the land that you see, to you I will give it, and to your descendants forever” (Ibid. 13:15). This commitment was repeated to all the patriarchs. If Israel will honor the heritage of the patriarchs, the Divine promise regarding their connection to Eretz Yisrael will be fulfilled, and they will live long lives, “upon the land that Hashem, your G-d is giving you” (Rav Mordechai Greenberg, The Reward for Honoring Parents and Eretz Yisrael). As a reward for honoring our parents, we become honored to live an upright life in our homeland also called our Motherland and Fatherland. In a certain sense, the land of Israel is our parent, as all human souls are created at the Temple Mount. The Temple below is connected to the Temple above. From this place, the souls descend and ascend on the ladder (Kli Yakar, Bereishit 12:1). Perhaps we can explain that had the reward for honoring parents been merely longevity without the promise to live in the Land of Israel, it would have been a merely quantitative rather than qualitative promise, for a life lived in exile cannot be compared to the goodness of living in the Promised Land, as no life is as worthy as that lived in Eretz Yisrael. Rather than bowing our heads with a hunched over back through the effect of millennia of exile antisemitism, here in Israel we live to see the fulfillment of the prayer, “May the Merciful One break the yoke of exile from our neck, and may He lead us upright to our land” (Grace after Meals).