Tag: Rabbi Efrat Zarren-Zohar

It can’t happen here,” thought the Jews of Susa on the eve of their planned extermination, “not here; this is the country of Cyrus the Great!” They were right to be shocked. Persia’s emperor Cyrus had allowed – and helped – the Jews to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the Temple after the Babylonian Exile... The incredulity of Persian Jews when Haman the Wicked so easily convinced King Assuerus to massacre the Jews is understandable. If the fact itself was shocking, the ease with which Assuerus’ acquiesce to betray his ancient allies was outstanding. He had no animosity towards Jews. He was just a frivolous monarch, interested in hunts and parties, akin to a modern politician who spends his tenure golfing.

This week is Parashat Tetzaveh, which details the dress of the Kohanim / the priests and the aspects of the altar, on which the priests performed sacrifices. This past week, I also taught an evening adult bat mitzvah class at Beth Torah Benny Rok Campus about Shabbat. What to teach that wouldn’t be... routine, obvious, maybe boring, G!D forbid? So I started by putting onto the classroom table my own challah board, knife, challah cover and some salt. And I figured I would begin the whole lesson with a question that they might not know the answer to in order to capture their attention after a long day: Why the salt? Why do we traditionally dip our bread into a bit of salt or sprinkle salt on the bread on Friday night? Total quiet— I now had their attention, success!

In Parashat Terumah, the Children of Israel embark on a remarkable endeavor. They undertake the creation of a space miniature in size, yet infinite in purpose: the mishkan (tabernacle), a portable temple designed to represent the Divine Presence accompanying them in their journey. This mishkan was a cubic structure within which the Israelites transported the tablets of the Covenant upon their shoulders throughout their desert wanderings toward the Promised Land. Its significance was profound, serving as the material vessel inviting the divine presence to dwell among them…

After several years of teaching, I became a pulpit rabbi. Since I had really only seen my father in the pulpit, I decided to ask some notable rabbis how they ran their synagogues. I had a series of lunches and learned of the differences in the way a variety of rabbis thought about the institutions they lead. One was broadly inspirational and philosophical. He spoke of the synagogue as a sacred community that thirsted for the principles of Torah...

Yitro, Moses’s father-in-law, (for whom the parsha is named this week) sees Moses judging all of Israel’s matters by himself, thus forcing people to wait from morning until evening. He tells Moses that he will only succeed in causing the nation and himself to become weary. What was so onerous about judging all those cases? Is it not possible that Moses simply had such a brilliant legal mind that he could handle this formidable task? Sforno argues that Moses was biting off way more than any human being could chew…

One of the most striking interpretations of this week's Torah portion Beshalach comes from a Midrash describing the splitting of the Red Sea. In the midst of this miraculous event, the Midrash presents a conversation between two anonymous men called Reuben and Shimon, as they cross the seabed. “In Egypt, we were immersed in mortar, and here we are still surrounded by mortar,” they remarked. “In Egypt, we had the mortar that accompanied the bricks, and here at the Red Sea, we have the mud caused by the splitting waters.” Amidst the miracle, all they could see was mud and dirt; to them, mud was mud, this time, in a new place. Their view was clouded, preventing them from grasping the significance of the moment.

In normal times, I approach Parashat Bo in the usual way. I dive deep into fine points of the story and the language of the text. I carefully examine Pharaoh’s response to each plague (was he adamant in his refusal, or ambivalent?). This is, after all, how we Jews study text, assuming that every detail of the text, even the smallest turn of phrase, contains profound meaning for us. But these are not normal times. I feel called to zoom out from the fine points of the text and ask: What is the overall message of this portion for me this year? What do the broad strokes of this story teach about a time of massive social upheaval?

Have you ever had a CAT scan or MRI? They send you to a room that looks like something out of Star Trek. If you are like me, you shudder to even think about it. There is something about the machinery, the clanking noise, the lights and the freezing room that is just plain scary. Most of all, however, is that table in the middle. You climb up and have to lie on a very narrow space and just wait for the exam to be over. In Hebrew, a narrow space is called Meytzarim, "straits" geographically, but also any place that constricts you physically or personally. It is also embedded in the word Mitzrayim, which is the Hebrew name for the Land of Egypt.

The ancient and so-far uncured disease of “anti-Semitism” is reflected in this week’s Torah portion. Pharaoh tells his people: “Behold, the people of the children of Israel are too many and too mighty for us. Come let us deal wisely with them …lest they join themselves unto our enemies and fight against us…”(Shemot/ Exodus 1:9-10). Pharaoh’s description of the situation is not only wrong but reflects wild paranoia... The crazed statements of Pharaoh led to the enslavement of the Israelites.

“How was your vacation in Israel?” a friend asked. Ha! I wanted to laugh. It was in no way a vacation, especially with the Houthi alarm service (not recommended on Yelp!) waking us up every night of Chanukkah between 2-5am. How do people there deal with this?!? And by this, I mean more than missile attacks from Yemen every night (though that is certainly a large piece of the horror). We were staying in Beit Shemesh (midway between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv)…

This week’s parsha, Vayechi, concludes the book of Bereisheet / Genesis, and with it the story of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs. When we read the book of Shemot / Exodus next week, this family will have become a nation. Vayechi describes how Yaakov / Jacob dies after blessing his sons, and the haftarah connected with this parsha describes how King David dies after giving his last will and testament hundreds of years later.

The new secular year 2025 has begun, and the title of this Dvar Torah is my advice to you and my own resolution to myself. In this week’s Parashat Vayigash, we find two very different responses to life — one negative and one positive. When Yosef / Joseph brings his father to meet Pharaoh, Pharaoh asks Yaakov / Jacob a simple question: “How many years have you lived?” (Bereisheet / Genesis 47:8). His reply is is one of the saddest statements of any of our ancestors!

Chanukah has always been a season of light and resilience. Each flicker of the menorah’s candles reminds us of miracles, but also of the courage it takes to stand tall when the odds feel stacked against us. This year, as I reflect on the story of the Maccabees, I can’t help but think about Wicked. The recent film adaptation has reignited conversations about its themes of defiance and identity, and it’s easy to see why. Like the Maccabees, Elphaba, the misunderstood “Wicked Witch,” refuses to let others define her. Both stories remind us of the power of reclaiming narratives and standing up for what matters most.

Parashat VaYeishev introduces us to Joseph, a young dreamer whose journey begins with familial discord and ends with transformative leadership. His story of resilience, vision, and reconciliation speaks powerfully to challenges faced in the contemporary Jewish world. In VaYeishev, Joseph's dreams inspire him, but his youthful arrogance and his father’s overt favoritism create rifts between him and his brothers. Their jealousy leads to betrayal, setting Joseph on a path filled with hardship and uncertainty.

This recent Thanksgiving I was in Boston visiting my uncle (my father’s only brother), my aunt and their children and grandchildren. My sister and her son also flew in. The night before Thanksgiving dinner, my sister, my husband Avi and I all had dinner together (but without the other family members), and she shared a difficult issue she was wrestling with regarding her husband. Wrestling… it’s what we often do with family, right?

The Torah repeatedly portrays transformative journeys where departure from home signifies not just a physical relocation but a profound spiritual evolution. We saw this with Abraham and Sarah in Parashat Lech Lecha a few weeks ago, and this week we see it in Parashat Vayeitzei with Jacob, their grandchild. In Lech Lecha, G!D commands Abraham: “Go forth from your land, your birthplace, and your father’s house, to the land I will show you.” (Genesis 12:1) Abraham’s departure is a leap of faith. He leaves behind the familiar to establish a covenantal relationship with God. This journey symbolizes the move from comfort to challenge, from the known to the unknown, as Abraham becomes the father of a nation. Jacob’s journey begins under different circumstances. Fleeing from the wrath of Esau, Jacob embarks on a path filled with uncertainty: “And Jacob left Be’er Sheva and went toward Haran.” (Genesis 28:10)

The practice of thanksgiving is meant to awaken us to the blessings we might otherwise take for granted. But for many of us, Thanksgiving this year is overshadowed both by the violence in Israel, Gaza, and Lebanon, and by the strong feelings many of us have about it — feelings often at odds with others around the holiday table. So allow me to offer a different kind of gratitude practice in the hope that it might provide a little solace, and even a little coexistence... spirituality in general is not about denying the presence of suffering, or even evil, in the world.

I really identify with this Torah portion of Chayei Sarah, because parts of it parallel aspects of my own life. After Sarah dies at the outset of this week's parsha and following Abraham’s purchase of the Cave of Machpelah in Hevron to serve as her burial site, we come to the story of Rebecca becoming the wife of Isaac, Abraham’s son.