Rabbi Dina Rosenberg

With the leasing of a new car, I found myself flipping through unfamiliar radio stations and rediscovering old favorites. One song in particular stopped me mid-drive: Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell. Singing along, I was caught off guard by how relevant her lyrics felt—to my life and to this week’s Torah portion:

“Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got
Till it’s gone
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot.”

In this week’s parsha, Chukat, we read about the death of Miriam—and immediately afterward, the Israelites find themselves without water. True to form, they begin to complain, but nowhere in their protest do they acknowledge the deeper loss: the spiritual well that flowed through Miriam’s merit.

According to Rabbeinu Bahya, Miriam’s care for her baby brother at the Nile was repaid by God with the miraculous well that sustained the people during their desert journey. Yet her contribution went unrecognized—until it was gone.

How often are we guilty of the same? We overlook the steady presence of people, values, or freedoms in our lives—only to realize their importance when they are no longer there.

As we welcome Shabbat and mark the Fourth of July, let us be mindful of the blessings we often take for granted. Let us celebrate not only the founding ideals of this country, but also the individuals—past and present—who make our freedoms possible. And may we strive to notice and give thanks before the “well” runs dry.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Independence Day.

You Are What You Think

The Torah teaches that children are sometimes held accountable for the sins of their parents. However, in this week’s parashah, Korach, we encounter a powerful exception.

Korach begins a rebellion against Moses, accusing him of hoarding divine power and authority. As a result of his uprising, Korach and his followers are swallowed by the earth. Yet surprisingly, his children are spared. Why?

Rashi explains that although Korach’s children were initially involved in the conspiracy, they experienced “a fleeting thought of repentance” (hirhur teshuvah) during the dispute. That one brief thought was powerful enough to change the trajectory of their lives.

Rabba Sharbat teaches that the Talmud in Megillah 14a says God elevated the children of Korach to the very heights of creation—b'rumo shel olam—bringing them close to God. Even more remarkably, the Talmud in Sanhedrin 110a teaches that the children of Korach went on to compose songs of praise to God—shira. These songs are immortalized in the Psalms attributed to the “Sons of Korach.”

Together, these teachings affirm a powerful message: our thoughts matter. A single moment of positive intention can change our spiritual direction. When we think well of ourselves, we are more likely to grow into that vision. When we speak negatively to ourselves, our spirit becomes heavier and dimmer.

This Shabbat, may we fill our minds with hope, with teshuvah, and with kindness. And may those thoughts uplift us—and inspire us to share light with the world.

This week's parashah tells of the twelve scouts whom Moses sent to explore the land of Canaan. They all found it to be a wonderful land, but only two of them, Caleb and Joshua, were confident they could conquer it. The other ten said the inhabitants of the land were too strong for them. This negative report demoralized the Israelites, who wanted to return to Egypt. God, angered by their lack of faith, sentenced them to wander in the wilderness until the older generation died; of all those who were adults at the time of the Exodus, only Caleb and Joshua would enter the Promised Land.

In the Etz Hayim Chumash and some other places, today's parashah is called "Shelach Lecha". But in Sefaria and some other places, it is just called "Shelach". In contrast, parshat Lech Lecha is always called "Lech Lecha". In what way is the "Lecha" of today's parashah different from the "Lecha" of Lech Lecha?

In Lech Lecha, God commands Abram to leave the land of his fathers to find his true destiny, to become the first Jew. "Lech Lecha" can be translated as either "go for yourself" or "go to yourself", and is clearly what God wants Abram to do.

To understand what's different in this week's parashah, let us look at Moses' retelling of this incident in chapter 1 of Deuteronomy: "See, the Lord your God has placed the land at your disposal. Go up, take possession, as the Lord, the God of your fathers, promised you. Fear not and be not dismayed. Then all of you came to me and said, 'Let us send men ahead to reconnoiter the land for us…'"

The scouting expedition was not God's idea, but that of the Israelites, who didn't have confidence in God's promise to deliver the land of Canaan to them. God gives people free will, and acceded to their request for the scouting expedition. But according to Rashi, when God said "Shelach lecha anashim...", God meant: send the scouts for yourself, of your own accord, not to fulfill My commandment. So the word "Lecha" at the beginning of today's parashah is actually a negative, indicating a lack of faith in God. It is not surprising, therefore, that some omit it and call the parashah "Shelach". Etz Hayim includes "Lecha" in the name of the parashah, but actually omits it in the English translation of the text.

Self-doubt and lack of faith in God led the Israelites to ask for the scouting expedition, which was a sin. Their terrified reaction to the negative report of ten of the scouts was another sin, and led to disaster.

Similarly, self-doubt and fear can lead us to make bad life choices, leading to bad outcomes. May we all have self-confidence, confidence in God, and the wisdom to make choices that will lead to good lives for ourselves and for all people.
[Alan Legatt, Guest Musings]

Last night, as I finished the (relatively) calm moments of putting my children to bed, I received a text from my sister: “Which news station are you watching?” I quickly picked up my phone—and was stunned to see the headlines reporting that Israel had launched a preemptive strike on Iran’s nuclear facilities.

My immediate reaction was to check on my family. I messaged my cousins in Israel: Are you okay? Their responses came back filled with anxiety and uncertainty.

I found myself wrestling with the same question that has echoed in the hearts of so many: How is it that such a small country stands at the center of so many global and regional tensions? For years, the Iranian regime has openly declared its desire to destroy Israel. Israel continues to live under the threat of annihilation—an existential danger not just to its people, but to the ideals of democracy and stability in the region.

The Westchester Jewish Council captured this moment well:

At this critical time, we stand in unwavering solidarity with the people of Israel and with the brave members of the Israel Defense Forces who are working to defend the nation and its citizens.

Each weekday morning in our Shacharit service, we recite Tachanun, our prayers of supplication. Included in that liturgy is this timeless plea:

שׁוֹמֵר יִשְׂרָאֵל
שְׁמֹר שְׁאֵרִית יִשְׂרָאֵל,
וְאַל יֹאבַד יִשְׂרָאֵל, הָאוֹמְרִים: שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל.

Guardian of Israel, guard the remnant of Israel.
Do not let Israel, who proclaim “Sh’ma Yisrael,” be lost.
We do not know what will happen next. But we pray.

We pray for the safety of Israel.

We pray for all civilians—Israeli, Iranian, and others—who are caught in the crosshairs.

We pray that God will shelter Israel in love and spread over her the sukkat shalom, the canopy of peace.

As we enter into Shabbat, we pray for what feels most elusive:

A Shabbat of calm.
A Shabbat of peace.
A Shabbat of healing.

Parshat Nasso: The Power of Blessing

This week’s parsha, Nasso, contains one of the most beloved passages in the Torah — Birkat Kohanim, the Priestly Blessing (Numbers 6:24–26):

May God bless you and protect you.
May God shine His face upon you and be gracious to you.
May God lift up His face to you and grant you peace.

At first glance, it’s a simple blessing of goodness and peace. But the commentators point out something deeper: these are not blessings for wealth or success alone, but for inner light, for being seen and held in a relationship with the Divine — and ultimately, for shalom, peace in its fullest sense: wholeness and harmony.

In our often chaotic lives, it’s easy to focus on what we lack. This blessing reminds us to center what matters most — relationships, grace, presence, and peace — and to become channels of blessing for those around us.

As we enter Shabbat, may we take these ancient words to heart: to bless one another with kindness, to seek connection and understanding, and to create moments of wholeness in our families and community.