This week’s Torah portion,
Vayeitzei, from the book of Genesis, begins with the well-known story of Jacob’s ladder. Jacob is running from his home, the only place he has ever lived, because he stole the birthright and special blessing from his twin brother Esau and Esau wants to harm him.
Before Jacob reaches his final destination (a safe “harbor” at his uncle’s house), it becomes dark and he must stop for the night. He is scared, afraid, and alone. He goes to sleep under the stars (with a rock for a pillow) and dreams that God is standing next to him, with a ladder reaching up to the heavens. Angels (messengers of God) are going up and down the ladder. In his dream, God makes a promise to Jacob: Jacob will receive God’s protection, shelter, clothing, food, and eventually return home safely. Jacob wakes up suddenly and says: “Surely God was in this place and I, I didn’t know it!”
Jacob’s encounter with God is a moment of light in the darkness. It brings him a glimpse of hope for a future of redemption, a future of safety and success. It gives Jacob something to hold onto during this time of uncertainty, transition, and anxiety.
For many of us, the situation of the world today leaves us feeling like Jacob at the beginning of our Torah portion. We feel on edge, anxious. When will the war end in Israel? How do we stop the unmitigated tidal wave of antisemitism that has seeped into almost every aspect of our society? What will our future bring? Can we feel God standing by our side, reassuring us with promises for a bright future of hope, survival, light, and life?
I felt such hope earlier yesterday as I read the following update from Anna Kislanski, the CEO of the Israel Movement for Progressive Judaism (the Israeli Reform Movement’s parent body). I hope it will inspire you as well:
Between the evenings,
Between light and darkness,
Between day and night,
Between life and death,
I search for the way home.
(Rachel Bluwstein)
Dear Friends,
This week, we marked the third month of the Jewish calendar – Kislev. As the days grow shorter and the darkness of winter deepens, we look forward to the light of Hanukkah. Kislev teaches us to embrace contradictions: it holds both darkness and the anticipation of light. This metaphor feels especially significant this year, as we navigate uncertainty and adversity, while also holding on to hope and striving for moments of light and renewal.
It has now been eight days since the ceasefire came into effect along the northern border. Eight days during which we know – and will be reminded of later this month – that miracles can happen. In these days of ceasefire, sirens warning of rocket or drone threats have almost completely stopped. It is a fragile situation that encompasses great opportunity.
For the first time in over a year, many residents of the North have returned to visit their homes. They found their homes, not quite as they had left them, physically or mentally... Sidewalks and roads covered in debris, disconnected electrical cables, damaged water, sewage, and drainage infrastructures, as well as shrapnel that could cause severe injuries. The sights are heartbreaking, and the experience of visiting one’s home in these circumstances is both difficult and traumatic. The mix of contradictory hope and despair is hard to process.
This week, we also received news of two Israeli-American hostages. A video of 20-year-old Idan Alexander was released by Hamas, offering a sign of life, while we learned of the death of 21-year-old Omer Neutra, who was killed on October 7 and whose body has been held in Gaza since then. Additionally, Itay Svirsky (38), who was taken hostage from Kibbutz Be'eri and killed in captivity, was recovered and returned to Israel. The contrast in these fates is overwhelming. We must continue to work relentlessly toward securing the quick and safe return of ALL hostages, striving for a permanent ceasefire – both in the north and the south – and bringing this war to an end.
As the leader of a liberal Israeli religious and social movement, I take comfort in knowing that, little by little, we are able to return to observing holy and special days in our congregations—days that were not properly marked last year due to the war. These moments help restore our spirits. But no restoration, comfort, or healing will be complete without the return of the hostages. Miracles will not repair the fabric of our society, but rather the difficult and courageous decisions we make moving forward: standing up for the values that define us and the future we envision, pursuing peace, life, and unity, even in the face of opposition.
Yours in peace,
