Much attention has been given to the ascension of Zohran Mamdani to the mayoralty of New York City.
But whether the future of the left wing of the Democratic Party is more accurately presaged by the election of a radical as mayor than by the downfall of a progressive governor is far from clear.
To read what I’m referring to, please click here.
Chazal describe the Jewish people as a miracle. Our foremothers, for instance, were physically incapable, the Midrash informs us, of bearing children. Yet, despite the laws of nature, they did.
Jewish history, no less, testifies to the miraculous existence of Klal Yisrael. Despite the vicissitudes of our history, our repeated scatterings and exiles, and the insane but ever-present desire of some to wipe us out, we have persevered, and persevere, as a people.
The alpha-point of our peoplehood is in our ancestors’ exodus from Egypt, their leaving behind of their servitude to men for the holy calling of servitude to Hashem. And in this week’s parshah, we read of the preparation for doing that, which includes the first Pesach sacrifice and, perplexingly, the placing of some of the animal’s blood on each Jewish home’s doorposts and lintel — a ritual referred to as an ōs — a “sign” (Shemos, 12:13).
But ōs can also mean a letter of the aleph-beis, the Hebrew alphabet.
The celebrated 16th century Torah luminary, Rabbi Yehudah Loew ben Betzalel, the Maharal, famously associates the number seven with nature, and the next number, eight, with “above” or “beyond” nature – what we would call the miraculous.
Picture the Jewish doorways in Egypt just before the exodus. Imagine away the edifices themselves, leaving only the sign of the blood, in two vertical parallel lines along the doorposts and one horizontal one, above and connecting them.
The image is that, in ksav ashuris, of a ches, the eighth letter of the Hebrew alphabet.
© 2026 Rabbi Avi Shafran
A Substack post about evolution is here.
Future Substack post links won’t be posted on this site. So if you have interest in reading them each week, please subscribe (it’s free) to my Substack. Thanks.
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An essay I wrote about the historic pattern of antisemitism appears at Religion News Service and can be read here.
Displeasure over Kevin Roberts’ refusal to distance the Heritage Foundation from Tucker Carlson has yielded something good: A boost to Mike Pence.
To read more about that something, please click here.
Only one of the Ten Plagues visited upon Par’oh and Mitzrayim elicits a declaration of guilt and admission of Hashem’s righteousness from the Egyptian leader.
“This time I have sinned,” Par’oh admits. “Hashem is the righteous One, and I and my nation are the wicked ones.” (Shemos 9:27).
It is the plague of hail. Why, of all the other punishments, that one?
What occurs is that the answer may lie in the Midrash brought by Rashi (ibid, 24), that each piece of hail contained a flame, and that water and fire “made peace with each other” in order “to do the will of their Creator.”
Par’oh was an idolater. The Egyptians worshipped the Nile and, according to historians, the sun. Idolatry entails choosing a “team” to be on. One can be on Team Nile, Team Sun, Team Water, Team Fire…
Monotheism entails the recognition that all the “teams” (elohos) are subservient to the one Creator of all the elements (Elohim).
Perhaps Par’oh was forced to confront and internalize that fact by having witnessed, during the plague of hail, the “partnership” of opposites.
Truth be told, we are all comprised of opposites: souls and bodies. Each has its own desideratum. The only way to “make peace” between them is endeavoring to fulfill the will of our Creator, which requires both elements to work together.
© 2026 Rabbi Avi Shafran
You can read my Substack offering “Dear Mayor Mamdani” here.
Some of Vice President Vance’s recent comments leave me underwhelmed. I elaborate here.
As the Jewish population in ancient Egypt swelled, the Torah tells us that vayakutzu – The Egyptians “were disgusted” (Shemos 1:12). Rashi explains that “they were disgusted with their [own] lives.”
A superficial reading of vayakutzu would lead to a simpler understanding, that the Egyptians, out of fear (as pesukim 8 and 9 describe), found the Jews, not themselves,disgusting. What is the significance of Rashi’s comment?
The Mei Marom (Rabbi Yaakov Moshe Charlop, 1882-1951) posits that the pasuk as Rashi explains it is imparting a psychological truth: It is impossible to embitter the life of another unless one is embittered with himself. Anyone who appreciates and cherishes his own life will perforce be concerned about the lives of others.
And so, Rabbi Charlop concludes, if one sees someone oppressing another, one can surmise that the oppressor’s cruelty is fundamentally sourced in self-loathing.
© 2025 Rabbi Avi Shafran
In a good example of Talmudic humor, Rav Nachman reacted to Rav Yitzcḥak’s recounting of what Rabi Yochanan said – that “Our patriarch Yaakov did not die” – with a wry question: “So was it for naught that the eulogizers eulogized him and the embalmers embalmed him and the buriers buried him?” (Taanis, 5b).
The way to understand the contention that Yaakov didn’t die, I think (and it’s borne out of the verses quoted in that Gemara), is that he lives on — as the patriarch whose children, all of them, became the progenitors of Klal Yisrael — through the eternal Jewish people.
The Midrash in Vayeishev, commenting on Yosef’s dream about the sun, moon and stars bowing to him, has Yaakov wondering, “Who revealed to him that my [secret] name is ‘sun’?”
It’s interesting to reflect (pun intended) on the fact that the moon – the symbol, in its waxing and waning, and in its role in the Jewish calendar, of Klal Yisrael – reflects the light of the sun. We reflect Yaakov, are the continuation of his life.
Even more interesting, according to the Tikkunei Zohar (brought by the Shela and the Bach [Orach Chaim 281]), “the image of Yaakov is carved out [i.e. visible] in the moon.”
© 2025 Rabbi Avi Shafran