Hebrew Synagogue

"The ancient Kingdom of Cush was centred in Nubia, principally within the territory of modern Sudan, extending at different periods along the Nile and maintaining connections with the regions farther south and east."—רםי בן זאב

Chabad's ‘emissaries’ are representatives of Chabad, appointed to advance the movement's religious teachings, objectives and institutional mission. They are not, by virtue of that appointment, emissaries of Hashem. The Hebrew term שליח (shaliach) is particularly important here because it raises the question of who appointed the individual and what authority was delegated. The Tanakh provides a useful distinction. In Devarim 13:1, we are instructed: את כל הדבר אשר אנכי מצוה אתכם אתו תשמרו לעשות לא תסף עליו ולא תגרע ממנו “Everything that I command you, you shall observe to do; you shall neither add to it nor diminish from it.” The authority of the Torah does not originate with a rabbi, a religious movement, or an institution. Nor can any of these claim that their particular interpretation possesses divine authority merely because they teach in Hashem's name. Equally, serving a religious institution and serving Hashem are not necessarily the same thing, even when the institution understands its mission as divine service. The above photograph and accompanying post make Chabad's organisational identity particularly clear. The participants are described as Chabad emissaries, gathered at Chabad World Headquarters. That establishes their institutional affiliation, not a divine commission. And this leads to the more consequential Halakhic question: When the teachings, customs or authority of a particular religious movement are presented to Jews, are they being clearly distinguished from the commandments of Hashem? That is the distinction I would emphasise. The issue is not Chabad’s use of the Latin word emissary, nor even the existence of religious representatives. It is whether the authority of an institution, or of its leaders, is ever confused with the authority of the Torah itself. RAMI

There is no original colour photographs of Hannah Szenes (also spelled Senesh), who was executed in 1944. Although colour photography existed during her lifetime, it was far from commonplace and no original images in colour of Hannah exist. Hannah’s courage, sacrifice and legacy require no artificial embellishment. Let us remember her as she was, without resorting to AI-generated images that fabricate her likeness and risk presenting fiction as historical fact.

Rabbi Hirsch appears to confuse the political fortunes of American Jewry with the destiny of Am Israel, the Jewish Nation. They are not the same. The United States is a republic founded 250 years ago, whose political institutions, national identity and civic traditions are neither the foundation nor the guarantor of Judaism. Whatever influence America exercises over Israel exists within a political relationship; it does not confer religious authority over the Jewish Nation. There is also a deeper theological question. Reform Judaism permits departures from traditional Halakha and understands religious law differently from those who regard Torah as eternally binding. That distinction matters when political assimilation is presented as a measure of Jewish security or success. The experience of German Jewry before the Shoah should remind us of the limitations of assimilation. German patriotism, cultural integration and civic achievement did not ultimately protect Jews from persecution. Yet the lesson is not that Jews should reject citizenship or participation in public life. It is that neither can replace Jewish identity or guarantee Jewish survival. A Jew may be a loyal American, but being American is not what makes him a Jew. Our covenant predates the United States by millennia and will not rise or fall with the fortunes of Donald Trump, the Republican Party or any other political movement. The question is not whether the so-called Golden Age of American Jewry is ending. It is whether American Jews have allowed their understanding of Jewish identity to become so entangled with American political life that they mistake the fortunes of one for the destiny of the other. RAMI

I find it deeply troubling that the official X account of the State of Israel, the world’s only Jewish state, should publicly celebrate a religious festival associated with forms of worship expressly rejected by the Torah. Vayikra 18:3 and 20:23 warn Am Israel against adopting the religious customs of other nations. Devarim 12:30–31 goes further, warning us against following their forms of worship. Our Sages devoted an entire Masechet, Avodah Zarah, to examining the boundaries between peaceful coexistence and participation in foreign religious practices. We are commanded to conduct ourselves justly towards others. We are not commanded to endorse their religious observances. There is a profound difference between wishing the people of India peace and prosperity and wishing them a blessed religious festival. The State of Israel may maintain diplomatic friendships with every nation on earth. But surely the Jewish state, of all nations, should understand that friendship does not require the celebration of religious practices contrary to the Torah. Our obligation is not to condemn others for their beliefs, but neither is it to compromise our own. Am Israel was commanded to be distinct among the nations, not indistinguishable from them. RAMI

Shabbat Shalom. A gentle reminder that Halakha requires us to safeguard the sanctity of G-D’s Name. The Tetragrammaton should not be used casually or decoratively, particularly in social media images and videos. See Rambam, Hilkhot Yesodei HaTorah 6:1–2, and Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 276. We can invoke Hashem’s blessings without displaying His sacred Name in this manner. רםי בן זאב

When the World’s Grief Becomes Our Own The deaths of nine people in the Learjet crash in Florida are heartbreaking. Behind every name is a life, and behind every life are people whose world has changed forever. The scale of their loss is difficult to comprehend. Yet we must also consider what happens when tragedies enter the lives of millions of strangers through an endless stream of news. Today, suffering anywhere can reach us instantly. We are encouraged to watch, listen, react, comment and share. Each repetition invites us to absorb grief that is not our own; each share carries that distress into someone else’s day. Multiply this by the tragedies placed before us daily. How much sorrow, fear and helplessness are we taking into ourselves? What does this leave us able to give to the people who actually depend upon us? We can feel compassion for strangers, pray for those bereaved and help where we can. But compassion does not require us to watch someone’s final moments or repeatedly immerse ourselves in the details of their death. Our Sages teach the importance of guarding our eyes. That principle should also inform how we approach the screens in our hands: we must exercise judgment about what we allow into our minds and hearts. News can inform us. It can also turn suffering into spectacle, presenting repeated exposure as the duty of an informed person. We should question that demand. Before watching or sharing, pause. Does this help anyone? Does it equip me to act? Or am I simply absorbing distress and passing it on? We must be cautious about what we consume and what we place before others. We can care deeply while setting limits. Our attention, our peace of mind and our capacity to care deserve protection. RAMI

"Melakhim I 8:39 places that knowledge with G-D alone. Public admiration cannot supply what human beings do not possess: complete knowledge of another person’s inner life." —רםי בן זאב

A remarkable story from the UK, where a family dog reportedly detected a baby’s racing heartbeat and helped save the child’s life. Perhaps it is no coincidence that the Hebrew word for dog is kelev (כלב). The word can be playfully divided into כ (ke, meaning “like” or “as”) and לב (lev, meaning “heart”). Thus, kelev can be understood poetically as “like a heart.” In Jewish tradition, we write G-D, omitting a letter out of reverence for Hashem. Given the extraordinary loyalty, devotion and love that dogs show us, perhaps we should consider extending a little of that reverence to our four-legged companions. After all, perhaps it is time we started writing D-G. RAMI

Bob, firstly, I am deeply sorry for the loss of your sister, and for the suffering she endured during her life. Losing her mother at such a young age, and subsequently facing difficulties that none of us can fully comprehend, must have been extraordinarily painful. I would never presume to judge her, nor would I question the love and understanding you clearly have for her. I also understand why such experiences might lead you to question G-D, His justice, or even His existence. These are not trivial questions, and I would never insult your intelligence or diminish your grief by pretending that I possess simple answers to them. But there is an important distinction between judging someone who has taken their own life and holding a conviction about the sanctity of life. As a Jew, I am bound by Torah and Halakhah. I do not expect you, or anyone who is not Jewish, to accept those obligations. Nevertheless, I cannot abandon them simply because the circumstances surrounding an individual’s death are heartbreaking. Nor do I believe that every tragedy can be explained as an act of divine punishment or that suffering demonstrates a failure of faith or character. I do not know why your sister suffered, and I would never claim to know why her mother died. What I do believe is that compassion and moral conviction need not be enemies. We can recognise the profound suffering that sometimes leads a person to despair, refuse to condemn that individual, and still maintain that deliberately ending a human life is not the answer we should encourage. Your sister deserves to be remembered for the entirety of her life, not merely the circumstances of her death. And you deserve to have your grief heard without being subjected to judgement or a personal lecture. Thank you for sharing something so deeply personal. I wish you peace, Bob. RAMI

Ben should know better. A so-called Orthodox Jewish man, particularly one who engages with the Tanakh more than, shall we say, once a year, ought to understand that gambling is frowned upon in Jewish law, not merely because it produces nothing of tangible value, but because it raises important questions about how wealth is acquired and our responsibilities towards our fellow human beings. The Gemara, in מסכת סנהדרין (Masechet Sanhedrin 24b), discusses the concept of משחק בקוביא (mesachek bekubia), one who gambles, and examines why such conduct is viewed negatively. One of the central concerns is that gambling does not constitute productive economic activity. Rather than creating something of value through labour, enterprise or service, wealth simply changes hands according to chance, with the additional Halakhic concern that the person surrendering the money may not have genuinely consented to the loss in the manner required for a valid transaction. The Gemara also considers whether someone whose livelihood depends entirely upon gambling can be regarded as contributing meaningfully to society. There is a fundamental moral distinction between earning wealth through productive endeavour and acquiring it through another person’s misfortune. For me to “win,” someone else must lose. My gain is dependent upon their loss. And that, surely, is a lesson Ben ought to have learned long ago. RAMI

Perhaps that is G-D’s intention: shouting does not make a statement more intelligent, just as profanity does not make it more witty.

Barbara Barrie’s death is not an occasion for me to sit in judgement upon her, her suffering or the circumstances that led her to make this decision. Those things were hers, and ultimately G-D alone knows the entirety of what she endured. But neither should compassion for an individual require us to remain silent about the principle involved. Judaism does not regard suicide as a legitimate exercise of personal autonomy. Our lives are precious precisely because they are not ours to dispose of. Life is entrusted to us by G-D, and the obligation to preserve it is among the most fundamental principles of Torah. Assisted suicide raises an additional and deeply serious question because another person becomes involved in deliberately bringing about a death. There is an enormous moral distinction between relieving suffering, declining extraordinary intervention in circumstances permitted by halachah, and intentionally causing a human life to end. None of this requires us to condemn Barbara. Jewish law itself teaches us to be extraordinarily cautious before judging someone who has taken their own life, because we cannot know the anguish, fear or state of mind in which the act occurred. We can therefore mourn a fellow Jew, have compassion for the suffering that brought her to this point, and refuse to judge what only G-D can fully know, while still saying something that our society increasingly finds difficult to say: suicide is not the answer to suffering, and intentionally ending human life is not made right simply by calling it a choice. May her memory be for a blessing. ברוך דיין האמת RAMI

"The mitzvah of ביקור חולים, bikur cholim, visiting the sick, gives this kindness a definite place in Jewish life. A person’s illness places a responsibility upon those around them. We must notice, make time and respond."—רםי בן זאב

"A Jew may choose not to eat meat as a matter of personal dietary preference, provided that this choice is not elevated into a claim that the Torah's permitted foods are inherently forbidden."—רםי בן זאב

The Measure of Wholeness | מדת השלמות Bekhorot 38 | בכורות לח Introduction | הקדמה In מסכת בכורות (Bekhorot) 38, the Sages examine blemishes affecting the eyes of a firstborn animal, distinguishing between conditions that disqualify it from the altar and those that do not. Their careful examination teaches that holiness demands discernment, not superficial judgement. Hidden Meaning | פירוש נסתר The eyes represent more than physical sight. They symbolise our capacity to recognise truth, perceive holiness and distinguish between appearances and reality. The Torah teaches, "You shall not follow after your heart and after your eyes" (במדבר 15:39). Sight can reveal truth, but it can also mislead when governed by desire. The Sages distinguish between different conditions of the eye because not every apparent imperfection represents the same reality. Likewise, a person may appear righteous while concealing corruption, or appear spiritually diminished while possessing extraordinary purity of heart. True discernment requires examining what lies beneath the surface. Modern Day Application | יישום מודרני We live in an age when appearances frequently determine reputation. Wealth suggests success, confidence suggests wisdom, and public recognition suggests virtue. Yet none necessarily reveals the character of a person. Bekhorot 38 reminds us that judgement requires knowledge, patience and precision. Before condemning another person, we must distinguish between an actual failing and something merely perceived as one. Equally, we must examine ourselves. Our greatest spiritual blemishes may not be visible to others, but they remain known to G-D. Reflection | הרהור The question is not simply whether our eyes function, but whether we see correctly. Do we recognise goodness when it appears without splendour? Do we overlook wrongdoing when it is concealed beneath respectability? Spiritual vision begins when truth becomes more important than appearances. Parable | משל A merchant brought two vessels before a wise man. One was beautifully decorated but cracked within. The other was plain, yet perfectly sound. The merchant praised the decorated vessel. The wise man filled both with water. The beautiful vessel leaked, while the plain vessel retained every drop. He said, "The value of a vessel is revealed not by its decoration, but by what it can faithfully hold." So too, the worth of a person is revealed through integrity rather than outward splendour. Prayer | תפלה רבונו של עולם, פקח את עינינו לראות אמת, והסר מלבנו משפט שוא. תן לנו חכמה להבחין בין מראה חיצוני ובין טהרת הלב. למדנו לדון בצדק, להכיר בטוב שבאחרים, ולתקן את חסרונותינו בענוה. יהי רצון שנלך בדרכיך בלב טהור ובעינים נאמנות. אמן Master of the Universe, open our eyes to truth and remove false judgement from our hearts. Grant us wisdom to distinguish outward appearance from purity of heart. Teach us to judge justly, recognise goodness in others, and correct our own shortcomings with humility. May we walk in Your ways with pure hearts and faithful eyes. Amen. Rami ben Ze’ev רםי בן זאב עובד השם #talmud