Latest Essays

For Ahad Haʿam and Hayyim Nahman Bialik, Shabbat was not about belief but about belonging. Through their Cultural Zionist vision, Shabbat emerges as the aesthetic, temporal, and cultural heart of Jewish identity—welcomed each week as a queen in a song meant to update the more traditional Shalom Aleichem.

It wasn’t until the late Second Temple period—shaped by Greek and Roman legal culture—that Torah law started to function as actual law.

Also known as מוקדם שהוא מאוחר בענין, “phrases written out of order,” Rabbi Eliezer’s 31st principle of exegesis helps solve interpretive difficulties, such as: Does Samuel really sleep in the Tabernacle next to the ark? Why is Lot’s property referred to as “Abraham’s nephew”? What does it mean that Pharaoh’s daughter washes on the Nile?

First attested to in the 10th century Chronicles of Moses, a midrash relates how Pharaoh had lions guarding the palace entrance, tearing up any unwanted visitors. Due to its popularity, it is also preserved in a 15th century mahzor, as part of its Aramaic targum to the Song of the Sea.

... and instead praise them!

Moses, an Egyptian prince who discovers he is a Hebrew, makes for a compelling movie. But is that the peshat, the straightforward meaning of the biblical story?

Philo (1st century C.E.) understands “God of Abraham and God of Isaac and God of Jacob” (LXX Exodus 3:15) as a divine name. Because the immortal nature of God cannot be directly associated with mortal human beings, and influenced by Greek principles dating back to the 6th–5th century B.C.E., Philo interprets Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as symbols of three paths to moral excellence: learning, nature, and practice.

Leah names her sons to express her longing for Jacob’s love, but eventually abandons that hope. When her daughter is born, Leah names her Dinah—from the noun דין (din), a silent cry for “justice” after being trapped in a marriage to Jacob, who did not love her. Growing up in the shadow of her mother’s marital agony, Dinah seeks a different life for herself. In the Bible’s only story to foreground a mother–daughter connection, she ventures beyond the safety of home to explore her non-Israelite neighbors.

Deemed loathsome from the very moment of her birth (Ezekiel 16), Jerusalem was unwashed, unsalted, and abandoned—left to flail in her own blood. In every sense, she grew to womanhood neglected and alone. With such a stark beginning, it is no wonder that she fails to engage lovingly and devotedly in her marriage to YHWH.

Wolves in the Bible are depicted negatively as ruthless predators. So why, in Jacob’s farewell poem (Genesis 49:27), is Benjamin described as a ravenous wolf who devours foes by day and divides the spoil by night? The answer lies in a time when the ancient Israelites lived as nomads or semi-nomads, raising flocks and carrying out surprise raids; thus, wolves were a proud symbol of strength, cunning, and success.

Rachel and Leah give Jacob their maidservants, Bilhah and Zilpah, as wives to bear children on their behalf. The four sons born to the maidservants are named by Rachel and Leah to express their own feelings and experiences of having more of “their” own children. Yet the Bible consistently calls them the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah and counts them as Jacob’s sons, part of the twelve tribes of Israel. Should Bilhah and Zilpah then not be considered matriarchs?

The biblical narrative presents Isaac bound on the altar and spared by an angel—but hints in the text suggest that in an earlier version Abraham actually sacrificed his son. Medieval midrash, projecting national grief and destruction onto the biblical story, imagines Isaac was killed and resurrected. In the 20th century, Jewish artists likewise depict Isaac as dead as a symbol of mourning over the Holocaust, war, and more recently October 7th.

The nativity stories in Matthew and Luke are deeply rooted in Jewish Scripture and Second Temple Judaism. Nevertheless, over the centuries they have accumulated interpretations that portray Jews as cruel, greedy, impure, or spiritually blind. A closer look at familiar claims—from Mary’s supposed threat of being stoned to the caricature of shepherds as social outcasts—shows how antisemitism often enters the Christmas story not through the Gospels themselves, but through their interpretation.

The Greek historian Herodotus, who visited Egypt in the 5th century B.C.E., reports that Egyptians would not kiss a Greek on the mouth or use any of their food implements—knife, fork, or pot—because Greeks ate cows, which Egyptians regarded as sacred. This background sheds light on the biblical account of Egyptians refusing to eat with Joseph’s brothers—or even with Joseph himself.

When Amnon presses his sister Tamar to sleep with him, she begs him to ask the king for her hand in marriage. Was such a marriage really an option in ancient Israel? After Amnon rapes Tamar, King David is angry, but silent. Why is it Absalom who feels compelled to avenge her?

The miracle of the jug of oil lasting eight days is first narrated in the Babylonian Talmud, centuries after the establishment of Chanukah. In 1891 Poland, Chaim Zelig Slonimski, an observant, science-minded Jew, denied the historicity of this miracle, claiming that he was following in the footsteps of Maimonides. Some of his enlightened colleagues—and even some secular Zionists—thought he was endangering people’s connection to Judaism and providing antisemites a pretext to mock the Talmud.

Job, overwhelmed by suffering, imagines the moments from womb to nursing in which he wishes he had died. His lament, however, preserves surprising evidence about how women once gave birth.

Jacob is renamed Israel after being wounded in his struggle with a divine being. The Torah then introduces the prohibition against eating the sciatic nerve, a commandment that has played little role in shaping Jewish identity. Remarkably, in medieval China, the Kaifeng Jews elevated this otherwise marginal rule into their defining communal name.

In the biblical narrative (Genesis 26, 28), Esau marries Judith, Basemath, and Mahalath. A later genealogical list of Edomite clans (Genesis 36) says that he married Adah, Aholibamah, and Basemath. To make sense of this contradiction, medieval commentaries offer creative backstories, yielding different tallies for the total number of Esau’s wives.

God commands Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac, and Abraham comes within moments of slaughtering him before being stopped by an angel. Behind the drama lies a carefully crafted, layered composition shaped by revisions, allusions, and cross-references that show how the Akedah, the binding of Isaac, took shape and grew over time.

Why would God make righteous people suffer just to test their faithfulness? With Job, the Bible is explicit that it was in response to Satan’s challenge, but what about Abraham? Jubilees (2^nd cent. C.E.), and later the Talmud and midrash, reimagine the Akedah to have been instigated by Mastema, the Satan, or jealous angels. The midrash goes further and envisions the demon Samael tempting Abraham to make him fail.

Sarah is absent from the biblical account of Isaac’s binding, and there’s no indication that Abraham even discussed God’s command with her. Would she have been an active participant, a faithful supporter, or a grief-stricken mother? Later interpreters filled in her role according to their religious and cultural contexts.

Rebecca endures a difficult pregnancy and inquires of YHWH, who reveals that the younger will surpass the older. Yet commentators hesitate to call her a prophet, perhaps because she withholds this revelation from Isaac and later deceives him when he moves to bless Esau. But far from mere guile, her actions mark her as a Kierkegaardian Knight of Faith—acting decisively in service of the divine, much like Abraham at the binding of Isaac.

In the 2nd century C.E., when Christianity emerged as a religion, theologians such as Justin and Chrysostom interpreted Paul’s letters to mean that Christians with faith in Jesus are Abraham’s spiritual descendants through Sarah. Jews, in contrast, are only his flesh descendants, banished like Hagar. Genesis Rabbah responds that after Sarah’s death, Abraham remarried Hagar—now called Keturah, “adorned” (kitra) with commandments and good deeds—and had many more children with her than he did with Sarah.

Samuel must piece together YHWH’s intention to anoint David. Elisha’s plan to save a widow and her sons unfolds in fits and starts.