Shabbat Messages

This week’s Torah portion, Beha’alotcha, opens with a command to Aaron: “When you raise up the lamps, the seven lamps shall give light in front of the lampstand.” (Numbers 8:2) It is a poetic image — the High Priest kindling the menorah in the desert sanctuary, bringing light into sacred space. But this is not only about ritual. It is about how we respond to darkness.

Today, our world feels heavy with shadows. In our own city of Los Angeles, immigrant families live in fear as ICE raids increase, disrupting lives and communities. And across the globe, our family in Israel live under missile barrage, Iranian retaliation following Israel’s necessary strike against an existential danger. We feel the weight of worry — for our people, for our city, for our future.

And yet, Beha’alotcha reminds us that fear is not our final answer. We have a different response: light. The menorah’s light was not passive. It was not decorative. It pushed against chaos. It was active resistance — against fear, against despair, against moral numbness. That same fire burns within us today.

We are not helpless. Each act of courage we take — standing up for the vulnerable in Los Angeles, supporting Israel in her fight for survival, speaking truth, praying fiercely — each one is a light. And light spreads. One flame can ignite another, and another still. That is how we banish the shadows.

Our tradition does not ask us to ignore the pain around us. It asks us to meet it with strength. Just as the Israelites carried divine light through the wilderness, we carry that light now — not in a sanctuary of gold, but in the sanctuary of community, of justice, of love for the Jewish people and for all who dwell beside us.

This week, let us raise our lights.

Let us reach out to those in fear and affirm their dignity. Let us unequivocally reaffirm our solidarity with Israel, not only in words but with unwavering moral clarity. Let us model for our children what it means to stand strong when the world trembles.

Yes, fear spreads quickly. But so does hope. So does faith. So does light.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi David Eshel