Reflections from the BJ Trip to Israel
Holding Up One Another’s Hands
By Rabbi Chen Ben Or Tsfoni
“But Moses’ hands grew heavy; so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it, while Aaron and Hur, one on each side, supported his hands; thus, his hands remained steady until the sun set.” Numbers 17:12
In these words, we encounter Moses being supported by Aaron and Hur so that his hands might endure as they are raised upward, aiding the Israelites in battle. This is how I felt as well during the days when I was given the privilege of accompanying the journey of my friends from BJ in Israel. Together we traveled through a wounded and worried land. The heart is heavy, the hands too, and we need one another to endure this journey, and not to relinquish hope for a better life in this land and in the region around it.
We listened to the thoughts of Israelis—people of action and people of spirit, about the struggle over the character of the country, about fears for the future, and about the meaning of life in Israel at this time.
We visited Kibbutz Be’eri, where 102 people were murdered on the horrific day of October 7. We invited the members of BJ into our home, where our extended family and friends experienced the terrible hours that changed our lives forever. Together we walked along the destroyed paths of the kibbutz and listened to personal testimonies that revealed different facets of those devastating hours: a mother of young children who asked how to mediate the horror for her children; a young woman who for many long hours did not know the fate of her elderly parents and asked how memory can be preserved; a man who lost his wife and son before his very eyes and chose life; and the destruction itself, which told the story of what happened without words. We paused for prayer and supplication; we bore witness to the horror and held the hands of those who were there. We grappled with the question of recovery—rising from immense grief toward the rebuilding of new life that holds past and future together, whole tablets and shattered tablets alike.
I saw in people’s eyes the deep sorrow, and the sense of mutual responsibility. I saw a willingness to learn the complexity. I also heard about the complexity of life in America during these days.
On Shabbat Parashat Bo, we gathered at Kehillat Kol HaNeshama in Jerusalem, fellow travelers together with members of my own community, Ra’anan. We looked at one another and asked: Bo. Come. Let us hold this complex journey together. I felt that in just a few short days we had traveled from communal distress toward communal consolation, and that we were all on this path together, holding one another’s hands. The Midrash teaches us: “Anyone who shares in the suffering of the community merits to see the community’s consolation.”
The journey of connection to Israel. The struggle over its character, the pride in its achievements, and the sorrow over its failures, cannot be undertaken alone. It is a journey that requires support: someone to hold hands that are heavy and aching from effort, and at times from fear of the future.
My relationship with B’nai Jeshurun now spans nearly 30 years—from the earliest weaving of the connection, through the BJ Fellowship, personal relationships with rabbis and friends, and a deep love for the Jewish creativity that is BJ. I felt how closeness and love continued to deepen, how new pathways are opening, and how new meaning is being given to the name B’nai Yisrael.
May we continue to walk together, to hold and to support one another—hand in hand.
Rabbi Chen Ben Or Tsfoni
The 11th and 12th Commandments
By Rabbi Shira Levine
My father was God and did not know it.
He gave me the ten commandments neither in thunder nor in fury, neither in fire nor in cloud but in gentleness and in love.
He added caresses and added kind words adding, “I beg you,” and “please.” He sang keep and remember in a single melody and he pleaded and cried quietly between one commandment and the next:
Don’t take your God’s name in vain; don’t take it, not in vain. I beg you, don’t bear false witness against your neighbor.
He hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear Don’t steal. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t murder.
And he put the palms of his open hands on my head with the Yom Kippur blessing. Honor, love, in order that your days might be long on the earth.
And my father’s voice was white like the hair on his head.
Later, he turned his face to me one last time like on the day he died in my arms and said, “I want to add two to the ten commandments:
The eleventh commandment: Don’t change.
The twelfth commandment: You must surely change.”
So said my father and then he turned from me and went off disappearing into his strange distances.
—Yehuda Amichai translated by Rabbi Steven Sager
Dear BJ Community,
It was such a privilege to meet the delegation last week! I knew some of the participants from the May 2025 visit to BJ with the Bicentennial Israel Delegation, where I davened with the community and had the opportunity to connect with many of you.
Meeting in Tel Aviv, the first Ivri (Hebrew) city, was an exciting upgrade to our relationship—sitting together in David Ben-Gurion’s House and discussing the future of our liberal democracy and the immense commitment we all share to make sure our reality of strong, liberal, and democratic Jewish homeland remains fortressed.
Later in the week we traveled south to the afflicted Kibbutz Be’eri, together with R. Itamar Lapid (who visited BJ with a mishlahat (delegation) 25 years ago), and with our beloved R. Chen and Guy Benor Tsfoni. Sitting together in this beautiful, strong kibbutz, we learned that the kibbutz was actually empty—the community is still yet to return. It will take about 18 more months to strengthen the spirits enough to come home, during which the kibbutz infrastructure will be rebuilt—social, spiritual, and physical. R. Itamar shared his work—including helping people express their feelings and hopes for healing through community gatherings.
We learned of Guy’s work with the Kibbutz Be’eri orphans—90 children who lost a grandparent, a parent, or—even more unimaginably—both parents. Guy has provided them with gentle and constant support, aided in part by his own personal life story and experiences. We sang together and prayed for peace for all wounded souls, and peace in the world.
As we read this week’s parashah—where we stand together at Mount Sinai and receive the Torah—I want to offer an expansion of our hearts, and to na’aseh venishma (do and hear) two more commandments inspired by Yehuda Amichai’s poem:
Change: continue to adapt and deepen our experiences in the world, “where there is movement—there is life.”
Don’t change: Continue to come together—to meet online and on both sides of the ocean—and hold on to our personal relationships that we have nurtured for the past 25 years. I’m looking forward to meeting again—at Mount Sinai, in NYC, and in Israel.
Shabbat shalom,
R. Shira Levine
Hamidrasha at Oranim–Hechalutz, Kibbutz Hannaton