From the Rabbi
Rabbi Robert L. Wolkoff
Previous Messages
“The Freedom to Act”
In the reflective spirit that follows our national celebration of independence on the Fourth of July, we are invited not just to look back — but to look deeper. The fireworks may have faded, but the question remains: What is freedom? And how do we live it?
Both the Bible and the American story are conversations about freedom. They are messy, complex, and hopeful — not just about liberty as an idea, but as a lived journey, a covenant, and a calling. At the heart of the biblical story is God’s gift of free will. To be created in God’s image means having the capacity to choose, to question, even to disobey. Freedom is not always used well, but it is the sacred foundation of any relationship.
The Torah is often seen as a book of rules. But in Hebrew, the word for “engraved” on the Tablets at Sinai is ḥarut. The rabbis of the Talmud play on this word, reading it as ḥerut, meaning freedom. The commandments are not chains, but are the engravings of a path toward meaningful, purpose-filled living.
This same paradox appears in American history. The Constitution, an engraved covenant, wasn’t perfect, but it aspired to enshrine liberty and justice. It offered not just freedom from tyranny, but freedom to build, serve, and include.
Parashat “Pinchas” we read last Shabbat comes at a potent time in the Jewish calendar: the 17th of Tammuz, which begins a three-week period of mourning leading to Tisha B’Av, the day commemorating the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. These weeks focus on loss, but also on hope and renewal. Pinchas acts in a moment of crisis. He steps forward when others hesitate. Tradition later identifies him with Elijah the Prophet, who also stood alone, questioning himself, yet he remained faithful to his calling. Like Moses, who said he was “heavy of speech” — not diplomatic — but still chosen. As the saying goes: God doesn’t call the qualified; He qualifies the called.
Freedom is not just individual; it is communal. It grows when we see the divine in others. As “Hatikvah,” Israel’s anthem, declares: The dream is “to be a free people in our land,” a freedom based on relationship, not isolation. Freedom calls us to show up — not only when it’s easy, but when it’s difficult, too. It’s not always clear when we are living through historic times. But that is when freedom matters most — when it’s on the line.
May this month of Av bring us to act together,
—Rabbi Gadi Capela
“What a Difference a Week Makes”
Dear Members and Friends,
Just last Thursday, on June 13, the date that echoes the 613 commandments of our tradition, I reached out to you in the wake of Israel’s preemptive operation in Iran. We were all feeling the weight of uncertainty and concern for our homeland and for the Jewish people everywhere.
What is emerging now is nothing short of remarkable. In just a few days, history has continued to unfold at lightning speed. In many ways, Israel is writing a new Megillah with Persia — a new Scroll of Esther for a new age. The day I was writing this message, a week following the attack, marked the day on the Jewish calendar that Queen Esther intervened on behalf of her people. It was the day King Ahasuerus issued a second decree, this time empowering the Jews to defend themselves.
According to some traditions, Cyrus, the Persian King who allowed the Jews to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the Second Temple 70 years after the destruction of the First Temple, was actually the son of King Ahasuerus and Queen Esther. It was a moment of redemption through an unexpected ally. Now, Israel has an opportunity to reciprocate and help the people of Persia liberate from their tyrannical regime.
But just before submitting this message to The Shofar on Saturday night, I had to update it after seeing a modern ally coming to the aid of Israel. The U.S. struck the three nuclear sites in Iran, defending freedom in the world.
But not without cost. Israel and the U.S. attacks immediately resulted in reciprocal Iranian ballistic missiles flying over Israel’s skies. Those that were not intercepted, caused great damages to Israeli casualty and property. Last Saturday night, two missiles landed in my hometown of Rehoboth, one exploding two blocks from my parents’ home, the other inside the Weizmann Institute for Science, where much of Israel’s top scientific innovation is developed.
This week’s Parashat, “Shelach,” reminds us of another pivotal moment in Jewish history: The sin of the ten scouts, the leaders of their tribes, who saw only danger and defeat in the Promised Land. They could not imagine victory, and their fear led to 40 years of wandering in the desert. Only Joshua and Caleb believed in the strength of the people and in God’s promise.
We are living in a time when that same courage is needed — a time when we must reject the despair of the scouts and embrace the spirit of hope and resolve. That is how we move forward. That is how we inherit the future.
Let us continue to pray for Israel’s safety, for the return of all the hostages, for peace with security, and for wise and righteous leadership. Let us draw strength from our ancestors — and from one another — as we navigate these difficult but sacred days together.
—Rabbi Gadi Capela
“Not Realpolitik”
With the selection of Pope Leo XIV, Robert Francis Prevost, and in light of the film “Conclave,” which I happened to watch by chance on a flight back from Florida, I’ve been reflecting on the difference between perception and reality in religious institutions. The film was hard to watch. According to friends in the clergy, Hollywood took too many liberties and included a number of inaccuracies. But the hardest concept to explain to secular audiences, and even to many affiliated congregants in modern religious institutions, is that even though religious institutions may seem as though they should operate as businesses, we are in a different business. We are in the business of making sure that realpolitik doesn’t blind our way, that it doesn’t take over the main agenda — leaving room for God to speak from heaven. We are not here to maximize profit or secure political advantage.
This week, The National Catholic Reporter ran a column by Michael Sean Winters, written almost entirely in the negative. It read like a list of rebuttals: “No, the movie, “Conclave,” did not accurately portray the dynamics of a conclave…” “No, the cardinals were not looking for a counterpoint to Donald Trump…” “No, there was no ‘American bloc’ in the conclave that pushed Prevost’s election…” And the most important point: “No, applying political categories to understand the new pope is a foundational mistake.”
What I heard in the column was not only clarification, but frustration. And I could relate. As a rabbi, I, too, am part of an institution that, while inevitably entangled in politics and finances, ultimately serves a higher calling. Yes, there are politics. Yes, we have to think about the budget and solvency of our institutions. But we are not primarily in the business of politics or profitability.
As the prophet Amos reminds us, a holy life, as God commands us to live, “because I am Holy” means caring for the poor, keeping our doors open even when it’s not profitable in the short term. Like Emma Lazarus’s immortal words: “Give me your tired, your poor…” Or like St. Laurence, who when asked by the Roman Emperor to bring him the treasures of the Church, brought him the poor. We must not forget this.
Cardinal Prevost chose the name Leo XIV in the tradition of Leo XIII, who championed the concept of a living wage. Prevost, raised on the South Side of Chicago, comes from a place steeped in the values of justice and labor. I remember when I worked for the Jewish Council on Urban Affairs, a frontline social justice organization in Chicago’s Loop, where the fight for unions was raging. The idea then was that employers and employees should not be adversaries, but partners in dignity. No, it’s not all about money. No, it’s not all about profit. It’s about cultivating a giving heart. And when that is our true agenda, God provides, just as He provided the Israelites who brought more than enough to construct the Tent of Meeting — God’s house on earth.
Let’s give a chance not to realpolitik, but to regal-politiks. The politics of nobility, humility, and divine purpose.
—Rabbi Gadi Capela
Get Social