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I am a single rabbi without children. I shouldn’t be made to feel I am not ‘doing my part.’
(JTA) — I recently attended a bris in my community where the mohel announced to the new parents and the whole room, “Raising this child is the most important and impactful thing you will ever do.”
These words were offered to anchor the already exhausted and overwhelmed couple in the sanctity of the job they are embarking upon; the holiness of shaping a person into adulthood; the pride in doing something meaningful and lasting.
At the same time, these are the sentiments that form the foundation of parents’ guilt when they have to work or when they choose to be with friends and not their children. They create the basis of self-recrimination when a child struggles and the parent is made to feel they are to blame. They foment anxiety over not enjoying aspects of parenthood or feeling lonely or isolated in the endless exhaustion of rearing children.
These are also the words that shame those of us who have no children.
The year I turned 30, I was not on any identifiable path to parenthood. I was, however, in rabbinical school and deeply committed to the ways I could and would serve the Jewish people as a rabbi. Until rabbinical school, I experienced my own private grief about not having a partner or kids, but no one had ever imposed those feelings on me or pressured me on my timeline.
As part of a counseling course in rabbinical school, I was assigned a reading where I learned that 13.9% of married women ages 30-34 experience infertility (a percentage that only increases after 35). Thirty years later, the author who shared this data did so again at an all-school gathering, reminding us that women pursuing education were largely responsible for the decline in Jewish population, since the ideal age for a woman to get pregnant is 22. He added, in essence, “Don’t come crying to me when you finish your education and realize you missed your window.”
I was shocked by his callousness and also by the overt implication that delaying parenthood for the sake of education was damaging to the Jewish people — an assertion, overt and implied, reached by many Jewish social scientists, as others have pointed out. Apparently, nothing I could do as a rabbi would ever have the same impact on Jewish peoplehood and the Jewish future as producing babies above “replacement level.”
While the presentation surprised me, the idea that the ideal role of anyone with a uterus is to bear children is embedded in our scripture and liturgy. Even the way many of us have chosen to add women into the daily amidah prayer to make it more egalitarian attests to this role: Three times a day we chant, “magen Avraham u’foked Sarah,” that God is the one who shields Abraham and remembers Sarah. This line about remembering Sarah refers to the moment when God undid Sarah’s barrenness, giving her a child (Genesis 21:1). Every time we recite these prayers we are reifying the idea that a woman’s relationship with God is directly linked to her fertility.
According to the medieval sage Maimonides, “Whoever adds even one Jewish soul it is considered as creating an entire world.” How many times do I have to sit on a beit din, or rabbinical court, before the number of conversions I witness adds up to a child? How many weddings and b’nei mitzvah and tot Shabbats and hospital visits and adult education classes? This is math I should not have to do as a rabbi or as a woman. It is not math we should ask of anyone.
I know I am not alone among my peers in expressing frustration around such rhetoric. If we truly believe that a person’s value is derived from being created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of the Divine, then we need to demonstrate this in the ways we speak and teach about parenthood and fertility, celebrating the role and value of an individual within a community with no correlation to the number of children they raise, how they parent, or how those children connect to Judaism.
While there are plenty of sources in Jewish literature and a range of sociological data that offer all kinds of reasons that Jews should “be fruitful and multiply” — often expressed with urgency after the devastation of the Holocaust — the Torah, our most ancient and sacred text, also presents a model for what it means to be a person without a child who makes a tremendous impact on the Jewish future.
According to the most straightforward reading of the Torah, Miriam, the daughter of Yocheved, sister of Aaron and Moses, does not marry and does not bear children. And yet, Miriam played a crucial role in ensuring the possibility of a Jewish future. She was the sister who watched over Moses as he floated in a basket, the girl who connected Moses’ adoptive mother with his birth mother, and the prophet who led the women in joyous dancing when the Israelites finally attained freedom.
In a recent conversation, Rabbi Rachel Zerin of Beth El Temple in West Hartford, Connecticut, pointed out that what is powerful about Miriam is that she appears content with her life. Unlike most of the women we encounter in the Hebrew Bible who do not have children, we never see Miriam praying for a child; she is never described as barren or unfulfilled and yet she is instrumental in securing the Israelites’ — our — freedom.
Through this lens, we can understand that the Torah offers us many models of a relationship to parenthood: Some of us may yearn for it and ultimately find joy in it, some of us may experience ambivalence around bringing children into the world, some of us may encounter endless obstacles to conceive or adopt, some of us may struggle with parenting the children we have, some of us many not want to be parents at all, and some of us may experience all of these at different times.
Like Miriam who fearlessly added her voice to the public conversation, we, too, can add more voices to the conversation about Jewish continuity that counteract the relentless messaging that raising children into Jewish adulthood is the most consequential thing we might do.
Yes, parenting can be miraculous and beautiful, something we should continue to celebrate. But we each have so many gifts to offer the Jewish people — our communities just need to create space for all of us to contribute in a broad variety of ways, by making fewer assumptions and speaking about parenthood with more nuance, expansiveness and compassion.
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Pro-Israel Lawyers Challenge UK University Academic’s Boycott of Israeli Scholar
The entrance to Hebrew University of Jerusalem’s Mount Scopus campus. Photo: Wikimedia Commons
An association of lawyers who support Israel is demanding the University of East Anglia (UEA), located in Norwich, England, investigate and take disciplinary action against a senior academic who refused to consider an application from a researcher because the latter was from an Israeli university, the group announced on Friday.
On Nov. 20, a professor of social science at UEA declined to consider a request by an Arab Israeli post-doctoral researcher at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem (HUJI) to schedule a research visit to the British university, according to UK Lawyers for Israel (UKLFI). The UEA professor said the decision was made “primarily as Palestinian colleagues have asked us not to work with Israeli universities at this time,” and noted that the move was “a personal position rather than that of my university.”
UKLFI chief executive Jonathan Turner told The Algemeiner that HUJI shared a copy of both the researcher’s email requesting the visit and the professor’s response with the association of lawyers, following consent from the researcher.
UKLFI wrote a letter to UEA Vice-Chancellor David Maguire about the incident on Wednesday, asking the school to investigate the professor’s conduct, take appropriate disciplinary action, and guarantee that the HUJI researcher’s application is “reconsidered fairly.” The association also called on the university to issue a statement prohibiting discriminatory academic boycotts; examine if similar boycotts are being practiced in the school; and introduce or update training for staff of the UK’s Equality Act 2010, which prohibits discrimination based on protected characteristics that include nationality. The decision targeting the Arab Israeli scholar is likely a breach of the Equality Act, according to UKLFI.
“A refusal to consider an applicant because of her Israeli affiliation directly undermines the principles of fairness, equality, and dignity that the University professes to uphold,” said the group of lawyers.
In its letter to the university, UKLFI also noted that UEA could face legal consequences for the decision and argued that “such boycotts are contrary to fundamental academic values, recognized by international instruments as well as UEA’s own policies.” The UEA has an Equality, Diversity and Inclusion Policy that was issued in August and adopted the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s (IHRA) Working Definition of Antisemitism in January 2020.
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Slovenia to Pull Out of Eurovision Song Contest if Israel Participates; Spain Reaffirms Same Position
Yuval Raphael from Israel with the title “New Day Will Rise” on stage at the second semi-final of the 69th Eurovision Song Contest in the Arena St. Jakobshalle. Photo: Jens Büttner/dpa via Reuters Connect
Slovenia’s national broadcaster RTVSLO will compete in the 2026 Eurovision Song Contest only if Israel is excluded from the competition, it announced on Wednesday, a day before the president of Spain’s RTVE reiterated its boycott of next year’s Eurovision if Israel is involved.
The 2026 draft programming plan for Slovenia’s RTVSLO does not include its participation in the 2026 Eurovision or even the broadcast of the competition, set to take place in Vienna, Austria, in May.
“However, if next week, on Thursday, when the European Broadcasting Union (EBU) General Assembly is scheduled to vote on whether Israel will participate in the Eurovision Song Contest or not, it turns out that Israel will not participate in the Eurovision Song Contest, then we will propose to the council a change to the program-production plan and we will of course participate in this festival,” said Natalija Gorščak, president of the RTVSLO board.
Members of the EBU, which organizes the Eurovision Song Contest, are set to convene at the 95th EBU General Assembly in Geneva on Dec. 4 and 5 to discuss next year’s competition, the implementation of new rules for the contest, and Israel’s participation.
Slovenia’s explicit actions this week to boycott the 2026 Eurovision follows its previous threats to withdraw from the competition if Israel is included. They join other countries – such as the Netherlands, Ireland and Iceland – that have expressed opposition to Israel’s military actions in the Gaza Strip during its war against the Hamas terrorist group, which orchestrated the deadly massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
On Thursday, José Pablo López, president of Spain’s RTVE, appeared before the Senate’s Joint Parliamentary Control Committee and defended the broadcaster’s initial decision in September not to compete in the 2026 Eurovision if Israel is allowed to participate.
“Eurovision is a contest. Human rights are not,” Lopez said, after claiming that a “genocide” has taken place in Gaza during the Israel-Hamas war. He then falsely accused Israel of breaking the rules of the Eurovision competition by attempting to politically exploit the contest and influence voting in the last two years, referring to performances by Eden Golan in 2024 and Yuval Raphael earlier this year. “Any other country that had carried out this use of the contest, I assure you that it would have been sanctioned and temporarily suspended,” he said.
López also challenged Eurovision Director Martin Green, who has previously defended Israel’s participation in the Eurovision.
“Martin Green recently wrote a letter stating that television networks and artists do not represent governments and that this is a cultural competition,” Lopez told the committee, according to a translation of his remarks by Eurovision Spain. “I wonder, is Mr. Green considering the return of Russian and Belarusian broadcasters to the festival? I hope not, because we all know that if those networks return, they would use it in a similar way to Israel, because for them, the contest is much more than just a competition and has a very significant political dimension.”
Lopez also addressed recent changes by the EBU to its rules for the Eurovision, in an effort to prevent rigged voting and governmental interference. Lopez believes the new rules are insufficient. “They do not guarantee that interference from a government like Israel’s, or any other government, cannot happen again,” he said.
“The EBU knows that these measures are a step forward, but they are not enough, and above all, as I have said, they leave Israel’s actions during this period unsanctioned,” he added. “More measures are necessary, and that will be the proposal we will take to the next General Assembly, which will be held on the 4th and 5th.”
Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez, a longtime critic of Israel, has also called for Israel to be excluded from the 2026 Eurovision.
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How Dealing with Difficult Challenges Leads to Spiritual Growth and Leadership
A Torah scroll. Photo: RabbiSacks.org.
They say that “the devil is in the details,” and nowhere has that been more evident than in the corruption scandal currently shaking Ukraine — even as the deadly war with Russia continues to rage.
Over the past couple of weeks, Ukrainian anti-corruption investigators have been drip-feeding the world with information: wiretaps, redacted court testimony, and sordid specifics of a large bribery saga. The cast of villains includes prominent businessmen and contractors pressured for hefty “commissions,” high-ranking ministers abruptly resigning, and one of President Zelensky’s former business partners fleeing the country just hours before the police raided his home.
The entire scheme exploited a wartime loophole — a rule under martial law preventing contractors from collecting debts in court from companies providing essential services. Energoatom fits that definition perfectly, as it supplies more than half of Ukraine’s electricity.
But more fascinating than the scandal itself is the sheer level of detail — the way this scheme evolved from small to big to overwhelming, unfolding slowly, piece by piece, person by person, until you finally step back and see the broad contours of the entire sprawling disaster.
And oddly enough, all of this brings me straight into the heart of Parshat Vayeitzei, which was my late father’s bar mitzvah parsha. He would always say — with an unmistakable twinkle in his eye — that Vayeitzei was “the most important parsha in the Torah.” We’d nod and smile, convinced he was just having a laugh.
I mean, yes — Vayeitzei certainly has its blockbuster moments: Jacob’s ladder stretching toward heaven, the extraordinary promises God makes to him, his first encounter with Rachel at the well — one of the great love stories in Jewish history — followed by his marriages and the birth of 11 children who would become the founders of the tribes that became the Jewish people. All of these events are unquestionably consequential, to say the least.
But then you hit the middle of the parsha — the part everyone secretly hopes the baal koreh will speed through. It’s long, it’s intricate, and it’s bewilderingly detailed: the astonishing saga of Jacob’s business dealings with Lavan.
Wage agreements — and disagreements. Livestock negotiations. Contract revisions. Endless sheep rearing. Sheep with spots, sheep without spots, sheep with speckles, stripes, dark patches — every possible permutation of sheep coloration you can imagine. It’s the Torah’s version of a regulatory audit: too many technical notes, too many procedural details, and far too much information.
Most of us, understandably, wonder what all this sheep drama is doing in a sacred text. Why did the Torah — normally so concise — zoom in on this business relationship from hell? Why give us this level of detail? And whatever the answer might be, surely this story doesn’t belong in “the most important parsha in the Torah.”
But my father always insisted that Vayeitzei’s business section wasn’t a pointless, transitional interruption in the narrative — it was the narrative. And perhaps, as the revelations from Kyiv remind us, the line between spiritual greatness and moral disaster is drawn not in grand theological enterprises like ladders reaching heavenward or celestial dream sequences, but in the slow, grinding, unglamorous world of day-to-day commerce: negotiations, promises, deals, and the quiet ethical temptations that shadow every decision we make.
If you think about it, this strange middle section of Vayeitzei is the Torah’s earliest and most elaborate case study in business ethics — or, more accurately, business un-ethics. Lavan is the Biblical version of a man who smiles broadly to your face while his hand is quietly stealing your wallet.
He is charming, generous-sounding, and utterly unscrupulous. He cheats at negotiations. He alters contracts retroactively. He weaponizes hospitality. He manipulates family loyalty. If there were a Biblical Consumer Protection Bureau, Lavan would be its full-time subject of interest.
And Jacob — the bookish, scholarly son of Isaac — finds himself thrown into a years-long masterclass with one of the greatest Machiavellian businessmen of the ancient Near East. The holy patriarch of the Jewish nation, the spiritual heir to Abraham and Isaac, sits across the table from a crook arguing over sheep markings.
But that’s precisely the point. Spirituality is easy when you live a monastic life of solitude and separation. Show me how spiritual you are when you need to negotiate with a scoundrel — that’s when your character is truly revealed.
Judaism doesn’t believe in the mystique of the cloister. Our greatest spiritual heroes aren’t monks; they’re shepherds, merchants, craftsmen, farmers — even warriors and kings. Jacob’s true greatness emerges in the trenches of real life, in the dense and morally dangerous world where money, power, opportunity, resentment, and desperation mingle with our aspirations to become the people God wants us to be.
What Vayeitzei shows, in deliberately excruciating detail, is that Jacob absolutely refuses to become Lavan. Yes, he negotiates, he strategizes, he outsmarts. But he does not become Lavan. He maintains his integrity.
And here’s the deeper insight — the one my father, with his mischievous grin, seemed instinctively to understand: the Jewish mission from the very outset was never to escape the world; it was to elevate it — from the inside out.
If Jacob had spent 20 years in a desert cave meditating on the divine, he might have produced beautiful insights — but there would have been no tribes, no family, no nation, and no legacy. Instead, Jacob becomes the spiritual father of Israel the nation even as he ran a household, raised children, and navigated a business partnership with a morally bankrupt relative.
And that is precisely why the Torah dwells on the sheep. Because the sheep are not a distraction — they are the arena. They are the battlefield where Jacob’s greatness is forged. They are the proof that holiness is not found in what we avoid, but in how we behave when we can’t avoid what we would much prefer to have nothing to do with.
And as it turns out, in the final analysis Jacob was not transformed by his dream of angels — he was transformed by his years in business with Lavan. What we learn from Jacob and the sheep is that building a family, maintaining integrity in business, and dealing with difficult people are not obstacles to spiritual growth; they are spiritual growth.
Which only goes to prove that my father’s twinkling assertion wasn’t a joke at all. He understood something the rest of us tend to overlook. Maybe Vayeitzei really is the most important parsha in the Torah — not despite the details, but because of them.
The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.