In these difficult months, we have been reminded once again how precious every Jewish life is. We’ve seen soldiers going into danger to rescue hostages, families davening with tears for their loved ones, and a whole nation standing together — because in Am Yisrael, every single neshamah matters. We don’t count Jews as numbers. Each person is a world.

This idea comes straight from this week’s parsha, Lech Lecha. Hashem promises Avraham that his descendants will be many, but He uses two very different examples.

First, Hashem says they will be “like the dust of the earth” — וְשַׂמְתִּי אֶת־זַרְעֲךָ כַּעֲפַר הָאָרֶץ (Bereishis 13:16) — and later, “like the stars of the heavens” — הַבֶּט־נָא הַשָּׁמַיְמָה וּסְפֹר הַכּוֹכָבִים כֹּה יִהְיֶה זַרְעֶךָ (15:5).

Why both?

The Midrash (brought in Torah Sheleima, Bereishis 15:55) teaches that when we live according to Hashem’s will, we rise above the world, shining like the stars in the heavens. But when we turn away, we become like the dust of the earth, stepped on and scattered.

There’s another way to understand this that comes from Avraham’s own life. Until now, Avraham’s mission was about spreading emunah — belief in Hashem — to the world. He spoke to crowds, taught many followers, and built a movement of faith. But then came a test of a different kind.

His nephew Lot had chosen to separate from him. The Torah tells us: וַיִּפְרְדוּ אִישׁ מֵעַל אָחִיו — “They parted, one man from the other” (Bereishis 13:11).

Lot chose to live in Sedom, a place known for its cruelty and immorality. He looked toward the Jordan Valley, drawn by its beauty, for the Torah says: כִּי כֻלָּהּ מַשְׁקֶה כְּגַן ה’ — “it was well watered, like the garden of Hashem” (13:10).

Lot was drawn by wealth and comfort. In a sense, he chose his own path — a life focused on material success instead of spiritual purpose.

When Avraham later hears that Lot has been taken captive — וַיִּשְׁמַע אַבְרָם כִּי נִשְׁבָּה אָחִיו (14:14) — he could have said, “Lot made his choice; this is the consequence.” He might have thought, “It’s his own fault.” But Avraham doesn’t think that way. He doesn’t turn away. He immediately gathers his men, enters the battlefield, and risks his life to save him.

The Abarbanel points out something beautiful here. When the Torah first describes Lot’s capture, it calls him: בֶּן־אֲחִי אַבְרָם — “the son of Avram’s brother” (14:12). But when Avraham decides to rescue him, the Torah calls Lot: אָחִיו — “his brother” (14:14).

The Abarbanel explains that the moment Avraham resolved to save him, the relationship changed. Lot was no longer just a nephew — he became like a brother.

This teaches us something very real. We often speak of Acheinu Bnei Yisrael — our brothers and sisters in Eretz Yisrael. But when we truly dedicate ourselves to helping them, when we care for them and stand up for them, that description becomes more than words. It becomes truth. We are brothers and sisters.

Only after this story does Hashem tell Avraham that his children will be “like the stars of the heavens.” Dust may be many, but all grains look the same. Stars too are countless, but each one shines with its own light. Hashem was teaching Avraham a timeless truth:

“Because you recognized the value in a single soul and treated each life as precious, your descendants will be like the stars of the heavens — each unique, each shining, and each watched over by Hashem.”

That’s the way of Avraham Avinu — and it’s alive in our people today. When soldiers go into danger to save one hostage, when Jews all over the world daven and do mitzvos for someone they’ve never met, when a nation refuses to give up on even one neshamah — that’s Avraham’s spirit within us.

There’s a story about a man walking along the beach after a storm, throwing starfish back into the sea. Someone says, “There are thousands of them! You can’t save them all.” The man picks up another, tosses it into the waves, and says, “I made a difference to that one.”

That’s what it means to be children of Avraham. We don’t give up on anyone. We don’t forget even one Jew — whether they’re missing physically, or whether they’ve drifted away spiritually.

So what do we do now?

We keep caring. We keep davening. We keep reaching out — to those in danger, to those in pain, and to those who have simply lost their way. Each act of ahavas Yisrael brings another star back into the light.

Every star in the heavens matters — and so does every Jew on earth.

Commentary and insights into the seventh portion of Parashas Lech Lecha.

If you cannot see anything below, click on this link.

See here for past weeks: here

Parshat Lech Lecha, “Top Five”: Bringing People to God, and to Prayer

I started this year thinking I would find the five best comments I had shared in our time studying parsha together. Not going to happen—as I look back, way more than five bear revisiting. I’ll pick five that appeal to me in this moment, for whatever reason. This week, it’s because they focused on related issues.

Religion as a Relationship with God

When Avram and Sarai leave Charan for they know not where, 12;5, they take the souls asher asu, that they made, in Charan. Rashi offers two ideas, first, it means the people they had “brought under the wings of the Divine Presence,” similar to what Onkelos has [I’m cheating, not counting this as citing Onkelos, because I’m only doing five], although Onkelos phrased it that they brought them to subservience to Torah.

The imagery of Hashem with spread wings reminds us proper faith helps us shelter from the storms of life. We can get caught up in religion as a system, practices, or culture, for good reasons and bad. Avram and Sarai focused on the fundamental goal of religious activity—taking ourselves back to the protective Presence of our waiting Creator, the only true source of safety, and of guidance as to how to live our best lives.

Separating Men and Women

It’s a rich Rashi; the second idea in this first reading says Avram would convert the men, Sarai the women. He doesn’t feel the need to explain why they taught by gender, but it seems to me to be because of the complications of cross-gender mentoring. Especially in something as sensitive as remaking a worldview, letting other factors, like gender relations, into the picture would be a problem.

Best to take sexuality out of the equation.

Many take this as code for keeping women inferior, but Rashi doesn’t say Avram converted the important people and Sarai the women. If the Queen of England wanted to convert, Rashi thinks Sarai would have guided it. On the other hand, Avram handled any man’s conversion, even the most socially insignificant one.

Avram and Sarai’s model reminds us how easily sexuality can intrude (as does their encounter with the Egyptians in this parsha), and the necessity of doing that which we can to avoid or minimize it. In some situations, that means separating by gender.

Building a World

Although Onkelos gave the reading of bringing them to Torah, Rashi insists the simple meaning is the servants they had acquired. In a slave society, people acquire people, the more literal reading of the verse, they took with them all the slaves they had purchased.

Even here, though Rashi does not say it, it certainly seems like Avram brought Eliezer closer to God, for example. Acquiring souls, Avram and Sarai built relationships of mutual trust, surrounded themselves with people rather than objects, fostered human connection rather than material pleasure.

Calling Out in Gd’s Name

About a chapter later, 13;4, Avram returns to Beit El from Egypt, to the altar he had built, va-yikra sham be-shem Hashem, called out there in the Name of Gd. Rambam, Hilkhot Avodah Zarah 1;3, says he called out to other people in the Name of God, continued his “kiruv” efforts, his search to bring people to recognize Hashem.

Onkelos instead translates va-yikra as ve-tzalei, he prayed. In his view, Avraham makes it back from Egypt, returns to where he had been, to the altar he had built, and prays to Gd. We’ll see more prayer, so it was an Onkelos worth noting.

Hagar Prayed to God, Not Named Him

After a pregnant Hagar flees the treatment of Sarah, chapter sixteen, an angel tells her to go back, bear her sufferings, and she will have a son. When the encounter ends, verse thirteen, we are told Hagar called the Name of the God Who had spoken to her E-l Roi [AlHaTorah.org has Ibn Ezra’s translation, “the God of Seeing”].

Sforno rereads the verse almost completely. He thinks “calling the Name of God” always means prayer, which starts with praise, followed by requests, an order taught in Berachot 32a. It helps the supplicant focus attention, Sforno says, after which s/he will be ready to lodge his/her hopes.

Here, Hagar speaks of E-l Ro’I for exactly that kind of praise, You are the God Who sees all, not just in Avraham’s household. Her awareness of God’s attention to her, as it were, reminds Sforno of Bava Metzi’a 59a, all gates are shut other than for those who cry out because of mistreatment.

For Sforno, I think, the angel’s promise did not assuage her fears, it stimulated her to prayer [a weakness of his reading is that the verse does not tell us anything she requested. I suggest Sforno thought it was clear she asked for good health for the baby, or something along those lines.]

Stick with Problems or Let Them Go

In 13:14, the Torah times Hashem’s speaking with Avram to after Lot separated. Meshech Hochmah notes two views in Bereshit Rabbah 41;8. The first, R. Nehemiah, says what Rashi did, Avram’s association with the wicked Lot hindered Gd’s willingness to speak to him. Gd disliked (was angry about) Avram’s association with Lot, returned to speaking with him after Lot left.

The other view, R. Yuda, said the opposite, Gd was angry Avram let Lot leave. He built relationships with a panoply of people, brought them closer to Gd, yet could not with his own cousin/nephew?!

Meshech Chochmah linked these views and the next Midrash, where two other amoraim tussle over the meaning of acharei, after. One held it meant right after, matching the earlier idea that Gd disapproved of the relationship, appeared as soon as that barrier was cleared away.

The other said acharei meant long after (muflag, distant), possibly because Gd thought Avram failed to keep Lot close, and therefore refrained from speaking with him for some time, a sort of rebuke.

It draws our attention to a lasting disagreement in Jewish thought about how to handle people who have chosen bad paths, especially relatives. In his reading, one view thinks Avram should have kept Lot close even after he insisted on grazing his flocks where they did not belong, should have worked the same magic with Lot he did with pagans.

The other side seems to think Avram was correct to cut his losses, and Gd was waiting for him to realize it.

Likely, the answer lies in each case, making the Midrash a dispute about the course of action more correct for Avram and Lot. For the rest of us, it might be both: sometimes we are to keep wrongdoers close, in the hopes to help them grow to be better, other times we have to separate.

Not an easy calculation or choice, and according to some of these rabbis, a place where Avram himself might have mis-stepped.

Rewarding Good Thoughts

Hashem phrases the promise of protection to Avraham, early in our parsha, “va-avarecha mevarechecha, u-mekallelcha a’or. I will bless those who bless you, those who curse you, I will curse.” Kli Yakar points out the switch of order, Hashem promises to bless those who bless Avram, putting God’s act first, second in the cursing.

His first, longer, explanation, assumes meverachecha means those who think to bless you, where mekallelcha are those who already cursed. An example of the principle that God rewards thoughts of good as if already performed, punishes only wrongs committed.

He then seemingly digresses to a discussion of prayer, except it shows a fuller meaning of his comment. He starts with why God requires us to verbalize prayers, if God knows our thoughts.

Turning to Prayer

For an answer, he points to Yevamot 64a, God made the Matriarchs infertile out of “desire” for the prayers of the righteous. Kli Yakar sees a parental element, a father enjoys hearing from his child, wants the child to ask for what the father would give anyway, to extend the conversation, Hashem “wants” to hear from us.

In contrast to powerful people he knows, who interrupt petitioners as soon as they understand the request. God gives us as much time as we want, prefers longer prayers, because they require advance thought, and Hashem promises to reward the thought, too.

[He seems to be talking to his time rather than the verse. Grant his first claim, Hashem was telling Avram those who think to bless him would be blessed, its relevance to prayer is tenuous at best. It seems to me he wanted to encourage his listener/readers to pray better and longer, and saw a way to connect it.]

That’s five. See you next week.

The other comments we saw over the years:
R. David Zvi Hoffmann, Bereshit, Introduction to Lech Lecha
Ramban, Bereshit 12;1
Meshech Hochmah, Bereshit 12;4, Va-yelech ito Lot,
Onkelos, Bershit 12;5
Ramban, Bereshit, 12;6
Vilna Ga’on, Bereshit 12;8
Rashi, Bereshit 12;10, Ra’av ba-aretz
Ramban, Bereshit, 12;11
Onkelos, Bereshit 13;9, Im ha-semol
Rashi, Bereshit 13;10, whole verse
Rashi, Bereshit 13;13, whole verse
Chatam Sofer, Bereshit 13;17, Kum hithalech
Ha’amek Davar, Bereshit 14;7-13
Rashi, Bereshit 14;13, Va-Yavo ha-palit
Malbim, Bereshit 14;14, Va-Yishma Avram
Meshech Chochmah, Bereshit 15;1, Al tira
R. Samson Raphael Hirsch,Bereshit15;2, Hashem Elokim
Onkelos, Bereshit 15;4, Asher yetzei
Onkelos, Bereshit 15;13-4, Va-avadum
Or HaChayim, Bereshit 15;14, Ve-gam et ha-goy
Rashi, Bereshit 15;15, whole verse
Meshech Hochmah, Bereshit 15;16, Ve-dor revi’i
Rashi, Bereshit 16;3, Miketze ser shanim
Onkelos, Bereshit 16;5, Be-cheikecha
Onkelos, Bereshit 16;12, Yado ba-kol
HaKetav Ve-Ha-Kabbalah, Bereshit 16;14, Be-er Lachai Ro’i
Ibn Ezra, Bereshit, 17; 14, Ve-arel zachar

Question: I, an elderly kohen with weak legs and poor balance, walk with a cane. I walk up to duchen with a cane, stand near a wall, and lean during Birkat Kohanim (=BK). Is that valid? Can you suggest a good plan of action?

Answer: Asking your question takes bravery, as we understand that the prospect of not being able to duchen would be a great disappointment.

We will start with the strict requirements. BK must be done standing (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim 128:14). The gemara (Sota 38a) learns this from the Torah’s connecting of the kohen’s beracha to his service in the Mikdash, which must be done standing. Because standing is a full requirement, if one leans on something during BK, it is invalid (Mishna Berura 128:51). However, one may lean a little, as long as removing the thing he is leaning on would not make him fall (see Zevachim 24a; Mishna Berura 94:22). It is also absolutely required for kohanim to lift their hands in the subscribed manner for BK (Shulchan Aruch ibid.; Sota 38a). This makes balance more difficult. You thus must figure out if you can use the wall for balance/security and “pass this test.”

Realize that there are legitimate corners to cut to help you qualify. The Mishna Berura (128:52) accepts the Ktav Sofer’s (OC 13) idea that the kohen needs to lift his hands only when he pronounces each individual word; he can rest in between. The same thing should be true regarding standing – one may lean as he likes in between pronouncing the words (Even Yisrael VII:10; Dirshu 128:70).

Let us rule out another question. A kohen may not duchen with blemishes on visible parts of the body because they distract the congregation’s attention (Shulchan Aruch ibid. 30). Arguably, people could view your cane as distracting. However, this is not a problem. First, this is a questionable assumption. Second, if people are used to a distraction, e.g., the situation has existed for 30 days, it is no longer distracting (ibid.). Furthermore, since the cane is not in your hand during BK, it is not a halachic issue.

We did not find discussion on the presumably most physically difficult part of the process – turning around during the beracha, which kohanim do with the hands already up. We will share two good solutions for this challenge, after discussing the practice of turning around. The most important parts of davening are done facing the aron kodesh, and it is improper, without a good reason, to stand with one’s back to it. However, Halacha made BK, at which the kohanim address the congregation, an exception (see Sota 40a). However, the kohanim turn to the congregation only when they need to, right before BK. The matter of timing of turning around and raising the hands is not intrinsic to BK, unlike the above matters. In fact, there is a machloket whether to turn around before the beracha (… asher kid’shanu … levarech …) or after it, and the present minhag is to turn in the middle of the beracha (see Aruch Hashulchan, OC 128:20). There is also a machloket whether to lift the hands before or after the beracha (see opinions in Va’ani Avarchem 19:2).

Given the fact that these questions of timing are just a matter of minhag, in your situation you can do what is physically best for you (you do not need to worry that other kohanim will resent your acting differently). Specifically, you can turn with everyone else, but holding your cane, and not raise your hands until you finish turning around and making the beracha. You can also turn, with the cane and at more leisure, before the beracha, and then put down the cane and raise your hands sometime before the BK itself.

In summary, you can appraise whether you can stand well enough at the critical times and figure out how to use legitimate corner cutters. You must make sure you are not endangering yourself concerning a dangerous fall. The wall may be a good solution, but something like a heavy shtender in front of you may be more effective and safer. Do not be embarrassed to ask for help to set things up best. Your lifetime of past and future berachot gives you rights!

לעילוי נשמת יואל אפרים בן אברהם עוזיאל זלצמן ז”ל

Meyuchas Le-Rashi: Only Two Questions!

When we come to the famous Four Questions, only two aspects stir Meyuchas Le-Rashi’s interest. First, he wonders why we imply we do not eat other vegetables this night (we say we eat them on other nights), when we do.

His frames his answer with Mishlei 15;17, a minimal meal eaten in a loving context is better than one with the best foods surrounded by hatred. Pesach night, commemorating the bitter servitude of Egypt makes all the vegetables bitter [it’s all maror, regardless of what it actually is]. The rest of the year, even the maror we eat is not as bitter, freed from the context of Egypt.

[His idea explains two old problems. First, my father, a”h, was adamant we not say kulo maror, all maror, since we eat other vegetables, too. For Meyuchas Le-Rashi, it all tastes like maror. It also allows Romaine lettuce, despite our eating it throughout the year; on this night, it is bitter maror.]

He then rejects a textual version that had chayyavin le-tavel, we are obligated to dip (twice), because he read Pesachim 116a to tell us children do not pay attention to what’s obligatory or not.

One main question, one minor, all vegetables on Pesach night are bitter, and children aren’t legalists who investigate obligations.

Rashbatz—Explicating Five Questions

R. Shim’on b. Tzemach Duran deals withfivequestions, although he acknowledges the fourth, about roasted meat, applies only in the time of the Temple, and is not in most Haggadot today. He does point out that the question—on all other nights, we eat meat prepared in a variety of ways, this night only roasted– follows the view of Ben Tema, the chagigah sacrifice of Pesach night also had to be roasted.

He thinks the first question was two-sided, on no other night do we have bread related obligations, on this night we do. Conversely, no other night of the year has a problem with our eating leaven. A karet problem this night.

Second question, we must eat maror, regardless of how many other vegetables we eat, in contrast to the rest of the year, where we can set our diet as we wish.

Third (he calls each question a shinui, a change the child notices), on no other night do we have a specific practice to dip food into a liquid, where tonight we do it twice (we actually do it three times, he adds, in the korech as well as the maror; since the two are one right after the other, we count it as one).

Fifth (fourth was the roasted meat question), we wonder at the insistence on leaning, where the rest of the year we eat as we want (even walking, says Rashbatz).

Rashbatz points out the child asks about the dipping even though we haven’t dipped, because s/he sees the chazeret on the table; the charoset wouldn’t have stimulated a question, because people use dips throughout the year (and drink lots of wine, the reason not to ask about four cups). And, too, if there are no children, these questions will be asked by whoever, who might be wiser than the average child.

For Rashbatz, four to five questions, points to be made about each.

Aruch HaShulchan: The Four Cups

Aruch HaShulchan spends all his time for Mah Nishtanah on why the four cups aren’t mentioned. His first answer is simple, all people celebrate redemption with drinking, our drinking raises no questions.

His second answer seeks to combine perspectives from Yerushalmi Pesachim, that of R. Yochanan who attributed the four cups to the four words of redemption Hashem uses in the beginning of Shemot, Resh Lakish relating it to the four cups in Par’oh’s dreams.

Since the second seems unconnected to Pesach, Aruch HaShulchan digresses further, to our grudge against Amalek. It’s the baseless hatred, he says, starting with the attack in the desert to their having destroyed the Temple even once we were conquered (where most conquerors preserve a country, once vanquished).

Of all the tribes, only Yosef was fit to react to baseless hatred, since only he (and Binyamin, who wasn’t a factor in Egypt because he was too young, I think) had not had such hatred for Yosef. It’s why the Purim miracle happened through Mordechai and Esther, they were from the tribe of Binyamin.

Aruch HaShulchan turns to Pharaoh’s butler and baker, who are in jail, under threat of death, for what seem to him relatively minor crimes. Letting a fly into the wine, wood into the bread, these might be cause for dismissal, but prison? And death?

He argues the two were caught sabotaging each other, the butler put the wood in the bread, the baker the fly in the wine. It was the undermining, at the king’s cost, that got them in this trouble.

Whether the cups are for the four words of redemption or reflect Pharaoh’s dream, it’s all addressing baseless hatred, for Aruch HaShulchan, led by descendants of Rachel, the only ones who didn’t have any.

Who Earned the Redemption

His last piece wonders about a debate over whether there were four or five leshonot ge’ulah, whether we try to reflect the word ve-heveiti, and I will bring, in our cups of wine. I am skipping some of his proof, but he relates it to another debate, whether the Jews were redeemed in their own merits, or those of their forefathers.

In the end, he thinks everyone agrees basic redemption depended on the Patriarchs’ merits, our merits earned us having it happen directly from God, not an angel. We did not have enough to get to ve-heveiti, though, so that was through an angel.

For Aruch HaShulchan, the interesting part of Mah Nishtanah was what wasn’t there, sparking a meditation on redemption, who can lead it, and why.

How To Stimulate a Child

R. Kook, too, focuses on a side issue of the Questions, their order. Were they in the order wedothem, the question about leaning should come first (he also wondered why we don’t ask about the four Cups, but his answer to the first issue explains this one).

In his view, all these questions are for the child who does not know how to ask, seek to bring him/her to question on his/her own. The wise child doesn’t need our questions (nor the evil or tam, I think he means).

With the non-asking child, our goal isn’t the question or answer, it’s lighting the fire of his/her questions. For that reason, we start with the least surprising issues, hoping s/he will leap to the more surprising (and more obviously questionable) ones. Everyone had bread, sometimes matzah, sometimes leavened, so sticking to matzah isn’t so shocking.

For maror, he is sure people did not eat it during the rest of the year. The dipping, in his view, focused on the first one, since people didn’t generally dip before a meal.

Four Questions, an adventure in producing questions, for R. Kook.

The Mah Nishtanah, in our earlier commentators, were to consider and explain. For our later commentators, there were other fish to fry, redemption for Aruch HaShulchan, education for R. Kook.

Artificial intelligence (AI) has quickly become a part of daily life, influencing the information we consume and the decisions we make. And the process is just starting. This places significant responsibility on the AI builder. Designing an AI system is not merely a technical challenge but also a moral and religious one. What information is included, how it is presented and what assumptions shape its worldview all affect the end user. AI is a broad term and we speak here of any AI system that provides information or recommendations to the public, even if this is just a small subset of AI that is already integrated into systems. Judaism has long wrestled with analogous challenges, especially in the realm of publishing, where books and ideas shaped communities and beliefs. The precedents we find in halakhic literature offer guidance on the ethical responsibilities of those building AI systems today.

I. Book Publishing

When you boil the issues down to their basics, in a sense AI systems resemble book publishers. They gather, process and distribute information, often with little distinction between fact and opinion, or between traditional and secular perspectives. Of course, there are differences. Publishers determine the actual words used while AI systems have more independence in expressing ideas. However, the similarities are important. The dangers are obvious: inaccuracies can harm reputations, mislead the public and cause damage to individuals, groups or institutions. Additionally, the dissemination of a secular worldview can significantly undermine religious convictions. Judaism has a lot to say on these subjects.

But a fundamental question arises: who is the judge? Many issues cannot be conclusively proven. What counts as heretical, misleading or damaging? Who decides what is acceptable and what must be avoided? These questions, which arose in the age of the printing press, return with new urgency in the age of artificial intelligence. 

There are two ways to approach the ethical dangers of information technology: as policymakers and as citizens. Policymakers can regulate markets and restrict harmful products. Citizens, lacking that power, must find other ways to protect themselves and their communities. Halakhah addresses publishing issues from both perspectives, which can inform our discussion of AI ethics.

II. Improper Content

AI systems, even the most advanced, can generate errors. However, this is not a new challenge. Authors can include mistakes and misinformation in books, newspapers and magazines.

The Torah demands reliability. The Sages teach, chazakah she-ein chaver motzi mi-yado davar she-eino mesukan, it is assumed that a scholar does not release something that is defective and unreliable (Eruvin 32a). Your product, your words, your teaching must be accurate and responsible. This principle applies no less to an AI builder than to an author or teacher. If you release a system that frequently misinforms, you have failed the Torah standards expected of you. You might also be violating prohibitions against slander (lashon ha-ra) against individuals, groups and institutions. AI builders bear an ethical duty to ensure accuracy, reduce harm and constantly refine systems to prevent the spread of falsehoods.

But inaccuracies are not the only danger. AI can spread not only errors but also perspectives foreign and contradictory to Torah. By default, most AI systems are trained on vast libraries of secular writing, much of which reflects assumptions inconsistent with Jewish tradition. Some of these relate to unacceptable social behaviors and others relate to fundamental Torah beliefs. Presenting such perspectives as neutral fact and normative behavior and beliefs is spiritually dangerous. Books, likewise, present similar challenges.

III. Jewish Approaches to Regulating Publishing

How have Jews historically dealt with similar challenges? There are two possible perspectives: policymakers and citizens. As mentioned above, policymakers wield control and can regulate markets. But for most of Jewish history, Jews lacked such power. Indeed, Jews often utilized Christian book publishers. Instead, Jewish communities had to assert religious responsibility as citizens, finding creative ways to protect their members without market control.

Given that Jewish publishing houses have existed for centuries, it is surprising how few responsa have been published about their ethical responsibilities to the public. There is one mention of book publishers in Shulchan Arukh (Orach Chaim 307:16) declaring that the publishers of romance novels cause people to sin by thinking improper thoughts. In the 1970s, Rav Moshe Feinstein addressed the case of publishing heretical works. He famously insists that the commentary of R. Yehudah He-Chassid on the Torah is a heretical forgery. Significantly for our purposes, Rav Feinstein rules that it is forbidden for a Jewish publisher to print heresy. More strikingly, he adds that even if the overt heretical passages are removed, the publisher may not publish the rest of the work which might still contain confusing or misleading ideas. Even subtly non-traditional ideas are forbidden (Iggeros Moshe, Yoreh De’ah, no. 115).

In the AI context, this is particularly pressing. A model that offers secular or non-traditional interpretations of morality, halakhah or faith can easily mislead the unwary. The risk is not only false information but distorted frameworks of thought. AI builders must ask: what perspectives are we embedding? What worldview does the system normalize? Policymakers must consider: what perspectives can we, as a society, tolerate and what can we not? How do we enforce minimal standards to prevent dangerous views from proliferating? The first step is generating agreement that there should be minimal standards. The second step is deciding what they are. Neither step is easy. 

Even when the information comes from a reputable source, it might be improper to provide to the public. For example, the Talmud (Shabbos 30b) discusses whether certain biblical books should have been removed from circulation. There was no doubt that they were written under divine inspiration. The problem was their confusing and contradictory natures. If the objectionable passages could be explained, then there would be a basis to allow their circulation. However, responsible authorities cannot allow the circulation of a theologically confusing and misleading book, even one written under divine inspiration.

I remember when Tipper Gore led the fight against violent and profane lyrics in music. To society’s great detriment, her team’s partial win consisted only of labeling such music as explicit and nothing beyond. In my opinion, AI builders are ethically bound to ensure that AI avoids violent, profane and otherwise destructive output. And regulators are ethically bound to ensure that unethical AI systems do not enter society. However, even if this fight is won in the US, unethical AI systems will certainly be built in other countries that do not regulate their technology. Perhaps this is overly pessimistic, but it seems almost impossible to prevent those AI systems from being used in the US. In other words, no one really controls the markets. Therefore, we need to look at another model for responsible publishing.

To be continued…

On Shemini Atzeres of 5786, the Jewish world lost Rabbi Moshe Hauer zt”l, one of the wisest and most quietly pious people I have ever had the privilege of knowing. Rabbi Hauer was a spiritual giant and a personal mentor of mine, but it did not start out that way. When I first interacted with Rabbi Hauer when I was a lay leader at the OU, I found his actions puzzling and contrary to my instincts on how a leader should run an organization. Let me tell you how he not only won me over but convinced me to leave my career in Finance and work for him full time.

I served for years as a volunteer on the editorial committee of Jewish Action. The committee meets to plan each issue and offers guidance through email on an ongoing basis. In the past, we typically operated independently unless questions arose that required direction from OU leadership. The system worked well and the magazine earned wide praise for its educational and inspirational value.

That changed in 2020 when Rabbi Hauer joined the OU as executive vice president and began attending and actively contributing to editorial meetings. He offered detailed thoughts on specific articles and themes: what topics we should cover, whether to take a first-person angle or more of a thought piece, who would be a good writer or interviewee for any specific article, etc. The involvement of the head of such a vast organization — overseeing NCSY, Yachad and more — initially troubled me. Was this level of hands-on participation good for the organization? On a personal level, he and I often disagreed in those meetings, and I assumed he did not value my input. I felt alienated from a publication I loved and frustrated by what I mistook for micromanagement.

I expected that he did not appreciate my contribution because of our frequent disagreements. Over time, through continued conversation, I realized how wrong I had been. Rabbi Hauer’s involvement reflected a fundamental belief that came to resonate deeply with me. He believed in the transformative power of ideas. OU programs are about action — outreach, assistance, advocacy, etc. — but ideas are what inspire action. To change the world, you start with changing how people think. You open conversation on urgent issues and challenge assumptions. Without defining problems and understanding their causes, how can you ever solve them? How do we energize people to take action without first convincing them that this must be a priority?

Nearly all of my many conversations with Rabbi Hauer returned to this theme: the world is complex. We must weigh priorities and decide which takes precedence. Talk must lead to insight, and insight must lead to action. Discussion without direction, without a takeaway, was for him a missed opportunity.

But even practical conversation alone is not enough. It has to reflect a Torah perspective rooted in traditional sources and guided by the sages of our time. Rabbi Hauer was uncompromising in his fidelity to Torah values on every minor detail, every word, every implication. This came not merely from obedience to halachah but from his essence. He strove to align every decision with Hashem’s will, through halachah and hashkafah, Jewish law and thought. His faith and awe of Hashem infused everything he said and did. He continually sought guidance from great rabbis to confirm that he was walking the right path.

I came to see that his attention to Jewish Action and passionate care for its detailed decisions stemmed not from executive control but from religious responsibility. He saw the magazine as a crucial forum to explore how we as a community can better fulfill Hashem’s will. He began with first principles—analyze issues, inspire reflection, identify even partial solutions. Rabbi Hauer often reminded us that the Orthodox community has much to celebrate, yet always has more work to do and more people to help.

Years earlier, in 2011, Rabbi Hauer co-founded the Klal Perspectives journal to discuss communal challenges and solutions. After joining the OU, he extended that mission through Jewish Action, in a more accessible format. He valued disagreement and a spectrum of viewpoints. He wanted ideas tested. Hearing other perspectives and possibilities sharpened his thinking. Sometimes he conceded to me, sometimes not. He was a persistent man in pursuing Hashem’s will, but at the same time he was open to hearing and honestly considering other views particularly from other parts of the community.

Eventually, as he drew me into more conversations and projects, I realized that our differences had revealed a shared purpose. I followed his guidance as a student before a teacher, challenging him respectfully and often being rewarded with his humor in return. His appreciation of our interactions led him to invite me to work for him full time earlier this year, which for me is a dream come true. I will forever mourn that I had only a few months under the mentorship of such a great man. 

Rabbi Hauer’s blend of conviction and openness, his strength of principle and willingness to listen, endeared him to all who knew him. These qualities, as so many are now testifying, allowed him to elevate individuals and the community alike.

I learned so much from Rabbi Hauer in such a short time. When I first drafted this article, I began with a clever opening line meant to create suspense. Then I heard Rabbi Hauer’s voice in my mind, asking in the language of familiarity and mentorship, “Really? That is how you begin speaking about a rabbi who passed away? Where’s the kavod ha-Torah, the honor for the Torah?” In my head, I explained the literary effect and the buildup to the kavod, the respect which he demanded for others. To which I heard Rabbi Hauer’s voice say the pithy and powerful phrase I imagine he would make up on the spot, “More kavod, less clever.” And then he repeated in a hushed voice, almost a whisper, as if reproaching himself more than me, “More kavod, less clever.” 

I pray that we are able to live up to his towering example and his uncompromising ideals, and continue reflecting in our actions more kavod — for the Torah, for the community and for every individual — as Rabbi Hauer taught with his tireless example.

Rabbi Gil Student is the Director of Jewish Media, Publications and Editorial Communications at the Orthodox Union.

Commentary and insights into the seventh portion of Parashas Noach.

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“Peace solutions, initiatives, and international conferences to resolve the Palestinian problem are contrary to the beliefs of the Islamic Resistance Movement.” (Hamas Charter, Article 13)

In Parashas Noach, the word ḥamas (H-A-M-A-S) appears in the Torah for the very first time:

“וַתִּשָּׁחֵת הָאָרֶץ לִפְנֵי הָאֱלֹקים, וַתִּמָּלֵא הָאָרֶץ חָמָס”

“And the earth had become corrupt before G-d, and the earth was filled with violence (ḥamas – H-A-M-A-S).” (Bereishis 6:11)

Rashi explains that the generation of the Flood was sealed for judgment because of gezel—theft—the destruction of honesty and trust between man and his fellow. Yet the word ḥamas in Tanach carries a far broader meaning: it expresses cruelty, violence, and moral corruption.

In Tehillim (7:16–17), King David declares:

“בּוֹר כָּרָה וַיַּחְפְּרֵהוּ, וַיִּפֹּל בְּשַׁחַת יִפְעָל
יָשׁוּב עֲמָלוֹ בְּרֹאשׁוֹ, וְעַל קָדְקֳדוֹ חָמָסוֹ יֵרֵד”

“He dug a pit and hollowed it out, and fell into the pit he made.
His mischief will return upon his own head, and his violence (ḥamas – H-A-M-A-S) will descend upon his crown.”

And in Tehillim (11:5):

“ה’ צַדִּיק יִבְחָן, וְרָשָׁע וְאֹהֵב חָמָס שָׂנְאָה נַפְשׁוֹ”

“Hashem examines the righteous, but His soul despises the wicked and the lover of violence (ḥamas – H-A-M-A-S).”

And again in Tehillim (18:49):

“וּמְפַלְּטֵנִי מֵאֹיְבָי, אַף מִן קָמַי תְּרוֹמְמֵנִי; מֵאִישׁ חֲמָסִים תַּצִּילֵנִי”

“And You rescue me from my enemies; indeed, from those who rise against me You raise me high; from a man of violence (ḥamas – H-A-M-A-S) You deliver me.”

An ish ḥamasim—a man of violence—is a ruthless, merciless person who sees brutality as a legitimate means to achieve his aims.

When we bring all these pesukim together, a clear picture emerges: ḥamas (H-A-M-A-S) is not merely theft or wrongdoing, but the complete corruption of human character—an empire of cruelty and violence that fills the earth and drives away the Divine Presence. It is the very opposite of peace, truth, and justice. And when the world becomes filled with ḥamas (H-A-M-A-S), the Torah tells us:

“קֵץ כָּל בָּשָׂר בָּא לְפָנַי, כִּי מָלְאָה הָאָרֶץ חָמָס מִפְּנֵיהֶם; וְהִנְנִי מַשְׁחִיתָם אֶת הָאָרֶץ”

“The end of all flesh has come before Me, for the earth is filled with violence (ḥamas – H-A-M-A-S) because of them; and behold, I will destroy them from the earth.” (Bereishis 6:13)

All the descriptions of ḥamas—theft, cruelty, brutality, and moral decay—form one image of a society ruined from within, corrupt and bereft of yiras Shamayim.

It is both astonishing and chilling that this very name—Hamas—was chosen by the terrorist organization that calls itself the “Islamic Resistance Movement.” Its official charter, issued in 1988, overflows with calls for bloodshed and destruction:

“Jihad is its path.” (Article 8)
“There is no solution to the Palestinian problem except through Jihad. Initiatives, proposals, and international conferences are all a waste of time and vain pursuits.” (Article 13)
“You are stronger than they are, because of the terror which Allah has cast into their hearts.” (Article 14)

The term jihad, according to Hamas’s own writings, means a “holy war”—a struggle of violence and blood to impose their creed and annihilate Israel. In their worldview, war is not a last resort but a religious duty. Agreements, negotiations, and ceasefires are only temporary tactics, devoid of sincerity, meant to be used until the opportune time to betray them arrives.

Therefore, as long as Hamas exists, there is no basis for trust in any agreement with them. Every pact is signed with the premeditated intent to break it. They do not keep a covenant but use it as a means to gain advantage until it can be discarded. We must not deceive ourselves—and we must not allow them to deceive us.

Deception is not merely a political act—it is a sin. The Torah commands:

“מִדְּבַר שֶׁקֶר תִּרְחָק”

“Distance yourself from falsehood.” (Shemos 23:7)

The Ramban explains that we are enjoined to keep far from anything that carries even a trace of deceit, for truth is the seal of the Holy One, blessed be He.

The Chafetz Chaim (Shemiras HaLashon, Sha’ar HaTevunah) warns that one who deceives himself is in even greater danger than one who deceives others, for he blinds his own conscience and closes the path to teshuvah.

We must therefore open our eyes to reality. The Torah has already shown us what ḥamas (H-A-M-A-S) is—cruelty, violence, and moral corruption. The Nevi’im cried out against it, and David HaMelech pleaded to be saved from it. The name Hamas, chosen in our times, is nothing less than a tragic reflection of those same dark forces that filled the earth before the Flood.

We must not deceive ourselves, nor allow them to deceive us. We can place no faith in the promises of men of violence, but only in Hashem. We must daven that He rescue us from our enemies and redeem us from men of ḥamas (H-A-M-A-S). With this awareness—he who is forewarned is prepared—we must remain alert and resolute, not lax or passive in protecting ourselves.

May we merit to see with our own eyes how HaKadosh Baruch Hu guards His people Israel, brings peace to our Land, and fills the world not with ḥamas—but with chesed and emes.

Parshat Noach, Top Five

The Internally Expansive Ark

When Hashem tells Noach to take two of all the living species in the ark, 6;19, Ramban is aware of how impossible it would have been to fit all of them into even this very large structure. Chullin 63b tells us, for example, there are 120 subspecies of ayah, a nonkosher bird, in the east, let alone all the other types of birds. There are also huge animals, like elephants, and numerous varieties of vermin. Ten arks, even of that size, wouldn’t be enough, Ramban is sure.

It was a miracle, he says, the ark expanded (internally; he implies it was a sort of science fiction kind of space, where it looked a certain size from the outside, but had much more room inside).

If so, why not let Noach build a smaller ark? Two reasons: first, the point was to draw attention, with the hope people would be stimulated to repent as they watched this very long process. It also reduced the level of miracle in the events (since it was huge), and that’s how miracles work—people do as much as they can, Hashem takes the rest.

That’s neither rationalist, which seeks natural explanations to the extent possible, nor supernaturalist, which emphasizes the miraculous (Ramban does think everything is a miracle, in the sense that Hashem always infuses the world with His support and energy, as it were, is always “running” the world; with that said, there’s an ordinary pattern to the world, and what violates it we call miraculous). It’s our world, to do our best; when our best doesn’t get us where Hashem wants, miracles happen.

The Educational Flood

When the inhabitants exit the Ark, 8;19 says the romeis, the crawling bugs, left le-mishpehoteihem, in their families. R. Yohanan, Sanhedrin 108b, says “and not them.” To explain, Meshech Chochmah starts with the idea Gd could have flooded existence in much less than twelve months. The experience was unnatural anyway, including inside the Ark, where Gd kept Noah and the animals alive, despite air usually becoming unbreathable after so long, he says. Freed of the need to work within ordinary nature, Gd could have done it instantly.

Hashem instead took twelve months, to retrain the people and animals on the Ark. Before the Flood, animals as well as people had become accustomed to chamas and sexual perversion; to change their outlook took a year, where they learned to be satisfied with their lot, rather than grab from others. The animals relearned their need to submit to humans, who run the world, and people reabsorbed the prohibition of arayot, sexual improprieties (as Bereshit Rabbah Va-Yishlach 80;6 says).

To ingrain the momentary, convert it to second nature takes time (Meshech Chochmah writes teva sheni, literally second nature, a phrase that comes from secundum naturam, which actually means “according to nature.” Who knew?). Le-mishpehoteihem, their families, signals how they had changed, means they now knew to mate only with their own kind, were no longer their original selves.

He closes with an important idea, living creatures are defined by their nature and character. Having changed their ways, they were no longer themselves.

The Flood punished, destroyed, and also educated, according to Meshech Chochmah. People and animals, turned them into other than they were when they entered, more ready for success.

Our Saving Weakness

After the Flood, Noach builds an altar and offers sacrifices, from each of the kinds of kosher animals on the Ark. Hashem smells the sweet aroma, we learn in 8;21, decides to no longer curse the earth or punish all life because of humans.

The justification catches Or HaChayim’s attention. Hashem says man’s inclinations are evil from his childhood, reminding Or Hachayim of Bava Kamma 39a, an ox trained to attack a human in the arena is not liable if it gores a person elsewhere (it’s not the ox’s fault, he was taught to do that). Here, too, people are born with the urge to run amok before they learn to choose right and reject evil. The urges they must conquer thus have a prior place in their training, and therefore they cannot be fully blamed for their misdeeds, like the stadium ox.

He hastens to add that Hashem only removed the threat of global destruction, Hashem will still punish disobedience, an aspect not found in the ox. Humans have the ability to choose well; our childhood proclivities mitigate the evil we commit, not excuse it.

An elegant presentation of the challenge of being human: we are born ready to do wrong, have to learn how to do right, and therefore gravitate towards what feels more natural. We are equipped to overcome ourselves in the name of right, especially when God commanded us, an awareness that should help tip the scales to observance.

When we fail, Hashem puts it into the entire proper context, the headstart our evil inclination got over our leaning to good.

Justice, Not Vigilantism

After the Flood, Hashem makes rules for the emerging humans as they recreate society. A prominent one prescribes capital punishment for murder, verse 9;6 saying anyone who spills a human’s blood, ba-adam damo yishafech, his blood shall be spilled by humans. Onkelos adds (I think because the verse says ba-adam, by people, although it doesn’t obviously mean what he is about to say) be-sahadin al memar dayanaya, with witnesses, according to the word of judges.

He seems to have worried readers would take it to allow vigilante justice. In correcting the possible error, he does not clarify whether courts are necessary to be sure the culprit did it or because only courts represent society in punishing murderers. I suspect the latter. If the Torah tells us we can kill murderers, we would know on our own we have to be sure they were actually murderers. To me, Onkelos is saying Hashem granted only courts, with proper procedure, the right to represent society and punish murderers.

Abraham Leaving His Father, Alive or Not

Bereshit 11;32 tells us Terach died in Charan. Rashi points out this doesn’t belong where it is said, since Avraham (then known as Avram) had left sixty years before. Without reviewing his proof of the chronology, the question is why Scripture moved Terach’s death forward. He says it is to blur this sequence of events, to avoid people saying Avram did not honor his father, abandoned the old man. Nor was it a lie, Rashi says, the verse could accurately say he was dead, given the Talmudic idea that evildoers are called dead during their lifetimes, while the righteous are called alive even after death.

[Note how Rashi wants to find a way this isn’t a lie written here, even though he is also comfortable, in other places, saying the Torah writes out of order.]

In his view, Scripture sometimes hides truths people will not accept. Justifying Avraham’s apparently neglectful treatment of his father was too complicated or likely to fail; instead the Torah misled readers about the timing of Terach’s death.

Second, he throws in the idea that being “alive” doesn’t always refer to a physical state. We focus on breath and a heartbeat, but life encompasses more than the physical.

Five comments about the Flood and what came after, the world it created. Through an ark that managed to contain more than it physically could, where the year of the Flood reset the natures of all living creatures, with a continued understanding of human weakness, weakness that might need a court response. With an outlier Rashi on a different topic, how the Torah doesn’t want cynics to be able to claim Avraham left his aged father to his own devices.

The rest of what we have seen:

Onkelos, Bereshit, 6;9

Ramban, Bereshit 6;9

Meshech Chochmah Bereshit 6;9

Kli Yakar Bereshit 6;9-12

Rashi, Bereshit, 6;11

Onkelos, Bereshit, 6;12 and 13

Chatam Sofer, Bereshit 6;20

Ramban, Bereshit 7;7

Rashi, Bereshit, 7;12

Ha’amek Davar 8;7

Ramban, Bereshit 8;11

Onkelos, Bereshit, 8;20 and 21
R. David Zvi Hoffmann, Bereshit, 8;20
by R. Gidon Rothstein

Parshat Noach, Top Five

The Internally Expansive Ark

When Hashem tells Noach to take two of all the living species in the ark, 6;19, Ramban is aware of how impossible it would have been to fit all of them into even this very large structure. Chullin 63b tells us, for example, there are 120 subspecies of ayah, a nonkosher bird, in the east, let alone all the other types of birds. There are also huge animals, like elephants, and numerous varieties of vermin. Ten arks, even of that size, wouldn’t be enough, Ramban is sure.

It was a miracle, he says, the ark expanded (internally; he implies it was a sort of science fiction kind of space, where it looked a certain size from the outside, but had much more room inside).

If so, why not let Noach build a smaller ark? Two reasons: first, the point was to draw attention, with the hope people would be stimulated to repent as they watched this very long process. It also reduced the level of miracle in the events (since it was huge), and that’s how miracles work—people do as much as they can, Hashem takes the rest.

That’s neither rationalist, which seeks natural explanations to the extent possible, nor supernaturalist, which emphasizes the miraculous (Ramban does think everything is a miracle, in the sense that Hashem always infuses the world with His support and energy, as it were, is always “running” the world; with that said, there’s an ordinary pattern to the world, and what violates it we call miraculous). It’s our world, to do our best; when our best doesn’t get us where Hashem wants, miracles happen.

The Educational Flood

When the inhabitants exit the Ark, 8;19 says the romeis, the crawling bugs, left le-mishpehoteihem, in their families. R. Yohanan, Sanhedrin 108b, says “and not them.” To explain, Meshech Chochmah starts with the idea Gd could have flooded existence in much less than twelve months. The experience was unnatural anyway, including inside the Ark, where Gd kept Noah and the animals alive, despite air usually becoming unbreathable after so long, he says. Freed of the need to work within ordinary nature, Gd could have done it instantly.

Hashem instead took twelve months, to retrain the people and animals on the Ark. Before the Flood, animals as well as people had become accustomed to chamas and sexual perversion; to change their outlook took a year, where they learned to be satisfied with their lot, rather than grab from others. The animals relearned their need to submit to humans, who run the world, and people reabsorbed the prohibition of arayot, sexual improprieties (as Bereshit Rabbah Va-Yishlach 80;6 says).

To ingrain the momentary, convert it to second nature takes time (Meshech Chochmah writes teva sheni, literally second nature, a phrase that comes from secundum naturam, which actually means “according to nature.” Who knew?). Le-mishpehoteihem, their families, signals how they had changed, means they now knew to mate only with their own kind, were no longer their original selves.

He closes with an important idea, living creatures are defined by their nature and character. Having changed their ways, they were no longer themselves.

The Flood punished, destroyed, and also educated, according to Meshech Chochmah. People and animals, turned them into other than they were when they entered, more ready for success.

Our Saving Weakness

After the Flood, Noach builds an altar and offers sacrifices, from each of the kinds of kosher animals on the Ark. Hashem smells the sweet aroma, we learn in 8;21, decides to no longer curse the earth or punish all life because of humans.

The justification catches Or HaChayim’s attention. Hashem says man’s inclinations are evil from his childhood, reminding Or Hachayim of Bava Kamma 39a, an ox trained to attack a human in the arena is not liable if it gores a person elsewhere (it’s not the ox’s fault, he was taught to do that). Here, too, people are born with the urge to run amok before they learn to choose right and reject evil. The urges they must conquer thus have a prior place in their training, and therefore they cannot be fully blamed for their misdeeds, like the stadium ox.

He hastens to add that Hashem only removed the threat of global destruction, Hashem will still punish disobedience, an aspect not found in the ox. Humans have the ability to choose well; our childhood proclivities mitigate the evil we commit, not excuse it.

An elegant presentation of the challenge of being human: we are born ready to do wrong, have to learn how to do right, and therefore gravitate towards what feels more natural. We are equipped to overcome ourselves in the name of right, especially when God commanded us, an awareness that should help tip the scales to observance.

When we fail, Hashem puts it into the entire proper context, the headstart our evil inclination got over our leaning to good.

Justice, Not Vigilantism

After the Flood, Hashem makes rules for the emerging humans as they recreate society. A prominent one prescribes capital punishment for murder, verse 9;6 saying anyone who spills a human’s blood, ba-adam damo yishafech, his blood shall be spilled by humans. Onkelos adds (I think because the verse says ba-adam, by people, although it doesn’t obviously mean what he is about to say) be-sahadin al memar dayanaya, with witnesses, according to the word of judges.

He seems to have worried readers would take it to allow vigilante justice. In correcting the possible error, he does not clarify whether courts are necessary to be sure the culprit did it or because only courts represent society in punishing murderers. I suspect the latter. If the Torah tells us we can kill murderers, we would know on our own we have to be sure they were actually murderers. To me, Onkelos is saying Hashem granted only courts, with proper procedure, the right to represent society and punish murderers.

Abraham Leaving His Father, Alive or Not

Bereshit 11;32 tells us Terach died in Charan. Rashi points out this doesn’t belong where it is said, since Avraham (then known as Avram) had left sixty years before. Without reviewing his proof of the chronology, the question is why Scripture moved Terach’s death forward. He says it is to blur this sequence of events, to avoid people saying Avram did not honor his father, abandoned the old man. Nor was it a lie, Rashi says, the verse could accurately say he was dead, given the Talmudic idea that evildoers are called dead during their lifetimes, while the righteous are called alive even after death.

[Note how Rashi wants to find a way this isn’t a lie written here, even though he is also comfortable, in other places, saying the Torah writes out of order.]

In his view, Scripture sometimes hides truths people will not accept. Justifying Avraham’s apparently neglectful treatment of his father was too complicated or likely to fail; instead the Torah misled readers about the timing of Terach’s death.

Second, he throws in the idea that being “alive” doesn’t always refer to a physical state. We focus on breath and a heartbeat, but life encompasses more than the physical.

Five comments about the Flood and what came after, the world it created. Through an ark that managed to contain more than it physically could, where the year of the Flood reset the natures of all living creatures, with a continued understanding of human weakness, weakness that might need a court response. With an outlier Rashi on a different topic, how the Torah doesn’t want cynics to be able to claim Avraham left his aged father to his own devices.

The rest of what we have seen:
Onkelos, Bereshit, 6;9
Ramban, Bereshit 6;9
Meshech Chochmah Bereshit 6;9
Kli Yakar Bereshit 6;9-12
Rashi, Bereshit, 6;11
Onkelos, Bereshit, 6;12 and 13
Chatam Sofer, Bereshit 6;20
Ramban, Bereshit 7;7
Rashi, Bereshit, 7;12
Ha’amek Davar 8;7
Ramban, Bereshit 8;11
Onkelos, Bereshit, 8;20 and 21
R. David Zvi Hoffmann, Bereshit, 8;20
Sforno, Bereshit 9;5
Malbim, Bereshit 9;5
Meshech Chochmah, Bereshit 9;6
Onkelos, Bereshit, 9;13, 16, and 17
R. Hirsch, Bereshit 10;5Ramban Bereshit 10;9
Rashi, Bereshit 11;1
Ibn Ezra, Bereshit, 11;1.
Ha-Ketav ve-Ha-Kabbalah Bereshit 11;4
Rashi, Bereshit 11;5
Onkelos, Bereshit 11;5, 11;8
Sforno, Bereshit 9;5
Malbim, Bereshit 9;5
Meshech Chochmah, Bereshit 9;6
Onkelos, Bereshit, 9;13, 16, and 17
R. Hirsch, Bereshit 10;5Ramban Bereshit 10;9
Rashi, Bereshit 11;1
Ibn Ezra, Bereshit, 11;1.
Ha-Ketav ve-Ha-Kabbalah Bereshit 11;4
Rashi, Bereshit 11;5
Onkelos, Bereshit 11;5, 11;8