בס "ד

Integrar la Torá en la propia vida a través de la reflexión y la conversación puede ser una experiencia increíblemente divertida y atractiva. Es un viaje de descubrimiento, en el que la sabiduría ancestral y las enseñanzas intemporales cobran vida en nuestras experiencias cotidianas. A través de la reflexión, tenemos la oportunidad de sumergirnos en el rico tapiz de la Torá, extrayendo profundas ideas y lecciones que resuenan en nuestras vidas modernas. La alegría reside en los momentos "ajá", aquellos en los que un versículo o una historia de la Torá conectan de repente con nuestros retos, aspiraciones y valores personales. Y cuando participamos en conversaciones sobre la Torá con otras personas, se convierte en una exploración interactiva, en la que diversas perspectivas e interpretaciones mejoran nuestra comprensión. Estos diálogos a menudo despiertan el entusiasmo y la curiosidad intelectual, haciendo que el proceso de aprendizaje sea agradable y satisfactorio. La Torá se convierte en una parte vibrante y dinámica de nuestras vidas, que nos ofrece no sólo orientación, sino también una fuente inagotable de fascinación, conexión y crecimiento.

NOTA: No te sientas obligado a consultar todas las fuentes ni a responder a todas las preguntas, a menos que quieras hacerlo. Incluso una sola fuente o una sola pregunta te dará mucho material para debatir y meditar. Disfrútalo.

Some thoughts from the Parsha

There is a strange and easily overlooked scene in this week’s Torah portion. Twins are being born. One hand emerges first, and a crimson thread is tied around it to mark the firstborn. But then something unexpected happens, the hand withdraws. The other child pushes through first. The midwife exclaims, “What a breach you have made!” and he is named Peretz, meaning breach. Only afterward does the first child emerge, and he is named Zerach, meaning radiance.

At first glance, this seems like a biological curiosity. But the Torah does not waste words, and when we follow this story forward, we discover that it is anything but minor. Peretz becomes the ancestor of Boaz. Boaz marries Ruth. From them comes Oved, then Jesse, and finally King David. The entire Davidic line, Israel’s kingship and the hope of future redemption, flows from that unexpected breach.

And it gets more complicated.

Ruth herself is a descendant of Moab, born of a deeply troubling episode involving Lot and his daughter. Judah fathers Peretz through Tamar under circumstances marked by concealment and misunderstanding. From both sides, the lineage that leads to David emerges from relationships that were not supposed to happen, or happened in ways that look deeply flawed. And yet, this is the line the Torah traces carefully and deliberately.

This forces us to confront a powerful and uncomfortable truth: the Torah does not assume that everything good must begin good. In fact, it often teaches the opposite. Some of the most enduring and sacred outcomes emerge from moments of confusion, rupture, and moral complexity.

This pattern reaches all the way back to the very beginning of creation itself: “The earth was formless and void, darkness was upon the face of the deep, and the spirit of G-d hovered over the waters.” (Genesis 1:2) The Torah does not say that G-d waited for order before acting. Divine purpose was present inside the chaos.

That insight matters enormously for how we understand covenant, history, and human failure. There is a widespread assumption, especially in later theological systems, that disobedience means rejection, that failure voids purpose, and that covenant must be replaced when it is strained. But the Torah tells a very different story.

Israel’s covenant does not unfold in a straight line. It moves through struggle, protest, error, and repair. That does not mean the covenant failed. It means the covenant is real, because real relationships include accountability, growth, and return.

The Davidic line itself is the clearest proof. If covenant required perfect origins and uninterrupted righteousness, there would be no David, no kingship, and no future hope. The Torah teaches that G-d works through human history as it is, not as we wish it had been.

Peretz comes before Zerach. The breach comes before the light.

And that carries a quiet message for anyone living in a moment that feels fractured or unresolved. Darkness does not mean abandonment. Confusion does not mean the story is over. Very often, it means something essential is still struggling to be born.

May we be blessed celebrate the coming of Mashiach ben David, speedily, in our days, amen.

Ahora, reflexiona sobre las siguientes preguntas:

  1. Why do you think the Torah emphasizes flawed or complicated beginnings in the line that leads to David rather than hiding them?
  2. What does the name Peretz, “breach”, teach us about how meaningful change or redemption sometimes enters the world?
  3. How does the Torah’s view of failure differ from systems that assume failure means rejection or replacement?
  4. In your own life, can you think of a situation where clarity or growth emerged only after confusion or disruption?
  5. What might it mean to trust that purpose can still be unfolding even when the present moment feels incomplete or dark?

¡Shabbat Shalom!

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Por el rabino Tani Burton

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