Give Thanks for it All

Give Thanks for it All

We live in a murky, uncertain world—one that can feel frightening, unpredictable, and confusing. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. 

And yet, amidst the fog, we search for meaning, for comfort, and for faith.

This week’s Torah portion, Tzav, describes the Korban Todah, the Thanksgiving offering. 

It’s a fascinating mixture: it includes both matzah—humble, unleavened bread—and chametz—leavened, puffed-up loaves.

This offering mirrors the duality of our lives.

We go through “matzah” times: flat, dry, humbling moments filled with challenge, loss, and grief. And we also experience “chametz” times—moments of joy, abundance, and ease. 

Both are real.

Both are part of life.

And in the Korban Todah, we bring them together in one sacred offering of gratitude.

How do we hold such opposing emotions? 

How can a heart break and expand with gratitude all at once?

And yet—it does.

Sometimes we are able to dance and cry in the same breath. 

We are able to laugh with tears caught in the back of our throats. 

Our joy for life doesn't erase the grief of loss.

God designed us to be able to hold paradoxes.

As Jews, we are commanded to thank—even in darkness.

The Modim prayer thanks God for our souls, for daily miracles, for a love that never ceases. Even when we feel out of control—even when God’s ways seem hidden—we are reminded that everything is in Divine hands.

On Purim, we read the Megillah—a story where God’s name is never mentioned, but Divine orchestration is everywhere.

God is hidden, yet present.

On Pesach, just weeks later, we recount a very different story—one of open miracles: ten plagues, the splitting sea, divine rescue in plain sight.

Both are true.

God is revealed.

God is concealed.

Sometimes we understand.

Often, we don’t.

Our challenge is to keep singing.

To keep thanking.

To keep recognizing the good, even when it’s tangled with pain.

One day, we believe, there will be no more sorrow. 

In the time of Mashiach, there will be only joy—only Purim. 

We will be able to say with full hearts: Hashem is good and does only good, with love.

But until then, we live in a world of complexity—one that demands faith, compassion, and deep feeling.

So, this Shabbat, I bless us that we can hold both truths:

The sadness and the sweetness. 

The loss and the love. 

The fear and the faith. 

The matzah and the chametz.

May we have the courage to feel it all, to give thanks through it all, and to believe in the goodness that underlies it all.

Shabbat Shalom, a Shabbat of gratitude, of recognition, of the full spectrum of human experience. 

May we—and all of humanity—know only sweetness very, very soon.

With love, Elissa