This week’s double Torah portion, Matos-Massei, speaks to two of life’s most sacred powers: the words we speak, and the paths we walk.
In Parshas Matos, the Torah teaches us that speech is not casual — it is covenantal.
“He shall not break his word; he shall do all that he uttered.” (Bamidbar 30:3)
Words can heal or harm. They can build lives or, tragically, take them apart.
This week, that truth was brought painfully into focus as the nation watched the sentencing of Bryan Kohberger, accused of the horrific murder of four university students in Idaho. In that courtroom, victims’ families had the chance to speak — and they did so with unimaginable strength and raw honesty.
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One survivor, Bethany Funke, described her daily terror and decision to “live for them.”
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Alivea Goncalves, Kaylee’s sister, looked Kohberger in the eye and declared: “No one is impressed by you. No one thinks you’re important.”
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Kim Kernodle, Xana’s aunt, added through tears: “I forgive you, because I can no longer live with that hate in my heart.”
And then, came a moment of chilling clarity. The judge, addressing Kohberger directly, said:
“Perhaps it’s better we don’t hear from the defendant.”
That line felt eerily aligned with Matos. When speech becomes manipulative, dishonest, or corrosive, sometimes the holiest thing we can do is to be silent — to not give darkness another platform. In Judaism, not every voice deserves a microphone. Sacred silence, too, can be a vessel of truth.
It’s a kind of silence that emerges when truth is absent, when speech would only deepen the desecration. The judge’s words remind us: not all silence is empty. Sometimes, silence is the only space where dignity can breathe.
Parshas Masei recounts the journeys of the Israelites — 42 stops from Egypt to the Promised Land. Each journey held meaning. Some were triumphant, others were places of loss. And so too, we name and remember:
🕯 Kaylee Goncalves
🕯 Madison Mogen
🕯 Xana Kernodle
🕯 Ethan Chapin
Four lives. Four worlds. May their memories be for a blessing.
All of this comes during the Three Weeks, a time in the Jewish calendar when we mourn the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash — the Holy Temple, which our sages say was lost because of baseless hatred. The journey back must begin with intentional love, justice, and accountability.
Judaism does not require the families of victims to forgive. But it does encourage us — in time — to transform pain into purpose, and memory into light. The journey forward will not be easy for the victims’ families. Nor should it be. Judaism does not demand they “move on.” But it does invite them — in time — to move forward. To build, to love, and to speak in a way that lifts the names of their loved ones higher with each passing year.
Let us be inspired to choose our words wisely, walk our journeys with meaning, and honor the sacred lives that were taken too soon.
May their souls have the highest ascent,
May their families find comfort,
And may we be among those who bring healing to a broken world.
With prayers for peace, justice, and redemption,
Good Shabbos and Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ruvi New
Boca Beach Chabad
