Chief Rabbi Warren Goldstein

We all reach for structure. Routines, habits, the small repetitions that hold a day together. Without them, life can feel like chaos.
In this week's talk on the Parsha of Bamidbar, the Torah describes the Israelite camp arranged with extraordinary order around the Mishkan, every tribe in its place. The Chief Rabbi argues that structure is not just helpful. It is one of the deepest psychological and spiritual needs of the human being. The architecture beneath every meaningful life.
But there's a problem. Too much structure crushes the soul. Where does the joy go? The spontaneity? The love?
Drawing on the Maharal, on Rabbi Yerucham Levovitz's image of pearls held by a string, on the Mishnah's strange instruction to pray with structure but not as routine, and on the very word Siddur, the Chief Rabbi traces the paradox at the heart of Torah, and the way it holds structure and passion in tension.
And asks what holds a life together, and what sets it free.
Key Questions
Why do we need structure to feel alive?

Can routine crush the very thing it's meant to protect?

What is the difference between Torah as structure and Torah as rote?

How does the same Mishnah tell us to pray with order, and yet not by rote?

Something astounding has just happened in America.
In an official presidential proclamation marking the 250th anniversary of the United States, the President has called on Jewish Americans to observe a national Shabbat — from sunset Friday 15 May to nightfall Saturday 16 May.
In over 3,300 years of Jewish history, no head of state has ever officially recognised Shabbat in this way and called on Jews across an entire nation to keep it. Never before. Not in America. Not anywhere.
In this address, Chief Rabbi Warren Goldstein — founder of the global Shabbat Project — calls on every Jewish American to answer the proclamation. To rally every family, every community, every Shabbos table. To make this Shabbat a moment of unity, pride, and Jewish connection across the United States.
Above politics. Shabbat is a gift. And this is the moment to open it.

We live in an age of headlines.
One event follows another so quickly. Wars and crises. History can begin to feel fragmented and almost impossible to understand.
But the Torah asks us to step back and see something larger.
In this week's talk on the Parsha of Behar-Bechukotai, the Torah confronts us with one of the most difficult questions in Jewish thought: how do we understand suffering, history, and the unfolding story of humanity itself?
Drawing on Pirkei Avot, the Maharsha, the Rambam, and the broader sweep of Jewish history, the Chief Rabbi argues that current events have a shape, even when they feel like chaos.
Key Questions
Are we living through random events, or part of a larger story?

What changes when history stops feeling random?

What does it mean to see yourself as part of history, rather than merely watching it?

How do ordinary lives shape the moral direction of the world?

We all have values. Family. Faith. Integrity. Honesty in business. Loyalty in marriage. We list them so easily it can feel like having them is settled.
In this week's talk on the Parsha of Emor, the Chief Rabbi opens with a question that sounds simple. It turns out not to be: what is a value?
We begin somewhere unexpected: economics.
In economic terms, something is worth only what someone is prepared to pay for it. What does that say about the things we claim to value?
Drawing on Pirkei Avot, the Sefer HaChinuch, and the structure of the mitzvah of Sefirat HaOmer, the Torah introduces a deeper question about value. One that is not so easily reduced to price.
And leaves us with a question many would rather not answer.
Key Questions 
Is a value still a value if you're not prepared to pay for it?

Where does the very idea of intrinsic worth come from?

Can a society have objective values without God?

Why are the values we say we have so often the values we don't live?

In this Day of Remembrance address, Chief Rabbi Dr Warren Goldstein responds directly to Pope Leo, and says what the world needs to hear.
Yom HaZikaron is a day of remembrance. A day to mourn those who lost their lives, and to stand with the families who carry that loss.
It is also a day on which something must be said.
In a world of moral confusion, where religious leaders like Pope Leo fail to distinguish between the aggressor and the defender, silence is not an option.
When we call our fallen soldiers "Kedoshim Utehorim" - holy and pure - we are not only honouring them, but making a declaration: Israel's wars are just wars, and that those who gave their lives defending civilization itself are sacred.