Last week, on the first Shabbat of 2026, we closed the book of Genesis. This Shabbat, we will open the book of Exodus. And this week, this first full week of the New Year, we stand between the final verses of Genesis and the opening of Exodus—between a book of origins and a book of possibility.

Genesis tells the story of becoming: families forming, identities taking shape, blessings passed down imperfectly but persistently. Exodus will tell the story of transformation—of a people discovering its voice, its values, and its capacity to move toward freedom. The space between them reminds us that growth often happens quietly, before it becomes visible. What looks like an ending may, in fact, be preparation.

Hazak, hazak, v’nitchazek.
Be strong, be strong, and let us be strengthened.

At the end of every book of Torah, we pause. We rise together as a community and proclaim these words—not as a farewell, but as a charge. Hazak is our ritual way of marking transition: honoring what has come before, and blessing what is about to begin.

The Talmud teaches that four things require chizuk—intentional strengthening. The first is Torah, the learning that shapes us. The second is ma’asim tovim, acts of loving-kindness, which our sages say require not only strength (hazak), but courage (amatz). Strength and courage are inseparable, just as learning and loving must be inseparable. The third is tefillah, prayer that deepens our awareness and our hope. And finally, derech eretz—ethical, compassionate living—also requires continual strengthening.

As we enter a new calendar year and open a new book of Torah, our tradition offers us a hopeful and enduring roadmap. Hazak is not a vague wish for resilience; it is a call to choose where we place our strength. We are asked to invest it in learning that stretches us and roots us, in acts of loving-kindness that require courage as well as care, in prayer that deepens our attention to what matters most, and in derech eretz—the daily work of treating one another with dignity, patience, and integrity.

These are not abstract ideals. They are practices that shape who we become over time. When we give our strength to them, they give something back: wisdom to guide us, compassion to steady us, and connection to carry us forward—together.

Hazak—be strong—and when you can’t be, let’s lean on one another.

Rabbi Sari Laufer