I was created before the sun, but I shine. What am I?
Light
I’m lit before the sun goes down, but I shine long after it sets. I welcome peace into the home.
I am a place where animals became closeness to Hashem.
The Mizbeach
I split without a sword, stood like walls, and closed on an army that chased you.
Krias Yam Suf
I’m said with your hands covered, your eyes closed, and your heart focused.
Shema
I was swallowed but didn’t die.
Yonah
I’m dipped twice, once in salt water and once in charoses
Maror
I was made of boards and curtains, but traveled through the desert for 40 years.
The Mishkan
I was given in fire, smoke, and thunder, but written in silence.
Matan Torah at Har Sinai
I’m a song of thanks sung at the sea, but said every morning
Az Yashir
I spoke, but I’m not human.
Bilam’s donkey
I’m built outside, lived in for a week, and my roof must let you see the stars.
Sukkah
I had no windows, yet I shined with holy light; only one person entered me once a year.
The Kodesh HaKodashim
I was a census that counted only half a coin per person.
Machatzis HaShekel
I’m the prayer that ends with “Oseh Shalom,” but I begin with “Yisgadal v’yiskadash.”
Kaddish
I was hit twice, and water came out.
The rock in Parshas Chukas
I’m read at night and day, but I’m not a newspaper.
Megillas Esther
I held a table, a menorah, and an altar — but no one ever slept inside me.
The Heichal
I was a famine predicted by a dream of cows and stalks.
Yosef interpreting Pharaoh’s dreams
I’m the prayer said after learning Torah, thanking Hashem for choosing us.
Birchas Hatorah
I was built, destroyed, rebuilt, and will be rebuilt again.
The Beis HaMikdash
I’m a scroll read on a fast day, but I’m not Esther.
Megillas Eicha
I was a river that stopped flowing so a nation could cross.
The Yarden (Jordan River)
I was a city destroyed by fire from heaven, but one woman looked back.
Destruction of Sodom and Amorah
I’m the part of davening where you ask for rain — but only in the winter.
“V’sein Tal U’Matar