D'var Torah

The haftarah in the guise of Naaman says that one need not be defined by tzara’at – or, we add, any aspect of ourselves by which others define us, as though we are unidimensional.

Without the structure of community and the grounding of ritual, my action, based on the heat of my emotions, would be like a wildfire rather than a well-tended altar.

When leaders choose discrimination and censorship, when they care more about excess for some rather than access for all, Achashverosh is still among us.  

...as we learn from Leviticus, for communal sin there can be expiation. The process begins not with bringing a bull to the sanctuary, but with a commitment to learn history, and a commitment to ensure that history is learned by others.

It is incumbent upon us to create spaces for God to come into the world. I would add, if we are not doing everything we can to create structures to house all holy human beings, then we are not doing our part in imitating godliness. 

Our movements for justice rely on the ecology of different people and different groups bringing the contributions that make our hearts sing.

When anger is a mode of life or when expressed in an unjustified manner, it is prohibited by Judaism. But if a person is wronged, they are allowed to express their natural feelings, including anger.

One of the greatest lies we tell ourselves is that we are alone in the world. And we dedicated advocates for justice are, I think, especially guilty of that lie. The ner tamid is not lit by one person or only the most gifted among us.

In this week’s portion, Terumah, Moses is given instructions for how to build a sanctuary.

This is but one example in a web of inequity that favors an ever-shrinking group of American elites... And yet, one word — Ish, a person — repeated over and over again in the dictation of these mitzvot is a reminder that the work is indeed mine to do as an individual.