(M)oral Torah

There are moments when we know that we can make a difference. Do we let those moments pass? [Or do we listen to] that "still, small voice" [that] calls us to respond, to take a stand, or to lend a hand?

The Torah deems Shifra, Puah, and Moses worthy of being named on the basis of their efforts to subvert the injustice that surrounds them. These leaders should push us to ask ourselves if we are fully inhabiting our named identities as we face today’s moral challenges.

May we protect one another with whatever vision and creativity we can muster and continue to teach hope and dignity to our children. Let us be strong and strengthen each other.

The most significant moments aren’t those of harsh words, and demonstrations, but rather intimate moments of humble connection. Those are the moments that can change everything.

For those who are experiencing darkness today, light will come — we just need to commit to the belief that darkness is unacceptable.

Ethical perfection is not possible in an imperfect world, and running away from reality to seek private peace is not an option. Instead, we must act with love within our spheres of influence. There are opportunities for coalition-building across disagreements.

The path may never be clear, a single arrow to follow towards moral perfection, but Jacob teaches us that it is holy work to wrestle, to struggle with forging our own winding path towards what we feel is moral.

We must not merely curse the world as irreconcilably wicked, incapable of beauty, love, or justice. Rather, we must bless what is good, offering our gratitude for the holiness in our lives and in each other, so that we may see to our work to repair the world with that much more love and compassion.

As we start to imagine, strategize, and plan around what the next four years will hold and how we will continue to defend human rights and advance justice, we will need to draw not only on our resilience and determination, but also on our creativity and imagination; our willingness to experiment, to fail, and to try new things.

In the aftermath of trauma, there is a natural desire to protect, to retaliate, and to secure our own safety at all costs. But in seeking safety, in seeking justice for our own pain, we can risk perpetuating cycles of violence that dehumanize others — and ultimately ourselves.