(M)oral Torah

I went to Juárez seeking a window into what is happening along our southern border, but I left staring at a mirror of culpability and responsibility.

Commanded to love our neighbors as ourselves, we understand that if we fail to see a member of our community, it is because we are not looking for them with enough love.

Only from an open and spacious heart can I experience a connection to what is holy. When I am focused on what I want and need, or when I am filled up with my own sense of righteousness, then what I have created within is actually a Golden Calf instead of my own small sanctuary.

We need each other’s lights. A friend, colleague, or ally — perhaps even those we consider adversaries — have the sacred potential to ignite in us the lamp of tamid consciousness and the willingness to widen our circles and give ourselves to the tasks of care, compassion, advocacy, and love.

Theologically speaking, to be human is to be sacred. Full stop. During human engagement, when we remain mindful of the sanctity of the other person, we bring acknowledgment of our shared holiness and further elevate the other and ourselves.

Mishpatim teaches that formal justice must be free of influence from bribes or wealth status, and that even the stranger deserves protection. In my home state of Montana, regressive laws recently passed in our 2023 state legislature have revoked rights and freedoms from Montana residents under the guise of “protection” and “freedom of speech."

As inheritors of a multi-vocal Jewish tradition that welcomes dissent and minority opinions, allowing people the chance to freely, legally, and openly participate in the democratic process strikes me as very Jewish. So to look at some of these harsh policies that stifle the voices of the downtrodden contradicts so much of what we hold dear in Judaism.

There is a deep and abiding power in saying to those who have died as a result of solitary confinement. We cannot bring back those we lost, but we can sanctify their memories by continuing to fight for a city that is dedicated to human rights for all.

A missile cannot tell righteous from wicked.

In this moment, we do not know how things will turn out, in Israel or the U.S. But if Torah and history have anything to teach us, it is that whatever happens is not inevitable, and the catalyst will not be something we could have predicted in advance. This moment, like all moments, is full of possibility. It will be those with proactive vision who will move history, just as it always has been.