Let Justice Roll down like the Waters, Righteousness pour forth like an unending Stream”
 
This weekend we celebrate Simchat Torah; we move from from Moses’ death in Deuteronomy into Bereshit, the birth of our world. In this story of creation we read “vayivra Elohim et ha-adam B’stalmo, B’tzelem Elohim bara otoh, zahar u’nekeiva bara otam. Vayivarech otam…” God created humankind in God’s image; male and female, God created them… God blessed them.

The significance of this text is palpable in today’s modern world. We face raging fires, flooding waters, flying bullets, hurtful words and lives lost without reason. We live in a world where our differences rather than our similarities are the focus. Yet, these few verses of Torah remind us that even though we look, think, feel and speak differently, we are all B’tzelem Elohim; we each carry within us a part of the divine.
 
It is fitting that ATL Pride falls upon the weekend we re-live our creation as human beings. We have an incredible chance to do something that is a central core of Reform Judaism, to take action, and raise our voice for justice and equality. It is apparent that those ostracized in our community are no longer solely determined according to race or religion. That we still face such persecution in a country, founded upon freedom and liberty for all, is an outrage. More infuriating is the hatred and rejection we face based upon who we choose to love, or what gender we identify with. The deepest parts of our human biology-the very parts which are blessed by God as God creates us- are now at stake.

The prophet Amos famously cries out “At such a time that the prudent man keeps silent, it is an evil time…. Seek good and not evil, that you may live, that God may truly be with you… hate evil and love God and establish justice upon your gates so that perhaps God may dwell with you, let justice well up like the waters, let righteousness burgeon forth like an unending stream.”

We must not be silent in the face of injustice and inequality. In order to bring God’s divine light into the world, we must raise our voice and let righteousness pour forth.
​
I will be marching with SOJURN Sunday morning, as a part of ATL’s Pride March, supporting the LGTBQ+ community. I will be marching in honor of my family and my friends. I will be marching for humanity because we are all created in the image of the divine regardless of our basic biology, color, race, religion, creed, gender, or sexuality.
 
Who will you be marching for?

My Drash from this weeks Shmini Atzeret Yizkor Service: 

We remember.
On Rosh Hashanah we remember:  as family gathers to make motzi over two round challot, signifying a full year, we see the seat once occupied by Mom, now filled with another.

On Yom Kippur, we remember. We remember who used to sit on our right side, and who used to sit on our left. We feel their physical presence, almost tangible. Their spiritual presence surrounding us as we pray with new friends and loved ones who now sit on our right, and sit on our left.

On Sukkot, Pesach and Shavuot we remember. The three pilgrimage-agricultural festivals “Shalosh Regalim” command us to worship together, to bring God into our midst, and to remember our history.
Pesach reminds us not only of the coming of spring.

On Pesach we remember our exodus from Eygpt, God bringing us forward through the sea, the Mitzrayim-our narrow places. We recline around the table, recalling the details of our formation as a Jewish nation. We look around the room, almost seeing grandma in her usual spot, grandpa davening the Seder, or God forbid, a child scampering underneath the table around our feet. They are shadows now in our midst.

On Shavuot we remember. We remember pulling up the late spring harvest. We remember how we stood at the foot of Mount Sinai, and committed ourselves to do as God commands, and to understand the meaning behind our new lives as a Jewish nation.

We conclude Sukkot, this day of Shmini Atzeret: we remember how we wandered in the desert as a new people for 40 years, relying upon God for food and protection. We join together with our friends and family, decorating the sukkah and breaking bread together within its walls. Our hearts slightly torn as we notice those who are missing from our celebration.

And there are so many more times we remember. Birthdays and anniversaries, and family traditions. We are a communal people, gathering together in prayer and in celebration, bringing God into our midst.

How do we bring God into our midst as we notice the vacant spaces, as we miss the great belly laughs, secret jokes, the special mandle-broit and homemade gefilte fish. The smell of horseradish coming from the food grinder. The warm hugs, quick wit, quiet love, gentle hands. The smell of perfume.

How do we welcome God amidst the pain that we feel? Whether it is fresh and recent, or is now faded scar; it is so hard to reach for God in these moments, as we remember those whom we have loved fiercely. We remember those who left this world gracefully at their own time, or those who fought with strength and fervor. All have left us too soon, and it is so easy to be angry at God, who created a world where all creation is destined for an end that is too soon.

God places Godself in the each of these particular times of the year. We are commanded to remember God’s sheltering presence during our 40 years of wandering. God is always there. As we roamed the dessert God was there as a pillar of cloud by day, so that we could be protected within a great sukkat shalom. God was there as a pillar of fire by night, to keep away our enemies- human and animal. To give us light amid the blackest of nights. As we prayed in the mishkan, our portable sanctuary- our spiritual center in the desert, God descended upon us in a cloud, signifying God’s presence among God’s people.

This week we read the words of Ki Tisa, the special Torah portion for Sukkot that recalls God’s cloud presence among the people in the Mishkan. So God is here today, in our own Mishkan. In this spiritual center of our community. Can you feel the gentle presence? The invisible shield wrapping around us, holding us up when we feel as though we are falling low.

At their lowest moment, the Israelite people having defiled God with their golden idols, Moses cries out to this cloud:
 “Adonai Adonai, El Rachum v’Chanun. Erech Apayim v’Rav Chessed v’Emet. Notzeir Chesed La-ala-fim, Noseh A-von Va-fesha v’Chata-a” Adonai Adonai, You are Our God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin.” Exodus 34:6-7

We may not feel God’s presence in the moment. We might feel as though God is oceans and light years away from us. But let us not despair. God is searching for us as well. Yehuda Halevy, a 13th century poet illumines that we only need to take but one hesitant step. Ask one hesitant, perhaps fearful question… God, are you there? God, I am in despair. God….why?

The answers we crave may forever be a mystery, but in that trembling step, the hesitant reaching out, God will find us, even if we do not yet know God’s presence, because God yearns for our presence. . We can yell at God as Moses did, we can relax into God’s silent and invisible presence as the Israelite people did.

As we grieve, for those whom we have loved and lost, we can remember that they are part of God’s creation.

We lift up the gifts that they gave us: creation, unending and unconditional love, gentle hands, belly laughs, secret jokes. Warm hugs, quick wit, quiet love. The smell of perfume. We are in these moments, lost in our memories.

​Let us be still, and know that Adonai is with us as we remember them now. 

הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, עֲשֵׂה רְצוֹנוֹ כִרְצוֹנְךָ, כְּדֵי שֶׁיַּעֲשֶׂה רְצוֹנְךָ כִרְצוֹנוֹ. בַּטֵּל רְצוֹנְךָ מִפְּנֵי רְצוֹנוֹ, כְּדֵי שֶׁיְּבַטֵּל רְצוֹן אֲחֵרִים מִפְּנֵי רְצוֹנֶךָ. הִלֵּל אוֹמֵר, אַל תִּפְרֹשׁ מִן הַצִּבּוּר, וְאַל תַּאֲמִין בְּעַצְמְךָ עַד יוֹם מוֹתְךָ, וְאַל תָּדִין אֶת חֲבֵרְךָ עַד שֶׁתַּגִּיעַ לִמְקוֹמוֹ, וְאַל תֹּאמַר דָּבָר שֶׁאִי אֶפְשָׁר לִשְׁמֹעַ, שֶׁסּוֹפוֹ לְהִשָּׁמַע. וְאַל תֹּאמַר לִכְשֶׁאִפָּנֶה אֶשְׁנֶה, שֶׁמָּא לֹא תִפָּנֶה
 
 
“This was his motto: ‘Do God’s will as if it were your own, so that God may do your will as God’s own. Adapt your will to God’s will so that God may change the will of others instead of yours.’ Hillel said, ‘Don’t separate yourself from the community. Don’t be overconfident until the day of your death. Don’t judge your fellow human being until you have reached that person’s place. Don’t say anything that is unintelligible with the hope that it will be understood. And don’t say ‘When I have leisure, I will study’-perhaps, you never will have that leisure.” [1] Pirkei Avot: 2:4
 
Commentary:
 
Do God’s Will: Rashi[2] suggests that one can devote oneself to God while still taking care of one’s own needs. Our challenge is to hear God’s voice in the world and try to determine what God wants us to do.
 
Discernment
In Jewish Spiritual Direction, listening for God’s voice in the world is called discernment. The practice of discernment results from a cultivation of various spiritual practices such as mindfulness and awareness (usually aided by meditation practices) and the practice of sacred and holy listening: listening for that which lies beneath the surface. When we still our minds, sink into to that which we are experiencing, both good and bad, we allow ourselves to hear what lies in our hearts: divine truth. From this place of divine truth, we can ask questions of ourselves, and of God such as “how do I proceed?” “What is my invitation?” “Which path should I follow?” Listen to what arises in your heart, it may be surprising, and it is a divine gift.
 

Don’t Separate Yourself: Rashi comments that one should not separate from the community when it is experiencing difficulties so that one can be united with it when [the community] is experiencing joy. Another commentator, Bartinoro[3] ,suggests that one who will not be with the community in times of sorrow will never be able to be with it in times of joy.
 
Inclusion
It is normal to run away from subjects, experiences, or people that make us uncomfortable. We fear what we do not understand or know. Our “fight or flight” instinct kicks in at the sign of danger, and usually, we run away from fear, not head on towards it. We must plunge ourselves into the danger, the fear, the unknown and discomfort. Working with our community as partners through the struggle, we become a part of the community in which we live. Sharing in the struggle allows one to transcend the differences, danger, and discomfort we may experience as individuals and as a whole community. Then we may celebrate in times of joy, since as a community, we will have experienced times of sorrow together.
 
Don’t Judge Your Fellow Human-Being: Bartinoro suggests that, if you see your neighbor ensnared by some temptation, do not judge your neighbor harshly until you have faced the same temptation and mastered it.
 
Empathy
In order to show empathy to your fellow companions, you must first imagine yourself standing in their shoes. As we approach the new year, we approach Ha Yom HaDin. The Day of Judgement. Who is judged and who is THE Judge? God, the divine, our community, our families, our children, our loved ones. We are both the Judge and Judgee. We must be mindful of this precarious position. How can we truly judge ourselves, or God, or our community, until we have placed ourselves in the other’s position? It is only from a place of Chessed, or loving kindness that we can offer the strength of “judgement”.
 
 
Don’t Say Anything That Is Unintelligible: Maimonides[4] suggests that one’s statements should be easily understood. Based on the Hebrew word “לִשְׁמֹעַ,” Lishmoa, which can mean either “to understand” or “to hear,” Bartinoro suggests, “Don’t say something you shouldn’t just because you think no once can hear it; you never know who might indeed hear you!”
 
Clarity
We have all felt misunderstood at some point in our lives. Perhaps we have given unclear directions or feedback. Maybe we have misrepresented ourselves or our feelings in some way that has caused unnecessary hurt or duress. We have all been in those awkward situations, gossiping, or discussing matters that are inappropriate, or confidential with the wrong people. Then later you come to find the subject of your gossip having heard your entire conversation. In this new year, let us strive for clarity in our communication with one another. Let our lips be guarded from speaking evil, and let us be mindful of our speech and with whom we share our sacred art of conversation.
 
When I Have Leisure: For Maimonides, study should not be a function of leisure. Rather, study should be a fixed part of your daily routine.
 
Practice:
We are creatures of habit. We build routines around habits that maintain our hygiene, keep us healthy physically and build strong relationships. What about creating a habit of study? Building space into some part of the day, a mere 5-10 minutes to grow our knowledge? Instead, we push that time away, thinking it is too much of a luxury, or we are to busy to grow mindfully in knowledge. Building knowledge deepens our understanding and connection to the world, which in turn builds stronger and healthier communities and relationships. Learning about the world and creating stronger bonds between people allows the possibility for each person to live a fuller, richer, more meaningful life. All too soon, we will not have that time to push away any longer. This year, take a few minutes and build a “practice” into your daily routine.  Open a book of poetry, read and reflect upon the words. Study the parshat ha-shavuah, the Torah portion of the week, and read a commentary or two about it. Pick up a copy of Pirkei Avot (the basis for this article) and learn about Jewish ethics, the art of living well within the world around us.


[1] Editing, Text and Translation by Leonard Kravitz, and Kerry Olitzky: “Pirkei Avot: A Modern Commentary on Jewish Ethics.” pp. xiii 20-21

[2] Rashi (1040-1105) born in Troyes France, and lived in Worms, Germany. Rashi’s commentary is generally a straightforward exposition of the terms presented.

[3] Ovadiah ben Abraham Bartinoro (b.2nd half of 15th century) in Bartinoro, Italy. One of the most widely accepted commentators on the entire Mishna, he wrote his commentary from Jerusalem where he was head of the community. Bartinoro’s commentary is a clear exposition of the best of Rashi and Maimonides”

[4] Maimonides (1135-1204) Philosopher and Physician, wrote his own commentary on the Mishna, called Mishneh Torah” His commentary in this editing and translation is noted as a philosophical reading of the text. 

​“Each of us, according to our deeds, either closes up the conduits of our souls or we open them and draw down blessing for [Adonai]. Tzadikkim are called “love-people (anshei chesed)” because all of their deeds are directed to doing lovingkindness for the [Adonai] and with their souls.
When a wicked person does teshuva, he/she opens up the wellspring of his/her soul ([that which had the quality of a dry wasteland and desolation]) and brings down love…that which had been previously parched land [now] transforms into springs of water.

The purpose of Abraham’s travels was to spread his particular quality, that of love-chessed. Abraham brought about by means of his acts, [the land of] Beth El, that loving kindness should be revealed in it. And loving-kindness is called “El” as in “God’s love never ceases.” [Abraham] drew down lovingkindness for [Adonai] by means of his good deeds, opening up the lights of the wellsprings of his soul, thereby also opening up the conduits by which blessing pours out [to Adonai]”

-Paraphrase of Degel Machaneh Efraim, from a discussion of Lech Lecha. Translated by Jonathan Slater, and adapted by Cantor Lauren Adesnik.

Tekia! The shofar sounds brash and rich during this month of Elul. For an entire month, each morning, the shofar blasts in the communities of Israel, signifying the special time of preparation that leads up to the High Holy Days. Imagine waking each morning to the sound of the Shofar. Feel its reverberations in your bones, leading you to look deeply inside yourself and examine your connections with your family, friends, loved ones, community, God, the universe.

This special preparation is called cheshbon hanefesh, an accounting, or checking in with our soul. What does it mean to “check in with your soul?” Why is there an entire month devoted to this practice? What does it mean to do teshuva, and how is that turning and returning connected to loving kindness?

Opening our hearts and exploring the deep innards of our soul can be quite scary. We are asking ourselves to move into a place of the unknown, we don’t know what may or may not come up for us. We are fearful of what we may encounter. We are afraid perhaps, that we may not encounter anything. What if we feel as though we cannot connect to ourselves, or connect to something greater? If we feel disconnected does that mean there is nothing greater, no divine presence or God to connect to? Does this mean we are limited in how we can connect to the world around us?

This journey is treacherous if not undertaken with great care. . The month of Elul gives us that time to slowly open ourselves up, to fully embrace those things in our lives and our hearts that can be the most difficult and painful to face: our notion of a divine presence in this world, faults, guilt, mistakes, those things we have done and that have been done to us that have hurt the most.

Going to those deep dark places would be impossible without chessed, loving-kindness. Making that journey without a sense of love and compassion would leave us blinded, with no sense of direction; clothed in darkness. We go to the dark places so that we can return to the light that is present for us. The journey we embark upon and the gentle loving tending to our souls that we bring to this journey is a practice of Chessed. The gentle care we can offer others this month can open us to feel blessings even amidst the darkest places within us. By offering chessed to others, we become more able to offer that gentle loving kindness to ourselves. This act becomes our Teshuva, our turning through darkness, returning to light.
​
Spiritual Practice: Opening ourselves to Adonai:
Sit in mindful silence each day and notice any blockages.  What keeps you from being open to the flow of blessings of [insert your preferred word here, i.e. God, divine presence, the universe]? When you notice a blockage, breathe into it and probe for how it may get unblocked. Maybe its anger that requires reaching out to the object of your anger. Maybe it’s an old habit (or a new one) that calls for a change of routine. Maybe it’s a wound that needs your compassionate attention. Notice, probe, and then devote some time each day to addressing the blockage.

           It was hot morning, and I had just done a significant amount of running, looping around a large neighborhood block that sat at the foot of the Santa Monica Mountain range just inside Malibu. I slowed, catching my breath and walked onto the dirt path that led to a secret hiking trail. I sat, lifting my heart to the sun, embracing its warmth.

           This was my favorite meditation spot. The canyon air wafted over me as I began silently, in my head: “be still, and know that I am God…be still and know that I am…be still and know that… be still and know…be still…be…” building the sentence to its fullness once more. My spiritual director, Rabbi Sheryl Lewart, z’l had taught this mantra to me several months prior, in my work to find a deeper, more visceral connection to God and to Judaism as I searched for my calling in the world. I repeated this practice several times and then offered this intention: “God, please come and sit in my heart. I am open to You, I am open to the universe and all that it holds.”  I held in my heart and mind the one question I came to, after two years of sorting and soul searching-“opera singer-cantor which road to travel?”

           I breathed in and felt a tingling cover my entire body, down to my core. Within this sensation was a feeling of complete rightness and surety. It felt like a giant hug, like I was wrapped in God’s sukkat shalom[1]. Enrobed with God’s presence, I found my place, I looked toward the diverging pathway and stepped into my calling.

            The most difficult and important work I did as a student and still continue to do as a clergy person, was the work I did on my soul. I did not do this alone; I was blessed to have been connected to a Rabbi who was also a spiritual director. I was very hesitant at first to try spiritual direction. I was not sure what she was supposed to help me do or what I was supposed to learn. What I discovered was an incredible gift that has served me all along my journey. Cheryl gave me the gift of opening myself up to God. Engaging in this practice of spiritual direction became a center for me as I moved through cantorial school, continuing in the spiritual direction offered through HUC, and then continuing my practice as I became ordained and began my life here in Atlanta.

            Over the past two years you have heard me talk about “this wonderful program where I am learning how to become a Jewish Spiritual Director.” I am sure a few are wondering still…what on earth is that?!  Engaging in spiritual direction is “a process for exploring our connection with what we experience as God, Spirit, Truth-however we express and understand the Sacred in our lives.”[2] This is one brief, very open interpretation of Jewish Spiritual Direction. There are many definitions, and I encourage you to look them up on the website noted in the footnote.

            You might be thinking “how does this benefit me? What is the opportunity that cantor is bringing to TE?” Rabbi Jacob Staub[3] explains very succinctly “the director serves as a companion…someone who helps you (sometimes with questions, sometimes just by listening) to [notice] the divine where you might have missed it and to integrate that awareness into your daily life…[in challenging and difficult moments as well as in joyful ones]”[4] So, if you are searching for something deeper, or looking to find more meaning in everyday life, I can help you lift up those hidden and divine moments into awareness.[5]
​
           This fall, I will be teaching an introductory course about Jewish Spirituality and Jewish Spiritual Direction called “I’m not religious…I’m Spiritual (I think).” Our sessions will be an overview of some key components that comprise Jewish spirituality and the practice of engaging in spiritual direction. I will share some simple practices you can immediately use to nurture and deepen sacred awareness in your everyday life; and together we will lay the ground work for further explorations into Jewish Spiritual Life and the possibilities for our practice here at Temple Emanu-El. I cannot wait to share this significant dimension of myself and my connection to Judaism with each of you!
​

[1] Shelter of Peace

[2] Rabbi Shawn Israel Zevitt, http://www.sdiworld.org/find-a-spiritual-director/what-is-spiritual-direction/jewish-spiritual-direction

[3] Co-Director Bekhol Levavkha, HUC-JIR Jewish Spiritual Director training and certification program

[4] Rabbi Jacob Staub, Ibid.

[5] If you are interested in Jewish Spiritual Direction, please let me know! 
​

Song, an Essay on the Power of Jewish Music, by Cantor Lauren Adesnik

“Song” by Abraham Joshua Heschel:
In no other act does man experience so often the disparity between the desire for expression and the means of expression as in prayer. The inadequacy of the means at our disposal appears so tangible, so tragic, that one feels it a grace to be able to give oneself up to music, to a tone, to a song, to a chant. The wave of a song carries the soul to heights which utterable meanings can never reach. Such abandonment is no escape…For the world of unutterable meanings is the nursery of the soul, the cradle of all our ideas. It is not an escape but a return to one’s origins.
-I Asked for Wonder, pg. 55
  
Some of my favorite moments with you, our wonderful TE family, occur in hallways or grocery stores or coffee shops, where you and I run in to each other in our average day to day tasks. Sometimes we will inevitably move towards the subject of music, song, or a melody or service that touched you. Some of you share with me that you were able to feel transported during a service-Shabbat, high holy days, or concert, by a melody, a tone, a liturgical setting. When these moments occur between us, I feel extraordinarily humbled. Those moments of transportation are moments of transcendence. They are moments of connection between you and me and our dynamic clergy team, between congregant to congregant, between human and divine.  I am not the cause nor the catalyst for those moments; to the contrary; it is the melodies that bring us together in holiness, moved to another world. This is the place where words fade and fail, and we as a congregation are able to give ourselves and our souls over to the inexpressible, and connect to something that is sacred.
 
This is the true power of music. Heschel illumines that these sacred moments for us are like a wave of a song. Heschel posits that the heights these waves reach are a place that words can never reach, the only way for us to move to that place of holiness is through a melody, a tune, or a chant. This world, where only music exists and words do not is, according to Heschel, our nursery, or cradle. This is where we are truly held, this is where we are at our most authentic, at our core.
 
We at TE are lovers of music! All kinds, from sacred Mi Sinai melodies, tunes we have grown up with, built our synagogue with, to the more adventurous and contemporary. This weekend we are blessed to have with us Danny Maseng. Danny is a dynamic and extraordinary Hazzan, performing artist, and composer. We already sing several beloved tunes written by Danny, such as Mah Tovu and Elohai N’tzor.
 
With our love of music as our cornerstone and foundation at TE, here then is our mission and vision: Inspiring and engaging congregants of all ages both within our synagogue walls, into the greater community, then bringing that greater community back in to TE. Temple Emanu-El is THE address for Jewish music. From our preschool music, our k-2 tefillah and music on Sundays, Zimria-our Hebrew through song Junior Choir, to our teens who join me throughout the year in various instrumental and vocal capacities, our adult guitar band, our adult choir Shir HaEsh- song of fire, we are building a fierce and beautiful, strong culture of music. We are only at the beginning. Our goal is to bring in more artists such as Danny Maseng, to expand our repertoire and music programs and activities at TE, to explore the Jewish community and music of Atlanta, and beyond. Getting there takes your support. Reaching these new heights as described by Heschel takes your presence, your action, your resources, your core and ideas to bring this mission and vision to fruition.
 
There is a true calling to this work, which I know that all of us feel. Together our energy and ideas, our passion and love for Jewish music can take us to the place where words fade away, and only holiness exists. Wishing all of you a Shabbat Shalom u’Vrucha v’Shira: a Shabbat filled with peace, blessings, and song.
 
Follow me at Temple Emanu-El of Greater Atlanta: www.templeemanuelatlanta.com 

"Adonai spoke to Moses in the land of Egypt and said, 'I am Adonai, speak to Pharaoh king of Egypt, all that I will tell you to.' Vayomer Moshe lifnei Adonai, Moses said to Adonai, Hen ani aral sfataim, I get tongue-tied, how would Pharaoh listen to me?! Vayomer Adonai el Moshe, God says to Moses, Look-see! I am giving you as God- I am placing you in the role of God, to Pharoah. You shall repeat all that I command you, and your brother Aaron will be your prophet." Exodus: 6:28-7:1

This week we find ourselves in the thick of our Exodus story. God commands Moses to speak to Pharoah, to ask him to let the Israelites go. Several times along the way, Moses iterates his speech impediment to God- Moses is "Aral Sfataim." The Women's Torah Commentary translates this phrase as "toungue tied." We understand Moses to have a speech impediment or stutter, so this translation makes sense. Aral, found in Leviticus 19:23 translates as "uncircumcised" and in Habbakuk 2:16 (book eight of the twelve minor prohphets) as "naked" or "exposed." Looking at all three translations, Moses's lips are uncircumcised- closed up, understanding the situation, Moses is very literally exposed, naked, and of course toungue tied! 

In these brief verses, we witness Moses' honesty and humility: Moses cries- I am tongue-tied, why would Pharoah listen to me?! How many times have we as individuals questioned our own confidence, authority or leadership in this way? 

God, rather than simply accepting Moses' complaint, and choosing Aaron to lead over Moses, literally lifts Moses up. God's response: "I will place you in the role of God to Pharoah, and Aaron will be your prophet." God lifts Moses up, into the role of the divine. Aaron becomes not just Moses' translator, but a prophet, a translator of the divine.

From this Torah portion, we remember that while we may doubt ourselves, we are all in the image of the divine. While at times we may find ourselves tongue tied, closed up, exposed, when we find our courage, when we find our voices to lead in humility, as Moses does, we bring a bit of the divine within us, out into the world, just as Moses does throughout the Exodus story and his leadership of the Jewish people. 

In our moments of doubt, of uncertainty, may we find our humble selves, may we overcome our nakedness and share our voices with courage. May we remember that sometimes we cannot share our voices all on our own,  and may we allow ourselves to be supported in those times with God's presence, and the presence of others, and though them, may we be lifted as Moses. 

Shabbat Shalom. 

Where is God? This week we move from the book of Genesis to the Book of Shemot. Our parsha is full of stories and drama: we encounter a new Pharoah who enslaves the Israelites, first born are murdered, Moses is saved. 

One of my favorite stories of the parsha is that of the burning bush. Shemot 3:1 opens as Moses is tending his father-in-law's flock of sheep. "Vayar malach adonai eilav bal-bat eish mitoch hasneh." An angel of God appears to Moses in a blazing fire out of a bush. Rather than running away, Moses gazes at the bush, wondering how it burns, yet is not consumed. As Moses looks further at the bush, Moses hears Gods call "Moshe, Moshe Henini." Moses, Moses! Here I am. 

Just before we read this chapter, chapter two closes with a dramatic scene, the Israelites are suffering as slaves, and they cry out. 

Where is God amidst the Israelite's terrible strife? We ask this question over and over again throughout the terrible things that have befell the Jewish people. We ask this question over and over again throughout our own suffering and grief. 

The Torah tells us that the cries of the Israelites rose up to God, that God saw the children of Israel and knew their suffering. 

Countless times we as Jews have wondered where God is in the midst of our suffering as a people, in the midst of our suffering as individuals. In our times of struggle, of pain, and of grief, it is difficult to feel God's presence. Maybe it is difficult even to want God's presence. 

Torah reminds us in these verses that God is there. There are two beautiful ideas that come from this section of our parsha. Chapter two ends with the text "God saw the children of Israel and knew their suffering." God didnt hear the suffering, God saw the suffering. God was able to step into the shoes of the Israelites, and truly know their strife. God is an example of empathy. God was truly there with the suffering Israelites. 

In the very next verses, God answers the cry of the Israelites, through an ordinary bush, appearing to a simple shepherd. What does this teach us? God is everywhere. Moses doesnt just look at the bush and turn away. The bush, aflame but not consumed intrigues Moses. Moses gazes at the bush. It is only after Moses spends some time looking at the bush that God calls "Moses! Moses! Here I am" 

Moses took time to really see what was in front of him. That time allows Moses to experience the miracle of the burning bush, to experience God- to hear the voice of God. Moses shared God's voice with the people of Israel, and ultimately, we made our way from slavery to freedom. 

Where is God? God is in the simple moments of everyday, God is in the miracle of nature all around us. If we take the time to open our eyes and truly see, we find God. 


The story of Moses and the burning bush can be a true call to action. Where are the burning bushes in the world today? They are speaking for those who are still suffering enslavement, dictatorship, lack of basic necessities. When we open our eyes to those in the world who cry out, when we answer their call by helping those who have less, by being a voice for those who have none, by simply helping someone across a busy street, God truly speaks and moves through us. 


Take a moment, what is your burning bush? Who or what is calling you to action? How can you find God in your own life? Where is God?