Rabbi Guzik - A Bisl Torah

The themes of Passover are smacking us in the face. In the Haggadah, we implore each Jew to see themselves as if they were the ones to personally leave Egypt. As we watch the Islamic Republic of Iran reign terror on Israel and experience direct antisemitism in our local communities, this line in the Haggadah feels as if it is being written, read, and lived in real time.

We live in a polarized world. More and more, we have reasons to turn from each other and walk on separate paths. But sometimes, miraculously, a natural event reminds us that we have more in common than we realize.

Of all the Jewish holidays, Passover requires the longest preparation. We clean our homes, kasher our kitchens, buy an obscene amount of food, and design elaborate Seder meals. There is an abundance of effort and exhaustion in the process of attaining “freedom.”

I officiated at a funeral of a woman that reminded me of an important lesson. Perhaps, the most important life lesson: To fully embrace each moment we have in this world.

This week, we experienced an international effort through Aish to bring Jews together. The initiative was called, “Global Hour of Jewish Unity.”

We have reached the season of changing the clocks. This time, springing forward. Daylight stretches, gifting us chirping birds and welcoming rays of the sun. But we are also reminded that when one physically and mentally springs forward, there’s always a chance of falling.

One of my greatest pleasures is studying Torah with congregants. As one congregant and I poured over some difficult verses, she remarked on the many books behind my head. “Rabbi Guzik, have you read all of them?” I laughed. Some yes. Some skimmed. Some patiently waiting to be opened.

The golden calf story bothers me. After escaping Egypt and the fiery vengeance of Pharaoh, the Children of Israel are close to receiving God’s written instructions. Moses leaves the group to embark on this divine mission, only to return to find a scene of pure chaos. I don’t blame the recently freed Hebrew slaves. Before heading to receive the Torah on Mount Sinai, Moses and Aaron should have engaged in a vital conversation.

The Torah introduces the ner tamid, the eternal light that was present in the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary. In every synagogue across the world, you will find a ner tamid—a light that connects us to the original ner tamid mentioned in the book of Shemot.

It’s the season of love. Or at least, according to Hallmark.