Rabbi Sam Trief
This week, as we enter Shabbat, it would be easy to say that the world is broken.
And do not get me wrong, it is.
But I want to offer a different lens.
Because if we only walk through the world naming what is broken, we will miss something equally true:
There is also so much that is good.
So much that is resilient.
So much that is still worthy of our gratitude and our hope.
And maybe the question is not only: What is broken?
But also: What are we choosing to see?
This week, we begin the book of Vayikra.
The very first word, Vayikra, means “And God called.”
Not in a perfect world.
Not in a world that had everything figured out.
And yet, there is still a call. A call to build meaning and a call to show up for one another.
I was thinking about this on my recent trip to Israel.
One of the most beautiful things I experienced was this quiet, mutual care.
Israelis would say to us, “We feel so bad for you, for what you are dealing with in America, the fear, the rise in antisemitism.”
And we, as American moms, would say, “No, what you are living through, the fear, the disruption, the exhaustion, we can’t even imagine.”
It was this constant exchange of compassion, each side trying to hold the other’s pain.
And what struck me was this:
The world did not feel broken in those moments.
It felt deeply connected and beautiful.
Because even in the midst of everything, people were still choosing to care.
There is a teaching in the Book of Psalms that says: “God is close to the brokenhearted.”
Which means that even when things are hard, we are not alone.
And maybe that is the deeper truth:
The world is not only broken.
The world is also filled with people responding to that brokenness with love.
Yes, there are horrific and antisemitic responses we are seeing in the wake of last week’s attack in Michigan. And we cannot ignore that reality.
But we can also choose where we place our attention.
We can choose to notice the moments of care.
Like the way Shenandoah Country Club opened its doors, where parents were reunited with their children who had been relocated from Temple Israel’s early childhood center, and in that moment created a true sukkat shalom, a shelter of peace.
So the question becomes:
Where do we place our attention?
How do we hold awareness of what is frightening and real, while also protecting our sense of security and our emotional well-being?
Not by being naïve,
but by being intentional.
As we begin this new book of Torah, we are reminded:
We are not just observers of the world.
We are builders of it.
We shape the world
by how we show up,
by how we treat one another,
by whether we answer the call.
So yes, the world can feel heavy.
But it is also filled with possibility.
Shabbat Shalom.
