Before the global pandemic, most people in developed nations didn’t think much about plagues. Clean water, sewage infrastructure, refrigeration, and decent basic medical care ensured that the scourges of the Bible and Middle Ages seemed like a distant memory. Because of that, the extended passages in Leviticus about Biblical leprosy often struck a modern reader as antiquated, bizarre, or completely irrelevant. We now recognize that humanity may never escape periodic plagues
Before the global pandemic, most people in developed nations didn’t think much about plagues. Clean water, sewage infrastructure, refrigeration, and decent basic medical care ensured that the scourges of the Bible and Middle Ages seemed like a distant memory. Because of that, the extended passages in Leviticus about Biblical leprosy often struck a modern reader as antiquated, bizarre, or completely irrelevant. We now recognize that humanity may never escape periodic plagues
In the ancient Tent of Meeting, five types of offerings were brought before God: burnt offerings (Olah), grain offerings (Minchah), peace offerings (Shelamim), sin offerings (Chatat), and guilt offerings (Asham). Our ancestors brought these sacrifices to address their needs. Sometimes they needed to make amends, assuage their feelings of guilt, connect with God, or express gratitude. We no longer bring material sacrifices, yet we share a common humanity. Our needs have not changed, only how we seek to fulfill them.
In the ancient Tent of Meeting, five types of offerings were brought before God: burnt offerings (Olah), grain offerings (Minchah), peace offerings (Shelamim), sin offerings (Chatat), and guilt offerings (Asham). Our ancestors brought these sacrifices to address their needs. Sometimes they needed to make amends, assuage their feelings of guilt, connect with God, or express gratitude. We no longer bring material sacrifices, yet we share a common humanity. Our needs have not changed, only how we seek to fulfill them.
In the ancient Tent of Meeting, five types of offerings were brought before God: burnt offerings (Olah), grain offerings (Minchah), peace offerings (Shelamim), sin offerings (Chatat), and guilt offerings (Asham). Our ancestors brought these sacrifices to address their needs. Sometimes they needed to make amends, assuage their feelings of guilt, connect with God, or express gratitude. We no longer bring material sacrifices, yet we share a common humanity. Our needs have not changed, only how we seek to fulfill them.
I want to discuss friendship, the hiddenness that arises from antisemitism, and how joy is both the corrective and outcome that occurs when we step out of the places where we have been hiding.
Mel Sirner was my senior rabbi during my first tenure after rabbinical school. It's likely you haven't heard of him because he showed no interest in fame, enhancing his reputation, or earning a spot on lists of America's most influential rabbis. Instead, he consistently dedicated himself to his work, guiding his community with unparalleled steadiness. His aversion to the spotlight, a hallmark of American success, was a natural extension of his character—kind, genuine, and devoid of ego—qualities as rare as they are essential for anyone in the rabbinate.
