This past week has been heavy. As we are all aware by now Beth El synagogue in Jackson, Mississippi was doused in gasoline with the sole purpose of destroying the building, destroying Judaism …it is a synagogue that was the closest to the synagogue I served Alexandria, Louisiana…whose members are related to my former members, attend Jacobs Camp, where I served on faculty for 4 years… I have friends and colleagues who grew up there, served as their Rabbis. The synagogue is also home to the Institute of Southern Jewish Life, our educational partner, which has connected and strengthened Jewish communities from Texas to the Florida Panhandle. It is the spiritual heart of the Jewish community of Jackson, Mississippi.

 

At nearly the same time, we saw news of a synagogue in Giessen, Germany targeted by a man who did the nazi salute before setting a trash can ablaze in front of their building.  Time and time again we are witnesses to painful reminders that antisemitism does not belong to the past. 

And closer to home, the violence and fear surrounding immigration enforcement in Minneapolis, and countless other cities in the United States has left communities grieving and afraid. 

 

Next Friday, I will be accompanying 9 of our teens to Washington DC to attend the Religious Action Center’s L’taken Social Justice seminar, for 4 days of learning how to advocate to make positive changes in this world.  

 

Would you have ever considered that a parent would express, out of pure fear, that we should carry multiple forms of identification with us on our trip, to be prepared if ICE challenges our citizenship?  This is our reality today, and it is terrifying. 

These incidents are different.
But Torah teaches us that they are connected.

In this week’s parashah, Vaera, God says to Moses:

“I have surely seen the affliction of My people who are in Egypt. I have heard their cry… I know their pain.”

Rashi notices something subtle here. He teaches that God is not responding to a single moment of suffering, but to accumulated pain — pain that has gone on too long to ignore.

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Oppression becomes most dangerous when it is normalized.
When people say, This is just how things are.

Torah insists otherwise. God sees what the world tries to look past.

When a synagogue burns, it is not only property that is damaged. It is trust. It is safety. It crushes the belief that Jews can gather without fear.

One of the Torah scrolls destroyed at Beth Israel synagogue had survived the Holocaust. Another survived only because it was behind protective glass. That image feels unbearably familiar — destruction alongside survival.

The Ramban teaches that the Exodus story is not only history; it is a pattern. What happens to the Jewish people once will happen again, in different forms, until redemption is complete. 

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That does not mean that we should despair, that we should just sit back and let it happen.
It means WE have to be super vigilant.

We are commanded not just to remember Egypt — but to recognize it when it reappears.

The central character of Vaera is, not a person,,,it is Pharaoh’s heart.

Again and again, the Torah tells us: his heart was hardened.

The plagues are dramatic, but the real danger is internal — a leader who refuses to see the humanity of those under his power.

Pharaoh’s cruelty flows from his refusal to be moved, to change…to see what is happening within his land is wrong.

That is why Torah warns us so relentlessly:
Do not harden your heart.

Egypt under Pharoah’s rule is a society obsessed with control — of labor, of borders, of bodies. The Israelites are reduced to a problem to be managed, not people to be protected.

That is why events like the violence surrounding immigration enforcement in Minneapolis is so horrifying. Our Jewish memory recognizes the danger when power loses accountability and compassion.

 

The Torah repeats thirty-six times: You shall not oppress the stranger.

Why so many times? Because we know how easy it is to forget — 

In Vaera, God reveals a new name: Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh — I Will Be What I Will Be.

Rashi states that God “will be with them in this suffering — and in future suffering as well”.

God does not promise that pain will end immediately.
God promises presence.

And then God sends Moses to beg, to plead to Pharoah to soften his heart…and despite all the plagues set upon him, his kingdom, his family…he is too stubborn to relent. 

 

And so, Parashat Vaera asks three things of us:

To see — antisemitism, fear, vulnerability — without minimizing it.
To refuse to allow our hearts to be hardened, even when anger or exhaustion tempt us.
And to act — by protecting Jewish life, standing with the vulnerable, and rebuilding what hatred tries to destroy.

The survival of a Torah scroll is not a miracle on its own.
The miracle is what we choose to do next.

May we be a people who remember Egypt not only with words, but with moral clarity.
May we soften our hearts where Pharaoh hardened his.
And may the One who heard the cries of the enslaved hear the cries of all who are afraid today — and offer them protection.

 

If you are interested in donating to Beth Israel synagogue, a link is on our Facebook page, as well as in our weekly blast and on our website.

Shabbat shalom.