I was in Miami over Memorial Day weekend with a group of Latino and Jewish kids. Getting them to interact after a whole year of meeting bi-weekly was our job—not easy when everyone wants to feel safe by hanging out with their own tribes. Here I tell the story of how that happened in the end, and the beauty and hope and healing that happened, for them and for me. I also share a lot of my own story, as I told it to them. (You can also go to my website to learn more about me: lnegditamid.us

Moss and taxes. A reciprocal relationship between government and people. Moss is a perfect example of cooperation and reciprocity. Yet we’ve been programmed to think that we as individuals are responsible for our own successes and failures, riches and poverty, separate from the society and system we live in. What the Bible teaches about caring for the Earth and the consequences of not doing so…pretty gruesome. And we are living it now. But let’s learn from moss…

Mass shootings, filibusters, laws that don’t serve the majority, yet we are prevented from changing them. The way we treat our people reflects the way we treat and possess our land. If only this one statement in Torah could be respected: “the land is not yours; it is Mine,” it could change everything. With a special treat—the words of Woody Guthrie that most of us don’t know…

With abortion rights being threatened, and shortages of all kinds of goods, there’s a lot to be alarmed and hopeless about. The parsha this week makes us take a look at ourselves, though, in a different way. Who are the rejects of our society and how different are we from the society reflected in our ancient sacred books? We may be shocked at women being burned and people being stoned, and we may want to reject our heritage. But we can’t walk away from where we come from any more than we can walk away from our presents world.

Is it my personal obsession with toilets, or is it our culture? I saw this crazy video on Facebook, and I couldn’t look away. All the toxic chemicals! This week’s parsha teaches us about how to be holy, like God, and I don’t think it’s by making colorful, foamy designs in empty toilets and flushing them down for the hell of it…

As Jews, we think a lot about our land. On Passover, we talk about returning each year to the land. As Americans, we have a responsibility to the land as well—or, as humans in general. The history of our national parks is a painful one, and our responsibility towards native peoples is real. Do we pass over it, like God did our houses, and say it’s a thing of the past? Akharei Mot has a few answers for us, I think.

It’s such a hard year to talk about liberation. So much pain in the world. Do we get to cancel it?

This week there’s lots of scrubbing—of stones and stoves and refrigerators—the latter because Passover is coming. In the parsha, it’s about scrubbing away disease. Passover is about freedom from slavery, but we have a complicated past of becoming slave owners in the U.S. The history of being both enslaved and oppressed and enslavers and oppressors is an unsavory history, hard to swallow. How do we process this and come out to a place of expansiveness, despite the challenges of the world? Not sure I have the answers, but we try.

Is aging something to be afraid of and push away? Should we change our skin and hair in order to look younger? I thought we were getting beyond that. As we have learned to relate in different ways since isolation set in two years ago at the start of the pandemic, so we can find news ways of believing in and helping ourselves and our bodies heal—as I discovered Wim Hof two weeks ago on the anniversary of the shut-down in New York City. Like in the parsha, hopefully after isolation, we come out healthier and stronger.

Helen Keller’s life was a myth, and so are many stories in the Torah. As Aaron’s sons are killed for thinking for themselves, and Aaron is silent, so was Helen Keller silenced. Now there is an effort to silence Ketanji Brown Jackson.