- Clergy
- Shabbat
As we come into Shabbat and turn to this week’s portion, Toldot, I’m struck by how much uncertainty sits just beneath the surface of the story. Rebecca feels uncertain even before her children are born. Isaac faces famine and fear. Jacob and Esau wrestle not only with each other, but with expectations that feel bigger than they are. No one in the portion has clarity. Everyone is trying to find a way forward.
That feeling is not foreign to us. I hear it in conversations every week. We are navigating a complicated world. We are balancing grief, exhaustion, and hope. And yet, like the family in Toldot, we keep going. We keep building. We keep choosing the next right step even when the path isn’t obvious.
One of the moments that speaks to me most is when Isaac starts digging wells. It’s not glamorous work and it’s certainly not easy. The first few attempts lead to conflict. The next one leads to more struggle. But he doesn’t give up. He keeps digging until finally there is space, a place he names Rechovot, meaning there is room enough to grow.
That persistence feels like a spiritual practice. It’s the same spirit I see in our beautiful children as they ask truly deep and meaningful questions, or when a congregant shows up to build connection, even when it feels safer to pull back. We shape the future with our hands, our choices, and our willingness to try again.
This is where Hillel’s teaching echoes so strongly: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am only for myself, who am I? And if not now, when?” Lately, it’s the first question that keeps coming back to me. If we as a Jewish people do not take care of one another, who will? Not in a way that shuts anyone else out, but in a way that strengthens the ties that make us who we are. We need each other right now. We need compassion, curiosity, and conversations that stay grounded even when they get hard.
If all we do is retreat into our own corners, we lose the common ground from which anything meaningful can be built. Civil discourse, shared responsibility, and genuine listening are not luxuries. They are the wells we dig so that blessing can take root.
Toldot doesn’t offer easy answers. It offers a challenge and an invitation. Keep digging. Keep moving toward hope even when fear is loud. Keep building a future wide enough to hold us all.