A Lesson From Rabbi Weitzman: Shabbat Message June 5

Dear Congregation Beth Emeth,

One of the paradoxes of modern life is that we have access to more information than any generation in human history, yet our perspective can still be remarkably narrow.

With a few taps on a phone, we can see images from Mars and watch events unfold halfway around the world in real time. And yet we remain constrained by the same basic human limitation: we can only see what is directly in front of us.

Even physically, our vision has limits. Because the earth is curved, the horizon for a person standing at ground level is only a few miles away. Everything beyond that remains hidden from view.

The same is true in our lives. We become accustomed to familiar routines, familiar disappointments, familiar anxieties. We begin to assume that the future will simply be an extension of the present. The weight of what is prevents us from imagining what could be.

This week's Torah portion, B'ha'alot'cha, speaks directly to this struggle.

Shortly after leaving Sinai, the Israelites are complaining about food, about the wilderness, about everything that isn't going as planned. Moses, exhausted and overwhelmed, turns to God: I can't do this anymore. God responds with a promise of abundance beyond anything the people can imagine. And Moses asks: "Could enough flocks and herds be slaughtered to suffice them?" (Numbers 11:22)

Our sages debated what he meant. Rabbi Akiva understood Moses as defeated — his vision so narrowed by the present moment that he could no longer see past it, mistaking the limits of his sight for the limits of what was possible. Rabbi Shimon ben Eleazar read it differently: Moses wasn't doubting at all. He understood that possibilities exist beyond what we can currently see, and he was sustained by faith rather than defeated by circumstances.

Perhaps both are true. There are moments when we are Rabbi Akiva's Moses, unable to see beyond the immediate challenge in front of us. And there are moments when we are Rabbi Shimon's Moses, held up by imagination, resilience, and hope, even when the path forward isn't clear.

The challenge is learning to remember that our horizon is not the end of the story.

Hidden does not mean absent. So much of what matters most, healing, growth, reconciliation, joy often emerges from places we could not yet see.

Sometimes faith is simply the courage to keep walking toward it.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Weitzman