A Message From Rabbi Weitzman: Shabbat 8.21.26

Dear Beth Emeth Family,

One of the most powerful verses in this week's Torah portion, Ki Teitzei, appears almost as an afterthought. The Torah is discussing what we should do when we encounter someone else's lost property. If we find an ox, a sheep, a garment, or anything else that belongs to someone else, we are not permitted simply to walk past it. We have an obligation to return it.

And then the Torah concludes: "You must not remain indifferent." Lo tuchal l'hitalem. Deuteronomy 22:3. The words are striking. The Torah could have simply told us what to do with a lost object. Instead, it gives us a philosophy of Jewish life: you must not remain indifferent. Judaism asks us to notice, to care, and, when necessary, to act.

I once read about a fruit peddler named Herschel. He was not a rabbi, a philosopher, or a social activist. He had immigrated to this country and worked hard to build a life for his family. One summer, in the early 1950s, he hired an African American teenager to help him on his truck. One morning, they stopped at a restaurant for breakfast. They sat down, but the owner refused to serve the young man because of the color of his skin.

Herschel did not give a speech about racism. He did not announce a political position. He simply said, "If you won't serve him, you won't serve me." And he walked out. He knew that something was wrong, and he refused to remain indifferent. Jewish faith demands that we pay attention to what is happening around us and respond when the dignity of another human being is threatened.

That charge feels especially important to sit with this week. Last week, Central Synagogue in New York City, a community I had the privilege of serving for three years, experienced a violent intrusion during Kabbalat Shabbat.

What happens next matters. We cannot allow acts of antisemitism to become so commonplace that we simply scroll past them. We cannot allow hatred to go unnoticed, unspoken, or unchallenged. And we cannot tell ourselves that because an attack happened somewhere else, to another congregation, it is not our concern.

It is our concern.

Israeli Member of Knesset Rabbi Gilad Kariv offered an important reminder in response to what happened at Central Synagogue: the fight against antisemitism is a shared struggle, one that binds Israeli society and Jews around the world, across every community and stream within our people. That reminder points to something beyond how we respond to a single attack. It points to how we choose to live, every day, as Jews.

And there is another form of indifference I worry about: our own temptation to grow quiet about being Jewish. There are moments when it feels easier to keep our Judaism private, to avoid the conversation, to take off the Star of David, to say nothing when Israel comes up, to let someone else speak first, to tell ourselves that being visibly Jewish is unnecessary, or even uncomfortable.

But perhaps this is precisely the moment to do the opposite. This is not a time to sit back from Jewish life. It is time to lean into it.

To come to synagogue. To celebrate Shabbat. To wear our Stars of David. To teach our children. To tell our stories. To sing our songs. To learn Torah. To show up for one another. To be proud of who we are, not because we stand against anyone else, but because we refuse to let hatred or fear determine the size of our Jewish lives.

The Torah's words are simple: lo tuchal l'hitalem. You must not remain indifferent.

When we see antisemitism, we speak. When we see hatred, we challenge it. When our community is threatened, we stand together. And when the world tells us that this is a time to be quieter, smaller, or less visible, we answer by living our Judaism more fully.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Greg Weitzman