I had a plan this week, to weave the complicated and problematic language we find in the Torah into a metaphor about the ebbs and flows of the Jewish people's eternal fight for social justice. But then I put off writing this for a few days, and I read the news instead, and it became harder and harder to talk about embracing new perspectives, or waiting out the seasonal flows of our fight for social justice, when we seem to eternally stuck in this cycle of violence.

This week, the Torah offers another double Torah portion, Achrei Mot & Kedushim, which are both about creating holy community, in different ways. At the beginning of Achrei Mot, and in response to the deaths of Aaron's sons Nadav and Avihu (which we read about earlier in the Torah), G-d offers a strict set of laws regarding who is, and is not, allowed to approach the Holy of Holies in the Tabernacle, and pull back the curtain which covers its entrance, when, and for what purpose.

Recently, the Arkansas legislature overrode their conservative Christian governor's veto of a bill, now state law, that criminalizes gender-affirming healthcare for children. The state government, effectively, has legislated away the ability of compassionate healthcare providers to support trans kids in the Arkansas. It's a dramatic contrast to the Jewish approach, which connects back to this week's Torah portion, Tazria-Metzora, which details the laws of purification for women who have given birth to a male or female child, but gives no instructions for what to do if the physical sex of the baby is indeterminate, a conversation that leads the rabbis to develop a rather sophisticated concept of gender fluidity.

John Prine died a year ago this week, and I wrote this week's episode on the anniversary of his death. This week's Torah portion, Parshat Shmini, features the deaths of Nadav and Avihu who, as Ibn Ezra comments, died before G-d doing something they thought was acceptable before G-d. They had made a mistake and deviated from the instructions G-d gave them. Ibn Ezra's commentary reminded me of John Prine's song That's The Way The World Goes Round and a story he often told about a moment of confusion on stage with a fan in the crowd who wanted him to sing The Happy Enchilada Song.

By the time this episode airs, we'll have already celebrated our second year of socially distanced Seders. Passover is all about seeing yourself as a participant in the exodus from Egypt, and applying that experience to improving our world today. That intention has led to a slew of games, toys, and content designed to make the Seder more approachable and more fun, especially for children.

While there's lots to choose from, for Jews my age there's one piece of content that rises above all the rest—The Rugrat's Passover Special. This year, as we can see the light at the end of the pandemic, and perhaps struggling to feel like we can get there, the story of Grandpa Boris Kropotkin being locked in his attic seemed more relatable than ever.

As they wandered the desert, the Israelites carried the Tabernacle, and all its holy objects, so they could offer the sacrifices G-d had required of them. The Tabernacle provided a venue for these offerings, as the priests burned some or all of the sacrifices brought to them by the people.

Fire was an essential component to the Israelites ritual sacrifices, and in this week’s Torah portion, Tzav, G-d commands the Israelite people to build a perpetual fire, never to be put out, under any circumstances.

This week's Torah portion, Vayikra, kicks off the Book of Leviticus with a familiar feeling theme—G-d calling to Moses and delivering a set of instructions. In this case, G-d delivers detailed instructions for the sacrifices Aaron, his sons, and their priestly descendants will perform on behalf of the Israelite people. These sacrifices are the Israelite's main means of communicating with G-d, but since the destruction of the First and later Second Temples, the Jewish people have been unable to communicate with G-d through sacrifices. So we turned to prayer.

This week though, I'm talking a lot less about Judaism than I normally do, because while the Jewish people turned to prayer and ritual as our primary means of communicating with G-d, other religions have evolved out of Judaism, and created their own means of talking to G-d.

As they journey through the desert, the Tabernacle is the defining feature of the Israelite camp. This week's double Torah portion, Vayakhel-Pikudei, deals with the details of the Tabernacle's construction. The entire community participated in this process, bringing freewill offerings to build the Tent of Meeting. At a certain point, though, enough is enough, and as donations begin to pile up, Moses issues a proclamation that rings out across the Israelite camp. And in response, the Torah says, "the people stopped bringing: their efforts had been more than enough for all the tasks to be done."

I can’t imagine why, but this year I’ve been particularly struck by all the plague related content sprinkled throughout the Torah. In past years, plagues have always seemed like metaphors for greater threats or external burdens we place on ourselves. This year plagues feel very real.

In a week when our Torah portion, Tetzaveh, collides with the holiday of Purim, I couldn't think of a more appropriate topic to discuss than superheroes. No spoilers for WandaVision, at least not intentionally, but honestly it's not accident that there are so many Jewish themes woven throughout the superhero universe. Our sacred texts are full of characters whose story arcs are strikingly familiar to the modern stories we know and love today.

A catastrophe has been playing out this week, unrelated to the coronavirus, as the electrical grid in Texas failed under the pressure of winter weather, leaving millions stranded without heat during an unusually fierce cold snap. While it may seem odd to compare the electrical grid with the Tabernacle built by the Israelites in the desert, there are too many similarities to ignore. Especially in a week where our Torah portion, Terumah, is all about connecting individual components together to build something large and integral to daily life in the Israelite camp.=

I've spent a lot of time this week on Clubhouse. I spent some time this week in a Room for "Black and Mixed Raced Jews," where=Jews of color shared experiences. It was fascinating experience, made all the more so by this week's Torah portion, Mishpatim, which sets forth a legal and civic code for the Israelite people. Strikingly, that code begins with laws about how to treat an Israelite slave.