In the past most of “civilized” society dealt with others’ handicaps by turning a blind eye. At best, the disabled were treated with dismissive sympathies and self-congratulatory charity; at worst they were often blamed for their disabilities and pushed to the margins of society. Only recently has the conversation turned toward treating those with disabilities as fully enfranchised members of society.

There are few lines of Scripture more uncompromising than the opening verses of K’doshim: “You are to be holy as I the Lord your God am holy” (19:2). Is this truly possible? Most of us would probably settle for “faithful,” or perhaps, “devout.” But holy?

As we are all still shut in or locked down for an unknown amount of time, I cannot help but think about some of our ancestors who experienced a type of “shut-in” experience, and learn from their example.

It is not a pleasant example.

A change in circumstances necessarily brings with it a change in perception. This year I’ve found the story of God’s liberation of our people from bondage resonating more deeply and fully, now that my own freedom of movement has been temporarily removed. Even matzah has been difficult to come by this year—we’ve had to ration ours to make it last.

Passover is above all a story, an appeal to the imagination and to memory. We don’t just think and talk about Passover, but we picture and reenact and memorialize it. Ironically, one of the advantages of our current COVID shutdown is that he helps us imagine the “night of watching” in Egypt.

Yitzchak, already a young man, understood what was happening, even though he never heard the initial command: “Take now your son, your only son, the beloved one, Isaac, and go for yourself (Lech Lecha) to the land of Moriah, and offer up the gift that goes up there, on one of the mountains that I will show you” (Gen 22:2).

Many years ago, when I was a much younger man, I was earnestly seeking God’s will for my vocation. I agonized in prayer for weeks. I can remember praying about this as I was driving to my mother’s house one Sunday and God said to me, undeniably, “Do what you want!”

“God is merciful and forgiving” is the bottom line of our parasha, and probably of most Torah portions. In Exodus 33:14, we get a glimpse of the great mercy, forgiveness, and love that God had for his covenant people: “Then he (God) responded (to Moshe): “My face will go (on the journey to Israel with the people), and I will lead you!”

In Parashat Tetzaveh we get the first explicit mention of Aaron and his sons as priests of Israel. The first order of business seems to be their wardrobe: “Make sacral vestments for your brother Aaron, for dignity and adornment” (28:3). As they say, “The ephod makes the man,” and Aaron’s family gets an entire chapter devoted to the rich attire that signifies its priestly role.