How can we meet God’s standards? How are we to respond to a scriptural reality in which the penalty for transgressions is often a painful and gruesome death, and the result of impurity is exile? When we mess up, are we done? Are we finished? Is that what it means to follow God?

Being holy can be summed up in the command to love your neighbor and the alien (stranger, foreigner) as yourself. Being holy means being set apart, being distinct. It means having the courage to be different than the world around us.

It is incumbent that when one sees an afflicted person that he also sees him as a whole person. The kohanim or priests were in a sense the “doctors of the soul.” This is the role of a kohen, to restore the person to wholeness—to have the imagination to see beyond a person’s present brokenness, and to recognize his or her own power to heal.

The lesson for us and for our day is clear. A fantastic leader will be one who models obedience to God’s word, diligence in his service, and an orientation toward being a blessing to his people. A foolish leader will be impressed by his own station and will even seek to manipulate the presence of God for his own purposes and satisfaction.

For the uninitiated, one of the traditions of the Passover Seder is a special bag called a matzah tash that has three compartments, each with a piece of matzah in it. The tradition is to take the middle piece out and break it in half. Half of the matzah is placed back in the matzah tash, but the other half is wrapped in a linen napkin. This piece is called the Afikomen.

As we prepare for Passover this year, there’s lots to do—cleaning the leaven out of our houses; buying the right food; inviting family and guests to the Seder, whether in-person or on-screen; and preparing the feast. Amidst all these preparations, it’s vital to remember that we’ll be telling and hearing and even acting out a story, a story that defines who we are and what our lives are about.

Shalom, true peace, is not the absence of conflict, disagreement, or even pain; it is knowing that we do not face these challenges alone, and that the one who shares them with us adds his strength to our weakness, enabling us to endure—even if the challenges lead “through the valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23:4).

“I don’t believe in organized religion.” That’s a common response when we try to talk about faith with someone who’s unaffiliated. If I’m talking with someone about Messianic Judaism in particular, I might respond, “Don’t worry, we’re not that organized.”

God was greatly hurt and angered by our ancestors’ behavior with the golden calf, but he opted for reconciliation. As King of our precious covenant, he could have trashed it all after the incident of idolatry. But he didn’t. In fact, he continued to lead our people. And what does that show us? That God​ indeed is merciful and forgiving. His heart toward Israel is one of compassion.

Esther has been an inspiring figure in Judaism for centuries. Children dress as her on the festival of Purim and it’s even become traditional to name baby girls born near Purim Esther after the heroine of the story.

But compared to other figures in the Bible, is Esther really a good Jewish role model?