Yeshua initiated his students into this mission by taking on the role and dress of a servant (John 13). Therefore let us serve, not by looking for the grandiose or inspiring roles, not with an expectation that we know how the future will unfold, but by accomplishing what stands before us.

People are often shocked and a bit unsettled when they learn that there is a long Jewish tradition of arguing with God. It somehow seems disrespectful to challenge the Creator of the Universe; after all, who are we to argue?

Our ancestor Abraham was not particularly intent on playing it safe. When the situation called for it, he took great risks, and he reaped great rewards, as we see in this week’s parashah: “After these things the word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision: ‘Fear not, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.’”

The Lord himself is our Ark, our vehicle, and our hope. Remember, he has power over the waters of chaos. His life-giving Ruach hovered over the waters in Creation; his Ruach blew back the waters so that Noah could leave the ark; and his Ruach split the waters so that Israel could go through the Red Sea.

Why does the inspired writer force us at the outset of the human journey to confront such a violent accounting of sibling rivalry? I believe that the answer lies between the lines of the terse narrative found in the fourth chapter of B’reisheet.

Shelter is a primal human need, along with food and clean water and air to breathe. But beyond our primitive need of shelter, we might find ourselves yearning for a deeper shelter, which our observance of Sukkot hints at.

My treasured memories of spending time in Jerusalem at Sukkot always bring to mind those inspiring commands from D’varim/Deuteronomy: “Rejoice at your festival. . . . Adonai your God will bless you . . . so you are to be full of joy.”

No, we are not isolated from the brokenness of the world. It is our brokenness. In the words of our tradition, “We are not so brazen-faced and stiff-necked as to say before you, we are righteous and have not sinned; rather, we and our ancestors have sinned.”

Let’s practice holiness, separated from the world, while from a position of strength we exist in the world, exhibiting the love of God to those who are hurting, being the hands and feet of God to those in need, and being the voice of hope and reason in a time that is rife with chaos and confusion.

At the great turning-point of Moses’ life—when God really needed to get his attention—he chose to speak to Moses from out of a thorn-bush of all places. Why not from the wide blue sky, or the starry heavens at night, out there in the wilderness? Or why not from the mountain top, or at least from some big, impressive tree? But a thorn-bush?