Hinini, here I am. Fully present. And yet, like Moses I have no words to share with you this morning. Where is Aaron, the peacemaker to speak for me? Pirke Avot teaches that we should be like the disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursing peace. And yet, when Aaron’s own sons were killed, he remained silent. I cannot remain silent. May the words of my mouth (as imperfect as they are) and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to You.

Many of us watched in horror as events unfolded in Washington on Wednesday. The Capitol, the hallowed grounds of our legislature, our very democracy, was breached. I have stood in that rotunda, awestruck. It is American holy ground, just as we read about Moses standing on holy ground in today’s portion. I cannot imagine being a civil servant, an elected official or even the esteemed Capitol Police and Secret Service. They must have been terrified. For their very lives.

Having lived in Israel, the images were too reminiscent of terror I had seen first hand, and second hand and I wanted to look away. I wanted to dive under the covers and not come up for air. I knew that was not an option. I knew that history was being made, for better or worse, and only history will be able to decide which. So, as painful as it was, I knew I must watch. This was a moment, like the assignation of Kennedy or 9/11 that cannot be ignored. And my cell phone was beginning to light up. Constantly. Text messages, emails, phone calls, everybody was watching. Some were angry. Some were fearful. And just wanted my comfort. Please tell me this is all going to be OK. That’s what leaders do. Offer comfort and reassurance. Sadly, I cannot do that. Some of that is for other leaders to do. However, what I can do is teach Torah. And so that is what we are going to do this morning.

Let’s look at this morning’s portion. It is one of the most important portions in the Torah. It begins by paralleling the beginning of Genesis in some important ways we looked at during Torah Study this week and it begins to birth a nation. I own a book called “The Birth of Nation”, by Arthur Schlesinger about the days before American Independence. I can tell you, as an American Studies major, there are many lenses to tell the story of the founding of the United States, just like there are many lenses through which to study Torah.

One of my professors, Rabbi Dr. Nehemia Polen, likened the Book of Leviticus to a reset button. It is.a recipe of how to draw close to G-d. Any many of the same elements exist in the Book of Exodus as well. He would explain ritual this way. The Torah commands sacrifices, one in the morning and one in the evening as a way to draw close. He likens it to the prescription meds some of us take, one in the morning and one at night. He then would talk about one of the most important moments after 9/11. The Wall Street Journal managed to get out a morning edition. It was their ritual. When all the world was crumbling, it was their back to work. Not a whole lot different than what we saw Congress do on Wednesday night. Back to work. To do the people’s business in those hallowed halls.

We Jews are good at various lenses. The whole Talmud is a collection of different opinions about what the Torah says. The rabbis argue back and forth and that is encouraged. What isn’t encouraged is violence.

At the beginning of the parsha, a new pharaoh arose in Egypt who knew not Joseph. It had been some 400 years. Can we look at this portion through Pharaoh’s eyes? Perhaps. It seems he was afraid that the Israelites would outnumber the Egyptians, that they might unite with the Egyptian enemies to destroy Egypt, that there might not be enough food to go around. Pretty frightening. So he orders that all the baby boys be killed. Also pretty frightening. Imagine being a mother about to give birth! Shifrah and Puah, two midwives, stand up and prevent that from happening. They defied a direct order. Remember their names. Shifrah and Puah. They played what we might consider a bit part but they helped birth a nation. Shifrah and Puah.

These midwives are described in the Torah as yorah Elohim – women who fear god. The Torah tells us that people who fear God are those who uphold and take seriously ethical, moral behavior. According to the great Biblical scholar Dr. Nachum Sarna, “Their defiance of tyranny constitutes history’s first recorded act of civil disobedience in defense of a moral imperative.”

Henry David Thoreau argued passionately for civil disobedience in his essay by the same name. He felt that there were times that government did more harm than good, and that included democracies. His short essay is often published together with Dr. Martin Luther King’s essay, Letter from a Birmingham Jail. However, while civil disobedience may be called for, in both King’s case and Thoreau’s case, it involved non-violent protests. Things like not paying your taxes.

Rabbi Ari Hart, in one of the most masterful sermons I read this week, (and this week I read and heard lots and lots of sermons!) compares the actions of Shifrah and Puah to the actions of the senate aides who did not turn aside. They saw the ballot boxes holding the electoral college returns. They scooped up them up and calmly ushered them and themselves out the Senate chambers. I am not sure I would have had that much foresight or courage. Four congressional staff members saw the ballot boxes, and the keys to our democracy.

Later in the portion, Moses, himself looks aside:

“Some time after that, when Moses had grown up, he went out to his kinsfolk and witnessed their labors. He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his kinsmen. He turned this way and that and, seeing no one about, he struck down the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.”

Why does he choose to act then? When he knows no one is watching—or when he knows he is the only one present who can act? How we look at this story is about how we perceive truth.

There was another time I wanted to turn aside. When I was president of the Greater Lowell Leadership Alliance, I had to make a statement to the press about the movie, The Passion of the Christ, a very bloody, awful Mel Gibson movie with some anti-semetic tropes. My friend, the Rev Larry Zimmerman and I went together on tickets provided by the Catholic Archdiocese of Boston. Afterwards, we sat in silence in his van for a long time. For like a half an hour. Imagine me quiet for a half an hour! Finally he broke the silence. “I understand the Holocaust. It was a mob mentality. Once the mob started it was impossible to stop. Sadly.” The people that watched Jesus and the thieves being taken to his death, not only looked aside, they joined in on egging it on. It was impossible to stop. The lies that the leaders had portrayed over and over again had contributed to what had happened. The Holocaust, as Rev Zimmerman had suggested, had similar roots. Lies, propaganda, fear all contributed to what became Kristalnacht and then even worse. I had a different take. It was the best argument against capital punishment I had ever seen. (But that is a sermon for another time!)

Still later, Moses sees a burning bush, a bush that is unconsumed. And he realizes that this is a special moment, a holy moment. This time, he turns aside to look. He doesn’t ignore it. The midrash tells us that other people walked by the bush and didn’t act. He takes off his shoes. He knows he is standing on holy ground. On Wednesday night, between congressional votes, a congressman was on his hands and knees cleaning the floor of the rotunda. Why? Because it is holy ground.

The midrash teaches: “Why did the Holy One see fit to speak to Moses from within a thorn-bush? If it had been a carob tree or a sycamore tree, would you not have asked the same question. However, to send you away you without any answer is not possible, [so] why from within a thorn-bush? To teach you that there is no empty place devoid of the Shechinah, not even a [lowly] thorn-bush.”

Moses is a reluctant leader. He doesn’t want to do this, go back to Egypt and speak truth to power. He needs reassurance that he is not alone. So, G-d provides him with Aaron to be his mouthpiece and assures him that G-d himself will go with him. G-d provides Moses with G-d’s own name. “Eyeh asher eyeh”—very difficult to translate, something like “I will be what I will be.” G-d is all encompassing and forward thinking. G-d is everything.

Moses is a humble leader. Like the lowly bush, we are told over and over again, he is humble.

The parsha demands an answer. G-d calls to Moses, “Moses, Moses” and he answers “Hineini, I am here.” What does it mean to answer Hineini, to be fully present. To be able to see the burning bush. To feel with such passion that you feel called to do something. Midrash actually draws a linguistic connection between the “flame (lavah) of fire” of the burning bush and a heart (lev) of fire. Being called to do something is to have passion about it. To know that you cannot turn aside. It is something you must do. You must have heart.

Frederick Buechner teaches that “Vocation is the place where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.” The world needs much these days. What then, are you called on to do? Where does your deep gladness meet the world’s greatest needs? That then is how you answer Hineini with your lives. That’s where you will find meaning. Whether you are Shiprah and Puah or four congregational staffers or “just” you. Each of us has a unique role to fill. Each of us is called to do something.

Moses answers Hineini. I am here. He is humble. He is reluctant. He doesn’t go it alone. And he doesn’t do it with violence. Don’t turn aside. Look into the fire. Find the fire. We will continue to look at Moses’s leadership over the next few weeks as the story continues to unfold. Because after all at the end of Deuteronomy, just before Moses dies, we are told that never again did there arise a leader like Moses. But each of us is a little like Moses. If we would be silent long enough to listen.

Cleanse our hearts: A Poem Prayer
In the middle of the night
Between votes
A lone congressman
Was on his hand and knees
Cleaning the rotunda.

What can we clean?