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accused me of insincerity and 
I made you cry, an incident 
that neither of us can quite 
forget but that we can’t quite 
mention either and which 
has been slowly corroding the 
trust and love we once had for 
one another. It is the day that 
has given us the opportunity, 
indeed the responsibility, to 
stop talking of our usual busi-
ness and to reopen a case we 
pretended to have put out of 
our minds. We are not satisfy-
ing ourselves, we are obeying 
the rules.
” 

Exactly so: we are obeying 
the rules. We are following the 
Jewish calendar, which takes 
many of the most important 
truths about our lives and, 
instead of putting them on a 
to-do list, writes them in the 
diary.

CONSEQUENCES 
ABOUND
What happens when you do 
not have that kind of diary? 
Contemporary Western sec-
ular society is a case-study 
in the consequences. People 
no longer tell the story of the 
nation. Hence national iden-
tities, especially in Europe, 
are almost a thing of the past 
— one reason for the return of 
the Far Right in countries like 
Austria, Holland and France.
People no longer share a 
moral code, which is why 
students in universities seek 
to ban speakers with whose 
views they disagree. When 
there is no shared code, there 
can be no reasoned argument, 
only the use of force.
As for remembering 
the brevity of life, Roman 
Krznaric reminds us that 
modern society is “geared 
to distract us from death. 
Advertising creates a world 
where everyone is forever 
young. We shunt the elderly 
away in care homes, out of 
sight and mind.
” Death has 

become “a topic as taboo as 
sex was during the Victorian 
era.
” 
Atonement and forgiveness 
have been driven out of public 
life, to be replaced by public 
shaming, courtesy of social 
media. As for Shabbat, almost 
everywhere in the West the 
day of rest has been replaced 
by the sacred day of shopping, 
and rest itself replaced by the 
relentless tyranny of smart-
phones.
Fifty years ago, the most 
widespread prediction was 
that by now almost everything 
would have been automated. 
The work week would be 
down to 20 hours and our 
biggest problem would be 
what to do with all our leisure. 
Instead, most people today 
find themselves working hard-
er than ever with less and less 
time to pursue the things that 
make life meaningful. 
As Leon Kass recently put 
it, people “still hope to find 
meaning in their lives,
” but 
they are increasingly confused 
about “what a worthy life 
might look like, and about 
how they might be able to live 
one.
” 
Hence the life-changing 
magic of the Jewish calendar. 
Philosophy seeks timeless 
truths. Judaism, by contrast, 
takes truths and translates 
them into time in the form of 
sacred, shared moments when 
we experience the great truths 
by living them. So: whatever 
you want to achieve, write it 
in the diary or it will not hap-
pen. And live by the Jewish 
calendar if you want to expe-
rience, not just occasionally 
think about, the things that 
give life a meaning. 

The late Rabbi Lord Jonathan 

Sacks served as the chief rabbi of 

the United Hebrew Congregations of 

the Commonwealth, 1991-2013. His 

teachings have been made available 

to all at rabbisacks.org. 

Light in Darkness
E

ach time I visit a 
synagogue, I imagine 
the love and care that 
went into the space — the 
profound intention behind 
the choice scripture on the 
walls, the Torah covers, 
the inscriptions in the 
siddurim, all the way 
down to the color of 
the carpet. 
I am often especial-
ly moved by the Ner 
Tamid, the eternal light 
in front of the Ark. 
Sometimes it is small, 
a flame in an oil lamp; 
and other times it is 
huge, a glass art piece 
lit by an LCD bulb, but 
it’s always there. 
When the room is full, 
bright with music, laughter, 
prayer and song, it’s much 
harder to see the light and the 
difference that it makes. But 
what a comfort, knowing it’s 
there even when the sanctuary 
is empty of people, quiet and 
dark. 
In the Torah this week, we 
find a reiteration of the beauti-
ful ritual, meant for the priests 
who will keep the flame alight. 
As a people, we have found 
ourselves in the dark far too 
often these last many months. 
We are still reeling from the 
horrors of Oct. 7, from the 
delirious rise of antisemitism, 
from the surreal videos of 
encampments and riots on 
college campuses, from the 
dread, knowing our brothers 
and sisters are still being held 
in Gaza. 
And yet, there have been 
moments of transcendent 
light. The release of hostages 
in the fall. Allies stepping 
up for us at great personal 
risk. Jews coming together 

all over to show up for each 
other, to connect with who 
we are and what it means to 
be part of our holy people in 
this complex, modern world. 
The bravery of our students, 
testifying before 
Congress. The solidarity 
trips that have connected 
us here in Detroit with 
our people in Israel, 
in addition to the 
emotional and spiritual 
connection that we’ve all 
felt so strongly. 
As Rabbi Jonathan 
Sacks presciently wrote 
in 2008, “Somehow faith 
outlives every attempt 
to destroy it. Its symbol 
is not the fierce fire 
that burns synagogues and 
sacred scrolls and murdered 
lives. It is the fragile flame we, 
together with our children 
and grandchildren, light in 
our homes, singing God’s 
story, sustained by our hope.
”
We know that a fragile 
flame is anything but. One 
light, like the Ner Tamid, 
can light up a whole space, 
can bring us comfort and 
peace, and can light a path 
forward, even when it’s hard 
to see. And what’s more, one 
small flame can light another, 
can rekindle lost hope, can 
spread fast and far, and bring 
so much more light into the 
world. 
So, in these challenging 
days, may we turn toward 
the light, basking in the 
warmth and the glow of our 
rich and storied traditions, 
and drawing strength from 
one another. We shine even 
brighter in the dark. 

Rabbi Jennifer Lader is a rabbi at 

Temple Israel in West Bloomfield.

SPIRIT
TORAH PORTION

Rabbi 
Jennifer 
Lader

Parshat Emor: 

Leviticus 

21:1-24:23; 

Ezekiel 

44-15-31.

