The privilege and good fortune of a full life on earth carries with it countless inescapable lessons of humility along the way. Whether it’s the result of saying, “Watch this!” as a child or being let go from a job you’ve held for years, humans don’t have to learn to be humble. It’s forced on us.

This is also the reality we’ve learned after two and a half years of navigating Covid. You can wear a mask, get vaccinated, practice good hygiene, and keep your distance from others, and still get Covid. It’s clear these preventative measures help slow the spread and lessen the severity, but you can’t convince Covid that you’re too good or too proud to be susceptible. 

The Torah, naturally, suggests that this isn’t the first time humanity has encountered a reminder like this, and it surely won’t be the last. This week we read Parshat Nitzavim, which teaches us this lesson, albeit in a slightly cryptic way. 

This Torah portion is primarily about establishing ourselves as a people and the warnings against becoming complacent. It begins with God telling the Israelites about the covenant they’re making together and how binding it is. Nitzavim is typically translated as “stand firmly,” which makes sense as one of the final moments of the Israelite nation receiving direct guidance from God and from Moses before they enter the Land of Israel.

While much of the parshah talks about what not to do, one verse focuses on the intention behind those transgressions. Deuteronomy 29:18 states: “When hearing the words of these sanctions, such a one may imagine a special immunity, thinking, ‘I shall be safe, though I follow my own willful heart’—to the utter ruin of moist and dry alike.” 

It’s not entirely obvious what is meant by “moist and dry alike,” but the message is that no one is immune, so to speak. Overconfidence and arrogance – these are the characteristics that make us believe that our actions somehow don’t affect the rest of the community. In reality, though, what we do sends ripples into the world, branching out like a contagion. 

There’s a quote attributed to the 19th-century Jewish scholar Rabbi Bunim of P’shiskha that combines two opposing Jewish teachings. “Everyone must have two pockets, with a note in each pocket; one should read: ‘For my sake was the world created,’ and the other should read: ‘I am but dust and ashes.’”

We must see value and worth in ourselves, and at the same time acknowledge the relative insignificance of this ephemeral gift we’re given. That just gives us all the more urgency to make the most of the time we have, and there’s no time like the new year to get started.

Our actions cause reactions. As the English 80s rock group The Fixx sang, “One thing leads to another.” You only have to look as far as the local news for the past year and a half to see what it means literally for something to go viral. The domino-effect spread of Covid-19 has changed virtually every aspect of our behavior and our lives. Originally we thought only certain portions of the population were at risk, and while severity does depend on other factors, for purposes of spreading itself, the virus doesn’t know the difference between us. And now because of a more contagious variant, we’ve begun to reinstate some of the precautions we previously had in place in order to protect each other. 

Perhaps more dangerous than the novel coronavirus itself is that there are those who believe that they are invincible or that somehow others are impervious to the spread of the virus. The moral imperative that we must respect fellow human lives – and, sadly, the disregard for this imperative – is certainly not a new idea. The Torah spends almost the entirety of its books focusing on lessons to live a moral and ethical life, and this week we read Parshat Nitzavim, which teaches us this lesson quite clearly. 

The Torah portion begins with God telling the Israelites about the covenant they are making together and how binding it is. In the course of the text, God implores us to choose life. The goal is to see blessings and curses and to know that when we make choices, it affects not only us, but all those in our community. This is clear in chapter 29, verse 18 as we read, “When such a one hears the words of these sanctions, he may fancy himself immune, thinking ‘I shall be safe, though I follow my own willful heart’ – to the utter ruin of moist and dry alike.” The Torah is warning us against those who think themselves or their family members to be invincible. 

Believing you’re immune or impervious to the world isn’t heroic or courageous in any way. It’s a curse. God reminds us that this mindset ultimately leads to devastation and to the destruction of our society. Judaism is not “every person for themselves.” It is a religion based on the strength of our relationships and connections. It is a religion that is fulfilled when we’re in community and looking out for the good beyond our own homes or our own needs. What we’ve learned in the 18 months since Covid-19 has taken hold of our society is exactly this. We’re all in this together, and as such, we must work together towards what strengthens us.

I love my challah recipe. It’s the best of both worlds – easy and delicious. The thing is, as often as we have other families over for Shabbat dinner, it’s hard to keep challah in the house long enough to enjoy it myself. This is why I always have a backup (or three) in the freezer. It really comes in handy for those times when I just don’t have the time to get a fresh one in the oven or when the oven itself decides to stop baking, both of which have happened, making me so glad I was prepared with extra.

So much of life consists of things we do to provide for the future, whether for us, our children, or our descendants. We buy life insurance, we set aside money for college, we plan for retirement. When we plan for our funerals, we even prepay in order to enjoy the credit card points now. So much of what we worry about as parents and grandparents is how today will impact tomorrow. But what does the future hold? No one really knows for sure. Yes, we have a basic understanding that how we treat the environment now will affect the planet’s livability down the road, and yes, we know that we can set aside funds for our own well-being, but ultimately, there is no real way of knowing what the future will bring.

The Torah spends almost the entirety of its books focusing on lessons to live a moral, ethical life and only looks toward the future with regard to the Israelites living in the land of Israel. This week we read Parshat Nitzavim, which teaches us this lesson quite clearly. It begins with God telling the Israelites about the covenant they are making together and how binding it is.

In chapter 29, verse 28 the Torah reads, “Concealed acts concern the Lord our God; but with overt acts, it is for us and our children ever to apply the provisions of this teaching.” In other words, things done in secret are between you and God. Acts done in public are not only the problem of society, but become a burden on our future.

This is not meant to suggest that, in the example of the environment, private pollution is totally acceptable, but public pollution is not. What it teaches is that we all have the burden of holding each other accountable for our actions, including and especially the ones that affect our future. As we head into the new year, this week’s Torah reminds us that what we do in the world matters not just to our current society, but to all of those who will come after us.

I love my challah recipe. It’s the best of both worlds – easy and delicious. The thing is, as often as we have other families over for Shabbat dinner, it’s hard to keep challah in the house long enough to enjoy it myself. This is why I always have a backup (or three) in the freezer. It really comes in handy for those times when I just don’t have the time to get a fresh one in the oven or when the oven itself decides to stop baking, both of which have happened, making me so glad I was prepared with extra.

So much of life consists of things we do to provide for the future, whether for us, our children, or our descendants. We buy life insurance, we set aside money for college, we plan for retirement. When we plan for our funerals, we even prepay in order to enjoy the credit card points now. So much of what we worry about as parents and grandparents is how today will impact tomorrow. But what does the future hold? No one really knows for sure. Yes, we have a basic understanding that how we treat the environment now will affect the planet’s livability down the road, and yes, we know that we can set aside funds for our own well-being, but ultimately, there is no real way of knowing what the future will bring.

The Torah spends almost the entirety of its books focusing on lessons to live a moral, ethical life and only looks toward the future with regard to the Israelites living in the land of Israel. This week we read Parshat Nitzavim, which teaches us this lesson quite clearly. It begins with God telling the Israelites about the covenant they are making together and how binding it is.

In chapter 29, verse 28 the Torah reads, “Concealed acts concern the Lord our God; but with overt acts, it is for us and our children ever to apply the provisions of this teaching.” In other words, things done in secret are between you and God. Acts done in public are not only the problem of society, but become a burden on our future.

This is not meant to suggest that, in the example of the environment, private pollution is totally acceptable, but public pollution is not. What it teaches is that we all have the burden of holding each other accountable for our actions, including and especially the ones that affect our future. As we head into the new year, this week’s Torah reminds us that what we do in the world matters not just to our current society, but to all of those who will come after us.