By Rabbi ALex Freedman.
“If you build it, he will come.” The famous line from the movie Field of Dreams means that if Ray builds a baseball field, his father will return.
“If you build it, He will come.” Rabbi Moshe Grussgott of Manhattan points out that this paraphrases an important verse from the Torah reading in Parashat Terumah, which kicks off the construction of the Mishkan, the desert portable sanctuary. If you (the Jews) build it (the Mishkan – portable sanctuary), He (G-d) will come (and dwell among you). This is a pretty accurate summary of Exodus 25:8: “Let them make me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them.”
Nearly the entire duration of the book of Exodus (Ch. 25-40) is devoted to the Mishkan’s construction, which concludes this week with Pekudei. Why the extensive coverage about the same topic?
– First, details matter. Everyone wants an HD television, the more pixels the better. That picture is more highly detailed than standard definition, and the results speak for themselves. If we want our TV’s in HD, shouldn’t we insist that important projects and relationships be lived in HD too?
– Second, G-d is most present when people give or build. Avot DRabbi Natan makes this conclusion based upon a close reading of our verse: When they make me a sanctuary, I will dwell among them. When people involve themselves in a cause or project, they gain a sense of meaning and purpose, a feeling of being part of something larger than themselves. Some people call this feeling “G-d.”
-Third, building something refines us. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes that the only time in the Torah when the Jews did not complain about something was during the construction of the Mishkan. For the first time, they had to provide for themselves, not rely on G-d. And they emerged stronger for it. He writes: “It is not what God does for us that transforms us. It is what we do for God.”
What are you building?
By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
Taking a closer look at some of the materials used for the Mishkan, we learn in parashat Vayakhel that they include items such as precious metals (gold, silver and copper), materials like linen and wool in various colors, animal skins, wood, oil, spices, and precious stones.
The name of one of these materials is rather intriguing. Linen, known as sheish, is a word that to most of us means the number 6. The rabbis teach that sheish meant both of these things. It was linen, and each thread in the sheish yarn was made of six strands.
This is particularly fitting to me as today marks my mother’s 6th yahrzeit and, like our artisan ancestor Betzalel, Mom was an artist too: she was an amateur tailor, creating many Halloween and Purim costumes; a professional potter, who taught pottery classes that I often attended, and we even had a pottery studio with a wheel in our basement!
The importance of art to her is also fitting as the importance of creating and protecting beautiful things in Jewish tradition is rooted in Parshat Vayakhel.
We learn that the Mishkan had three top layers, which were placed on top of each other. Layer #1, made up of sheets of colorful cloth, was on the bottom, and you could see it only if you were inside the Mishkan. Layer #2 was made up of sheets of goats’ hair, creating a protective tent over that first layer, like a raincoat. Even these layers protecting our beautiful Mishkan were beautiful in their own right.
Rashi says that we can learn a lesson from this second covering: “The Torah teaches a rule of life: People should take care of beautiful things.”
Think of all the ways that we do this today, especially with our beautiful and holy ritual items. We use a beautiful bag to protect our tallitot, and on top of that, many use a plastic covering made for the purpose of protecting that first layer, and ultimately, the tallit within the first bag. We use beautiful mezuzot which are ultimately protective and often artistic cases for the Torah text on the klaf within. Ritual items such as the lulav, etrog and Kiddush cup often have a protective case or box that often serves more than just that protective purpose, if you’ve seen any of the artistic renditions of said items. Even a siddur can have a beautiful, protective cover, as our Kitah Gimel students will receive next week at their special Shabbat service.
Through all of this, I believe that one of the greatest values we learn from this week’s parsha is that of Hiddur Mitzvah: beautifying the mitzvot. We should go above and beyond to take care of the ritual items we use, elevating their purpose and beauty to an even higher level of holiness in the way that we protect and care for them.
As we learned from both our parsha and Rashi’s commentary, not only should we create beautiful things, but we should take care of them as well. By doing so, we honor the artists who create the masterpieces that we admire and use. And when they are no longer with us, we honor their memories by caring for the artistic items they created.
By Hazzan Jacob Sandler.
Last week I returned from Song Leader Boot Camp – a national conference that focuses on Jewish leadership, education, and music. Having attended 9 of the last 11 conferences over the past 10 years, it’s come to be more than just a conference but a community of fellow songleaders, educators, clergy and musicians alike. In addition to many wonderful sessions, and prayer experiences, it provided me time and space to reflect on my own life, my work, my passions and those not so pleasant areas where I’d like to improve.
Coming back from the highs of such intentional communal gathering to an overflowing inbox of emails (some of which, I’ll admit, were already piling up before I left), I had a tough transition back to ‘normal life.’ There are real things I want to do better, and real ways I want to be better.
If I can get vulnerable for a moment, I thought about how grateful I ought to be for this wonderful community – I work with incredible professional partners and lay people, I’m well compensated and I feel so loved and embraced by the community. I also thought about how despite the truth of that, it’s hard work and it’s relentless. And I’ve gained weight since I’ve started and though I’m not asking for suggestions, I’ll admit it would be nice to start that family and plant some deeper roots. So, what do I do with these really big feelings?
I had a moment I imagine is familiar–I woke up, groaned, and started the daily wrestle with myself to get out of bed and face the day. I wish I could sleep in… but instead of rolling over to snooze that one extra time (that I don’t really have time for), I thought, “what if I actually said Modeh Ani?” You know that short prayer you sung in Hebrew school to the tune of “You are my sunshine” or maybe Jeff Klepper’s tune at camp (look it up you’ll recognize it).
I decided to say it. I said each word really slowly. I recognize I have the privilege of knowing word by word how to say it and also what each word means–but it went something like this:
Modeh – thank. First gratitude, even before
Ani – I or I am. It means ‘I am grateful’, but really it means ‘grateful am I’ — gratitude first, then ego.
Lefanecha – before You – that is in the presence of God.
Three words in, and I’m very aware that first thing in the morning I am grateful, then I’m myself, and then I’m in the presence of God. Who by the way is:
Melech Chai VeKayam — Eternally Living Sovereign. Imagine a King, or your boss or anyone in charge is just right there, ready to be thanked and you’re still in pajamas… It’s a wild practice. Deeply humbling.
But to be fair, there’s good reason to be thankful, even when you want to sleep in or snooze. Why am I thanking God?
Shehechezarta bi nishmati — that You have returned to me (literally in me) my soul. And the word for soul Neshama is related to the word for breath, Neshimah. It’s no coincidence that this waking up breath parallels the breath of life God breathed into the very first Adam in creation. We wake up and are created anew. But why?
B’chemlah – with compassion. We recognize the gift of this day is a kind gesture from God. But also,Rabah Emunatecha — great is Your faith. Not emunati – not on the merit of my faith, which may come and go with the weather. Not because I believed hard enough was I given this day. Rather, because God has great faith. God believes in us.
I’ve been saying Modeh Ani each morning for almost a week now. And it continues to amaze and inspire me that God believes today could be the day we do something amazing. Today we might turn it all around, today we might make a good choice, say a kind word, or any number of amazing things. God believes in us, and we can take that vote of confidence with us into our day.
I’ve felt the difference it makes. Beginning the day with gratitude (even if it’s a little forced or contrived at first), flips the script. I don’t think it’s the magic of the words but the power of the ideas they express. So, if any of this resonated for you in your own busy life, I hope you’ll carry these ideas and give it a try. Let me know if it helps. And if nothing else, I hope you gained a deeper understanding of these words that you’ve known so long.
By Rabbi Alex Freedman.
We all know that we are supposed to dress up and wear nice clothes for Shabbat/holiday services at shul. Why is that?
I think many people would answer: because everyone else is dressing up! Indeed, when everybody is dressing up for an event – any event – we feel out of place if we don’t match the attire.
But I think we must consider a deeper answer to this question. Optimally, we dress up for ourselves. We don’t dress up for others because synagogue – while there are certainly social elements – is primarily a religious experience. We don’t dress up for God because God is not swayed by the clothing we wear. Instead, we dress up for ourselves. That is, we recognize that the clothing we wear affects how we feel, and so wearing certain clothes prepares us better to encounter God and Torah at shul.
I think we all intuit this. Were we to go to synagogue in our pajamas, we would feel tired and ready to sleep, not ready to pray. (Related to this, I always feel strange on the night of Purim when I am praying in some silly costume. To me, it feels off.)
The clothes we wear on our outside significantly affect how we feel on the inside. This is a core message from this week’s Torah reading, Tetzaveh. The focus of this portion is describing in elaborate detail, the special garments to be worn by the High Priest and ordinary priests while serving in the Mishkan sanctuary. Aaron the High Priest was to wear eight special garments, including a breastplate with all the names of the tribes. The Torah notes that it should go over his heart: “ Aaron shall carry the names of the sons of Israel on the breastplate of decision over his heart when he enters the sanctuary, for a remembrance before the Lord at all times” (Exodus 28:29). Aaron was the spiritual leader of the Israelites, and yet he had to wear not just one special garment in the sanctuary, but eight! It was the Torah’s way of having him prepare for the ultimate spiritual leadership role.
I remember hosting a Zoom town hall with the congregation about the first High Holiday services during Covid, when almost everybody was to stay home and use the livestream because it was considered physically unsafe for a large crowd to be in the building. Somebody asked a question in jest, “can I watch services on my couch in my pajamas?” We all chuckled. But then, on a serious note, I responded with a teaching: Of course you can wear whatever you like; no one will know and nobody will stop you. But consider wearing your shul clothes even on the couch because you will feel more prepared for services and connected to the prayers, for that is our prayer uniform. This is similar to the Halacha that on Shabbat we are supposed to wear special clothing, even away from services. Not to dress up for each other, but to dress up to honor the day itself.”
By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
While Moshe remains on Har Sinai, God provides detailed instructions regarding the construction and decoration of the Mishkan, the central theme of this final third of the book of Shemot. This Tabernacle is to house the Ark and allow the Divine Presence to dwell among the people of Israel.
God instructs the Israelites to bring a variety of materials for this very purpose. Following the gathering of these items, God says the following in Ex. 25:8: V’asu Li Mikdash v’Shachanti B’tocham. They will make me a mikdash (holy place) and I will dwell be-tokham (in them).
Our parshanim wonder: If this pasuk is talking about the Mikdash, wouldn’t it make more sense for it to say that God will dwell B’tocho, in it, in singular? Why does it say be-tocham, in plural?
One of these commentators, the Nefesh ha-Hayyim who lived in Lithuania 250 years ago, suggested that the main idea of the Mikdash and God’s presence in this world is about people. If people make themselves holy through observing all the mitzvot, then they themselves can actually become a Mikdash, a holy place, and God will dwell inside them.
This is what the Sages meant when they explained “I will dwell be-tocham (in them)”–it’s that God will dwell in THEM (the people), not just in IT (the Mikdash).
Let’s take a closer look at this word Mikdash: the root of this word Mikdash is Kuf-Dalet-Shin. So many familiar words share this shoresh: Kadosh, Kaddish, Kiddush, Kedusha. All are grammatical variations on this central theme of holiness.
Kuf-Dalet-Shin. What is the central letter of this Hebrew root that all of these words have in common? DALET
DALET: The name of each letter in the Alef-Bet not only has a numeric equivalent, in this case, Dalet represents the number four, as it is the fourth letter of the Alef-Bet. But each letter’s name also has a unique meaning in and of itself. Dalet is a variant of the word Delet which means door.
This letter is central both literally and figuratively to the root of holiness. When we think about Dalet in this way, I think about 2 things. On the one hand, we have the ability, both in our individual homes and in our synagogue, to open the door, to fulfill the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim, to welcome guests into our spaces, ultimately elevating our personal and communal homes in holiness.
At the same time, thinking back to the Nefesh HaHayyim commentary, when we perform mitzvot, such as hachnasat orchim, and 612 other commandments, WE increase in holiness. The spiritual door within us opens as we welcome God’s presence into ourselves, truly feeling that spark of the divine which humanity was given when we were created B’tzelem Elohim, in God’s image.
May we each go from strength to strength with each mitzvah we perform, elevating ourselves and our community in holiness.
By Hazzan Jacob Sandler.
You must not carry false rumors; you shall not join hands with the guilty to act as a malicious witness:
You shall neither side with the mighty to do wrong—you shall not give perverse testimony in a dispute so as to pervert it in favor of the mighty—
nor shall you show deference to a poor person in a dispute.
Parshat Mishpatim is full of rules and laws that run the gamut of forming a society. The above set of three verses struck me this week. The first sentence seems fairly simple, almost obvious. Of course any good society should know not to join hands with the guilty, nor give any credence to unsubstantiated rumors. But the next two verses, in my eyes, show us how much harder that can be when we navigate the messy, complicated world around us.
You shall neither side with the mighty…nor shall you show deference to a poor person in a dispute. What does this mean? It means we all need to check our biases. It’s really difficult when someone we’ve come to respect, love, or even rely on is suddenly caught up in a scandal. Since the #MeToo movement and even well before, we’re not strangers to seeing those we look up to getting caught doing something they shouldn’t have done. And in some cases, our desire to preserve our image of that person might incline us to forgive them, offer them a second chance without necessarily holding them accountable for the problematic choice they made. Sometimes it’s difficult not to side with the mighty. It can be understandably tempting to justify the action, rationalize or even deny that it could have happened as it is described. But we must not carry false rumors, nor give perverse testimony so as to pervert it in favor of the mighty (or influential, powerful, beloved, respected etc.)
But “nor shall you show deference to a poor person in a dispute.” In our pursuit of justice and accountability, we mustn’t fall prey to the other temptation. We shouldn’t be venerating victimhood. We shouldn’t strip the poor of their dignity by simply pitying them. The merit of their case should be based in fact and truth. I see it all the time among friends that in an effort to transcend a “might makes right” attitude, they almost automatically root for the underdog on the basis of their status as underdog. This too is not the path to justice. This is the sort of thinking that can keep a group of poor people in a state of perpetual reliance on the help of others. It’s the sort of thinking groups like Hamas take advantage of when leaving their people in a constant state of victimhood, rather than tending to the needs of those they’re meant to be governing.
So it isn’t simple after all. Every case, every claim, every headline requires an exhausting effort to validate. Everytime we go to share a post online, are we taking care not to violate this negative command? Are making sure we aren’t carrying false rumors? Are we cautious and demanding that facts and truth be circulated? Are we certain that we are neither favoring the mighty, nor showing deference to the poor? Are we checking our bias, and doing the deep listening required to move forward as a society? There’s so much information out there, and for better and for worse, truth has never been more difficult to identify. As Rabbi Tarfon says in Pirkei Avot, “It’s not on us to finish the work, but we are not free to ignore it.” May God lead us with His good counsel.
By Rabbi Alex Freedman.
The best teachers widen our view of the world. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks Z’L wrote something about this week’s reading, Yitro, that has long stuck with me. Because it’s not really about Yitro, Moses’ father-in-law, way back then, but about all of us every day.
In the Parsha, Yitro notices Moses wearing himself out by listening to the legal cases brought by the people all day every day. Yitro confronts him directly by saying “The thing you are doing is not good. You will surely wear yourself out, and these people as well. For the task is too heavy for you. You cannot do it alone” (Ex. 18:17, 18). He then urges Moses to delegate, to train others to be capable of answering these legal questions, while Moses will serve as a supreme court, as it were, handling the most challenging cases.
Rabbi Sacks is taken by the phrase “not good, Lo Tov.” It rings a bell for him. He turns to the only other time that exact phrase is used in the Torah, Genesis 2:18. There we see God observing Adam without Eve and being quite lonely. God says, “It is not good for man to be alone; I will make a fitting helper for him.” God then proceeds to create Eve.
There too we read “not good, Lo Tov.” When there are only two instances of an expression, each example must inform the other. What do we learn from each case?
Rabbi Sacks answers: from Genesis we learn, it’s not good for a person to live alone. And from Exodus we learn, it’s not good for a person to lead alone. Living alone removes us from the blessings of companionship, family, and community. Leading alone is an impossible task that wears out an individual and prevents that group from preparing for future success.
From what is not good, we learn the best path forward: to live together and to lead together.
By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
While this verse comes from Devarim 20:19, it is relevant to us, TODAY, as we celebrate Tu Bishvat, the New Year of the Trees!
But in looking outside (and what a view we have on the east side of our synagogue!), it always strikes me that we celebrate this holiday in the midst of winter, when, other than snow and cold, nature seems to have pressed the pause button.
The Gemara wonders the same thing and answers the question: What’s happening in nature at this time of year? A Talmudic response is as follows: R. Elazar said that R. Oshaya said: This is when most of the rains have passed, even though most of the winter season is still ahead.
This leads to yet another question: What does being halfway through the rainy season matter if winter isn’t over yet? Rashi explains that this is the time when sap is rising inside the trees. While fruit is not yet emerging, the roots and trunks are starting to pull water up to the branches, and that eventually will make fruit begin to appear.
So what’s important about sap rising inside of trees? Why is it important to celebrate something that we cannot see or measure on the outside? Why is something as quiet and unnoticeable as the sap rising inside the trees important enough to mark the beginning of the year for fruit?
Rabbi Yehudah Leib Eiger, from 19th century Eastern Europe, in his commentary, Imrei Emet, suggests that the sap rising quietly in trees represents an important idea about salvation and teaches us that Tu Bishvat may be more significant than we might have thought:
When it came to Yetziat Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt), that salvation began to awaken on Tu Bishvat, and became visible in the month of Nissan.
It’s like the way trees work – you only plant them once, but then they bloom every year on their own. Even though all the leaves die and the trees dry up every winter, their inner freshness never stops…
That’s why the Torah says “people are like trees (Dev. 20:19)” – this is God’s way of telling us to never give up. Even if you experience a kind of failing, this is just the same as how trees sometimes dry up, but even so they eventually grow fruit when the time is right. A person should always remember this idea: that it’s on Tu Bishvat that Yetziyat Mitzrayim is already awakening.
Trees can give up hope when things are going badly. We know and see that in the winter, tree leaves die and fall off, and it’s hard to tell whether the trees are dead or alive. But the amazing thing is that, even then, the tree might already be starting the process of regrowth – even though it’s impossible to see it from the outside!
This is ultimately how Tu Bishvat connects to Pesah – it’s the time when the miracle of being saved was already secretly beginning. And this holiday always falls during the week when we read Parshat Beshallach, during which we read and re-experience the miracle of Kriyat Yam Suf, the splitting of the sea in the famous Shirat HaYam, the song of the sea. That first Pesach started during the physical and emotional journey from slavery to freedom, from darkness to light. Our ancestors were each like trees, Ki haadam eitz hasadeh. In that moment, they were changing inside as individuals throughout their journey. And in every moment, we are each changing, growing in ways we can recognize on the outside, as well as changing on the inside in emotion and character.
May we all discover new things about ourselves on this journey from winter to spring. Perhaps that figurative “sap” rising within each of us this winter will inspire us in new and unexpected ways in the months to come.
Tu Bishvat Sameach!!
By Rabbi Michael Schwab.
This past weekend we commemorated 100 days since the terrible and despicable attack by Hamas against Israel and their kidnapping of over 200 hostages, many who still remain in captivity. Rabbi Freedman and I have shared abundant words with you about this travesty over the last 100 days. Therefore I thought that instead of sharing my own today, I would present to you some thoughts by some other important thinkers and figures of our time who wrote something or gave speeches to mark the 100 days.
President Isaac Herzog:
I am speaking from here to the hostages, our brothers and sisters, whoever can hear me — we are not giving up on you. We have not forgotten you. We are all working and will continue to work here in Israel and around the world 24/7 in order to bring you home! . . . I call upon the entire family of nations to do your part. This isn’t just our battle. It is a battle for the entire world. Stand with life and liberty. Stand with freedom and democracy, against barbarism and hate.”
Bruno Maçães:
What I find so troubling is not just that the appeal of universal principles or that the role of truth in politics has collapsed, but that so many people are cheering it on. It seems to me like people were tired of reason and truth. Such principles are too boring compared to the thrills of enmity and hatred.
Bruno Maçães is a columnist for the New Statesman, a former Portuguese Europe minister, and the author of “Geopolitics for the End Time.”
Haviv Rettig Gur:
When it set out on the morning of October 7 to kill and kidnap Israelis, Hamas knew what its actions would bring upon Gaza. And it welcomed it, not because Hamas are “extremist” or “radical”—easy but meaningless designations—but because it believes it is fighting a much larger fight than the Israeli-Palestinian one. . . . Iran did not build Hezbollah to not use it, nor the Houthis or its militias in Iraq and Syria. A war one side thinks is being fought to reclaim Islam’s rightful place in history will not end in Gaza. It has, alas, only just begun.
Haviv Rettig Gur is a senior analyst at The Times of Israel.
Michael Oren:
Since October 7, the atrocities carried out by Hamas have been tolerated, contextualized, and hailed. Since October 7, Israel itself has been accused of perpetrating them and worse. All of this has brought a great and terrible clarity: Jew-hatred has been revealed as a permanent and pervasive reality in the West. Jews in America, especially, now have three choices: stay and fight, stay and hide, or move to Israel.
Michael Oren is a historian, former Israeli ambassador to the U.S., and the author, among other books, of “Six Days of War: June 1967 and the Making of the Modern Middle East
President Joseph Biden:
Today, we mark a devastating and tragic milestone—100 days of captivity for the more than 100 innocent people, including as many as 6 Americans, who are still held being hostage by Hamas in Gaza. For 100 days, they have existed in fear for their lives, not knowing what tomorrow will bring. For 100 days, their families have lived in agony, praying for the safe return of their loved ones. . . I will never forget the grief and the suffering I have heard in my meetings with the families of the American hostages. No one should have to endure even one day of what they have gone through, much less 100. On this terrible day, I again reaffirm my pledge to all the hostages and their families—we are with you.
At the beginning of parashat Va-era, God tells Moshe what to say to the Israelites (Ex: 6:6-8):
“אֲנִ֣י הֹ’ וְהוֹצֵאתִ֣י אֶתְכֶ֗ם מִתַּ֙חַת֙ סִבְלֹ֣ת מִצְרַ֔יִם וְהִצַּלְתִּ֥י אֶתְכֶ֖ם מֵעֲבֹדָתָ֑ם וְגָאַלְתִּ֤י אֶתְכֶם֙ בִּזְר֣וֹעַ נְטוּיָ֔ה וּבִשְׁפָטִ֖ים גְּדֹלִֽים׃ וְלָקַחְתִּ֨י אֶתְכֶ֥ם לִי֙ לְעָ֔ם וְהָיִ֥יתִי לָכֶ֖ם לֵֽאלֹהִ֑ים…וְהֵבֵאתִ֤י אֶתְכֶם֙ אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֤ר נָשָׂ֙אתִי֙ אֶת־יָדִ֔י לָתֵ֣ת אֹתָ֔הּ לְאַבְרָהָ֥ם לְיִצְחָ֖ק וּֽלְיַעֲקֹ֑ב וְנָתַתִּ֨י אֹתָ֥הּ לָכֶ֛ם מוֹרָשָׁ֖ה אֲנִ֥י הֹ’׃”
“I am HaShem, and I will free you from the labors of Egypt, and I will deliver you from their bondage, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and through extraordinary chastisements. And I will take you to be My people and I will be your God…and I will bring you to the land that I swore to give to Abraham, Issac, and Jacob, and I will give it to you for a possession, I HaShem.”
Rabbi Kushner writes in the Etz Hayim commentary, that these 5 verbs in bold correspond to the 5 stages of the redemption. First God frees us from the physical enslavement of Egypt. Next God delivers us from the psychological mindset of being a slave, which may persist even after we are physically liberated. Third, God will redeem us so that we see ourselves as free. Though our minds are opened in the second stage, now freedom becomes part of our identity. Fourth, God takes us to be His people, inviting us into that special relationship we have even today as Jews with Hashem. This is one of the ultimate goals of the Exodus and in fact is mentioned explicitly each time Moshe and Aaron ask Pharaoh to “Let my people go.” It’s always, “let my people go, so that they may worship HaShem in the wilderness.”
The last stage, God takes us to the Land of Israel, fulfilling the ancient promise to our ancestors. Only there as a free people can we construct a model society based on the values and practices of Torah. It is not enough to just be free, but we are called to actualize God’s vision for us to thrive as a people in that land.
So, we see a progression that mirrors Maslow’s hierarchy of needs: Physiological needs (physical freedom), safety needs (mental deliverance), love and belonging (spiritual redemption), self-esteem (direct and unique relationship with the Divine) and self-actualization (taking us into the land to fulfill our purpose as Jews).
And these verbs are cited in the Jerusalem Talmud as a source for the 4 cups of wine at the Passover Seder — the fifth verb thus inviting a fifth cup which is reserved for Elijah the prophet. When we think about our own lives, what do we need to fully realize the vision of freedom offered in these verses?