Rabbi Philip Weintraub
Congregation B’nai Israel
March 7, 2026 18 Adar
Parshat Ki Tisa
The book of Micah, Chapter 7 teaches:
The language echoes our parsha, the 13 attributes of Faith,
For generations these words have been a consolation. They remind us that to err is human, and to forgive is Divine. Our life is filled with amazing, wonderful choices, where we did exactly what we needed to do to improve our lives and the lives of others. AND none of us are without mistakes or even outright sin. We fall short in small and large ways.
In the ancient world, we were rarely seen as individuals. Instead, a household was a unit. If there was a grievance between two households, one patriarch could take vengeance against anyone in the other household. The sins of the father could be taken out on the son or daughter.
The Torah, Jewish tradition, says NO. A dispute between two parties is only between the actual litigants. There is no whipping boy, no alternate to receive the punishment. While the last words of the 13 characteristics say that God may punish even the third or fourth generation, it is in contrast with all human courts which cannot.
The Torah teaches that we, and we alone, are responsible for our actions. We own our victories and our failures. We own how we treat others and how we treat ourselves. We should be punished only for our own misdeeds--no one else's.
Through it all, we see that God is merciful and compassionate, and as our High Holiday liturgy reminds us, desires not the death of the sinner, but that we turn from our mistakes and do teshuvah, live our most correct lives.
In this world, we like to imagine that we have accepted this lesson, yet how often are children punished for their parents’ sins? How often do people assume that someone is more or less capable because of the neighborhood they grew up in or the school they went to? How often do we make assumptions about young adults based on what we knew of their parents or grandparents?
As I progress in my rabbinate, this year being my 15th from ordination, I think about the rabbis who have been in their careers for decades and those just beginning. I hear how the next generation is lazier, less motivated, less willing to work than those of earlier generations. I am not immune to those thoughts, but then I try to stop them. How can I judge them fairly if I am adding negative assumptions before I even begin? (I know I’ve told you all before that Socrates had similar concerns about the youth of his age!)
Our Creator offered an alternative view. God suggests we approach the world with compassion and love. Throwing away the slights and imperfections we see.
Pirket Avot reminds us:
יְהוֹשֻׁעַ בֶּן פְּרַחְיָה וְנִתַּאי הָאַרְבֵּלִי קִבְּלוּ מֵהֶם. יְהוֹשֻׁעַ בֶּן פְּרַחְיָה אוֹמֵר, עֲשֵׂה לְךָ רַב, וּקְנֵה לְךָ חָבֵר, וֶהֱוֵי דָן אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם לְכַף זְכוּת:
Joshua ben Perahiah and Nittai the Arbelite received [the oral tradition] from them. Joshua ben Perahiah used to say: appoint for thyself a teacher, and acquire for yourself a companion and judge all people with the scale weighted in their favor.
In this world, that lesson is needed more than ever before. We need our teachers. We need our friends. We need our companions and supporters. We need those who can help us acknowledge our mistakes. But perhaps even more urgently than that, we need to be compassionate to those around us, to try to judge those around us as generously as we can.
This does not mean being a “Fryer” in Hebrew slang or ignoring offensive behavior. It means reminding ourselves that the people around us are also stressed, also challenged, also trying to find balance in a complicated world. If we can come to them with kindness, even with our own challenges, perhaps we can slowly shift the world to a more loving space.
Shabbat shalom!
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