In Ecclesiastes, or Kohelet, in Hebrew, we learn, “There is nothing new under the sun” (Eccl. 1:9). It’s not a complacent statement nor an apathetic one. King Solomon, who is said to have authored the book, identified what is true: the world is mysterious but not unknowable. It’s mysterious because it’s God’s creation. It’s beyond our comprehension even as God is beyond our praises. But the world is not unknowable. It’s our task to know the world because we live in covenant with God, and are commanded to account for our deeds on earth. Our salvation depends on deeds we call mitzvot, and which serve our fellow human beings and all of God’s creations on earth.

If you’re unmoved by Solomon’s observation that “there’s nothing new under the sun,” you might be apathetic. But to be Jewish and apathetic is unacceptable. Even as Ecclesiastes begins, “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!” the rabbis responded urgently, “But now that we are here we must make a positive difference.” Despite it all, and contrary to our mood, we have no choice but to get up, know the world, and do mitzvot that transform it into the world it ought to be. It doesn’t have to be an all-Jewish world; but it does have to conform to moral laws that apply to Jews and non-Jews, alike. They are Torah laws, Noahide laws (seven ethical commandments that are binding on all people), and contemporary laws that govern humanity.

In this week’s Torah portion, Mishpatim, which means judgements and rules, we read the laws and rules that came with the Ten Commandments. They governed ritual and ethical deeds. They were the foundation of the people’s individual and communal responsibility to each other. And they were the beginning of Judaism’s contribution to a changed world. Even as other religions would emerge from Judaism, the three Abrahamic faiths, including Christianity and Islam, embraced unity in God’s role among the people, too. Personal accountability to God, though interpreted differently in each religion, held people to a standard that is often called Judeo-Christian, though the term is over-simplified.

Today, world events are tearing apart families and neighbors, co-religionists and faithfulness. It’s tempting to fall back on ancient disillusionments and apathy. But we shouldn’t. We are commanded by God through mitzvot to strive and prosper, to be morally upright, and to be a light unto the nations. The Holiness code in Leviticus makes it clear: “You shall be holy for I, God, am Holy,” which the rabbis interpreted to mean that you can be “humanly holy.” How? Begin with these: Do not bribe. Do not curry favor. Do not stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds. Do not put a stumbling block before the blind. And “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18), which is a Golden Rule in Judaism and Christianity.

These are our Torah, our moral and human benchmarks. They are ours and no one can take them away from us, or misinterpret them to us, or decommission them. They are “our life and the length of our days” (Deut. 30). It’s time to ask, “What is my moral duty in this matter?” “What does my tradition of Torah commentary urge me to do?” and “How can I make a positive difference worthy of my faith and covenant?” It’s not about taking the high road; that’s a cliché. It’s about taking the only road that enables you and me to do what is right and to stand with authenticity before God.

Someone will reply to my blog and accuse me of choosing sides. It’s not true. You can only accuse me of arousing Jews to bear up and address the world with wisdom and deeds of Torah. The mysteries of the world will elude us, but the privilege to know the world as it ought to be is already in our “mouths, in our hearts, and in our hands” to make a positive difference (Deuteronomy 30). “There is nothing new under the sun,” because nothing escapes Torah. Rashi taught that Torah was a blueprint of the world—a challenged world, but also a redeemable world.

L’Shalom,