Moses spent his last day walking toward the people, not away. My husband spent Rosh Hashanah baking twenty-four loaves of challah. All of them left the house.

The Torah commands joy — but only after you've named the suffering. Ki Tavo says bring what you have, recite where you've been, and then rejoice.

The Torah sends soldiers home from war — not for weakness, but for unfinished lives. A house not dedicated. A vineyard not harvested. A love not begun.

The Torah says "open your hand" and "spend it on whatever you want" in the same parsha. Re'eh doesn't make you choose between generosity and joy.

The Torah commands a blessing for after you eat — when you're full and most likely to forget. The small commandments almost seem to bear the most weight.

In an Athens burger shop, we found rubber ducks left by someone who wanted to support them after they were attacked for being Jewish. The Torah says: recite these words when you are away.

Moses said "how" because the people were too alive to carry alone. Jeremiah said "how" because they were gone. Same word. Both true.