blogs/rabbi-huberman

I am currently involved in a battle of wills with a major clothes designer.

It began a few months ago when my wife and I were in Canada to attend a family event, and we decided to upgrade the dress she had packed.

We drove to a mall just outside of Toronto and purchased a stunning Italian-made dress. In order to make the sale, the salesperson suggested my wife try on a pair of matching shoes.   

The two looked great together, and we quickly purchased both. But when it was time to dress for the event, we realized the shoes were too small.

We returned the next day to exchange the item but were told, “All sales are final.” We offered to use the credit to purchase another more expensive item, but were told, “This is our store policy.”

I replied, “Whenever I hear the word ‘policy’,” I hear that you care more about your happiness, than mine.”

We were referred to the head office and assured—through a half dozen emails—that the matter has been escalated to the highest levels in Italy.

That was four months ago.

Why am I mentioning this? Why not just let go of this minor matter?

The answer came to me as I read this week’s Torah portion, where Moses is called upon to approach Pharaoh to, “Let my people go…”

Moses is reluctant to express himself, saying, “I am of impeded speech, how then should Pharaoh listen to me?” Legend tells us that Moses had a speech impediment.

So, it occurred to me—even with my little, perhaps trivial, complaint—that these days, so many feel impeded and unheard.

It happens often.

When we call the phone company with a question, and someone refers us to a website, we feel as if we have lost our voice.

When we contact an agency or company and are presented with options to press, and none of them have anything to do with the reason for our call, we feel we have lost our voice. 

When our car payment—made 10 days early—is processed late, and they tack a $20 service charge that apparently can’t be reversed, we feel voiceless.

When we arrive at the local pharmacy or supermarket checkout, and find only one lane is staffed, but there are five automated machines, we feel unnoticed and unheard. 

Am I alone? 

Within this week’s story of the first seven plagues that descend upon the Egyptians, I feel for Moses who, initially believes that no one will listen to his voice.

It is an affliction that these days plagues too many. Increasingly, we feel our political voice is not heard. We are reluctant to express how we feel—whether it be elation or frustration.

It seems like it makes no sense to complain, for—as I often hear since moving to the United States—“It is what it is.” But it is not what it is.

Perhaps the greatest story within the story of Passover revolves around Moses claiming his voice. He steps up. He raises his fist against injustice. He reluctantly agrees to lead the Israelites to freedom, not through violence or intimidation, but through humility and wisdom.

Moses defeats Pharaoh. He leads the Israelites out of Egypt and across the sea. He finds his voice in other ways—his climb to glory unimpeded.

Has there been a time when you’ve felt unheard? 

For if you have, the Torah offers an antidote and a life lesson: Success and respect within this troubled world are not achieved through volume and deceit, but rather though kindness and compassion.

And that was Moses.

Moses’ rise from a tongue-tied shepherd to a respected prophet inspires us to consider that, perhaps, silence is one of the worst plagues of all.

American author, producer and philanthropist Germany Kent, recently posted on X, “To say nothing is saying something. You must denounce things you are against, or one might believe that you support things you really do not.”

It means that during the Holocaust too many said nothing, until there was no one left to speak for them. It means that during these times of rising racism and antisemitism, we need to push back when someone utters a slur or boorish comment.

We don’t have to confrontational—just say something to let them know that their behavior and their words cannot become “mainstream.”

For even when we believe we have no voice, we really do. 

As the story of Moses unfolds, we observe him expressing himself softly but decisively as a true leader should. He leads the Jewish people through their doubts, their uncertainty and their never-ending complaints.

In fact, the entire final book of the Torah, Deuteronomy, is composed of his parting words to the Israelites, and by extension, to each of us today.

“Choose life—be heard—for your own sake and for the sake of those who follow.” Indeed, there is a piece of God within each of us. Each of us has a voice. It is the voice of God. 

During these dark and tough times, let us never believe that our voice does not matter. We must express ourselves in support of Israel—as Jews, as consumers, as pursuers of justice within an eternally challenging world. 

To act otherwise is to ignore one of the greatest life lessons of our greatest teacher—Moshe Rabbeinu. While at times, we feel impeded, we truly are not. 

In view of all of this, perhaps my little fight with the designer seems petty and trivial. But in my office, there sits a pair of beautiful women’s shoes which we will likely donate or sell for charity. And someone unknown will benefit.

And in doing so, the world will tip just a bit toward the good.

And in some way, I suppose my voice will be heard.

For as I’ve learned, when a series of small voices combine, they form a chorus of kindness that can ultimately repair the world.

Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.

Rabbi Irwin Huberman