Kabbalat Shabbat Kavannah | Rabbi Felicia Sol | January 16, 2026

Shabbat shalom.

>> Shalom.

>> That was a hearty Shabbat shalom. I love

that. I love that.

One of my oldest friends lives in

Minneapolis

and I reached out early this week to

check in and she wrote back simply, "Not

good. It's so bad and I'm not even at

risk."

"Well, I guess I am now because peaceful

protesters are being attacked."

I replied, "It's awful and devastating

and infuriating and scary." And she

answered, "Yes, all of those things."

A classmate of mine served as a rabbi of

Beth Israel in Jackson, Mississippi for

12 years, and she wrote, "Words are not

working well for me today.

There have been tears as I talk to

friends from Jackson. New information

has been released.

It is disturbing and shakes the ground

that usually hopes me up, holds me up. I

feel shaky and off center.

Oh, America,

what have we become?

Or perhaps more honestly, what has

always been there and that has now been

unleashed.

This country is our home.

It has offered opportunity and blessing,

yes, but not equally,

for some and not for others.

When will redemption come?

On August 28th, 1963, Dr. Martin Luther

King Jr. stood on the steps of the

Lincoln Memorial and delivered his

famous I have a dream speech. Reflecting

on the Emancipation Proclamation, he

said that 100 years later, black

Americans still found themselves

in exile in their own land. He spoke of

a promisary note written by the

architects of our republic, a promise

that all people would be guaranteed the

unalienable rights of life, liberty, and

the pursuit of happiness. A promise that

has come back marked

insufficient funds.

How many today feel that same exile in

their own land? Black people, Jews,

immigrants, women, black women, white

women, Latino women. In Martin Luther's

Kings speech, he only spoke of men.

This is exile.

When we are painfully distant from the

promise. When the gap between what

should be and what feels is unbearable.

When leaders like our presidents view

lies and hatred and stoke unrest rather

than uphold that sacred promisary note.

In this week's parasa, God appears to

Moshe while the Israelites are enslaved

and suffering in exile. God says, "I am

Adonai. I appeared to Abraham and

Yakov."

Rashi adds a small but curious detail

about this. The fact that God says I am

I appeared to Abraham and Yakov and

Rashi says those are the avot the

forefathers

which is kind of an odd thing to say

because we all know that. So the katam

sophair asked the question what is rashi

actually adding?

He teaches that avote the forefathers is

related to the root alf bete meaning

desire.

God reveals God's self to those who

truly desire God as Abraham and Yakov

did. Just verses later God declares the

great promises of redemption. I will

free you from the burdens of Egypt. I

will deliver you. I will redeem you. I

will take you to be my people. I will

bring you to into the land. We know

these from the sedi.

Redemption begins when exile becomes

intolerable.

Raviakov Moshe Harlap teaches that the

Jewish people have an extraordinary

ability to endure exile. But when

redemption draws near, there is a

reawakening,

a moment when it becomes impossible to

tolerate the suffering any longer. That

reawakening itself, he says, is a sign

of redemption.

Implicit in these verses is a question.

Have we tolerated enough?

Enough tolerance for inhumity,

enough tolerance for indignity and

cruelty and hatred. Enough tolerance for

anti-semitism, for racism, for

xenophobia and islamophobia.

We are beginning, I hope, to see that

reaw reawakening. My friend in

Minneapolis has been paired with an

Ecuadorian family bringing them

groceries so they do not have to leave

their home. She has stood outside as a

witness of a school while suspicious

cards cars supposedly ice drive by

looking to come in. One of thousands

motans saying no more. No more standing

at the entrances to Target and schools

and policing policing neighbors policing

to make sure no one comes in to people's

homes. Clergy from around the country

are going to be traveling to Minnesota

next week to say no more.

In Jackson, Mississippi, churches and

pastors have risen up also to say the

same. After the anti-semitic attack in

Beth Israel, Pastor Chuck P wrote a

public lament.

He spoke actually he had written a piece

following the um the the terrorist

attack in Bandi in Australia and he

spoke of praying in solidarity with Beth

Beth Israel synagogues in his life. One

from Mone, Georgia and the other in

Jackson, Mississippi and with Jews

everywhere. He acknowledged with sorrow

and repentance the church's long history

of sewing seeds of anti-semitism,

writing, "Hitler did not create the

ghetto. We did." And he ended with the

words addressed from centuries spanning

church to the centuries spanning

synagogue. We are sorry.

That is what redemption looks like at

its beginnings.

Solidarity,

repentance,

awakening.

We have to desire a world redeemed. We

must want it. We must want to risk for

it and demand it. Redemption will not

silent will not come while we silently

read the newspaper in anguish.

It will come when we remember the

promise and refuse to tolerate a reality

so far from it. When we insist that the

promised land must begin here and now.

Shabbat awakens that promise. Shabbat

reminds us not only of creation but of

redemption. And on this Shabbat, on this

Shabbat of Martin Luther King weekend,

we are called not only to dream, but to

wake up.

Hetori

will say in just a few moments, awaken.

Awaken.

Not only to believe that redemption is

possible, but to help bring it into

being.