Well, if you want to talk about this week’s sedrah, here’s a thought. Not the second paragraph of the Shema. Not the injunction to eat and be satisfied. Something completely different.

Earlier this week I attended the North America Interfaith Network annual conference. May I mention in passing that religion continues to evolve new forms, such as the Aetherius Society (how can you choose between the authoritative-sounding Wikipedia article and the organization’s own website?) and the Urantia Book (okay, I’m going for Wikipedia), both based on new revelations transmitted to human vessels. Scoffers, hold back, for the process is much the same as the revelations for many hoary religions, including the revelation to Moses that we Jews treat with respect.

Speaking of Moses, here’s something he says in the sedrah of Ekev: “Remember the whole journey on which your ruling God has led you” (Deut. 8:2). You may be hoping for a picture at this point, so please close your eyes for a moment and imagine an expanse of sand as far as you can see. Great, you can open them now.

One day on the NAIN conference, we had a tour of the Underground Railroad. Our guide explained that Detroit was the last stop for an estimated 50,000 passengers. On that route. Detroit was called Midnight, the last stop before Canada, the Dawn of hope and freedom.

Detroit’s name comes from the old French name for the Straits of Lake Erie, the narrow strip of navigable water between Lakes Huron and Erie, and I was struck by the thought that the Torah’s name for Egypt, Mitzrayim, also refers to straits–both the narrow strip of arable land next to the fertile Nile and the bitter constraints and oppression that the Hebrews suffered as slaves.

Sometimes we forget that others have suffered like us, but the Detroit area is one place in the world where we can best remember that we have partners in a painful history. Living in Detroit, we dwell on the edge of freedom. If now is dangerous Midnight, the hope of Dawn lies close at hand. Remembering our journey to freedom, let’s take every opportunity to share our history, to listen to the history of others, and to seek partners in compassion and hope to build the world of our dreams.
One more thing. There was a striking young woman at the conference, tall, slim, blonde, from Oregon, named Emily. Our guide for the Underground Railroad was a middle-aged African-American lady, of middle size, named Kim. Both Kim and Emily had researched their family trees. On the tour, they discovered they were cousins. This happened on the Monday tour, not the Tuesday tour, so I missed the reunion. It’s a lesson, though, to recognize family in every human being, however different they appear. However far we humans have traveled, the distance between us should be trivial.