05/02/2026
When I was in cantorial school, I also completed a nonprofit management master’s degree to help me better understand how to run synagogues. The program took place primarily online during the summers, and both years they sent us swag bags with fun gifts.
One year, they sent ceramic mugs. Mine arrived perfectly intact, and I still use it today. But when we logged on to our first Zoom session, our instructor asked if everyone got their swag bags—and many people said yes, but their mugs had arrived broken.
Apparently, shipping ceramic mugs across the country is a risky endeavor.
In later years, the program switched to metal tumblers instead. Lesson learned: when they gave a gift, they wanted it to arrive whole. They wanted the care behind the gift to be reflected in what was received.
My college wasn’t the only one concerned with gifts arriving intact.
In Parashat Emor, we read about the gifts the Israelites brought to God in the ancient Temple. The Torah is very specific: an animal brought for sacrifice had to be healthy, uninjured, and complete—what Torah calls tamim, or unblemished.
Now, obviously, we know that physical differences are okay. No person is less worthy, less holy, or less loved because of illness, disability, or the way their body looks.
So what is Torah teaching?
Not that only things that look perfect are valuable, but that sacred moments ask us to be intentional. When we come before God, we put our best foot forward.
It’s why many of us dress a little differently for synagogue. Not because pajamas are immoral—I’m sure some of you are watching this in pajamas right now—but because when something is holy, we show up with care.
And Judaism already tells us what is most important: every morning we say, Elohai neshama shenatata bi tehorah hi—“My God, the soul You have given me is pure.”
Our lives are not perfect. Our bodies are not all the same. We make mistakes all the time. But our souls remain holy.
Today, we no longer bring animals to the Temple. Instead, we bring something different: our prayers, our kindness, our learning, and the best parts of ourselves.
And unlike those ceramic mugs my classmates received, the gifts we bring to God are never broken—because our souls are already whole.
Shabbat shalom.
