This week’s Torah portion Bo places us at a moment of urgent departure. On the night of the Exodus, we are told to be dressed for the journey- to get our sandals, our “cloak”, a walking stick in hand, and ready to move at a moment’s notice (Exodus 12:11). We are not yet free, and we are not yet sure of what lies ahead. And still, the Torah insists on something very practical: don’t leave unprotected.

The Torah reminds us to always be prepared. We “could not delay” (Exodus 12:39). We left with unleavened dough and with an uncertain future. We didn’t know where the road would lead us and we just barely prepared for the conditions of a long journey ahead.

I think about this often as a parent of a teenagers. Ross and I want to prepare our girls for the unknown- for the journey ahead. On a large scale, that looks like thinking about our oldest daughter, Aria, going off to college. On a much smaller scale, it looks like something as simple as encouraging Kira, our younger teenage daughter, to wear a coat in this cold weather. (Convincing a teenager to wear a coat can feel nearly impossible.) We remind them of the weather. We explain why it matters. And sometimes, despite our best efforts, they walk out the door without it. We know we can’t stop them from going, but we still offer the coat because love insists on trying.

That tension feels familiar right now. Many people are living with a quiet sense of uncertainty about safety, about stability, about what the days ahead may bring. Not fear in the abstract, but the kind that settles into daily life and choices. We don’t always know how to prepare for a world that feels unpredictable, or how best to respond when others are moving through it without enough protection.

The Torah’s approach to preparation speaks gently to moments like these. It’s not about having all the answers. It’s about noticing vulnerability and responding with something real. Shoes. A walking stick. A coat.

We aren’t always prepared to leave our homes, our assumptions, our sense of certainty. But this portion offers us a simple starting place: see each person as someone who deserves warmth, dignity, and care. Sometimes we can’t stop the leaving, but we can make sure no one goes out into the cold unseen.

May we be a community that knows how to offer protection when it’s needed, and may we all be wrapped in care and warmth as we move forward together.

Shabbat Shalom,

Cantor Amy E. Levy