I have things growing, sprouting, and blooming all over my house.

Not mold, but alfalfa, lentil and broccoli sprouts (I just learned how!).

And sourdough starter, bread, and pancakes (also new for me!).

And flowers people brought me almost two weeks ago to celebrate my ordination: lillies, amaryllis…

Oh! And the bubbling kimchi on my counter, and scallions growing on my windowsill!

Absolutely nothing to do with my new ordination.

Yet it’s a part of the newness, and it feels very symbolic to me.

I think it’s grounding me in face of the turmoil in the world.

Like my kimchi, it’s making me happy and bubbly.

More than anything, though, it’s satisfying and fulfilling.

In an experiential way, it’s showing me the possibilities for new things blooming for me—and the world, the troubles of which are constantly on my mind.

We Americans are told that one of our highest values is the right to the pursuit of happiness.

Our Declaration of Independence lists it as third after life and liberty. (Interesting episode on this question on Hidden Brain.)

But happiness is not one of the values taught in the Torah.

It doesn’t even show up as something we should be thinking about.

Life and liberty do, however, as illustrated in this week’s Parsha, Mishpatim, or Laws.

These laws all have to do with how to treat your fellow human being.

For instance, there’s the example of the slave who is set free by his master (yes, he and his), but chooses not to take freedom—whether because he loves his master, or doesn't want to leave his wife and children (the latter of which is a very good reason, I think).

For this, the slave is punished, and his ear is awled to the doorpost.

Why his ear?

What is the slave to hear that he denies?

Does he have a higher purpose he is refusing, or too afraid, to explore? After all, there’s a whole wide world out there.

And why the doorpost?

Is he to remain in this liminal space in perpetuity?

Also in this week’s Parsha, the famous phrase, “We will do, and we will listen,” shows up three times.

This is the Israelites’ response to God’s giving of the laws presented to them here.

The phrase is so enigmatic due to the order given of the two actions.

It has inspired much commentary over the millennia; don’t we need to hear, or listen, and thus gain understanding of what we are to do before jumping into action?

Yet, such a statement illustrates a kind of faith that says, “I will learn what it means in the doing, and then it will make sense to me.”

This was the argument used by The Rabbis for taking on a new Jewish practice; try it out, see how it works for you, see what it does for you. The lessons will come in the doing.

And it’s true that sometimes we may miss out on opportunities for growth if we wait until we understand the reasons.

By this argument, I should be jumping into action now that I am ordained, and to see what I am to learn from the things I do.

And there is that pressure; “What are you doing now that you are ordained?” “Do you feel different?”

The answer to these questions is, I have lots of projects, ideas, and plans—and yes.

But there are times when we need to stop, ground, explore, and take time in discernment.

The fact is, I have so many ideas and projects going, it was recently brought to my attention that I need to become more focused; if I’m doing too much, I will do nothing well.

Also, if I’m haphazard about it, that’s how I will show up, and nothing solid will grow from it.

Then again, I don’t want to be so focused that it limits me.

And I want to be happy.

No. Correction. I want to be purposeful, effective and meaningful.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks points out the differences in the way the phrase “We will do, and we will listen,” is described each time it shows up in the Parsha this week.

The first and second time, it’s “The people responded together” and “In one voice.”

The third time, there is no unanimity.

He comments, that’s because, though as a people and a society, we have calls we must answer together, we also must hear the call as individuals as well, with our own particular purpose and experience.

May we do, and hear the call, and allow it all to sprout, bloom, blossom, bubble, and grow.

And may there be healing for all.

And say Amen.