Part of what is wonderful about being a Hillel director is that my job is to provide for the welfare of all Jewish students at my university, whether they affiliate with Hillel or not. Some Jewish students hang out in our building every day, some only want to meet in coffee shops on campus, and others may never plan to come to Hillel, but know we are here for them when they need us. In the “great sort” of the admissions process, the university chooses my pool of students for me, and this randomness means that our Hillel is trying to educate and build community with all kinds of Jewish people at the same time. The reality that the students don’t all need the same things, or even always agree about priorities, is part of what makes my job infinitely interesting. Some students come with a strong sense that Judaism is a prophetic project – that our tradition is a moral code; that our job is to live up to our values individually and to do what is in our power to help society live up to those values. Other students are equally certain that Judaism is a priestly project-that our tradition is a minutely scripted routine of sacred things to do at scheduled times, and performing these tasks keeps us in relationship with ourselves, fellow Jews, and God. Both positions have deep roots in Jewish text. Both can line up heroic exemplars from our tradition, starting with Moses and Aaron. Both are correct… but are also limited. This week’s Torah portion, T’tzaveh, speaks to both the beauty and the limits of the priestly framework. This portion is all about kohanim (priests), their tasks, their robes, and their consecration. The priest is a symbol of continuity in Jewish life. The role passes from father to son and isn’t achieved by merit or force of personality. Rather, it is a sacred social role. There are rules about how the community was supposed to honor the kohen, limitations on whom kohanim could marry, and how they could interact with the people. The priests did their work silently. Their key words were kodesh and chol (sacred and ordinary), and tahor and tamei (pure and impure). The priest represents structure in Jewish life by serving at fixed times and with carefully prescribed actions. In contrast to the priest stands the navi (prophet). For the first time since the birth of Moses, the prophet is unnamed in this portion. The prophet typically emerges from amongst the people, can come from any background, wears ordinary clothes, and speaks truth to power by challenging kings, priests, and the community to live up to God’s ideals for us. The prophet’s language matters-it’s the most important thing-and the prophet focuses on tzedek (justice), mishpat (law), chesed (kindness),and rachamim (compassion). The prophet cuts through routine to deliver the word of God in ways that can change history, but is often ignored by the people. There are those who try to argue that Judaism today remains a priestly religion. Those who espouse this viewpoint often take pride in tracing the roots of our daily services to priestly sacrifices and see halachah as a seamless extension of the priestly system that predated it. I love the joy they find in Jewish learning and observance, and honor the sacrifices they make to observe Shabbat and keep kosherat a secular university shaped within a Christian hegemony. However, I get frustrated that they are sometimes dismissive of the Jewish commitment of fellow students who observe Judaism differently. I worry when they seem too content to stay within a Jewish bubble. There are other students who hold that Judaism is primarily a prophetic religion, that our most important work is caring for the vulnerable, speaking truth to power, and building connections outside the Jewish community. They live their Judaism by volunteering, community organizing, aiding refugees, and working on political campaigns. I agree that these can all be Jewish endeavors and often deserve the support of the Jewish community. I also worry that, without being grounded in deep knowledge or the cycles of Jewish life, the Jewish content of their commitments can lack depth. I also see how passion for honoring what is universal in Judaism sometimes leads to difficulty prioritizing the unique concerns North American Jews face, including the welfare of other Jews. Aaron is the first and paradigmatic Kohein, and Moses our greatest Navi. God encouraged them to be partners and gave them different, equally important, responsibilities. The Hillel way is to say both are good ways of being Jewish, but I believe that God wants us to do both and is disappointed when we veer too far one way. That is why we are commanded in Exodus 19:4 to be “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” We should strive to walk our version of the priestly path while also reaching for every opportunity for holiness. I see my job as helping my students engage in this sacred stretch from the places where they are Jewishly comfortable to the ones where they are not. This way, our community can be a community of belonging for as many Jewish students as possible. This was never an easy goal, and lately it feels harder, but it is holy work. It is available to all of us, wherever we are, and I wish you chizuk (spiritual strength) wherever you pursue it.