Think.
With an open mind

You can watch a recording of this sermon on our YouTube channel.

Becoming Bat Mitzvah is not an easy feat – not only does the young woman have to learn to read in front of a large crowd a long passage in a foreign language—and what a beautiful job Lea did—but in addition, she needs to grapple with an ancient text, which, if the birthday falls at the right time of the year, might be a nice story, or will focus, as in Lea’s case, on obscure, gory rituals, talking at length about sacrifices, or—and Lea spared you these sections of our portion—menstruation and seminal emissions with leprosy thrown in for good measure. Just what a thirteen-year-old always wanted to read about in front of others.

As I was pondering our Biblical text, I reflected that it certainly was not the intent of the biblical author or the rabbis who put together the lectionary to publicly embarrass young people at an important lifecycle moment: they were probably completely oblivious to how these passages would affect later generations for whom all these rituals were alien.

The tension between intent and affect, between intention and impact, is something that I have been thinking about a lot in the past weeks.

Let me illustrate my thinking with two contemporary examples. First, the Irish band Kneecap. During the past week, a number of videos emerged that featured rather inflammatory comments, including statements that might be interpreted as support for proscribed terror organisations, which are now being investigated by counterterrorism police. One video showed the band asking the audience to “kill your MP.” When called out, the band offered an apology addressing the families of murdered MPs Jo Cox and David Amess, saying: “We never intended to cause you hurt.” Unsurprisingly, neither of the families, nor most commentators, were satisfied with this apology. For the families especially, the consequences of these types of statements were painfully clear – whether or not it is the intention that individuals should act in a violent manner when called upon to do so, the impact can be murderous.

I think another powerful example of the tension between intent and affect is the recent ruling of the Supreme Court regarding the use of single-gender spaces by trans individuals. I want to believe that it was not the intent of the women who brought the case to make the trans community feel less safe – they were motivated by their commitment to protecting vulnerable women.

Likewise, the campaigners for trans rights prioritised the important struggle for their community and ignored the impact it had on women who relied on single-sex spaces for their sense of security. But intent is often one thing; the impact can be rather different. And so, just as some women felt vulnerable by the efforts of businesses and public bodies to model better trans inclusion, so too does the trans community feel scared by the impact of the Supreme Court ruling. I am sure that all of us gathered here this morning hold a variety of views on the issue. But whatever it is that we might feel, I encourage us not just to think of the intent of our words and actions but also of their affect. And we must not lose sight of what really matters – to create a society where neither women nor the trans community will feel unsafe, a world without the need for single-sex spaces.

Our Jewish tradition is quite clear when it comes to matters of intent and affect. As Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg comments in her book On Repentance and Repair, the Jewish concept of teshuvah (repentance) emphasises the importance of acknowledging harm regardless of intent: “Another human being’s suffering is not magically erased because the person who caused it says that they didn’t mean to do it.”

The ancient laws of repentance understood what modern research has confirmed: what you meant to say or do may not always be received as you intended, and that gap can have profound effects on relationships, mental health, and communication. How the words and actions of others affect us can have a profound impact on our mental well-being.

In mental health, acknowledging the impact of words and actions is vital because emotions, especially hurt or distress, are not always rational or aligned with intention. Empathy is often described as the bridge between intention and impact. It allows us to understand how our words and actions affect others, even if that wasn’t our intention. But sometimes empathy doesn’t just get triggered naturally – even a very empathetic individual might not be able to judge the impact of their own words if their own life experience is radically different from the person they are speaking with. We can try to empathise, but sometimes it is helpful to actually share openly how words and actions make us feel, to give the other person a chance to react empathetically.

Let me illustrate with an example what I mean: I was asked this week how to respond constructively in an otherwise friendly conversation when the discussion partner uses triggering words such as Genocide and Apartheid in the discussion about the current situation in Israel and Gaza.

I begun by stressing to the individual that it was important to acknowledge to oneself that it was okay to feel triggered by certain terms. Yet, at the same time I encouraged not to immediately conclude bad intent on the part of the other person, which just amplifies the negative emotions that the triggering words bring to the fore. Instead, I suggested that it might be useful to explain to the other person the impact that the triggering terms have on oneself and propose a way to continue the conversation that avoids triggering terminology and instead allows an actual dialogue about the topic itself. It is a powerful technique that I have learned from interfaith dialogue, which helps to avoid implying that the other person’s words or actions or the scriptures that they consider sacred are intentionally causing harm. Instead, it allows people from different backgrounds or who hold different views to truly hear each other and appreciate the impact of words that might seem neutral or even positive to one person but are deeply hurtful to others.

We sadly live in a society where people struggle ever more to listen to and speak with people who hold divergent opinions from our own.

But a society can only function well if we don’t just focus on our own intentions but also take into account the impact of our words and actions on others. With empathy and through openness, we can transcend the differences that isolate us from each other.

This week’s double Torah portion, Tazria-Metzora, while filled with descriptions of sacrifices, ancient purity laws and skin afflictions, is ultimately about the community’s responsibility to notice, respond to, and reintegrate those who have been isolated. The metzora — the one afflicted — is not cast out forever. The priest examines, diagnoses, and then, crucially, helps bring the person back into the community when the time is right. The system is flawed, yes, and sometimes causes pain, but the intention was always about healing, wholeness, and repair.

And so, Lea, today on your Bat Mitzvah, you step into this tradition — one that asks not only that you think carefully about your intentions but that you stay attuned to your impact. Being Bat Mitzvah is not just about reading from the Torah or leading prayers — it’s about beginning your Jewish adulthood with an awareness that your words and actions carry weight. You now share responsibility in helping our community become more compassionate, more just, and more whole.

May we all find the courage to speak, the humility to listen, and the wisdom to hold both intention and impact together, always striving toward healing and repair.

Ken yehi ratzon – for such is God’s will.