Hurricanes can seem like slow moving, bumbling things that take forever to arrive. I once saw a meme that said, “waiting for a hurricane is like being stalked by a turtle.”

I shared that with a Delta agent this week who laughed so hard that she gave me free first-class upgrades.

Which was nice, because I was returning to Florida from a quick trip up north, and I was trying to beat the storm. Helene didn’t seem so slow moving when I was trying to stay ahead of it.

I landed in Atlanta and almost made it out, but my second flight was canceled a little after midnight, and they sent hundreds upon hundreds of people off to hotel rooms. When I arrived back at the airport at 6:30 AM, it was more crowded than I have ever seen an airport in my life.

Atlanta had been hit with a string of thunderstorms, and a hurricane was on the way. On a normal day the airport averages 286,000 passengers. On Thursday morning, it felt as if all of them were there at the same time.

There were people of all shapes and sizes, all ages and colors. It was an enormous mass of humanity, all with the same goal. To get somewhere else.

As I inched along on massive lines winding through the airport, I thought about the beginning of this week’s Torah portion. Moses was about to address the people, and he wanted to make sure that everyone heard him, that everyone listened. And so he listed them:

“You stand this day all of you before the Lord your God; your captains of your tribes, your elders, and your officers, with all the men of Israel, Your little ones, your wives, and your stranger who is in your camp, from the hewer of your wood to the drawer of your water.” (Deuteronomy 29:9-10)

Or, as my friend from Texas would say, “all y’all.”

But even that wasn’t enough. The Torah continued, “And not with you alone will I make this covenant and this oath; But with the person who stands here with us this day before the Lord our God, and also with the one who is not here with us this day.” (Deut. 29:13-14)

In other words, God and Moses were talking to us as well. All of us, through the ages. Our ancestors, our grandparents, our parents, you and me.

Judaism teaches that no one is excluded from the relationship that the Divine craves to have with us. We matter. We each are included in a covenantal relationship. We are part of something that is bigger than ourselves.

Moving with the enormous crowds making their way to somewhere else on Thursday morning, it was easy to feel swept along, tiny and insignificant. And yet remarkably I also felt part of something larger than myself.

Perhaps it was because everyone was intent on achieving something, and everyone who worked in the airport was intent on helping make that happen.

More than anything, I wanted to get home. I knew it was counterintuitive, that what I should do was stay away until after the hurricane had passed. But whatever happened, I wanted to be home for it. I wanted to be with my community, for good or for bad.

I got here hours before hurricane Helene. I heard and saw the wind and the rain and the branches clattering against my roof. I felt the power of the storm around me, while safe in my home. Eventually, I fell asleep, and woke to a bright, beautiful day.

My neighborhood is untouched, but not every neighborhood was so lucky. There is terrible flooding, and homes that were damaged and destroyed. Many people are suffering, and some died. Most are strangers, but this is my home, and my community. I will do what I can to help make it whole again.