I was invited to speak to a Unitarian Universalist community this morning. Their theme for the month is “pay attention.” The following is what I said.

Yesterday on the Jewish Sabbath, Jews around the world began reading the book of Leviticus. It starts with God calling out to Moses.

It’s an odd moment. Just a couple of verses back, at the end of Exodus, Moses completed the tabernacle that the people had built according to exacting specifications. The text reads:

 “Then a cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle. And Moses was not able to enter into the Tent of Meeting, because the cloud abode on it, and the glory of the Lord filled it.”  (Exodus 40:34-35)

God was there. Moses was there. And yet, God felt compelled to call out to Moses. 

 And it was a very particular kind of call. Usually the Torah tells us, “God spoke to Moses, saying…” but this time it said “God called to Moses, and spoke to him, saying…”

 It begs the question; why did Moses need a special call to action? Was there something that held him back? Or something he needed to hear? 

 Perhaps he thought his job was done. He and the Children of Israel had embarked on a massive and complicated building project immediately upon escaping from Egypt. They had just completed the task. 

 And Moses had successfully prepared his brother Aaron to be High Priest, to be in charge of all religious rites and rituals. 

 It’s possible that Moses believed he deserved a well-earned respite, or at least a vacation. You really can’t blame him.

But God had other plans.

 When Moses had transcribed the Torah as God dictated it to him on Mt. Sinai, he did something unusual with the first word of Leviticus. Every scribe through the millennia, including those who copy out Torah scrolls today, do the same. 

 It says, Vayikra el Moshe, “and he [God] called to Moses.” The word Vayikra is so important that it is the Hebrew name for the book. But the last letter of the word Vayikra is written much smaller than the others.  

The Torah is a document without illustrations, capital letters, punctuation, underlining, or even vowels. Why is this particular word meant to stand out?

 Because Moses was sending us a message. By diminishing the letter, Moses diminished himself. Moses wanted to write the word Vayikar (implying a less momentous encounter), but God instructed him to write Vayikra (an especially intimate calling). The Hebrew words are identical except for the addition of a final letter. 

 Moses did not want the Bible to state that God specially called out to him.  

There is a midrash that Moses actually argued with God to change the word, but God insisted. To maintain the divine command while expressing his own opinion, he wrote the letter much smaller than the others.

 In so doing, he taught that true leadership is born from a humble heart, one that does not take credit for its own greatness.  The small letter symbolizes that even small, humble acts—or a “small” view of oneself—can have a large impact.

The letter in question is an aleph. It is the first in the Hebrew alphabet. But from the outset, the Bible teaches that the aleph is modest, like Moses. The first word in Genesis is Bereshit, “in the beginning.” The very first letter of the Bible is not an aleph but a bet, the second letter. 

The great British teacher Rabbi Jonathan Sacks pointed out that the letter aleph is almost inaudible. It relies on the vowel that it is paired with to make a sound. And its appearance at the beginning of Leviticus is almost invisible. 

Rabbi Sacks explained, “Do not expect that the presence of God in history will always be as clear and unambiguous as it was during the Exodus from Egypt. For much of the time it will depend on your own sensitivity. For those who look, it will be visible. For those who listen, it can be heard. But first you have to look and listen.”

It takes humility to hear and heed the Divine call. Moses, standing just outside the Tent of Meeting, heard God’s voice—not through pride, but through deep inner stillness.

The call to Moses wasn’t just for him. It’s a call to each of us. The question is: Are we listening?

Do we carry the big Aleph—busy with ego, opinion, and self-importance—or the small Aleph, open and humble, ready to hear the wonder of existence?

When we let go of rigid definitions of who we are, we begin to see more clearly around us. We see that we each have the ability to change the world. 

 Not in big ways. You and I are not world leaders. Not heads of great corporations or gifted with unlimited resources. 

 And to be honest, I don’t think it’s God doing the calling. There is an inner motivation that moves us. Something inherent in each human being. Something that is hard wired in us. 

 But it is not an easy message. We want to ignore it, say it’s not my job. We want to push it aside, say the task is too great and I am too small. 

 We want shout “not now, I’m busy living my life. I have things to do, places to go.”

 It would be much easier to pass along the message, hope that someone else will heed the call so we can go back to our own lives, our own problems. It is so inconvenient, so hard, so frustrating because we know that the problems of the world are just too big. 

 One of my favorite moments in JRR Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, is a quiet conversation between a hobbit and a great wizard. The hobbit is afraid and turns to the other for comfort. 

 “I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.

“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

Like the hobbit Frodo and the letter aleph, I too am small and insignificant. I too worry that I am not enough, not up to the task. 

But I am not alone. You are not alone. 

You are here in a community of people who care. Who care deeply. Who know that two together are greater than one, that a community can achieve what an individual cannot. That in times of fear and despair, you can rely on one another.

All you have to do is listen. Heed the call. And be true to that still small voice from within.

Vayikra. The world is calling.