“You shall make no idols for yourselves, nor shall you raise for yourselves a graven image or a pillar; nor shall you place any figured stone in your land to bow down unto it; for I am the Lord your God. You shall keep My Sabbaths and reverence My sanctuary: I am the Lord” (Vayikra 26:1-2).

The Torah juxtaposes the prohibition of idolatry with the positive commandments to observe Sabbath and revere the Sanctuary. What is the connection between these themes?

The essence of idolatry is to render a false representation of God. Idolatry, at root, is a lie. It purports to limit God to a physical image. It has people worship an image—but not the real God. It focuses on physical image, not on eternal spirit.

In this week’s parasha, the Torah describes the rainbow as a sign of God’s covenant with His earthly creations. It is a testimony that He will never again cause a flood to destroy humanity. It is significant that God chose the rainbow as a sign of His permanent covenant with humans.

A rainbow, after all, is intangible, unreachable and ephemeral. God rested His covenant not in something solid and unshakable, but in a bodiless, colorful bow of vapor refracted in the sunlight. By choosing the rainbow, God conveyed to humanity that His power can be seen not only in great mountains and mighty oceans—but also in something as insubstantial and transient as a rainbow.

In his classic work, “The Lonely Man of Faith,” Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik writes of two aspirations of human beings: dignity and redemption.

Dignity results whenever we triumph over nature, e.g., when we make scientific and technological advances, when we control our environment, when we achieve social or economic success. In these instances, we see ourselves as masters, not as victims. This is dignity.

Redemption, though, is something quite different. It stems not from our feeling of being in control but from our feeling of being entirely dependent upon God. We are vulnerable. We are afraid. We recognize deeply and without reservation that our lives are in God’s hands, not our own. No matter how successful we may appear to be, only God has full control.

Many years ago, when I was a new young rabbi, an unkempt hippie walked into our synagogue on a Shabbat morning. He was wearing dirty jeans, a gaudy plaid shirt, and long hair with a pony tail. He wasn’t wearing a jacket and tie as is the proper male attire for our synagogue.

This hippie was quickly ushered out of the synagogue, to the relief of a number of veteran congregants. After all, who would want such a disrespectful person to be at our prayer services?

The 17th century English poet, Richard Lovelace, wrote these famous lines in his poem To Althea:

Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

As long as a person has inner freedom—to think, to love, to aspire—then the person does not feel limited by physical constraints.

In this week’s Torah portion, we learn that Jacob was afraid when he learned that Esau was coming toward him with a force of 400 men. Jacob prayed to God and reminded Him of His promise: “I will surely do good for you and make your descendants as the sand of the sea which cannot be numbered for multitude” (Bereishith 32:13). Jacob’s fear of Esau was counterbalanced by God’s promise to look after Jacob.

Jacob had worked a lifetime to raise a family and now was at the point of his impending death. He gathered his family around him to offer his final words. He looked back at successes and failures, at good times and bad, at spiritual achievements and moral deficiencies.

In the midst of imparting his final speech, he paused and poignantly called out: “I wait for Your salvation O Lord” (Bereishith 49:18).

As he reviewed his life and his family, Jacob wondered whether he had ultimately been a success or a failure. Did he accomplish his life’s goals? Would his children and grandchildren live according to his ideals? Did he do enough? Could he have done better? “I wait for Your salvation O Lord.” The Almighty alone knows.

Although we popularly refer to the upcoming fast day as Yom Kippur, the Torah calls it Yom haKippurim—the day of atonements (in the plural). The plural form reminds us that there are many roads to atonement. Each person is different and is on a unique spiritual level; each comes with different insights, experiences, memories. The roads to atonement are plural, because no two of us have identical needs.

This season of Teshuvah and Kapparah—repentance and atonement—provides us with a special challenge and opportunity. We are granted a yearly period of time for intense evaluation of our lives. This period should serve as a springboard to deeper understanding and personal growth.