Approaching the Thick Cloud

Parashat Yitro 2025

On the third new moon after the Israelites had gone forth from the land of Egypt, they entered the wilderness of Sinai. . .. Israel encamped there in front of the mountain (Exodus 19:1–2).

And on the third day, as morning dawned, there was thunder, and lightning, and a dense cloud upon the mountain, and a very loud blast of the horn; and the people who were in the camp trembled. Moses led the people out of the camp toward God, and they took their places at the foot of the mountain. Mount Sinai was all in smoke, for God had come down upon it in fire; the smoke rose like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled violently (Ex. 19:16–18)

All the people witnessed this; and when the people saw it, they fell back and stood at a distance. “You speak to us,” they said to Moses, “and we will obey; but let not God speak to us, lest we die.”. .. So the people remained at a distance, while Moses approached the thick cloud where God was (Ex. 20:15–18).

This is the experience of meeting God and receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai, as described in this week’s Torah portion, Yitro. It is not a serene, beautiful mountain top Valentine’s Day moment. It’s filled with fear, anxiety, chaos, and danger. Fire, smoke, and trembling. So scary in fact that after we’ve heard the first 10 commandments, we tell Moses — you go in there for us and talk to God. This is too overwhelming for us.

But Moses approaches the thick cloud where God is.

Shock and awe.

Flooding the zone.

A burst of cruel, anti-democratic executive orders.

Headline after headline until my head is spinning.

Trampling of norms

Crossing of holy boundaries

Attacks on people who in Trump’s world don’t belong

And his voice — dear God, that voice.

A chaotic cloud full of thunder and lightning surrounds me.

My heart palpitates, my mind goes down rabbit holes.

How do I approach this towering mountain of extreme, unrestrained, power and the thick cloud of fear it has generated in my own body, my heart, my mind? How do I approach this thick cloud hanging over our country, our city?

Moses approaches the thick cloud where God is.

Where God is? God is in this awful dark cloud?

Yes — if this is how I understand God — as the process of the universe and everything in it manifesting from moment to moment. Then yes, this awful cloud is the truth of Being unfolding in our experience from moment to moment.

So yes, this Trump 2.0 reality and all of the negativity it is generating is not the only part, but it is a big part of how Being is unfolding right now.

Right now political power in our country is generating a cloud of cruelty, chaos, cowardice, authoritarianism, xenophobia, transphobia, and racism.

This cloud is frightening and overwhelming. It is uncomfortable to be near it — it triggers disgust, fear, aversion.

We don’t get to choose how the universe unfolds in any given moment. But we do get to choose how we are going to meet it and respond to it. And in order to do that we first have to get close to it and get to know it, feel it, see it clearly.

In our Torah portion the people are so overwhelmed, they can’t get too close for too long.

But Moses approaches the thick cloud where God is.

My beloved teacher and Jewish mindfulness guide, Rabbi Sheila Peltz Weinberg, teaches that the thick cloud in this parasha is similar to what Buddhism calls the hindrances — obstacles that keep us from dwelling in the present moment. The cloud is like veils in our minds that make it hard to see clearly what is happening, hard to know how to act with wisdom and skill.

These hindrances can take the form of anxiety and fear, torpor and sleepiness, aversion — clinging to a desire for things to be different from how they are — or clinging to a desire for things to stay how they are or go back to how they were and not change.

The Chasidic master, Rebbe Nahman of Bratslav, teaches that God actually hides God’s self in the hindrance — in that experience of anxiety, fear, aversion, desire. It’s an interesting paradox! He teaches that one who is aware, more mindful, can find God in the midst of the hindrances themselves. That through these obstacles, these difficulties, we can in fact draw closer to God because that is where God is hidden.

The natural instinct is to do what the Israelites do, and draw away from the hindrance, from that negative feeling or obstacle, or to try to push it away — to get into an adversarial relationship with it.

But Moses shows us another way.

When a cloud of fear and confusion arises, perhaps in response to a news article, we can choose to draw near to it. To sit in the cloud that is present in this moment, to breathe in and out, to open and soften, to bring ourselves love and compassion as difficult feelings and thoughts arise. And to notice, that like all clouds, these thoughts and feelings are not solid or permanent. They will eventually dissipate. When we practice with the clouds in this way, what we are left with is more freedom and clarity. And this freedom and clarity can help us to know what to do next.

It can feel really, really uncomfortable. Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron likens it to sitting in a fire — another image of God from our parasha. According to her, this is how we practice peace in a time of war. When we are feeling triggered, anxious, powerless, or when thoughts pile on that we are not doing nearly enough, we sit in the heat of the fire, in the confusion of the cloud, we befriend the fire and the cloud. Not in an obsessive doom scrolling way. But regularly, intentionally, being with the reality of what is happening right now. Choosing one thing so we don’t get overwhelmed:

Feeling what it is like right now watching Trump push his plan to empty out Gaza and make it into a beach resort; or what it is like as a New Yorker hearing our mayor open the doors of schools to ICE; or what it is like as a parent of queer kids to experience Trump’s attacks on gender affirming care.

Breathing in, breathing out, allowing the heart to break open, allowing sadness and tears to come and go, allowing the heat of rage to arise and pass, allowing fear to tighten and release. Generating loving-kindness for my own hurting heart. Bearing loving witness to all of it.

And then, from that more open place, perhaps it becomes easier to see clearly what the thing is that I can do. And maybe it becomes easier to do what we can rather than remain overwhelmed and helpless in the enormity of it all.

After all, Moses and the people are navigating this whole drama with the fire and cloud and smoke in order to ultimately hear clearly what God’s voice is telling them to do! The Torah lies at the heart of this whole experience, guiding them to build a society of love and justice. But in order to be able to move forward with that vision, they too have to breathe through all of their own obstacles and hindrances — their sense of inadequacy, having been slaves for generations; the trauma and grief that they carry in their minds, hearts, and bodies; their boredom with only this manna to eat day in and day out; their conflicts with enemies, internal and external.

Our ancestors, like us, had a lot to process, a lot to feel, before they could act wisely.

So once we decide to act, what do we do?

Maybe it’s small. Maybe it’s local. Maybe it’s showing up on Sunday at Foley square at 2pm to demand that Mayor Adams resign or that Governor Hochul remove him; or reaching out to a trans friend or family member to check in; or showing up at a shiva gathering for a Malkhutnik, participating in a community of care; or signing on as a Jew to saynotoethniccleansing.org; or making one call a day to a public official to demand that they push back on a Trump policy. Maybe it’s making tea and resting for a bit.

Whatever it is — let it come from that authentic place inside — at the very center of that thick cloud– in the clear, quiet eye of the storm — that place in us that knows that we are loved, that opens in love for others. That place where the Divine dwells.