I have a question: If the early bird gets the worm, how can it be that good things come to those who wait?

I’ll ask again—if the early bird gets the worm, how can it be that good things come to those who wait? I think there’s something interesting about human nature. When it would benefit us to act quickly, we hesitate. When we should be patient, we rush into action.

In our modern world, especially with social media and instant communication, we seem to be rushing into decisions and forming opinions faster than ever. Yet, often, we would be better off pausing—taking the time to think things through.

This week’s Torah portion, Parashat Ki Tisa, reflects this very aspect of human nature. It was clear that Moses would return after 40 days on Mount Sinai with the tablets, ready to instruct the Israelites in righteous living. But impatience got the better of them. Whether they miscalculated the time or simply lacked faith, they grew restless. The Torah tells us that when Moses took longer than expected, the people rushed into the sin of the Golden Calf.

Here they were—just redeemed from Egypt by God—yet, within months, they were already creating an idol because they couldn’t wait just a little longer for Moses’ return.

So, which is it? Should we act quickly, or should we wait? How do we know when to jump into a decision and when to hold back?

This past week, we witnessed an incredible response to the antisemitism that has plagued campuses since October 7. When Mahmoud Khalil, a leader in the pro-Palestinian—if not pro-Hamas—movement, was arrested at Columbia, it set off a powerful chain of events. Four hundred million dollars in federal funding is now being withheld from the university due to its failure to ensure Jewish students’ safety.

How should we, as Jews, feel about this moment? I want to take time this morning to reflect on it with you. And I invite you to share your thoughts with me over lunch.

What I’ve seen over the past week is Jews rushing to take a stand—either in support of or against Khalil’s arrest and the withholding of funds. And I know this might surprise you, but as I watched Jewish leaders speak out, it became clear that you could almost predict their political affiliations based on their stance. That’s where we are these days—we rush to align with our “side,” whether or not it’s the right decision.

We all know how difficult life has been for Jewish students on college campuses since October 7. And if there’s one lesson from the Purim story, it’s that Jews do not seek special treatment. We seek only the right to live in safety and peace. When the opportunity arises to defend ourselves, we must take it. Because if history—and October 7—has taught us anything, it’s that when our enemies declare their desire to destroy us, we should believe them.

We have an obligation to stand up for ourselves. It’s remarkable that, in this instance, the government actually took action to protect Jewish students. This is one of the lessons of Purim and a key consideration in evaluating the arrest of Mahmoud Khalil and the withholding of funds from Columbia. We cannot tolerate those who seek our destruction. And America should not tolerate the destruction of any group.

This brings me to something I’ve been reflecting on since October 7—the paradox of tolerance. Have you heard of it? The paradox of tolerance states that in our effort to be tolerant, we sometimes tolerate those who are intolerant. The longer we do this, the more intolerance spreads.

I believe we’ve been too tolerant of the intolerant—especially in the pro-Palestinian and, certainly, the pro-Hamas communities. We must be careful not to conflate the two, but it is undeniable that this tolerance has created an unsafe environment for Jewish students on campus and, potentially, for Jews across the country.

As we consider the events at Columbia—the arrest of Mahmoud Khalil and the withholding of $400 million—we should keep in mind both the lessons of Purim and of October 7. We must protect ourselves. And we must remember that unchecked tolerance of intolerance leads to further harm.

At the same time, Jews in America have long benefited from the First Amendment and due process. We should be wary of any actions that erode those protections. Historically, when governments become more authoritarian, Jews are often among the first to suffer. If Mahmoud Khalil’s arrest is just the beginning, could Jews eventually face unjust persecution under the same legal precedents?

History shows that when governments grow more extreme, they target those they seek to silence. And that often includes us. We must remain vigilant.

Justice is best pursued in the light of day. If those claiming to fight for justice abandon due process—if people are arrested without clear cause, denied legal representation, or made to disappear—we must question whether justice is truly being served.

So, where do I stand on the arrest of Mahmoud Khalil? I don’t know. I’m not certain about withholding $400 million from Columbia, knowing that Jewish professors and students may also suffer from this action.

I am grateful that efforts are being made to protect Jewish students. But I also worry about the long-term implications.

I was thinking about all of this as many of my colleagues and fellow Jews rushed to take sides on these events, forming opinions within seconds or hours of the news breaking. It reminded me of this week’s Torah portion—not just the sin of the Golden Calf, but God’s response to it.

God recognizes that human nature is impulsive. We rush to act before we think. So what does God do? In Exodus 31, God instructs the Israelites to build the Mishkan—the portable sanctuary. Since they struggle with the concept of an invisible God, they are given a physical space for worship.

In verse 6, God says: “I have also granted skill to all who are skillful, that they may make everything I have commanded you.” But the Hebrew is more nuanced: “Ubilev kol chakham lev natati chokhmah”—“Into the heart of all those who are wise of heart, I have given wisdom.”

The Vilna Gaon teaches that we often believe we are wise, but much of our so-called wisdom is driven by emotion and intuition. Sometimes, that serves us well. But more often, we would be better off seeking real, lasting truth.

God tells us: “Into the heart of those who act on emotion and intuition, I have given true wisdom.” Only through the pursuit of truth can we build a just and compassionate society.

We live in a complicated world. As Jews, we have an obligation to protect ourselves and to be grateful for those who stand with us in that pursuit. But we also have an obligation to seek justice and to do what is right in the eyes of God.

So, on this Shabbat of Parashat Ki Tisa, as we navigate the complexities of our world, I pray that God grants wisdom to all of us who are chakmei lev—wise of heart. May we seek truth. May we pursue wisdom. And may we be blessed with peace.

“Adonai oz l’amo yiten, Adonai yevarech et amo vashalom.”

May God grant strength to His people, and may God bless His people with peace.

And let us say together: Amen.