The Deed (n.) is where Judaism stops hinting: doctrine alludes, wisdom speaks in parables, but action gives the definition.
The Deed (n.) is a wave rolling toward God's shore, and in doing it we come to perceive.
Deed (n.) is where holiness comes from; even God is described by what He does.
A Deed (n.) registers on the gauge of holiness whether or not its doer meant it to.
A Deed (n.) either hastens or delays redemption; none is neutral.
Deed (n.) finishes what the commandment foresaw; without it the event is left half-done.
Deed (n.) tells the truth about a life, where thoughts can bewitch and ideals be worn like borrowed crowns.
Deed (n.) says what the heart dares not think; we confess with our hands.
Deed (n.) is a wager whose consequences outrun us; one wrong act can start a nation's ruin.
Deed (n.) is daybreak for the heart's night, giving faith a shape it can be held to.
Deed (n.) is exalted in Judaism, but its outward performance is only one face of it, never an idol.
Deed (n.) done without devotion leaves the doer untouched; the goal is to become what you do.
Deed (n.) is what spills out of a self, never the self itself; we are always more than we do.
Deed (n.) is a teacher: intention is born in doing, and the body learns an eloquence the bare mind lacks.
Deed (n.) looks like grabbing to the coarse mind and like an encounter with the holy to the pious one.
Deed (n.) teaches its own meaning; pure intention is reached on a road paved with good acts.
Deed (n.) knows more than the heart.