Making Our Promises Count”  

G’mar Chatimah Tovah. May you be sealed for a blessing. While I keep saying that Yom Kippur is not sad; it is one of the most joyous holidays, Yom Kippur can be hard. Our liturgy, developed over thousands of years, teaches us a number of things about G-d and what happens on this day of fear and trembling, the culmination of the Yamim Nora’im. One image of G-d based on that ancient liturgy is of  Avinu Malkeinu, Our Father our King. This King, sitting on a throne, judges us and then writiing in the Book of Life, who shall live and who shall die. We are assured that if we engage in tefilah—prayer, teshuvah, return and repentance, and tzedakah, we can avert the decree. It’s a promise, no? 

But what happens when good people who engage in all of those activities, still die? All too often people ask me things like, “My mother was good. She gave tzedakah, she was in shul every week. Why did she die?” The truth is, and it is a hard truth, we are all going to die sometime. The question becomes for me how do we live our lives until that time. The question also is on this holy of holy nights how do we make our promises count.  

Kol Nidre is about evaluating our vows, our promises. It’s about looking deep within, acknowledging our mistakes and promising not to do them again. It’s about asking for forgiveness and granting forgiveness to others who have wronged us. Its about looking forward and looking back. It is written in Aramaic, not in Hebrew because it is a legal document where we actually convene a “court on high” and a court here on earth. That is why all the Torah scrolls were out held by our leadership team. They are our earthly court with the Torah scrolls as our witnesses. Its origins are shrouded in mystery. Perhaps it was the conversos, those forced to convert during the Spanish Inquisition who penned it. Perhaps not. Its music is haunting and can propel our prayers to the very vault of heaven. 

Many traditional Jews will say things like, I will be at services, for sure, by 6:00 PM, bli neder, without a vow. That way they will not have to undo a vow they didn’t live up to.  

We are told that for sins against G-d, Yom Kippur atones but for sins against humanity, Yom Kippur does not atone until we make peace with our neighbor. G-d does promise to forgive us, to the 1000th generation. We see this promise first in the 13 Attributes, when Moses is hidden in the cleft of the rock after the sin of the Golden Calf. We sing these words over and over again as part of our Selichot prayers throughout Yom Kippur. G-d teaches Moses that by using these very words, and reminding G-d of G-d’s essential nature that G-d will forgive sin, transgression and iniquity. 

G-d promises again in the Book of Numbers, when the Israelites are being a little cranky, a little kvetchy and G-d is losing patience. V’yomer Adonai Selachti kidvarecha. And G-d said, I have forgiven you according to your word. This is a promise—and it is reassuring. So be assured. You’ve been forgiven, already!  There is very little that we can do that will not merit G-d’s forgiveness. We have to do our part too. That’s our promise. 

(You could all go home now and I say this every year but no one ever does! And maybe that would be more important. To do real teshuvah, repentance, with the people closest to us who we may have wounded with an unkind word. 65% of all the sins we confess have to do with speech, think about that!) 

Many people tell me they don’t believe in G-d. Sometimes what they are really saying is they don’t believe in the concept of G-d, that is seemingly central to this holiday. A G-d that judges, that sits on a throne, who is all knowing, all powerful and all good, who seals your fate. Perhaps that’s your struggle too. That’s OK. And that’s what I am going to address tonight. 

So, are there other images of G-d beside sitting on a throne? Who is this G-d? 

Rabbi Sandy Sasso, the first woman Reconstructionist Rabbi wrote a children’s book, In G-d’s Name,  that I love to use here and in interfaith settings with both kids and adults. How appropriate to illustrate my point with this book in the 130th Anniversary of CKI and the 50th anniversary of women’s ordination in this country. This story details a variety of names we call G-d, throughout the Torah…Source of Life, Creator of Light, Shepherd, Maker of Peace, My Rock, Redeemer, Ancient One, Healer, Comforter, Mother, Father, Friend, One. Perhaps one or more of them resonates with you.  

This summer a new book came out that I read on vacation. Rabbi Toba Spitzer wrote, G-d is Here, Reimaging the Divine. In this book she details other ways we see G-d. There are many metaphors for G-d, she reassures us. I quibble with her title. I think she is rediscovering metaphors that are already there and expanding our understanding of the one G-d.  

G-d as Water, the Source of Spiritual Transformation. And there is a promise here:  

Adonai shall guide you always, and satisfy your soul in drought…and you shall be like a watered garden. (Isaiah 58:11).  

That’s a promise.  

G-d is described as a well of liberation, and endless source from which we can draw. (Isaiah 12:1)  

G-d is also described as a Fount of Lining Waters, Mayyim Hayyim. Both Rabbi Spitzer and I have deep connections, pun intended with Mayyim Hayyim, the community mikveh in Boston. That name was not an accident. As Rabbi Spitzer says, “Water does not command or judge—it flows and irrigates, nourishes and sustains. G-d as water invites us to identify when and how we become spiritually “dry” and what it might mean to feel spiritually nourished.”  

Tonight when we talk much about teshuvah, I offer this quote: “Like water, teshuvah is both destructive and creative. It dissolves the person you were but simultaneously provides the moisture you need to grow anew. It erodes the hard edges of your willfulness but also refreshens your spirit. It can turn the tallest barriers of moral blindness into rubble while it also gently nourishes the hidden seeds of hope buried deep in your soul. Teshuvah, like water, has the power both to wash away past sin and to shower you with the blessing of a new future, if only you trust it and allow yourself to be carried along in its current.” Dr. Louis Newman 

In this example, water used for good becomes like the face of G-d.  

G-d promises after Noah that G-d will not destroy the world again by water. The sign of that reassuring covenant is the rainbow. There is an old Negro Spiritual, “By Fire Next Time.” James Baldwin used this reference for his book of the same name. We promise that we will partner with G-d in creation, to also take care of the earth. That is a Jewish value we call bal tashchit, do not destroy. 

G-d will nourish us with water. That’s a promise. 

G-d as Place. Hamakom. Jacob ran away from home with his wounded brother threatening to kill him. It is not until much, much later that they seem to reconcile, to do some process of teshuvah, and then they go their separate ways. But in this scene, isolated and alone in the desert, he puts a rock under his head and has a dream of a ladder with angels going up and down the rungs. When he awoke, he exclaimed, “Adonai is in this place, hamakom, and I didn’t know it. How awesome is this place, hamakom”.  

We may all have places that are special to us. Mine is a stretch of Up North Lake Michigan beach, where the sunsets are terrific and the breeze in the birches reminds me of the Presence of the Divine. It is this place, even in my memory that always makes me say WOW!  If you are willing, close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Take another deep breath. Imagine that place, that makom, that makes you say WOW! That place where you know you are in the Presence, and the Place, the makom of the Divine. Feel the breeze, the ruach, the wind, the spirit on your skin. Know that you are the beloved child of G-d. Take another deep breath. Open your eyes slowly.  

The great irony about calling G-d place is that we are always in one, and that makes G-d present wherever we are. G-d can be present in any and every moment. That’s a promise. 

For some that place, hamakom, may be this very room. A place where we can draw close to the Divine, to experience G-d’s presence directly. Ashrei teaches us, Happy are those who dwell in Your house, may they always praise You, selah!” In our Yom Kippur liturgy we actually talk about place. We say, “Bring us to Your holy mountain, that we may rejoice in Your house of prayer, so that it may we may rejoice in Your House of prayer and call it a house of prayer for all people.” (page 371, Mahzor for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Harlow) Look around you. See the people gathered in this Makom and know that it has become a place of prayer for all people, a place to draw close to G-d. That’s a promise.  

We use the name, Hamakom, when we comfort mourners saying, Hamakom yinachem etchem. May The Place comfort you among all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem. I always add “and all the world.” My colleague, Rabbi David Paskin, after the death of his young daughter, asked why does this prayer use Hamakom? Why not Compassionate One or Comforter or some other name of G-d? .He answers his own question in his song HaMakom. In the process of grief, we can go into that place and out of that place that hurts so much, and that very place will comfort us and eventually heal us. That is a promise.  

As we started this discussion with, when Moses needed reassurance of G-d’s presence, he begs to see G-d. G-d tells him “Hinei Makom iti, Here in this place….then hides Moses in the cleft of the rock. From there Moses hears the 13 attributes of the Divine, so central to the High Holy Day liturgy Here, in this Place, Moses found compassion and loving-kindness, endless mercy and forgiveness. We can find that too, even today. G-d promises that we will be forgiven if we use these very words. And then we hear, Vayomer Adonai Selachti Kidvarecha. I have pardoned according to your word. That’s a promise.  

God as Sound and Silence. At the very beginning, G-d creates the world with Voice. G-d is described as a kol, a voice. G-d is the vibration that saturates the universe, as Spitzer teaches. Sometimes that Voice is music. Sometimes it is the voice of the shofar, waking us up. Sometimes it is the voice of choir and Stephanie. Sometimes it is a Broadway show tune that resonates. Peter Paul and Mary sang, “Music speaks louder than words. It’s the only thing that the whole world listens to.” Listening is an essential part of Judaism. Whether it is Adam and Eve in the garden when they are asked, “Where are you?”, the Israelites at the base of Mount Sinai when they heard the lightening and saw the thunder, the thundering Voice of G-d in the Psalm that we sing on Friday night, or Elijah when he heard the still small voice within. We are commanded to listen. “Hear O Israel, the Lord our G-d the Lord is One.” Listen, people, wake up. 

We promise then to proclaim this.  Sh’ma Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad. Hear O Israel, the Lord our G-d. The Lord is One, Unique. We are witnesses to G-d’s oneness. 

G-d as Rock: There are many references to G-d as Rock. A sheltering Rock, a Rock of Refuge. Rock of Ages from the Chanukah song, “Ma’oz Tzur. A Protector. When we pray that Adonai Tzuri v’lo go’ali, we see G-d as my Rock This metaphor for G-d is one of strength and resilience. I find it reassuring as well. I don’t have to be in charge. G-d is that strength. I love to sit on the rocks at a place like Bar Harbor or Ogunquit, Maine. Many life decisions have been made “rocking” listening to that still, small voice. Rocks have a sense of eternity. This summer I spent time hunting for Petosky stones, found in northern Michigan they are ancient pieces of coral with patterns of hexagons. They remind me that life has been here long before me—and will continue long after me—if we take care of this wonderful creation.  

G-d as Cloud—But sometimes it is hard to see evidence of G-d. G-d can be shrouded in mystery. Again, the Israelites needed to be reassured that G-d was going with them as they first wandered in the wilderness. G-d appeared to them as a column of cloud by day and a column of fire by night. Clouds can obscure some things and make others more visible. Sometimes on a foggy day, I can see clearer. Sometimes, when the light streams through the clouds, I can imagine that it is G-d talking to people in all sorts of different ways. G-d promises to go with us, even when we wander, even when the path is not clear. That’s a promise. It is up to us to listen. We promise to listen carefully.  

We’ve examined a number of metaphors for G-d. A number of promises that G-d made and continues to make. For Yom Kippur, it is clear that G-d promises to take us back in love. If we return. It is up to us to promise. To make those promises count. 

We promise, bli neder, without a vow.  

• To be caretakers with G-d in this creation. 
• To love G-d as G-d loves us, to love our neighbor, our fellow. To love the stranger. 
• To forgive as G-d forgives  
• To find HaMakom, the place that inspires. 
• To listen carefully to the Voice of G-d and the still small voice within. 
• To witness G-d’s presence in our lives. 
• To make our promises count. 

I dream of expanding this work deeply. I wanted to take so many pictures up north and illustrate each of her chapters. That’s one level. We will be hosting an adult study class in January on concepts of G-d. We are hopeful that Rabbi Spiter will be able to join us for one session on Zoom. I challenge you to listen carefully to the language of G-d even during this Yom Kippur. Find images and metaphors that work for you. My promise: I will walk with you and help you explore. No one metaphor is correct for everyone, and over time our own understanding may change. That is why the rabbis teach about the Avot prayer, the beginning of the Amidah, that it says, Elohai Avraham, Elohai Yitzhak, V’lohai Ya’akov, the G-d of Abraham, the G-d of Isaac and the G-d of Jacob. Each had their own understanding of the one G-d. So did Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah. 

Ultimately we promise to love and to know that we are loved. May this be a Yom Kippur of making our promises count—to G-d, to our fellows and to ourselves. May this be a Yom Kippur of finding meaning and love.