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. 

Last night we talked about promises and about concepts of G-d. Today’s haftarah from the prophet Isaiah has haunted me all my adult life. Some of you may be getting a little hungry about now. Some of you may find that hunger distracting. Imagine going to be every night hungry. Isaiah demands in G-d’s voice, “Is this the fast I desire.” The answer is no. Rather it is to feed the hungry, house the homeless, clothe the naked. It is a process of rebuilding. Rebuilding roads, houses, It sounds like a hurricane had just hit Eretz Yisrael. (for those wondering, JUF has a special fund set up for disaster relief). Or maybe it was a pandemic, as organizations and communities struggle to rebuild after two years of being apart.  

There are lots of opportunities to rebuild—to make our voices and our lives count. To truly help the wider community move from surviving to thriving. We do part of that here at CKI. Our participation in the soup kettle, thanks initially to Nina and now to Judi and Barb. Our community garden, which lives out the commandment to leave the corners of our field thanks initially to Sherry Wiesman and now to Robin and Jerry. The Klionskys, the Rockwoods, the Morgans made a difference this summer too as we gathered at Kenyon Farms to harvest corn for Food for Greater Elgin. It was a warm, buggy morning but the sense of satisfaction in knowing that people would have fresh sweet corn that evening was palpable. Your donations to CKI for Project Isaiah to support Food for Greater Elgin help too. Your participation in each of these makes a difference. Your voices, your actions count.  

Later in the month we will have the opportunity to walk in the annual Crop Walk. Our own Peg Lehman with her team at the Church of the Brethren, is often the local person who raises the most money locally. Her participation matters. Her voice counts. Those contributions support Elgin Cooperative Ministries, which support the local soup kettles. Our vegetables from the community garden go to one. Our work at Zion Lutheran support another.   Every night in Elgin, there are meals available to support our must vulnerable. Watch for more details about how you can enjoy a stroll along the Fox with Simon and me and usually Caleb, as we raise money for the soup kettles and honor Michael Montgomery, the executive director of Food for Greater Elgin. Your voice and your actions will count. You will, as Abraham Joshua Heschel said, “praying with your feet.” 

These are feel good moments.  

Sadly, these efforts do not go far enough. There are still hungry people. There are still homeless people. There are still people who lack the basic necessities including adequate clothing, especially important as we head into the winter. While the Torah and this haftarah are quite clear, it is our obligation to take care of the most vulnerable, some of the approaches that have been used to do so through the millennia are more like band-aids. There are still needy amongst us. Perhaps according to Torah there will always be. These seem to be entrenched problems facing not just our communities, but the nation and the world. There are days when the problems that Isaiah outlines seem worse today than when Simon and I, together with others of the Greater Lowell Interfaith Leadership Alliance first started working on them some 36 years ago.  

The solutions are not clear. And we may disagree on how to solve them. What is clear is that each of these problems needs advocacy. Using your voice to speak out and demand that systems change to take care of the most vulnerable. One way to make your voice count is to find that cause for which you are passionate and speak out. There are plenty of issues. Let your voice be heard. Loudly and clearly. Join with others to amplify your voice. Write postcards. Send letters. Make phone calls. Join an organization that shares your views and work for a better tomorrow, for all. This November you have the opportunity to vote. A right that our ancestors did not have in many countries we once lived in. Vote for the candidates that have put together the clearest plans and solutions on the issues you are most passionate about. Every day my email is filled with requests to involved either for advocacy, action or yes, funding from any number of organizations that are doing this work. Some of them are specifically Jewish. Some are not. By joining your voice together with others, we can and will make a difference. Your voice counts. Your life matters. That is how as the verse from Psalms we will study later says, “Teach us to number our days that we may find a heart of wisdom.” The days of our life are short.  

At CKI we have a vision statement that includes meaningful observance—and we hope that today is a fulfillment of that plank for each of you. We engage in lifelong learning—and you have the opportunity to participate in some later today. Today supports our plank of building community, which all of this taken together does. Look around you—both in the room and on Zoom and see how strong we are as a community. 

Yet there is one more plank in our vision statement—embracing diversity. Diversity at CKI includes many things. 17 foreign countries that people were born in, 30 communities, 11 school districts. Different types of family structures, singles, families with kids, families without kids, old (101) to new born—8 weeks, straight, gay, trans, multi-racial, interfaith—all of that and more is CKI.  

Isaiah demands one more thing, to not ignore your kin. One group of the vulnerable includes those who are at high risk because they have disabilities or chronic illness. Recently we had an amazing morning here at CKI, the Bat Mitzvah of Kathy Lange. Once she was told she couldn’t have a Bat Mitzvah. She is so happy she was finally able to do that which was denied. She is proud of what she accomplished—and many of you expressed your own pride in the moment. We have made strides at CKI to be welcoming, to embrace those who are differently abled. Our first floor is almost entirely accessible, our use of Zoom allows even more people to participate fully, our ability to bring a Torah down from the bimah so someone can have an aliyah who cannot come up to the bimah, our sensory room when it is not being used for babysitting, is helpful for those who need a quiet place to chill. All of those are ways we embrace diversity and do not ignore our kin.  

Recently, a congregation took this morning’s haftarah and made a stunning video to challenge us to go even further. I want to leave you with that video and its haunting question.  

Yom Kippur 2022: A Call from High-Risk and Disabled Jews 

May this be a Yom Kippur where your voice counts, where all our voices count Where we feed the hungry, house the homeless, clothe the naked and where we don’t ignore our kin so that all will be truly welcome here and that this will be as Isaiah said, “A house of prayer for all people.” 

Last week we talked about the blessing that Moses and then G-d gave to Joshua, chazak v’emetz, be strong and courageous. This week that phrase repeats and our chumash, Etz Chayim translates it as “Be Strong and Resolute.” What is the difference between courage and resolute? 

Courage: the ability to do something that frightens one., “strength in the face of pain or grief
It comes from the Latin, for heart so it is about living with heart.  

In discussing the Cowardly Lion, a blog on cultivating courage reminds us that the Wizard tells the lion that “You are a victim of disorganized thinking.” The blog then goes on to say: 

“Courage is an inside job. The medal the lion had wrapped around his neck is an outside symbol. It will really do nothing to help him develop the inner strength he needs to be more brave. Courage requires us to look deep within our soul, to be uncomfortable, and to make a heart decision.” 

Towards the end of the movie, Dorothy encounters Glenda, the good witch:  

“Oh, will you help me? Can you help me?” Glenda responds, “You don’t need to be helped any longer. You’ve always had the power to go back to Kansas,” proclaims Glenda. 

“I have?” a surprised Dorothy asks. 

“Then why didn’t you tell her before?” the Scarecrow asks angrily. 

Glenda responds, “Because she wouldn’t have believed me. She had to learn it for herself.” 

“And so it is with courage. We’ll never know how strong and courageous we can be, or already are, without learning it for ourselves. Courage and believing in ourselves requires us to rearrange our disorganized thinking. They require us to examine our core and our heart and not look for something from the outside to change us. Courage requires us to act. Others can encourage us but no one can help us move from fear to courage. We must do that ourselves. That is a heart decision.” http://cultivatecourage.com/3-lessons-on-courage-from-the-wizard-of-oz/  

Resolute, on the other hand, means:
admirably purposeful, determined, and unwavering., “she was resolute and unswerving” 

The Torah Study Group decided that we need to be both courageous and resolute. 

 
Then something interesting happens in our portion: G-d addresses all the people—plural, Hizku v’imtzu. Be strong and courageous. Be strong and resolute. And do not be afraid. 

Be not afraid, I go before you always. G-d urges the people to not be afraid.
Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav taught us and we sing: “All the world is a narrow bridge, the important thing, the central thing is to not be afraid.” Kol haolam gesher tzar me’od. V’haikar, lo lifachad klal. 

All of us…be not afraid. G-d promises this over and over again that G-d will go with us. All the way back in Exodus, after the Golden Calf, G-d promises Moses that G-d will go with him and lighten his burden and give him rest.  

Isaiah seems to say it over and over again. Perhaps that is why we read so much Isaiah between Tisha B’av and Rosh Hashanah, in order to reassure us, give us strength and courage. 

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”  (Isaiah, 41:10) 

The Psalms echo the theme: 

Perhaps the most famous Psalm, Psalm 23 reminds us: 

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” 

In the Psalm for the Days of Repentance we are told:
“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1)
“I sought the Lord, and G-d answered me and delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to G-d are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed (Psalm 34:4-5) 

As we move closer and closer to Yom Kippur this is the time period called Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe, the days of fear and trembling. We stand before G-d waiting to be sealed into the Book of Life for a blessing. That is enough to cause fear. The process of introspection, of return, repentance and renewal is hard work. But perhaps we should not be afraid. G-d will go with us in this work. 

In the Book of Lamentations, and repeated in the Torah service and throughout the High Holy Day liturgy we are told. Return to us and we will return. Renew our days as before.  G-d goes with us in the process. We are not alone. Be strong, courageous. Be resolute. And be not afraid.  

For all those who were in Hurricane Ian’s path and for all those who worried about people who were:

Holy One of Blessing, give strength to the crews working night and day to restore power, the medical personnel helping the hurt and injured, the police and fire crews who keep people safe, the charitable organizations that are working tirelessly to help the helpless, feed the hungry, shelter the homeless. 

Comfort those who lost family members, beloved pets, homes and possessions. Give strength and courage to all who serve, and inspire all of us to be our highest selves, serving the needs of those who are in pain. 

May we be blessed to respect the awesome power of your creation, to understand that nature can be stronger than us. Bless us to remember that the planet depends on us to care for it, that life is both beautiful and precious. Remind us when we pray to you that it is in our hands to protect and care for one another, during good times and bad. Amen. Rabbi Jennifer Singer 

A long time ago, rabbis only gave two sermons a year. The Shabbat before Passover, to explain all the ways to prepare for Passover and the Shabbat before Yom Kippur, Shabbat Shuva, to tell you all the ways to prepare for Yom Kippur. Both are about housekeeping, if you will. One is about cleaning out the physical chamatz, the leavening before Passover and the other cleaning out our spiritual lives and returning to a more “pure” state. 

My job, then, is to teach you how to do teshuvah, return. And despite studying and reading about it for years, I don’t always get it right. We are taught that for sins against G-d, Yom Kippur atones but for sins against individuals, we need to make peace first with our fellow. (Yoma 8:9) 

And yet, I fail at this miserably. I once famously said to a friend that I didn’t have remorse or regret for anything. (I’m older and wiser now, so I do). And as much as I try to be kind, compassionate, caring and patient, I fail. I keep trying. I keep promising but I never have it quite right. I have all the excuses in the world: I didn’t get enough sleep. I didn’t eat the right things at the right time. I skipped lunch and my blood sugar is low.  

And even if I know the “rules”, I make more mistakes if I am not in balance. I lose patience. I get angrier faster and then despite really liking the reminder to think before you speak, to act out of love and remember this motto: “Is it necessary, is it kind, is it true.,” I botch it. I can even make it worse. 

And somehow, it’s your fault anyway, right? Exactly what we are not supposed to do. 

So how do we do this difficult thing the right way? 

Maimonides has 12 steps to teshuvah. That sounds hard. And in the children’s book, The Hardest Word, the Ziz, a mythical bird learns, spoiler alert, that the hardest word to say is “sorry.”  

The 12 Steps can be summarized as follows:
 

1. Regret the actions and aspects of yourself you would like to change.
2. Confess what you did out load to G-d. Your ears have to hear what your mouth is saying to be effective. 
3. Promise to do differently in the future if confronted with the same circumstances and make restitution. 

Why is sorry so difficult to say? I think there are several reasons. The first is that we are conditioned to not admit when we make a mistake. Think about the young child who breaks a dish. When the parent asks, “Who did this.” the child often immediately says, “Not me.” It is hard to say we were wrong. 

If you google for how to make an apology you will get recipes for 4, 5, 6 or 7 steps to the perfect apology. There is no one right formula. It has to be sincere and come from your heart: 

1. The first step in all of them seems to be to say you are sorry. Not, “I’m sorry, but.” Don’t add the condition.  
2. You have to own the mistake. The other person didn’t cause you to do it. 
3. You need to be specific. Describe what happened to the wronged person understands that you know what you did and why it was hurtful to them. Don’t deflect the blame back to them. (See #1) 
4. Develop a plan of making it right. How are you going to fix this? How is this not going to happen again? What concrete steps will you take? 
5. Admit (again) that you were wrong. 
6. Ask for forgiveness. This can be very humbling. It requires some courage and vulnerability yet that helps the person think that you mean what you say.  

These line up nicely with Maimonides steps. Sometimes, the person we are apologizing to is not ready to forgive. According to Maimonides we must sincerely ask for forgiveness three times. If they still refuse then it is on them.  

Sometimes we need to forgive ourselves as well as others. Mindy Ribner wrote a book called The Gift of a New Beginning which is sadly out of print. Designed to help us through these 10 days, she has a number of guided meditations in this book. Her one “Purifying Mediations I found particularly helpful: 

“Take a few breaths, and visualize the letter shin of the Hebrew alphabet as orange light in your head. The shin represents the element of fire. Visualize the shin and with a deep exhalation, make a SHHHH sound, corresponding to the letter. Imagine that the divine fire has entered you, surrounding and permeating you. This divine fire purifies you of all negativity. 

At the time of the Holy Temple, the Jews made atonement for their sins with animal sacrifices. They would confess their sins to the Priest and give the animal to be slaughtered. Symbolically they were slaughtering the animal soul within them which had caused them to sin. As the divine fire would consume the offering, they prayed that the divine fire would also purify them. Visualize yourself re-enacting this scene. See that the animal dies instead of you. You are given a chance to do teshuvah.” 

One step of teshuvah that we enact in the High Holy Day liturgy is the confession of sin. There are two parts to this. The Vidui and the Ashamnu. The Ashamnu is an alef bet order of sins recited in the plural that we beat our chests for. This is called a heshbon hanefesh, an accounting of the soul. Sometimes it seems that Yom Kippur is so negative with this repetition. I encourage you to try something else.  

Remember that you are created in the image of the Divine as a pure being. That G-d breathed your soul into you and that you are a beloved child of G-d. Try writing out the English alphabet a-z and finding a positive attribute for yourself. Amazing, Bold, Bright, Bubbly, Caring, Courageous, Daring, Engaging, Educated, Energetic…you get the idea. Remember that G-d will be with you through this process of teshuvah—return, renewal, introspection.  

If we approach these steps honestly with the people that we have wounded during the past year, and with ourselves. then, and only then are we ready to move into Yom Kippur.  It’s not too late. That gives me hope. G’mar Chatimah Tovah, may you be sealed for a blessing. 

 “After a Trauma, Learning to Thrive Again”  

Isaac and Ishmael, Sarah and Hagar even Abraham all suffered trauma.  

Isaac, being on that mountain with his father’s hand over him to slaughter him, Ishmael and Hagar hated by Sarah, tossed out by Abraham, and Sarah, upon hearing the news of what Abraham had wanted to do to Isaac, could not cope with it, then apparently left Abraham and in the very next chapter dies, not in Beer Sheva but in Kiryat Arba, now Hebron.  

In recent years there has been much discussion of ACEs, or Adverse Childhood Experiences. These are traumatic events that happen to children between birth and 17 years old. They can include: 

• Experiencing violence, abuse or neglect 
• Witnessing violence in the home or community 
• Having a family member attempt or die by suicide 
• Aspects that undermine the child’s sense of security, safety, stability or bonding. 
• Substance abuse issues 
• Mental health issues 
• Instability due to parental separation or household members being in prison. 
• These are not the only examples of ACEs. Other traumatic experiences could impact children’s health and wellbeing. 

In a recent study by the CDC, 61% of Americans surveyed report having experienced at least one ACE. Those ACEs, those traumas can lead to all sorts of health problems including increased rates of diabetes, heart disease, etc. It is possible, therefore that everyone needs what is called “Trauma-Informed Care.” It is a way of approaching children and people in general with compassion and understanding.  

If you remember Maslow’s pyramid, those levels mirror those things we are concerned about in child development. From the bottom up, people have physiological needs: food, water, shelter, clothing, heat, even sex. then safety and security needs, love and belonging needs, esteem needs, and self-actualization needs. In recent years self-actualization has been split a little further to include cognitive needs and aesthetic needs. Finally, in the new model, someone may reach transcendence, which for some is the goal of religion.
People who have reached these higher rungs are those who thrive. While there is no one way to achieve self-actualization, and you don’t need to have all of these, people who thrive share some characteristics: 

• They perceive reality efficiently and can tolerate uncertainty; 
• They accept themselves and others for who they are 
• They can be spontaneous in thought and action 
• They are problem-centered rather than self-centered 
• They have an unusual sense of humor; 
• They are able to look at life objectively 
• They are highly creative 
• They are concerned for the welfare of humanity 
• They are capable of deep appreciation of basic life-experience; ie: they are grateful 
• They establish deep satisfying interpersonal relationships 
• They can identify peak experiences 
• They have strong moral/ethical standards 

Our Biblical ancestors, who we read about today, were not perfect people. Maslow is quick to point out that there are no perfect people. (Maslow, 1970, p 176).  

Why is this background information important? Since the beginning of the pandemic, substance abuse is up 40%, so are domestic violence and suicidal ideation. There was a need for better access to mental health services even before the pandemic but these statistics are staggering. 

The pandemic is not the sole reason for rising mental health needs. This past week, it was reported that anxiety has increased across the board, a panel of health professionals recommended that all adults under 65 be screened for anxiety. Why? Now 41.5% of all adults report some anxiety.  

The reasons for increasing anxiety is not the pandemic alone. It includes financial pressures with rising inflation, increasing crime, struggles with health care, the great political divide, fears about climate change, and for members of the Jewish community, rising anti-semitism. 

Sadly, there is a shortage of mental health professionals throughout the country including right here. It is true for memory care placements. It is true for adolescent therapists. It is true for case workers at places like the Ecker Center, Family Services and The Community Crisis Center. Some providers have a six months, that is correct, six month waiting list. For a kid in crisis, and their family, that is daunting, impossible and in some cases life threatening.  

One of my accomplishments, by serving of the St. Joseph Hospital leadership board, was to help save the inpatient mental health unit at St. Joseph’s. We did that by looking at some of these statistics. Calls for mental health services to the Elgin Police Department are also up exponentially. That is part of why all EPD officers have had de-escalation training, and they have added a Collaborative Crisis Services Unit, and more mental health professionals. 

There is hope. We as a congregation have a unique role in helping people thrive. 

Suggestions for overcoming trauma, anxiety and stress include, leaning on your loved ones, both family and friends for support. Recently there was a headline about Cooper Roberts, the young victim of the shooting in Highland Park. The headline read: “The power of family has helped them survive the trauma.” https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/breaking/ct-cooper-roberts-homecoming-20220922-g5kgpmxtfzgsxazq2srzoanhti-story.html?utm_source=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Breaking%20News&utm_content=861663884111  

CKI stands ready to help you thrive. That is part of community. Part of connectedness. Parents of Torah School students become friends and a support system. Those in adult study classes meet later to schmooze and share a bite. Conversations over Kiddushes and oneg Shabbats lead to a sense of connectedness and community. Yet, all too often when I ask what someone needs when they are in the hospital, or facing some other crisis, the response is “nothing. We’re good. We don’t need anything.” Sometimes it is hard to know what we need. You may just need a friendly voice, even a text message. You can ask for meals, help with household tasks or other obligations to relieve some stress. Sometimes, a traumatic event leads to a loss of income. While we can’t pay a mortgage, the discretionary fund can help with some bills.  

Face your feelings. It can be hard to do this one. We may not want to think about a traumatic event. We may want everything to go back to normal. But it is not normal to not leave the house at all, sleeping all the time, or using substances to escape reminders. Or isolating yourself from friends and family. That isolation is a big cause of lingering mental health issues coming out of the pandemic. We were told to isolate, first for two weeks, then longer and longer. The fear was real. But with greater research and availability of vaccines the risk is lower. Not none, but lower. Yet, some people are still isolating. CKI offers a sense of connection. Whether in the room or on Zoom, in a number of different ways. 

Prioritize self-care. The recommendations include eating nutrious meals, getting regular exercise and a good night’s sleep. It’s Risa’s list of 5. Eat, sleep, drink (water) exercise, and take your meds. It is also things like art, mediation, relaxation and spending time in nature. For me, self-care involves talking to friends, massage, and bubble baths. I just found Champagne Apples and Honey bubble bath, perfect for this season. Self-care be reading a good book, part of why the CKI book group is so important. And making time for me. (Note—try not to call me tomorrow. I hope to be sleeping!). CKI offers opportunities for you to explore your spirituality, to pray, to discover friends and new thinking. For some, it is “me time.” 

Praying, meditating, grounding ourselves and ritual all can play a role in our healing. We’re going to try one of those grounding meditations right here: 

Our prayer Elohai Neshama teaches us that our soul is breathed into us and given to us pure. (Sing here) 

Elohai—my G-d. The divine, great cosmic mystery breathes life into me and is very personal. The unique breath that I am, I can draw into me, filling my lungs and my spirit that knows me intimately. I am created for a unique purpose. I matter. I count. (Sing again) 

Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, of blessed memory wrote: “Our minds might insist that we go directly to the Infinite when we think of God, but the heart doesn’t want the Infinite; it wants a You it can confide in and take comfort in.” Amidst the jagged and often wrenching complexities of daily life, what a balm it can be to feel the Presence as close as my breath. (Sing again) 

Tehorah hi – it is pure. The mystics speak of five levels of soul, neshamah being the level that corresponds to the mind and heart, the wise, universal intellect. Reminding ourselves that each breath is tehorah, pure, can help me throughout the day and can be a touchstone to come back to. It grounds me and makes me whole. Return again and again to this pure state. Breathe in and breathe out. Hold it for a count of four. Breathing in and breathing out. Know that you, you yourself is the beloved child of G-d, created pure. Breathe in, And Out. (Sing again)  (Based on some writing by Rabbi Diane Elliott on My Jewish Learning)

Ritual is another way that grounds us. Whether it is lighting Shabbat candles or Monday night pizza, the predictability and sense of control and agency helps ground us. Your very presence here today is a way of marking liminal time with ritual. They help with our mental health.  

Remember to be patient. It is not easy to move from trauma to thriving, but gradually over time, your symptoms should abate. Take things one day at a time, or as my rabbi is fond of saying, even one hour at a time. For some, however, we may need help beyond what we can offer at CKI. There should be no stigma associated with mental health needs. I myself have a great therapist who I have been seeing for years. She keeps me grounded. I am prepared to offer referrals to mental health professionals and work with you to find one that has availability and is a good fit. While it helps to be patient with your own recovery from trauma, you do not have to suffer alone.  

There are a few other methods that help us thrive: finding a purpose, something you are passionate about. As we talked about on Erev Rosh Hashanah, each of us has a unique mitzvah that we can do. Working to improve the world, to do acts of tikkun olam are also a way to begin to thrive. In Finding a Spiritual Home by Sid Schwarz, where he profiled four thriving Jewish congregations across the four major American Jewish movements, he found that each had a strong tikkun olam program.  Often that tikkun olam program is an entry way into the synagogue. Think about our own volunteering at the soup kettle or next month at the Crop Walk. There is something about thinking beyond ourselves that helps our own mental health. 

Bad things happen to everyone, at some point in their lives. As Rabbi Harold Kushner reminds us in his book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, the the question is not why did this happen but when it happens, how do we respond? How do we derive meaning in our lives? How do we make our lives count? That is part of becoming self-actualized. It is how we transcend the negative experience.  

These methods bring me hope as we face the new year. All of you bring me hope as we face the new year—since we learned on Erev Rosh Hashanah that people are what sustain us—they keep us afloat and make us whole. . May this be a year of community, connectedness, and compassion. In this way, may we thrive. May we each learn to number our days so that we attain this heart of wisdom.

This is the d’var Torah/sermon I didn’t give on Rosh Hashanah morning. It was more important to hear the voices of our children singing Happy Birthday World in Hebrew and English. It was more important that one of our high school seniors blow shofar. It was more important to parade around with a eight week old during the Torah procession…and to Facetime with our oldest members so she could hear the shofar. (She’s 101). Those will be my memories of Rosh Hashanah this year.

Sh…..can you hear them? Our building is filled with children. They are having fun with Heather, learning about round challah, making challah covers and frosting Happy Birthday World cupcakes. They are playing and exploring puppets with Jeanne Tolzmann and Gail Mikyska who are helping out with babysitting. They are creating Jewish memories. Our largest group of kids are in the newborn to age 3 category. And we are thrilled. Our children are our future. Our children count. Later you will hear their own words and their singing right here. 

We just read stories from our tradition of women who desperately wanted to have children. Sarah, so desperate, she conceived of a plan that her handmaiden, Hagar, would bear a child for her husband, Abraham. Perhaps the original surrogate.  Hannah prayed so intensely that Eli thought she was drunk. There is value in having a child. In times of old, preferably a male child. These ancient texts are difficult stories….hard to wrap our brains around.  Do they have modern implications? .I think so, but warning…some of this discussion may be difficult to hear. 

In the Talmud, we learn that one of the questions we will be asked in heaven, a good thing to contemplate on this, the birthday of the world, is “Did you busy yourself with procreation.” 

Rava who asks the question is thinking about the very first words that G-d says to the first human beings: 

And G-d created human beings in the image of G-d, male and female G-d created them. G-d blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth.” (Genesis 1:27-28) 

But being fruitful and multiplying is not always an option: 

• While many women want to have children—and go to extraordinary lengths to ensure they can be pregnant and carry to term some women do not want children at all or cannot conceive. Roughly 10% of couples in America who try to get pregnant cannot and that number is growing as the median age of marriage rises and the peak years of fertility. 
• As Ron Wolfson says in his book The Seven Questions You are Asked in Heaven, “For some who have tried everything, adoption is an option. But this can be a difficult process, drawn out and expensive. Some employ a surrogate, but this too, (as Sarah and Hagar found out) can be fraught with complications and challenges. Others find ways to be foster parents…”  

• Some women have children and then cannot take care of them. I am grateful to our new members, the Harpers, who open their home already busy with three young daughters and foster children and currently have a 2-year-old living with them. 
• Others lose a child that is stillborn or from miscarriage or a pre-natal birth defect. Perhaps that is part of your story. I want to acknowledge clearly that these experiences can be extraordinarily painful experiences, and like Sarah or Hannah, it can be hard to find hope. 
• Some people may have had to have an abortion—or may have chosen to. These are difficult decisions that need to be made by the patient and their doctor.    
• Sadly, some children are raised in situations with incredible abuse and other traumas. It is hard to imagine how children can overcome what have become known as ACEs, Adverse Childhood Experiences. We will talk more about that tomorrow.  
• Some people choose not to have children at all. The question “have you busied yourself with procreation?” may be answered differently. Their legacy may be a building a business, creating a piece of music or art, or teaching other people’s children. Those too are also legacies. 

This summer the United States Supreme Court reversed previous decisions on abortion. Let me be clear. Judaism defines life as when a child is halfway out the birth canal or when it takes its first breath. Until then it is a potential life, worthy of protection but not at the expense of the existing life of the mother. If you need chapter and verse on this topic, I will gladly supply them for you. Thus far, Illinois has protected a woman’s right to choose. However, if you are in a position to need to make this choice, I will sit with you, I will cry with you, I will hold your hand, like many rabbis throughout the country. 

For today, know that our tradition is clear. Once there is a child, we are instructed to take care of that child. Thirty-six times it teaches in the Torah that we need to take care of the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the most vulnerable amongst us. Taking care of our children—all our children whether they are orphans or not, whether they are our biological children or not—is an important Jewish value. Our children count. All our children count. Let that sink in, all our children count, whatever their origins. 

When I was in second grade and a brand new Brownie, I learned the Brownie Story. Perhaps you know it too: The old shoemaker complained that children are a burden. They make too much noise. They don’t do their chores. They don’t help out around the house and in fact, they contribute to making messes, eating all the food and complaining that they are bored and about life in general. They just get in the way. The shoemaker wished for a Brownie, something like a fairy who would do all the housework, without being nagged. The children were aghast to hear this. After consulting the Wise Old Owl, the children learn that they themselves are the Brownies, and their father learns that children are a blessing.  

Children are indeed a blessing. Our children, who you will hear from later this morning, are indeed a blessing. They are our legacy. They count. They need to be cherished and taken care of. 

When G-d was deciding whom to give the Torah too, he asked the Israelites who would be good guarantors for this precious gift. The Israelites answered, “Our ancestors will be good guarantors, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah Rebecca, Rachel and Leah. They will vouch for us.” G-d said that their were not sufficient. The Israelites said, “Our prophets will be our guarantors.” Again G-d rejected the answer. Finally, the Israelites answered, “Our children will be our guarantors.” For that reason, for the sake of the children, G-d gave the Torah to Israel. (Song of Songs Rabbah 1”24)  

We learn another story in the Talmud, that often we retell for another Jewish New Year, Tu B’shevat, the New Year of the Trees: 

Honi the Circle Maker was walking on the road and saw a man planting a carob tree. Honi asked the man, “How long will it take for this tree to bear fruit?” “Seventy years,” the man answered. Honi wondered whether the man would live another seventy years to eat the fruit of the carob tree. The man answered, “Probably not. However, when I arrived in this world there were many carob trees already planted by my father and grandfather. Just as they planted for me, so shall I plant for my children and grandchildren.” 

Today as we continue our celebration of Congregation Kneseth Israel’s 130th Anniversary, we are planting for our children and grandchildren.  Explaining the concept of 130 years to kids is hard. Some attended the ListenUp concert and danced in the aisles. They all have CKI 130th t-shirts both thanks to gifts of members. We’ve had them count candles. They are responsible for the banner artwork when you walk in the door which I encourage you to help them color when it is not yuntif. 

In my old town of Chelmsford, their motto is ““Let the children guard what the sires have won.”  (They seem to be in the process of changing it—perhaps—but that is still breaking news.) There is an inherent problem with the motto. As Rabbi Rachel Cowen explained with Linda Thal in their book Wise Aging: Living with Joy, Resilience and Spirit, “Becoming a grandparent means seeing one’s own children step into their positions as custodians of the future.” That is because as they said, “if we are wise and humble we will ask ourselves what we can do to support their growth and wellbeing without imposing our own sense of what their futures should look like.” We know that we are at an inflection point in modern Judaism. Our children and our grandchildren will have to figure out what Judaism looks like into the future. They will have to figure out what this very synagogue will look like. They will have to take the memories they are making today and make new memories with their own children and grandchildren, invested with their own meaning. But make no mistake: they are our guarantors.

As the theme for our Days of Awe, this year is about surviving to thriving. Making it to our 130th is a significant milestone which came with a lot of dedication and commitment, sweat equity and actual capital. But it is not enough to survive. As our liturgy says, “Merely to have survived is not a great measure of excellence.” What does it mean to enable our children to thrive? 

Thrive means to grow or develop well. What helps kids to grow well? 

In a TED talk by 7 year old Molly Wright, she explains that kids thrive and their brains expand, when you play with young children, especially those under 5. She concludes that children thrive if they are connecting, talking, playing, and if they have a healthy home and community  Molly Wright: How every child can thrive by five 

She maintains, based on brain science, that a simple game of peek-a-boo or a matching game with a child can change the world. It can build curious, confident, trusting, kids. And I encourage you all to watch this TED talk. She is amazing. Or watch our own early elementary teachers play a High Holy Day matching game. Thank you, Jordana and Jeanette. Those kids are having so much fun—and thriving here. 

Kids need access to quality education, health care, food, shelter, clothing. Kids need to be loved and nurtured. Kids need to have adults in their lives that mentor. Those are part of how children achieve resilience.  

Resilience is the process of handling different types of stress and recovering from trauma or adversity in tough times. A child’s resilience mostly depends on their connections to other people, rather than their own inherent qualities. And the good news—the research on this part of brain science has challenged since I was first an educator and now a rabbi. They have identified several resilience factors that can help children—and all of us be resilient—to be able to thrive:
 

• Good parenting with low family stress and sound parental mental health 

• Absence of addiction and substance abuse 
• Sense of safety 
• Supportive extended family  
• A supportive relationship with a mentor. 
• Positive school experiences. 

• Safe neighborhood. 
• Close community. 
• Social support. 
• Part of religious or faith community. 
• Extracurricular activities. 

When I listen to what you most appreciate at CKI, those are the very things that promote resilience. You are creating resilience right here, for our kids and for all of us. You talk about this community being like an extended family, with a positive Torah School experience, with mentors and social support as part of a religious or faith community. We are helping our kids—and each other thrive.  

What, then, is the legacy we want to leave for our children, all our children? For thousands of years, Jews have written ethical wills. These are the values that we want to pass down to our offspring. We have examples of that in the Torah. When Jacob blesses his children. When Moses speaks to the all the Israelites before they cross into the land of Israel. It’s Moses’s swan song, if you will. As we celebrate Rosh Hashanah, and contemplate our own mortality, I encourage you during this season of reflection, return and renewal to consider writing your own. There is no prescribed form. There are some online tools that can help. One list of things to include: 

• Personal History: What are the basics of you?  
• Favorite Things: Travel, entertainment, and, of course, food.  
•  Academic & Professional Life: Lessons that can last a lifetime.  

• Most Meaningful Experiences: Moments you cherished …or didn’t. 
• Religious & Political Views: Express your beliefs and views.  
• Hopes For The Future: Advice for the next generation 

Some more pointers and examples can be found here: https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/writing-an-ethical-will-how-to-get-started/  

What are those values we want to pass down to our children and grandchildren, that come right from here at CKI? What is the legacy we are leaving them? What do you want your own children and grandchildren to know? 

• A love of G-d, of family, of Judaism? 

• A love of education, of learning and books? 
• A love of asking questions and figuring out the answers? 
• A love of being kind and caring, taking care of each other, animals and the world? 
• A sense of joy and purpose? 

As we identify that which is most meaningful to us here at CKI and we listen to the voice of the Shofar—and then the voices of our children, in those ways then your life and the lives of your offspring really will count and you will help them thrive, well into adulthood. 

The words of our children:

Ashamnu To Our Parents, a Positive Heshbon Hanefesh: 

You matter. You are awesome. You matter. You can make today great. 

You eXcel in life and are eXcellent 

You work hard. You are wonderful.  

You are very, very good, very great, very nice. 

U can change the world. U are loved. U are awesome. 

You try your best and take good chances and try to make the world a better place. 

You smile and smile more and stay happy. 

You are responsible. You read and then read more. 

You question. You are quiet. You are quite awesome and quite amazing. 

You are polite. You are positive. 

You are outstanding.  You have an open heart. You open your mind to new possibilities. 

You are nice. You never give up. 

You make today great. You make the world a better place. 

You love. You live life to the fullest. You live, love, laugh. 

You are kind. You keep calm. 

You are joyful. 

You inspire others. 

You help others. You are happy. 

You are good. You are generous.  

You forgive. You are fierce. You are fearless. 

You exercise and eat healthy. 

You donate. You do your best. You do the impossible. 

You are courageous. You care about yourself and others. You care about this very place. 

You are brave. 

You are amazing. You always do the right thing. 

Wednesday Hebrew School 5777 

“We made it: A Shehechianau Moment” 

Sondheim, of blessed memory wrote lyrics in Follies:
Good times and bum times,
I’ve seen them all and, my dear,
I’m still here.
Plush velvet sometimes,
Sometimes just pretzels and beer,
But I’m here.  

Barry Manilow sang, “Looks like we made it.” And looking around the room and the Zoom room, we did. We made it. We are here. Like Moses answered G-d, Hineini, I am here, Present. Ready. We are ready to greet the new year. It is, indeed, a shehechianu moment. 

What is the shehechianu? It is a prayer that we say on doing something for the first time—or the first time in a year. We’ve already said it once here this evening after we announced that this is now 5783. Perhaps you said it at home before dinner and after you lit the Yom Tov Holiday candles. We will say it when we hear the sound of the shofar tomorrow. Some people save a new fruit or new clothes so they have something they can say shehechianu on the Second Day of Rosh Hashanah.  

Here at CKI, we say it often. Any time someone does something for the first time during a Shabbat morning service. Open the ark for the first time, shehechianu. Say the Torah blessing for the first time. Shehechianu. Done it before but not at CKI? Shehechianu. Read it from the transliteration? Chant it for the first time from the Hebrew itself? Shehechianu. Sometimes it surprises people. They may have been taught that you only say it in certain prescribed ways or times. Yet, people seem to like doing it. And now congregants are even helping me to remember to say it. It is a way of celebrating. It is a blessing that brings us hope. It makes people smile.  

Let’s say it together again—really learn it. 

It starts like all blessings– 

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam 

Blessed are You, Lord Our G-d, Ruler of the Universe 

Shehechianu, v’kiyimanu v’higiyanu Lazman Hazeh 

Who has kept us alive and sustained us and enabled us to reach this moment. 

Sing here. Everyone together. 

Like many of our prayers, this prayer is said in the plural. This use of the plural is part of that community connectedness that makes prayer with a group so powerful.  

Sometimes, however, we may want to mark something individually. After a serious car accident on the Upper West Side during rabbinical school, I went to the mikveh in Boston, the one that Anita Diamant founded, and emerging from deep in the pool, I changed the Hebrew. Shechiani, v’kiyimani, v’higiyani lazman hazeh. Who kept me alive, sustained me and enabled me to reach that very moment. When I could finally return to hiking, my daughter and one of her friends thought I could say shehechianu and open a bottle of champagne every day. I survived.  

One of the first thoughts upon awaking for Jews is Modeh Ani, I thank you G-d for restoring my soul to me. The kids in Torah School sing this every Sunday morning. We sing it on Shabbat morning here. It too is about survival.  

So is Birkat HaGomel, an individual prayer typically said during a Torah service, that acknowledges survival by an individual for surviving a serious illness, traveling over an ocean, even surviving childbirth. After the individual says: Blessed are You, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe, who bestows the undeserving with goodness and who has rewarded me with goodness. there is a communal response. 

May G-d who has rewarded you with all goodness reward you with all goodness for ever. 

I delight in helping people to mark those moments.  

Personally, I haven’t always been comfortable with Birkat HaGomel. Why did some people survive the Holocaust and others did not? Why did some make it out of the towers on 9/11 and others did not? Does this prayer imply that some deserve G-d’s goodness and others do not? Why did I survive the car accident, but others do not? When is the right moment to say it? How do we know when we have survived enough to warrant it? Some people say that you are a cancer survivor the day you are diagnosed. Others say when you reach the 5 year mark or being cancer free—which blessedly Simon did this year.  

I wrestle with some of tomorrow morning’s liturgy for the same reason. Our High Holy Day liturgy begs a similar question. Who shall live and who shall die? Yet, teshuvah, tefilah and tzedah can avert the decree. Really?  

Now let’s look at our shehechianu prayer in depth: 

 What does it mean that G-d has kept us alive? A more accurate translation would be “Who causes us to be alive.” Causing us to be alive, causing us to survive. I feel this more acutely this year. Baruch shehecheyanu – blessed is the One who has allowed us to survive. Yes, us, all of us gathered here, to see 5783. It is a prayer of deep gratitude. 

What sustains us? What holds us up? What keeps us afloat? When I asked this at Java and Jews, and on Facebook, I got lovely answers: our family, our friends, snuggling with our pets, the community, a walk in nature, music, art, poetry, books, gardening, being creative, children’s delight at something new. There are probably as many answers as there are people here tonight. Yet the common theme was people. You each hold someone up. You are the connecting thread. The sustainer.  

The Talmud gives us a glimmer too:  Rabbi Yochanan sees that one of his students is suffering. He goes to his student and says: “Hav li yadakh, Give me your hand,” so the student gave him his hand, and he raised him up, literally, he sustained him. 

Later, Rabbi Yochanan – the same one who raised his student up in the previous story- is now himself suffering. Rabbi Chanina comes to him, and the scene repeats itself, only with Rabbi Yochanan in the reverse position. Rabbi Chanina says to Rabbi Yochanan, “Give me your hand.” Rabbi Yochanan gave him his hand, and Rabbi Chanina raised him up. 

We are sustained by others. We are sustained by community. In this past year, where I have struggled with an unanticipated health challenge, I have been sustained by you. Each of you. Asking about me. Sending cards. Jokes. Books. Singing Mi Sheberach, the prayer for healing of mind, body and spirit. Each of those acts have been sustaining. Each of you has played a role in the ongoing healing.  

How does G-d enable us to reach this moment? Often I add the word, “joyous”. Most of the times we say shehechianu, it is about reaching a joyous moment. The birth of a child, a Bat Mitzvah, a wedding, hearing the shofar, lighting Chanukah candles, hearing the megilah, yes, even tasting matzah. It is also about arrival. We’re here. Just where we are supposed to be. Like our GPS tells us. “You’ve arrived.” I am hearing echos again of “Looks like we made it.” 

But there is an implied next question becomes–where do we go from here? 

Earlier this summer I cried at the start of the ListenUp concert. It was their first live in person concert since the start of the pandemic. They started the concert with Shehechianu (Sing here). And sitting all the way in the back, unsure that we or even I were really going to get here, the tears flowed. 

The tears flowed again when I heard the Michigan marching band in person play Hail to the Victors, the Michigan fight song.  As I said to the person next to me in line—I wasn’t sure I would ever be back there. 

As part of the Conversations with Anita Diamant, she reminded us to recite Shehechianu, it being her first outing to a congregation since the pandemic. It was also our first full Oneg Shabbat in a long time. Another reason for Shehechianu.  

There is a sense of gratitude and relief.  This simple prayer is not just a blessing thanking G-d for reaching special occasions. It is a blessing that expresses profound gratitude for our continued existence, even when that existence may be in doubt—and even in the midst of profound loss. 

We cannot ignore the challenges we have had to overcome or the losses we have endured. On the contrary, shehechianu is a recognition of the fragility of life itself, a profound expression of confronting loss and grief and all that it took to survive. Rosh Hashanah begs us to confront our own mortality and from the gratitude that we feel today thank G-d for our continued existence. If we look around this room, sadly, some of us will not be here next year.  

This congregation has made it…130 years. We have survived. That is worthy of a shehechianu too. This year we will be talking about surviving and thriving. Our liturgy says, page 402 if you are checking, that “merely to survive is not an index of excellence, nor given the way things go, even of low cunning.” This quote was the basis for the theme for this High Holy Days. It begs another question, what does thriving look like? That is the topic we will explore for the next 10 days. 

I’ve used this quote before; but it bears repeating. Frederick Buechner, of blessed memory, said that “Vocation is the place where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.” He’s talking about finding meaning, finding our purpose. Often when people have been through a traumatic event—a car crash, an earthquake, wildfire, hurricane, tornado, a pandemic or the Holocaust, people try to find meaning in their lives.  Victor Frankl who survived Auschwitz, addresses this directly in his book Man’s Search for Meaning. Finding our own personal meaning is key to our survival as individuals. But the trick is each of us must uncover that meaning for ourselves.  

The rabbis teach that each person has a commandment that is their own personal mitzvah. For Ken Jacoby for example, it may be his excellent shofar blowing that we have enjoyed in years past. Unfortunately, he has COVID, may he have a complete healing, a refua shlema, but through the magic of technology we will still hear him tomorrow.  For Gale Jacoby it may be how she tells the story of her parents and Ken’s parents survival of the Holocaust. Keeping their story and their memory alive brings meaning to her—and to all of us.  

One of the challenges for each of us, is to find that sense of meaning and purpose. One of the challenges today, and every day, is to find ways to make this world a better place, to find ways to make our days count so that we acquire a heart of wisdom.  

There is a story that is told frequently in educational settings about a girl is walking on the beach with her grandfather. The girl bends down and throws starfish after starfish back into the sea. The grandfather asks her what she is doing after all, she can’t possibly save them all. The girl picks up another one, throws it into the sea and answers saying, “It makes a difference to this one.”   

That next generation brings me hope. But hope may be too big a word. Listen to the words of the Israeli poet, Yehudah Amichai.  

“hopeful is too big a word. I have cut it down to little hopes: one peaceful day with a breeze. … a dish in a restaurant, buying vegetables from a woman in the Old City. My hopes are not like big stones, but little stones ground up and made of cement that will support a whole house.” 

Those little stones are you. The cement that sustains this whole community and keeps us together, sustains us.  

Each of you is here. Each of you has made it—with all the ups and downs, with all the pain and losses. But Each of you has made a difference too, in the life of this congregation and in the world. Each of you sustains us, supports us, brings us hope.  

For each of you, there is a starfish, to remind you that YOU did make a difference.  

One of the challenges for this day, and every day, is to find reasons to say Shehechianu.  

Repeat Shehechianu 

A teaching in honor of Rabbi Menachem Creditor.

This is the last Shabbat of 5782.

We stand here today, all of us—ready to great the new year. Standing. Ready to go forward. With hope. Hope is a mitzvah. Despair is a sin. Or so the rabbis teach us. 

I have always liked the juxtaposition of this portion with standing to welcome the New Year, to Enter the New year. Just as Joshua and the people are about to cross over into the Land of Israel, we are ready—almost ready, maybe never fully ready, to cross over to the new year. To 5783. It is a threshold moment. Liminal time.  

Seven weeks ago, we gathered for Tisha B’av, the saddest day on the Jewish calendar. We read the book of Lamentations, but we did not end in despair. Whenever we read a haftarah, we don’t end on.a down note. Instead, we repeat a verse to end on a positive note, to end in hope. For Tisha B’av,  we read a verse that we repeat  every week during the Torah Service: 

Hashivenu,  

Return to us and we shall return. Renew our days as of old.  

Hashivenu 

This is a verse that has sustained me throughout the pandemic. It has brought me hope. We will return one day to life as normal—whatever that means. And this week as we enter 5783 it feels almost normal. A return to some of our old favorites.  To our wall that is open. To more people in the building. To our cantorial soloist in person from Denver. To baby sitting and children’s programing. It feels good. It brings me hope. 

Our Torah portion also reminds us to return. If we return to G-d will all of our hearts and all of our souls, then G-d will grant us prosperity, for our offspring, our cattle, our fields. We will live and it will go well for us.  

My friend and colleague, Rabbi Menachem Creditor has another thought. He is not sure we should go back, those days were never so good, “What glory days am I talking about,” he asked in an exquisite sermon. It is not good enough. Rather, It is up to us, to perform a holy chutzpah. to envision a world that our ancestors could not have dreamed of. We need to envision something better. We are aching for something better. 

.After 29 chapters of Moses’s swan song, we see the end of Moses’ career. He is not going into the Land of Israel with the people he has led since the beginning of the Book of Exodus. For 40 years of wandering in the wilderness. This is a big transition moment. A passing of the torch. 

He appoints Joshua to lead the people. He and G-d both bless Jushua with Chazak v’emetz. Strength and courage. Last night we talked about what we need to stand on the edge and cross over. Strength and courage. Peace. Patience. Forbearance and perseverance. Kindness. Love. Support. Loving Support. Faith and Trust. Hope. And water, because we are still in the desert. 

These are the things that will carry us through. Caryus through to the other side. All the way into 5783. 

May each of us be blessed with these. Chazak v’emetz. 

But Rabbi Creditor points out something else. The blessings are almost identical. Almost but not quite.  

The difference is significant. Moses says to Joshua. “Atah Tavo—You will go with the people.: G-d blesses Joshua and says, “Atah Tavi—You shall bring in the people.”  

As Creditor points out, Rashi, one of our leading Torah commentators also noticed the difference. Sometimes we lead with consensus, from the middle of the people. We go with the people. Tavo. And sometimes we have to drag the people along. Moses spent much of his life dragging the kvetching people along.  

There is also not much of a difference between the two letters, Yud the end of Tavi and Vuv the end of Tavo. You could almost miss it. You might even think that it is a scribal error. And both are letters in the Divine Name. So at some levels we go with Adonai, with G-d.  

We are strong as we stand to enter 5783. Stronger than we thought. Stronger than we thought possible. We enter 5783 just as Joshua and the people did, Chazak v’emetz. This community and this teaching bring me hope. Be strong and of good courage. Amen.  

Yesterday, Shabbat Ki Tavo, may have been one of the most meaningful Shabbatot of my rabbinate. About a year ago, I stood with a woman who is developmentally disabled at her mother’s grave for her mother’s yahrzeit. She hadn’t really understood the pandemic or why our congregation wasn’t serving food at most events. She doesn’t really have a computer and while she has a cell phone she doesn’t understand all of its features. Her voice mail function is frequently full and she can disappear for days at a time.  

Yet standing at her mother’s grave she read a couple of poems beautifully in English. I didn’t know she could do that. I asked if she had ever had a Bat Mitzvah. She answered, “No.” She had been told she could never have one because she would never be able to do it; she was not intellectually capable.  

Now, back in the day, a Bat Mitzvah was still new. This year, 2022 marks the 100 anniversary of a formal ceremory took place at Society for the Advancement of Judaism, the spiritual home of Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan, founder of Reconstructionist, now Reconstructing Judaism. He hosted the first Bat Mitzvah for his daughter Judith. I am a product of that “innovation.” There was never a question that once we moved to Grand Rapids, that I would have a Bat Mitzvah, that I would read from a Torah scroll and prepare some speech. Those battles had been fought already.  

As I listened to this grown woman read English so well, I asked her if she would like to have a Bat Mitzvah ceremony. She had never heard of such a thing. “Can someone my age have a Bat Mitzvah?” she asked in child-like wonder. Adult B’nai Mitzvah can be very meaningful. For a variety of reasons, many Jews never had one at age 13. Some never notice a lack. Some become re-engaged as an adult and feel they missed something. Some use it as a measure of learning something new and mastering a skill. Some use it as a celebration of life itself. And some use it as an opportunity to have a celebration—with lots of food! 

We left the cemetery and went to a local coffee shop. There we began to plan. Her big request was to have the celebration part—lots of food and if we aren’t serving food at CKI could we please go to a restaurant. I assured her there would be a celebration—and food! We talked about what part of the service she would like to do. Shortly after our meeting, everything went back to Zoom with a spike in COVID numbers. I didn’t think too much about my promise to this women. But she and her case managers did. We kept trying to set a date that seemed reasonable. But COVID-19 had other plans. 

This weekend, after much study on her part—and many stops and starts and meetings at the synagogue, on the phone, at a coffeeshop and even the Elgin Bus Station—she finally stood on the bimah, and with a clear voice led us in the Sh’ma. But she didn’t stop there. She stood right next to me and led us in all the Kaddish prayers and the Amidah. And then the big moment arrived. She held the Torah and led us in the SH’ma. She recited her aliyah blessing. And she read the translation of her Torah portion and her Haftarah portion. These words are not capturing it. Quite simply it brought people to tears.  

As my ritual chair explained, the service was fantastic because she was so pure. She turned to me after most of the service was over and said, “Did I do good? I think they liked me.” I reassured her, that yes, they most certainly did. She loved when people threw candy at her. She was nervous. She concentrated really hard. And her smile was amazing. She herself is a blessing. When we talked about the blessing of the Torah, the aliyah blessing which says that Torah is a gift, I asked her how Torah is a gift. She answered, quickly, “because it makes you feel better about yourself.” She gets it. At a deep, profound level.” 

I don’t want people to misunderstand. While this weekend may have been one of my most profound Shabbatot as a rabbi, it wasn’t easy. It was never clear as recently as last weekend whether this was really going to happen. She would forget appointments, get shy and not show up, get angry or frustrated and then I would get frustrated. There were some back up plans that thankfully we didn’t need to use. I was nervous—what if this doesn’t work. What if she doesn’t rise to the occasion. What if she doesn’t show up? And in a reflection of her own voice, what if people don’t like me or get angry with me? 

Her portion was about blessings (and curses). The series of blessings includes being blessed in your going out and your coming in. I offered her the Birkat Hakohanim, the priestly benediction. And then, it was time for the celebration. Our first real kiddush since the pandemic began. Offered by our Lutheran kosher caterer who has known this woman since she was 5, as a gift. I sat with this woman and her two case managers. It was so fun. 

Later that evening, the congregation, together with Temple Beth Sholom, celebrated Selichot together. This is the first real service of the High Holy Days. It introduces the music and the themes of these holy days. One piece of liturgy says that tefilah, prayer, teshuvah, return or repentance, and tzedakah can avert the severe decree. For several weeks, leading up to this Bat Mitzvah, I had been asking people what it means to pray. I got answers like “asking for something” and “saying thanks” and having a relationship with G-d. I knew that with this Bat Mitzvah there would still be questions about whether she could do it—even if it would be permissible to do this. My answer was yes! But I also understood why people might be uncomfortable. I understood why back in the day people—her mother, her teachers, the rabbi, might have said she could not have a Bat Mitzvah. But I also knew I had worked with lots of kids with special needs and that this could, in fact, be possible. I also knew of a movie, Praying with Lior” about a boy with Downs Syndrome preparing for his Bar Mitzvah. I knew as part of Selichot and a discussion of prayer I wanted to show this movie.  

We began the service with Havdalah, the separation of Shabbat from the rest of the week. And a series of prayers, including The 13 Attributes of the Divine. G-d taught Moses to pray the 13 Attributes to ask for divine forgiveness. It is the basis of the whole liturgy for this season and it begins this very night. It was also part of my Bat Mitzvah Torah portion, the reason I finally became a rabbi, the basis of my rabbinic thesis and my first book. But I couldn’t hear the Beged Kefet version of the haunting Adonai, Adonai without hearing the echos of my own Bat Mitzvah. Lior’s father, himself a rabbi, said that Lior when he is praying has “less veils”, perhaps the word is inhibitions. He prays because he wants to. He prays because he has a deep connection to G-d. This was true for my Bat Mitzvah student as well.  

On the night of Selichot—originally done just before dawn or at midnight—the gates are open. There are less veils. It is easier to be connected.  

Avinu Malkeinu—Our Parent, Our Ruler, be gracious and answer us. Sh’ma Koleinu—hear us. Hashiveinu—return to us and we shall return. Renew our days as of old.  

Connection was a theme that ran through the movie. Prayer is connection. Prayer is part of community. The Orthodox Day School rabbi told Lior’s class the most important part of mincha is to daven with the people, to say amen to someone else’s prayer. Lior and my Bat Mitzvah give us permission to pray. One of Lior’s classmates said that G-d give everyone a test. Someone during selichot reframed that as gives us opportunities to learn. But the classmate continued that part of that test is how we respond. How we treat Lior or my Bat Mitzvah student. To answer Amen fully and with compassion.  

No one wis ever quite ready for the High Holy Days, but given this weekend, I go into them better prepared, ready to help others to answer Amen.  

People do ask me how I prepare. I prepare for month ahead. Thinking about themes. Reading books.  

Here are some of my selected books: 

• Preparing Your Heart for the High Holy Days: A Guided Journal, Rabbi Kerry Olitzky 
• This Is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared: The Days of Awe as a Journey of Transformation, Alan Lew 
• Opening Your Heart with Psalm 27: A Spiritual Practice for the Jewish New Year, Rabbi Debra Robbins 
• Moments of Transcendence: Inspirational Readings for Yom Kippur 
• A Climbing Journey Towards Yom Kippur: The Thirteen Attributes of the Divine, Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein 

 This year I dove into two new ones: 

• God Is Here: Reimagining the Divine, Rabbi Toba Spitzer 
• On Repentance And Repair: Making Amends in an Unapologetic World, Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg 

Then I spend time selecting readings and writing. Lots and lots of writing. This year we are focusing on “From Surviving to Thriving: Making our Days Count.” It is based on the idea from Psalms, “Teach us to number our days that we may attain a heart of wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12). It is part of how we come out of this pandemic. It also has to do with how we celebrate our congregation’s130th anniversary. It is great that we remain standing, that we survived, but the question is how to we thrive?  

This weekend, we learned how to pray, how to gain a heart of wisdom and perhaps, just perhaps, how to thrive.  

I’m not ready yet—but I am closer. Lior and my Bat Mitzvah student helped.  

Today’s Torah portion includes 70 of the 613 commandments, mitzvot in the Torah. As part of Moses’s long discourse, his farewell address, his final instructions to the Israelites, it provides a structure of what society should look like to provide a just, fair world. We’ll leave aside for another year the questions of whether these are Moses’s own words, G-d’s words, or some editor and what exactly is a commandment. 

It repeats ideas we have heard before—some of them almost exact quotes from the Holiness Code in Leviticus.  

“You must pay out the wages due on the same day, before the sun sets, for the worker is needy and urgently depends on it.” While not needy per se, my first week on the job at Fuld and Company, owned by an Orthodox Jew, Lenny Fuld, he hand delivered a hand written check, because of this very verse. Someone had forgotten to add me to the payroll and there was no commercially processed check. It was most welcome because it was a time, like for many Americans we were living paycheck to paycheck. I almost cried when Lenny appeared. 

We are a week past Labor Day Weekend. I grateful for unions and the role that the Jewish community historically has played in making sure that the rights of laborers have been protected. There are still Jews active in the labor movements and I am grateful for them and organizations like the Jewish Labor Committee and Bend the Arc. They work tirelessly to ensure things some take for granted: things like fair wages, health care, the five day work week with 8 hour days, and yes, an emphasis on safety in the work place.  

Safety plays a role in today’s portion to, as we are exhorted to make sure that we have a parapet surrounding our roofs so that no one will fall off.  

But perhaps what comes through loud and clear is the need to protect our most vulnerable. Over and over again the portion reminds us to take care of the widow, the orphan and the stranger.  The Talmud reminds us that 36 times the Torah tells us to take care of the widow, the orphan and the stranger. In this portion we are told:  

“When you reap the harvest in your field and overlook a sheaf in the field, do not turn back to get it; it shall go to the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow—in order that your God, Adonai, may bless you in all your undertakings.” (Deut. 24:19) 

“When you beat down the fruit of your olive trees, do not go over them again; that shall go to the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow.” (Deut. 24:20) 

“When you gather the grapes of your vineyard, do not pick it over again; that shall go to the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow.” (Deut. 24:21) 

We should leave the corners of our field. We should not beat the olives a second time to create olive oil. We should find ways to feed the hungry.  

“You shall not subvert the rights of the stranger or the fatherless; you shall not take a widow’s garment in pawn.” (Deut. 24:17) 

“You should have just weights and measures.” (Deut. 25:18) 

Why—because we were strangers in the land of Egypt—we know what it is like to be a slave, to be so vulnerable. 

And there are two commandments that are essentially about succession and legacy: 

“when he wills his property to his sons, he may not treat as first-born the son of the loved one in disregard of the son of the unloved one who is older. Instead, he must accept the first-born, the son of the unloved one, and allot to him a double portion*double portion Lit. two-thirds. of all he possesses; since he is the first fruit of his vigor, the birthright is his due.” (Deut. 21:17-18) 

As we watch the spectacle and the pomp and circumstance unfold in the United Kingdom this week, I can’t help but remember this portion. As we listen to the words of Queen Elizabeth II, of blessed memory, talking about dedicating her life to a life of service to all and then having the now King Charles the III echo his mother’s words and example, I can’t help but reflect back on the notion that back in the day, the rights to inherit blessings and property went to the first born son. But also, there was a need to protect a widow by allowing the brother-in-law to marry her. A woman also had a right to divorce. Both of these were designed again to protect those most vulnerable. It set early Judaism apart from the surrounding cultures.  

Today we are watching as the Royal Family follows ancient traditions around inheritance of titles and property. Some of this seems archaic to us. Some of us wonder will Harry and Wiliam reconcile. Some question what any of this has to do with us, here in America, that fought a war to be free from British monarchy.  

In the Book of Samuel, we learn that the Israelites wanted a king so they could be like other nations. (I Samuel 1:8-19) Despite, G-d, The King, not really wanted an earthly king, G-d told Samuel to listen to the people. Samuel anoints Saul as king.  

Our portion ends with the story of Amalek—we should remember not to forgot what Amalek did. Let me underscore that. We should remember not to forget. What did Amalek do that was so destructive that we have to remember it for all times? That Saul lost his throne because he didn’t wipe out all the Amaleks? That some think Haman was an Amalekite that this is why we read this again just before Purim? That some even think Hitler was a descendent? The King of the Amalekites attacked the rear:
“how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear.” (Deut. 25:17-19) 

How do we live out taking care of our communities most vulnerable here at CKI?
In a number of ways. With our community garden which supplies healthy, nutritious veggies for the soup kettles and the neighborhood. With our participation in helping with those soup kettles when there is a fifth Tuesday of the month. With our collection this weekend of period products for the Community Crisis Center. With the annual Kol Nidre collection for Food for Greater Elgin. By advocating for mental health services. By visiting the sick. In so many ways.  

The widow, the orphan, the stranger…the most vulnerable amongst us. The mandate and the commandments are clear. Come join with me as we protect those most vulnerable. After all. It is a commandment.