Give ear. Hear.  

“Give ear, O heavens, to what I say, and let the earth hear my words; 

May my teaching come down like rain, my speech distill as the dew, 

Like storm-drops on the grass, and like dew-drops on the pasture, 

For I speak in the name of the Lord—give glory to our God!” 

Last night we talked about what we needed to hear from Moses as we are poised ready to cross over the river Jordan. There were many good thoughts. It’s going to be OK. Take my hand, I’ll go with you. I’m scared, tell me it is going to be OK. You’re going with me, right?  

And then the heavens opened, a brief and very needed rain storm, with a little bit of thunder ensued. Some even were lucky enough to see a rainbow, the sign of the covenant between G-d and Noah. The promise that G-d is never going to destroy the earth again. A reminder that we are partners with G-d in Creation and that we, too need to protect the earth—our ark! But we’ll talk more about rainbows in a few weeks. 

That rainstorm made me think of Honi the Circle Drawer. Usually, we tell the story of Honi and the carob tree and our responsibility to plant for our children and children’s children. Another way of taking care of our environment. Often, we tell the story for Tu B’shevat, the New Year of the Trees.  

But there is another story. About praying for rain. There was a drought. Not unlike what we are currently experiencing in northern Illinois. Did you know we are down at least 6 inches of rainfall? 

God was nowhere to be found, nowhere to be heard. Honi prayed anyway.  The people had stopped believing that they could hear G-d but Honi believed G-d would still hear them. Water is necessary. Particularly in a desert. When rain is plentiful, it is an afterthought. During a drought it becomes the only thought.  

Of course, being Judaism, there are two stories of what happened, both in the Talmud: Taanit 19a[3] and 23a 

Honi drew a circle in the dust, stood inside it and demanded that G-d provide rain or he would not move until it rained. It began to drizzle. But Honi was not satisfied. He expected more rain. Then it poured. Still Honi was not satisfied. He wanted a calm, gentle rain. Then it began to rain gentle, healing raindrops, a sign of G-d’s grace and compassion.  

Perhaps this story reminds you of the scene from Frisco Kid. The chief asks the rabbi, “Can your G-d make rain?” And he answers that “G-d does not make rain. He can do anything. He gives us strength when we are suffering. He gives us compassion…he gives us courage….but He does not make rain.” 

Can your God make rain? 

In Hebrew we talk about G-d bestowing blessings and loving kindness upon us, “Gomel hasadim tovim.” Gomel is from the same root as gamel, camel. G-d’s lovingkindness and blessing fills us up, like a camel is filled up, again with water. 

We, here in northern Illinois, are still experiencing a drought. We are down approximately 6 inches in rain fall for the year. The retaining pond by my house is drying up. The summer of 2020 became known as the hottest on record, from 1871. How do we receive rain? How are we filled up.  

Soon it will be Sukkot. Sukkot is actually my favorite holiday. One of the reasons is it is connected to the water cycle. In this verse there is a difference between geshem, rain and tal, dew. It is on Sukkot that we change our Amidah and pray for rain—but not until the very end of the holiday, the chag. Sukkot was a pilgrimage festival, where people would go up to Jerusalem. You wouldn’t want to pray for rain until after you returned home. You wouldn’t want to traipse through the all the mud to get home. 

Some say that the lulav is an ancient form of a rain stick, calling down G-d’s blessing of rain upon us.  

On the second night of Sukkot, in the time of the Temple there was more celebration of water. There was an actual water drawing ceremony, Simchat Beit Sho’eivah. Everyone was gathered. Men, women and children.  It was the harvest festival. Zeman Simchatenu, the time of our joy. This ceremony reflected that joy–joy in our families, joy in our harvest and joy with our God, the God who provides rain and water, harvest and home. The people would hope for and pray for God’s protection and blessing as they prayed for rain in its proper season. They drew water from the pool of Shiloh in the City of David in an elaborate water drawing ritual, the Nisuch Hamayim based on the verse: 

“And you shall draw waters with joy from the wells of salvation.” (Isaiah 12:3) 

We know that verse from the circle dance, Mayim.  

On the second night of Sukkot, the high priest of the Temple would draw special waters from an underground spring called “Shiloach” that flowed near the temple grounds—these waters were known as the wellsprings of salvation and were considered to be a source of prophecy and revelation. The priest would enter the Temple grounds through the Water gate in the south, bearing a gold flask of water, approaching an altar where four high torches were burning in the north. The water of the sacred wellsprings served as a libation to be poured over a stone altar while the priest faced southwest (direction of water and earth), thus drawing water and prophecy down to earth.  

Not only did they draw water, but there was a spiritual transformation as well. The rabbis asked why this celebration is called simchat beit ha-sho’eivah because the Hebrew meaning is uncertain. They answer that from there one draws the spirit of holiness. Yonah ben Amitai was one of the pilgrims who went up to Jerusalem for the festival. He went to the simchat bet ha-sho’evah and the spirit of holiness rested upon him. This teaches us that the spirit of holiness rests upon you when your heart is filled with joy. 

 This ceremony drew down Shechinah, the Divine Presence, the Indwelling Holiness and blessed Israel with beneficial rains and the blessings of water. Sukkot is all about tactile blessings. Waving the lulav and etrog, dwelling in the sukkah, full body mitzvot. It is like the healing waters of the mikvah and maybe why I am so drawn to this commandment.  

Today’s portion also has to do with teshuvah. While the end of the Yom Kippur liturgy keeps repeating that the gates are closing, in truth, the gates are never closed. We still have the opportunity to return, to heal, to heal the earth. James Kugel teaches,  

“It may not be inappropriate, however, to mention something about a key word connected to Yom Kippur: teshuvah (repentance). People often stress that this word comes from the Hebrew root meaning “return,” but that’s not altogether correct. “Return” is indeed one sense of the root shuv, but this verb does not always mean going back to a place where one has already been.  A more inclusive definition might be to “change direction.” A Jew who had led a totally secular existence and suddenly turns to God is called a ba‘al teshuvah. He’s not going back to somewhere, but embarking on something entirely new. In this and other cases, the word teshuvah would best be rendered as “turn,” “turn around,” and the like. This embodies an important message for everyone on Yom Kippur as well as for the Shabbat that follows it. No matter where one has been until now, it is a time to consider one’s past mistakes and change direction.” 

“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 

The question today, then has to be asked, as we prepare for Sukkot, how are we going to do teshuvah for the environment, the very land and the very water that G-d began to create with. How are we going to be partners with G-d in this glorious creation. What are we going to demand of G-d, like Honi and what are we going to demand of ourselves? 

Today we are going to talk about a really important topic. Anger.  

We just saw that G-d gets angry. Really really angry in our haftarah this morning. His anger blazes forth, the text tells us. G-d is angry in our Torah portion too. The Israelietes have just built the Golden Calf and then danced around it. Moses has come down Mount Sinai, seen them dancing and smashed, not just broke the tablets with the 10 Commandments. G-d is not happy. In fact, G-d is angry. Very angry. He (in this case that pronoun works for me) threatens to not go with the Israelite people. G-d is going to stay at Sinai. Oy. 

The reverse is also true. And this is important. It is OK—to argue with G-d. To be angry with G-d. This is a portion where we see Moses as the great negotiator. He argues with G-d. He is angry both with the Israelites and G-d. He is scared. We see him as Moshe Rabbenu, Moses our Master, our Teacher. On Simchat Torah, later this week, we will read the very last portion of Deuteronomy, where we are told never again did there arise a prophet, a leader like Moses who knew G-d face to face. 

But wait, I thought that no one, not even Moses, could see G-d face to face and live. That’s part of what this portion is about. It clearly says that G-d will hide Moses in the cranny of the rock and make all G-d’s goodness pass before him but no one can see G-d’s face and live. 

Here we find Moses demanding that G-d go with him and the Israelite people. Moses wants more. Moses wants to know who is this G-d who is angry and demanding. Who exactly is G-d. What is G-d’s essential nature.  G-d promises. G-d will go with Moses and lighten his burden and give him rest. Moses climbs back up and hides in the crevice of the rock. 

Moses is not the only one to argue with G-d. Abraham bargains with G-d to save Sodom and Gomorrah as we will see in just a few weeks. That is the difference between Abraham and Noah. Noah was a righteous man in his generation. Noah built an ark and rescued animals at G-d’s command but never asked why G-d was going to destroy the world.  

Jacob wrestled with what? Himself? An angel? G-d? In the dark night of his soul, when he was all alone and scared, he wrestled. His name was changed to Israel, Yisrael, which means one who strove with G-d and men. As Arthur Waskow said, “G-dwrestler. “ 

But these arguments with G-d are not just for Biblical characters.  

Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (1740-1810) argued with G-d, using a very similar construction to Moses, demanded, commanded G-d:, It is a prayer of protest, “Din Torah mit Got” (a lawsuit with God) in which he asserts, “And I, Levi Yitzhak, son of Sarah Berditchev, say, from my stand I will not waver, and from place I shall not move until there be an end to this exile.” 

Here is another Rabbi Levi Yitzhak story about Kol Nidre and not letting G-d off the hook. The tailor had cheated Goldman out of trousers but G-d has allowed a little girl to die of diphtheria. The tailor lost his temper with his children but G-d had known about a famine in another country.  “And for every sin I had committed during the past year, God had done one too. So I said to God, ‘Look, we each have the same number of sins. If you let me off, I’ll let You off!’ ” 

http://www.berdichev.org/arguiing_with_heaven.htm  as told by Rabbi Larry Kushner.

Sometimes we don’t even know what the questions are, as Reb Levi Yitzhak illustrates at a Passover seder. When speaking about the four children, he said, “Lord of the Universer,I Levi Yitzhak. Am the one who does not know how to ask….doesn’t the haggadah say that with the child who does not know how to ask, “you must start with him.”…Lord of the Universe, are You not my Father? Am I not Your son? I do not even know what questions to ask. You take the initiative and disclose the answer to me. Show me, in connection with whatever happens to me, what is required of me? G-d, I do not ask You,  about why I suffer. I wish to know only that I suffer for Your sake.”

Elie Wiesel called G-d to account in his haunting play, The Trial of G-d which some of us read in book group recently. 

But what about us? Rabbi Harold Kushner’s book is When Bad Things Happen to Good People, not if and not why. How do I answer people when they ask why? Sometimes there is no good explanation. Each person needs to respond to tragedy in their own way, in their own time.  

Reverend Larry Zimmerman said at John Oganowski’s funeral after 9/11, that G-d was present when the World Trade Center Towers fell. G-d wept as we wept. G-d gave the firemen courage as they raced up the stairs. G-d held every victim in the palms of His hands. Perhaps too anthropomorphic but comforting nonetheless. 

Mayyim Hayyim, the Community Mikveh and Education Center in Boston wrote a book for women living with cancer. It has the best chapter on anger I have ever read. I buy these books in multiple copies, because if I loan one out, it doesn’t come back.  

I, too have wrestled. Sukkot has emerged as my favorite holiday but it wasn’t always so. Once upon a time, a lifetime ago, 40 years ago this week, I too had a dark night. It was the second night of Sukkot and despite the bright light of the full moon, it was very scary. Later people wanted to know where was G-d. How could I possibly become a rabbi after that kind of violent attack. 

Have you ever tried to bargain with G-d. Maybe you’ve promised that if G-d helps you pass the chemistry test that you will keep Shabbat. Maybe you’ve said that if your mother is cured of cancer than you will go to shul. I’m not sure G-d works that way, but the temptation is real. 

Each person needs to wrestle with these questions on their own. I came to the conclusion that G-d was present that night. Psalm 81 provided the key. I outlined this before, back in 2010 before I was a rabbi but the words still ring true to me: 

Psalm 81 begins by saying: 

Sing with joy to God, our strength
Shout with gladness to the God of Jacob. 

It continues that we should strike up a melody, sound the timbrel, play the harp and lyre, sound the shofar—we should make music. 

The reason to sing with joy and shout with gladness and make music is because we feel grateful. For what are we feeling grateful? For God, our strength, who rose up against the land of Egypt.  All of this is communal, in the plural form. 

But the text continues—and here it switches to the personal. The translation in Siddur Sim Shalom is more liberal than literal: 

Then I heard a voice I never knew.
“I removed the burden from your shoulder
your hands were freed from the load.
When you called in distress, I rescued you
Unseen, I answered you in thunder
I tested your faith in the wilderness.” 

The actual Hebrew is more specific. It refers to the Exodus from Egypt—and removing the Israelites from the burden of slavery. 

The load was the basket of bricks that the Israelites carried in the building projects of Pharaoh. The wilderness is named in the actual Hebrew; it is waters of Meribah. Meribah itself means strife and is a reference in Exodus 17:7 and Numbers 20:13, where the Israelites stayed after fleeing Egypt, the narrow place, and were complaining that they wanted to go back—because they were feeling strife at being free, and because they wanted the cucumbers and the leeks! 

This is like the text we began with. Moses, bargaining with G-d demands to see G-d. God reassures Moses of God’s presence saying, “I will go in the lead and lighten your burden.” Other translations say “give you rest.” 

The oblique translation of Siddur Sim Shalom worked for me. It allowed me to go back to a difficult time in my life and answer that haunting question for me. G-d goes with us, because Moses called G-d to account. In this very portion. This brings me comfort and strength. Still. So go ahead, argue with G-d. Bargain with G-d. Be angry with G-d. Cry. Scream. Pound a pillow. It’s OK. G-d can take it and will cry with you. You are not alone. 

We just heard from Jerry Neiderman, who together with Robin and some dedicated volunteers at home have lived out our responsibility to “Love our neighbors as ourselves” hrough the mitzvah of leaving the corners of our field for the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the most vulnerable amongst us. Both of Both of those commandments are in this afternoon’s Torah portion. We do this by supporting Elgin Cooperative Ministry and their soup kettles. On this Yom Kippur morning, we hear the words of the haftarah, asking, demanding, “Is this the fast I desire? No, it is to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless.” We have lived that out as a community by supporting Food for Greater Elgin. There is still time to send in your donation. 

But what if? What if there is still more to learn here.  

What if…as Lynn Unger teaches:
Pandemic 

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
 
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
 
Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.
 
–Lynn Ungar 3/11/20 

Yom Kippur is considered the Sabbath of Sabbaths. What if we take a deep breath. Go ahead. Right now.  

This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. Yes, Yom Kippur is actually a happy holy day, a chance to start the new fresh and to be right with G-d and our fellow human beings. It is a full day of rest. A chance to spend the day praying, reflecting, meditating, refreshing. It’s like Tevye. “If I were rich, I’d have the time that I lack to sit in the synagogue and pray, and maybe have a seat by the eastern wall.” Today we have time. We all have time.  

The Israelite people shall keep the sabbath, observing the sabbath throughout the ages as a covenant for all time: it shall be a sign for all time between Me and the people of Israel. For in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day G-d ceased from work and was refreshed. (Exodus 31:16-17) 

And G-d was refreshed. In Hebrew it is actually a pun. And G-d was resouled. V’yinafash. A nefesh is a soul. So even G-d needed to rest from the work of creation, from the very act of creating. And here is something I just learned. This description of Sabbath comes right after Bezazel, the chief architect of the mishkan, the sanctuary is chosen. Bezazel is the master craftsman, the chief artisan and creator. So even though they are going to be in a period of great creativity—the Israelites and Bezazel still need to rest. You need to rest in order to create. There is some irony in me crafting this D’var Torah since I am known as the Energizer Rabbi. Even rabbis need to rest and recharge our batteries. PLEASE don’t call me tomorrow morning. I’ll be resting.  

“An artist in the course of painting will pause, lay aside the brush, step back from the canvas, and consider what needs to be done, what direction to be taken.” (Gates of Prayer, page 143) That’s Shabbat. The same is true for music. One famous musician talked about that the beauty of music comes in learning to play the rests. That’s not an original quote but I can’t find the person who said it. I’m willing to offer a prize for the person who can find the source. 

For some of us, the pandemic provided opportunities to be creative. Some learned new languages or tried out new recipes, some even painted…it was, for some, an opportunity to reset priorities, to take that deep breathe, to pause.  To maybe learn again how to lead a more authentic life. It was a sabbath of the soul. 

Maybe that’s not you. Maybe you had to work—and maybe even work harder, or experienced loss, unspeakable grief, the loss of health or job or loved ones. Those are real. And we are not out of the woods yet.  

The sabbath is not just for people. It is also for the land. Every seven years. This Rosh Hashanah we began the cycle again. This year is a shmita year, a Sabbath of Sabbath for the earth: 

In Leviticus and then again in Deuteronomy we are commanded to let the fields go fallow—and to forgive debts and free the slaves.  Deuteronomy: “At the end of every seven years, you shall celebrate the remission year.  The idea of the remission year is that every creditor shall remit any debt owed by his neighbor and family member when God’s remission year comes around. You may collect from the stranger amongst you, but if you have any claim against your brother for a debt, you must relinquish it….” (Deuteronomy 15:1–6) 

This was a radical concept. Everything should rest. Even the land. Even the debts. And yet, G-d will provide—even for the needy, even though this text says that there will always be needy amongst us and we may not shut our hands against them. 

How could this be possible? How could we live this commandment out and still survive? 

Did you notice last year—how the birds returned—how noisy dawn was? Or do you remember the picture of the coyote racing down an empty Michigan Avenue. Somehow, while all the people were still at home, the environment began to heal. Just a little bit.  

In the magazine Space, a NASA satellite has shown how the earth breathes.  https://www.space.com/38806-nasa-satellites-watch-earth-breathe-video.html  

As you know, I was an American Studies major with a specialty in colonial American History. For me, this was a fun summer. Recently I learned two new things, fulfilling our vision statement of lifelong learning. The first was about Hamilton. So important to us here in Elgin, at 47% Hispanic. Perhaps, given his Caribbean roots, he was Jewish, descendent from those who fled the Spanish Inquisition, just like many who sit in my office and wonder about their Jewish roots. There’s a new book out. The Jewish World of Alexander Hamilton. I can’t wait to dive into this book when the chaggim are over.  

Thinking of Hamilton’s Hispanic Jewish roots, one of the most important things I learned in Guatemala when I was an American Jewish World Service fellow was about English. In American English, the most used verb is to do. What do you do? How do you do? How are you doing? What should we do now? You get the idea. A lot of our identify is around what we do. What if, instead, we just be.

The second happened just this month. On September 5 we marked the 230 anniversary of when Robert Carter III, the patriarch of one of the wealthiest families in Virginia at the time, walked into a  a Northumberland County courthouse and delivered an airtight legal document announcing his intention to free more than 500 slaves. While Washington and Jefferson were just beginning to voice doubts about the ethics of owning slaves, Carter managed to live out this very verse in our common scripture. What is it that we need to be freed from personally today? 

How then will we at CKI mark this shimita year? We have started a conversation about our own community garden. That very garden that Jerry was just speaking about and has been so carefully tended. It is instrumental to the fabric of the soup kettles. Yet, hungry people cannot wait a year for food and fresh produce. As the Isaiah text demands this morning, Is this the fast I desire? No, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless. So how do we take care of the needy people in front of us today and live out this shimta text? 

The organization Hazon, recently merged with Pearlstone, has much to teach about modern day Shmita. They have a full source book that from time to time this year we will dip into. Using the Hazon Shmita Sourcebook we will study these expansive topics together, https://drive.google.com/file/d/1g2kx6MWGlzJmeffm53tzV7I1M6P-_DzI/view   

The first teaching we will do will be next Shabbat during Sukkot the harvest festival. In addition, Hazon has what they are calling Shmita prizes, $1800 for new ritual objects, art, performance art, music, poetry. We will encourage any of you creative types to learn more about shmita and submit something. https://shmitaproject.org/about-prizes/  Perhaps this will be the year where we can convert our ner tamid to a solar ner tamid. We have until Chanukah to submit our proposals. 

As we explore shmita together, a time set aside for us to rest, we will explore how we rest. Some will add more mindfulness and meditation and rest our brains. Some will try for more sleep and better sleep quality. Some will rest from consumerism and buying more stuff we may or may not need. Some will rest the land or find ways to rotate crops—an invention of the ancient Israelites as I proudly learned in 5th grade history.  

For now, we get to pause, just like those artists, and reflect on what is the society we want to rebuild. Shmita gives us that luxury. May this be a year of expansive rest and healing. Ken yihi ratzon 

Let’s take the time to listen, to really listen to this piece of music by Jessi Roemer. It brings our Hebrew and our Hispanic roots together.

(Smash down the children’s building blocks. )

We just heard from Dr. Biana Kotlyar Castro about a time to heal.  

It is ours to praise
the beauty of the world 

even as we discern
the torn world. 

 For nothing is whole
that is not first rent 

     Marcia Falk 

What are the first steps toward healing. What if, before you can heal, you have to break.  What if before you build you have to destroy. You have to demolish before you can reconstruct.  That’s what Dr. Andras Angyal taught at Brandeis to his psychology classes. It isn’t easy. He recommended that before you can rebuild you need to take out the central beam and have everything come crashing down.  

There is no question that these past 18 months have been difficult. It has often felt like that center beam was crashing down. Often, I hear something like “I just want to go back to normal.”, whatever normal is. Or I hear the phrase we need to learn to live with the new normal. Whatever that is.  

What if…. 

What if we practice the Japanese tradition of kitsukuroi, which means golden repair. It is  “the art of restoring broken pottery with gold so that the fractures are literally illuminated. Featured recently in the Wall Street Journal – “The artists believe that when something has suffered damage and has a history, it becomes more beautiful. The true life of an object (or person) begins the moment it breaks and reveals that it is vulnerable.”  

What if we recognize that other cultures have this practice too.  In many native art forms, Intuit, Navaho, Mayan, Turkish and Persian, artists deliberately leave something imperfect. Only G-d is perfect. An intentional flaw is woven in or a bead left out.  Or as Wanda Pitzele confirmed to me, a spirit bead is woven in.  

What if we learn the lesson the king learned:
Once there was a king with a prized jewel, a perfect diamond. So perfect he kept it under wraps and locked away.  Every morning he would check the diamond to make sure it was still perfect. One morning the king awoke,  he found a single think crack descending down one facet. His precious diamond was ruined. It was no longer perfect. 

He called in all the best jewelers of the entire kingdom, hoping someone could fix it. Nothing could be done. The crack was so deep that any effort to remove it would make it worse. But one craftsman, from a neighboring kingdom thought he could save the diamond. The king laughed. Everyone else had said it was not possible.  However, seeing that there was nothing else that could be done, the king said that the jeweler could spend a single night with the diamond. If he succeeded in fixing the diamond, there would be a great reward. If not, he would be put to death. 

The jeweler took the diamond and locked in his room, examined the diamond carefully. It was beautiful, sparkling like the fire of the sun on the surface of the water. But the crack could not be removed without destroying the diamond further. What could he do? He worked all night and emerged in the morning with the diamond and a look of triumph on his face. The entire royal court, the king, the queen, the ministers, even the jester, gasped. The scratch had not been removed. Instead, it had become the stem of a beautiful rose, etched into the diamond, making the diamond even more unique and beautiful. The king embraced the simple jeweler. “Now I have my crown jewel. The diamond was magnificent until now. The best. The most perfect. But it was no different than the other stones. Now I have a unique treasure.” 

What if that is the story behind Leonard Cohen’s song the Anthem:
“You can add up the parts 

but you won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”
     Leonard Cohen 

Leonard Cohen – Anthem (Live in London) 

What if, that crack is something even more broken.  What if it is the shards of glass from the very beginning of creation. When G-d began to create the world, G-d’s presence filled the universe. In order to make room for creation, G-d drew in a breath, contracting creating room for our imperfect world. From that contraction, tzimtsum, darkness was created. When G-d said, “Let there be light,” the light that came into being filled the darkness and ten holy vessels came forth, each filled with primordial light. The light was too bright and it smashed the vessels and the holy sparks were scattered. We were created to gather the sparks and the shards back together again. To build and rebuild. That is the work of tikkun olam, repair of the world. 

When Moses came down the mountain, he didn’t just break the tablets, he smashed them. As the midrash teaches, the shards were gathered up together with the new tablets and placed in the ark of the covenant. The new tablets and the shattered rested side by side. Rashi says the broken ones were set down under the new ones, like a foundation for them.  Just like Angyal was suggesting. We need to break down in order to buildup. 

What if the tradition of smashing a glass at a wedding, mirrors this tradition, as we now gather the shards together to make a beautiful mezuzah.  

What if a teaching on the V’ahavta agrees:  we are told to place these words of love on our hearts. In a Hasidic tale, a disciple asked the rebbe: “Why does Torah tell us to place these words upon your hearts? Why does it not tell us to place these holy words in our hearts?” The rebbe answered: “It is because our hearts are closed, and we cannot place the words in our hearts. So we place them on top of our hearts. And there they stay until, one day, the heart breaks and the words fall in.” And the Kotzker Rebbe says “There is nothing as whole as a broken heart.” 

What if as Parker Palmer says, “Suffering breaks our hearts — but there are two quite different ways for the heart to break. There’s the brittle heart that breaks apart into a thousand shards, a heart that takes us down as it explodes and is sometimes thrown like a grenade at the source of its pain. Then there’s the supple heart, the one that breaks open, not apart, growing into greater capacity for the many forms of love. Only the supple heart can hold suffering in a way that opens to new life.” 

What if our suffering leads to new life, a more meaningful life, a more authentic life. 

What if we can be like Simone Biales and be vulnerable enough and courageous enough to explain why she dropped out of the Olympiccs. BUT, and this is really important, As Rabbi Jon Spira-Savett said this summer, If she wants to talk in terms of broken that’s for her and no one else to say. He’s right. 100% and he continues, “And furthermore, we are not entitled to describe anyone else who suffers psychologically or spiritually or physically as broken. That’s not how this metaphor works or helps. I can be broken, I can say that about myself. I can listen when you say to me this is how you feel, what you are experiencing. But I don’t get to say that you.” are. https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/wholeness-not-brokenness-what-simone-biles-actually-taught-us/?fbclid=IwAR14JdnnkiglY3AHBnOKjbjY1BsSQr2ghHoa14RaWFWi74-mVRoYGjoOjbs 

And we know that the mental health needs are real. Especially coming out of the pandemic where things like suicide calls, domestic violence, substance abuse are all up ~40%. We know that access to mental health care is not equitable and hard to find for many. The recent issues in Elgin Township 708 board highlights this disparity.  

What if…. We are like baseball players. Rabbi Harold Kushner reminds us that no one expects a hitter to hit 1000 percent. Hitters who are over .300 are considered great. No one expects a team to win all 165 games in a season. But good teams win more than they lose.  We are not perfect and we don’t have to be perfect to be loved. There is enough love to go around. 

Kushner concludes his book saying, “what G-d asked Abraham was not “Be perfect” or “don’t ever make a mistake.” But “Be whole. To be whole before God means to stand before Him with all of our faults as well as all of our virtues and to hear the message of our acceptability. To be whole means to rise beyond the need to be pretend that we are perfect, to rise above the fear that will be rejected for not being perfect. 

But before we can be whole, we need to be broken.  

Now that we have been broken, what is it we want to rebuild? What are the rocks that go back into the vase, that just 10 days ago I stood here and broke—that was accidental. What is it we want to rebuild? What is it we want to create?
 

What if…we then create a world, a new normal where people are allowed to thrive, where there is access to medical care including mental health services. 

What if…we then create a world, where bullying is a thing of the past and kids are not afraid to go to school. 

What if…we then create a world where people can disagree but don’t settle a dispute with a weapon. 

What if…we then create a world as Isaiah will talk about tomorrow where this is not the fast that G-d desires but rather we should feed the hungry, clothe the naked and house the homeless. 

What if…we then create a world where everyone can sit under their vine and fig tree and none shall make them afraid. 

What if…we then create this world and build this world on love.  

G-d of the survivor,
G-d of the mourner and the witness,
Grant solace and peace to those still held by physical, emotional and spiritual distress from the attacks of 9-11. Release them from visions of death and destruction, from guilt or shame, from fear or anger. Bind their wounds with Your steadfast love. Lift them on Your wings of kindness and grace. 

Blessed are those who have found peace.
Blessed are those without tranquility. 

Blessed are those who speak.
Blessed are those who stay silent. 

Blessed are those who have healed.
Blessed are those who suffer. 

Blessed are those who forgive.
Blessed are those who cannot forgive. 

Blessed are You, Adonai our G-d, Source of strength for survivors of violence and tragedy in every land and in every age. Blessed are You, Rock of Israel, Source of hope and comfort. 
     Alden Solovy 

We just read these powerful words of my friend Alden Solovy:
“Blessed are those who forgive
Blessed are those who cannot forgive.” 

This is the 20th anniversary of 9/11. Each of us knows exactly where we were as that day with its unforgettable,  bright blue sky unfolded.   It was our honor to honor our local first responders last night. 

Today is also Shabbat Shuvah, the Sabbath of Return. Every week we sing the misheberach prayer where we pray for healing of mind, body and spirit. We pray the words of Debbie Friedman and Drorah Setel:  
May the source of strength
Who blessed the ones before us
Help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing  

Those words echo over today. “May the source of strength.” In another song we sing, “Ozi v’zimrat Yah, v’hi lishua.” G-d is my strength and my might and my song, G-d is my deliverer.” We need strength and courage to heal.  We need strength and courage to forgive. We need strength and courage to do the hard work of teshuvah. 

Today’s Torah portion urges the Israelites, not just Joshua, to be strong and of good courage. Hizku v’imtzu. Plural. The usual formulation is chazak v’emetz. 

Chazak. Be strong.  

Dan Nichols sings: 

Chazak

We have come from near and far to raise our voice in song,
And the more we join in the re – frain, the more we feel strong.
Cha-zak, cha-zak, ve-nit cha-zeik.
There is a power in this place and time, it shapes the rest of our lives,
For when we return each year we find a truth we can’t deny.
Be strong, let us strengthen one another.
Be strong, let us celebrate our lives.
Be strong, let us strengthen one another.

Be strong doesn’t necessarily mean how much iron can you pump. It can also mean being resolute. Being strong in your convictions, in your beliefs, in your goals. “Im tirtzu, ain zo agadah, words of Herzl translated as “If you will it, it is no dream.”  

Koach, Oz, Chazak. All meaning strong or strength.  

May G-d give strength to G-d’s people and bless G-d’s people with peace. Adonai oz l’amo yiten, Adonai y’varech et amo v’shalom.  

But what of courage? The word in English comes from the Latin and the Old French: cour meaning heart. It is the ability to do something that frightens someone. It is strength in the face of pain or grief.  

There are 6 Attributes of Courage according to Psychology Today: 

6 Attributes of Courage
1. Feeling fear yet choosing to act.
2. Following your hear
3. Persevering in the face of adversity
4. Standing up for what is right
5. Expanding your horizons, letting go of the familiar
6. facing suffering with dignity or faith

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-mindful-self-express/201208/the-six-attributes-courage  

The Cowardly Lion felt he needed courage. Can you build courage? Psychology Today suggests an exercise. Let’s try it: 

“Think of a situation as an adult when you felt afraid, yet chose to face your fear: 

• What did you observe, think, and feel at the time? (e.g., “I saw the rollercoaster and felt butterflies in my stomach”) 
• What did you or the people around you say, think, and do to help you face your fear? (e.g., “I told myself that if little kids could go on it, so could I”) 
• At what point did your fear start to go down? How did you feel afterwards? 
• Now, think back on a situation in childhood in which you faced your fear. How was it the same or different than the first situation? 
• Finally, think of a situation you are currently facing that creates fear or anxiety. What are you most afraid of? (e.g., being fired if I ask my boss for a raise) 
• Now, is there a way to apply the same skills you used in the two earlier situations to be more courageous in this situation? Remind yourself that you have these skills and have used them successfully in the past.  

And they tell us, if you repeat this exercise over the course of a week, using each definition of courage above you will be more courageous. By Day 7, you can come up with your own definition of courage that is most meaningful to you and repeat the whole exercise using this definition. 

Seven days, the same number of days that G-d took to create the world. The same number of days that we now know it takes to create a habit. You are creating courage. 

Brene Brown, in her book Rising Strong, identifies courage as one of the things we need for resilience. In her research, “wholehearted living means cultivating courage, compassion and connection to wake up in the morning. We can choose courage or we can choose comfort but we can’t have both. Not at the same time. Courage means being vulnerable. Vulnerability is not winning or losing. It’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness. It is our greatest measure of courage.”  

One of the places that takes courage is in doing teshuvah. Teshuvah, or return is often translated as repentance.Our text tells us that if we return, G-d will take us back in love. It is part of the covenant. What does it mean to return? 

In the old days, the rabbi would give a sermon twice a year. On the Shabbat before Passover, to tell you how to prepare and on Shabbat Shuvah, to teach you how to do teshuvah. Here’s a little secret. Sarah would tell you that I don’t do apologies well. It’s not that I am not sorry. It’s that the words don’t come out right. So today we are going to have you teach me.  

Our tradition says that for sins against G-d, Yom Kippur atones but for sins against other people, Yom Kippur does not atone until you have made peace between each other. So many people go to others at this season with an almost formulaic apology. That doesn’t work for me. It feels forced. It needs to be specific. For instance, Gene, I am sorry that I caught you off guard this morning because the Torah sheet was not attached to yesterday’s email. I am sorry that sometimes I skip dinner when I am teaching and then get testy at a later that evening board meeting. So I am sorry. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. But that’s not a great apology. I’m not sorry for my actions. I am not taking responsibility for causing you harm. 

When we do Ashamnu next week about 65% of our sins have to do with our language. Our words can hurt. We need to watch what we say and how we say it. Me too.  

Maimomides, the Rambam identified 12 steps to repentance. Perhaps the original 12 step program.  

Rabbi Paul Kipnes reduced those to six: 

1. Regret: We have to regret what we have done and feel remorse for it. We cannot really apologize or make amends for our actions if we don’t see what we do as wrong. 

2. Renounce:We have to look into our hearts and take responsibility. We have to admit first to ourselves that our actions were wrong. No excuses. No rationalizations. “Renouncing a sin does not mean we deny that it happened, rather it means we reject any sense that we needed to act as we did.”

 3. Confess: We need to confess that we missed the mark, that what we did wasn’t right. Saying something aloud to others makes it real, more concrete. 

4. Reconcile: This step begins to help heal the person wronged. It must begin with a sincere apology. It then needs a “long term investment of our time and energy as long as necessary, until the sinner and the person wronged are able to work through this problem.” Be patient. This is hard work. 

5. Make Amends: Sometimes this involves restitution, financial compensation, actual money to heal the wounds.We may need to volunteer. Give tzedakah. Keep in mind that a donation of money cannot buy forgiveness. It can, however, help others similarly hurt if given to appropriate organizations.  

6. Resolve: We need to resolve that if confronted with the same situation or opportunity to not repeat the offense. Only then is teshuva complete.  

In order to do teshuvah, it takes vulnerability. It takes courage. It takes strength. Chazek v’emetz. Hizku v’imtzu. Together, we will do it. May your teshuvah and my teshuvah be full, complete. May you be inscribed and sealed for a blessing.  

We just heard another story of how there is a time for everything. Gareth, on a very poignant day for you and your family your told about your own personal time to mourn. It was my honor to be called by Gareth last year on the second morning of Rosh Hashanah just as the dawn was breaking to join her and Paul and their son James. It was my first hospital visit since COVID began. Somehow, Sherman Hospital   let me in. I sang B’yado as I often do at someone’s bedside, as I learned from my rabbi at my own mother’s bedside.  

Sing here.  

“Into Your hands I place my spirit. When I wake as when I sleep, I will have no fear for You are with me.” 

And then I drove home, to rethink my sermon on how even if we are alone, we are not alone. 

And so Gareth, we, your CKI community continue to mourn with you. We miss Paul’s deep resonate voice. We miss his steady calming presence. He was one of our rocks too and he was so supportive of you and of CKI. 

Earlier today we read Psalm 30, the dedication of the temple, the sanctuary. We use it as part of our daily service and we use it to dedicate a home when we place a mezuzah up and turn even our houses into sacred spaces. I had the honor of doing that with several families this year. The Garlands most recently and Robin Coyne. BTW, who moves during a pandemic? 

Toward the end of the psalm it says, “You have turned my mourning into dancing, my sackcloth into robes of joy. Tears may linger for the night but joy comes with the dawn.”  

There is a time for everything, a time to mourn and a time to rejoice. It can be hard to make that pivot. And while Kubler Ross had the right idea, that there are stages of grief, grief is not linear. Perhaps Rabbi David Paskin had it better. He wrote a song called HaMakom. He wondered why our greeting after someone dies is Hamakom yinachem etchem….May The place, HaMakom comfort you amongst all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem and all the world, why not the Holy One, the Comforter?  He argues that when lose a loved one all we have is a space, a big old empty space. We need to learn with that space, that emptiness, to go into it and go out of it.  

HaMakom live from NewCAJE 

“May the One who fills our space, give us hope and give us strength.”  

Each of us has our own story of grief. Those stories get woven into here we are. Sharing those stories can make us feel vulnerable. However, that is how we become wholehearted. According to Brene Brown, “When we own our stories, we avoid being trapped as characters in stories someone else is telling…when we decide to own our stories and our truth, we bring our light to the darkness.” So Jordana and Matt, Jeannete and Chris, and Gareth, you have chosen courage over comfort, and vulnerability over safety. You have told your stories powerfully. Your CKI community thanks you.  

Today’s Torah portion, like yesterday’s tells the story of unspeakable grief. Hagar’s, Sarah’s and Hannah’s. We talked yesterday of Hagar’s desperation when she put her child Ishmael under a bush, sure that he would die. In today’s portion, Sarah is not even consulted when the child she had waited for, hoped for, prayed for was taken by Abraham up the mountain to be sacrificed to G-d. And even though Isaac didn’t die, her grief was so intense, the very next chapter, called Chayeii Sarah, the Life of Sarah,  begins, “There are the years of the life of Sarah. Sarah was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years, and Sarah died.” That’s it. 

We learn a lot about Jewish mourning customs from the next part of the chapter. Abraham comes, they weren’t even in the same town when she died, he acquires a burial plot and pays for it, he did not accept it as a gift, and he eulogizes Sarah with according to the midrash, Eishet Chayil, a Woman of Valor.  

This has been a year for many of unspeakable grief and for many the longstanding comforting mourning customs were not options. Empty cemeteries. Live streamed funerals.  Zoom shivas. Rescheduled memorial  services.. And yet, every time, the community, this community, our community, rose to the challenges of supporting you as best we could. It wasn’t easy.  

Another story that is woven into who we are is 9/11. Everybody knows where they were when the towers fell. Almost. None of our Torah School students were alive yet. What stories do we tell them? We observe the 20 anniversary this week. Here at CKI we will mark it Friday night when we honor our first responders. Please join us for that special evening.  

After 9/11, most rabbis in the country rewrote their carefully crafted sermons. Mine focused on this very topic. After Hagar cries out, G-d hears the cry of the lad, and opens Hagar’s eyes. She sees the water that was there all along. She found another way.  

That’s resilience. 

There has been much written about resilience. Some say that we can’t teach it. Others say that resilience comes from being loved, being secure, being in community. 

The American Psychology Society says, that “Being resilient doesn’t mean that a person won’t experience difficulty or distress. People who have suffered major adversity or trauma in their lives commonly experience emotional pain and stress. In fact, the road to resilience is likely to involve considerable emotional distress.” https://www.apa.org/topics/resilience  

Surviving a global pandemic leads to resilience. We are already telling the stories.  

But it is not enough to be survive. Our machzor actually says “Merely to survive is not a measure of excellence or even a measure of cunning.”  We need to thrive. Maya Angelou’s spin on that was, “My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style” 

So how do we build resilience. Like much in Judaism there isn’t just one answer.  It used to be thought that it can’t be taught. But good news, the newer research says it can.  

It’s like building a muscle. Maybe that’s why I like running so much. It takes time and intentionality, a kavanah if you will.  It means we need to focus on four core components. No not your quads and your abs.  It is about connection, wellness, healthy thinking and meaning, at least according to the APA.  

Step One: Kids find resiliency when they have at least one deep relationship with a parent, a teacher, a mentor or a coach. That goes for adults too. Knowing that you are not alone and that someone believes in you. That you are loved. Connecting with empathetic and understanding people reminds you that you are not alone. That’s why Zoom has been so important. One of the issues through this pandemic is that the people who need help the most may isolate themselves and lose the support of the people around them. Joining a group—in person or online can be great. Torah Study, mahjohng, book group. Something that isn’t even CKI related. A cooking class, a foreign language, something at our library. Whatever you are interested in. I love my running community. (Detect a theme here?) 

Step Two: Take care of your body. Risa is fond of saying that each of us should do 5 things every day. It’s a check list. Eat, drink (water, in case you were wondering although she might say a little bourbon at the right time), exercise, take your medication and sleep. Self care is important. Put your oxygen mask on first. Having a buddy to check up on you helps. That’s why we are often told to check on our neighbors when it is very hot or very cold.  

Step Three: Practice mindfulness. You being here today, praying, reflecting, deep breathing, meditating is part of that. We’ll have the opportunity to try here shortly. It is why Weight Watchers has four parts to their program. Food, Activity, Sleep and Mindset. It helps us to avoid negative thinking and to find purpose.  

Step Four: Set some goals. Make sure they are realistic. You are not going to learn violin or to speak Spanish (or Hebrew!) overnight. Look for opportunities for self-discovery. When people find meaning from their tragedies and traumas,  people have reported better relationships and a greater sense of strength, even while feeling vulnerable. Victor Frankl spent his life’s work after surviving Auschwitz helping people find meaning and purpose. This summer the book group read The Choice, Embrace the Possible by Eva Edith Eger, another Holocaust survivor who studied with Frankl. Great book. 

And one last step: 

Maintain a hopeful outlook. It is hard to be positive when life isn’t going your way. It is hard to accept that change is part of life. But when the Israelites saw that the Temple was destroyed, they reinvented Judaism. Atonement was not to be achieved in centralized worship in Jerusalem but through prayer and study, and deeds of lovingkindness.  

We are at one of those moments in history, when the sands of time seem to be shifting. The very earth under our feet is moving. We can still find hope. We can still find a way to go into our grief, that very place that hurts so much, and back out. Together. We are not alone.  

Rabbi Paul Kipnes, who coincidentally grew up in Chelmsford. His family was one of the founders of Congregation Shalom where I did my rabbinic internship. He wrote Jewish Spiritual Parenting together with his wife which our Torah School parents have read. He has been instrumental in my own thinking this High Holy Day preparation. Together with Rabbi Julia Atlas Weiz and their Facebook friends they wrote a guided meditation I want us to try today. We’ll use another piece of his before Hineini.  

Guided Meditation: I Know I’m Not Alone 

By Rabbi Paul Kipnes, Rabbi Julia Atlas Weisz  

and our Facebook Friends 

Let’s take a moment 

And turn inward.  

And enjoy a few moments 

Of guided meditation.  

Sit up as straight as your body allows.  

Close your book,  

And close your eyes.  

Relax your hands,  

placing them on your lap 

Or put your fingertips together  

and feel the balance of pressure. 

And now 

Just Breathe. 

Take big breath in 

Hold it 

Let it out.  

Again 

Breathe in 

Hold it. 

Let it out.  

Keep breathing.  

Keep listening.  

Rabbi Rachel Barenblat writes:  

Here’s the thing:  

the year begins anew 

even in the worst of times.  

The leaves will turn and fall  

and then they’ll grow again. 

And sometimes we’re afraid,  

and we can’t know what choice to make  

to keep anyone safe. 

[Sometimes] Uncertainty’s a bear.  

All we can do 

is seek out sweetness everywhere we may 

and work to fix what brokenness we find. 

The good news is we’re not in this alone. 

We’ll help each other hope  

when light seems dim and  

we’ll lift the sparks that darker days reveal. 

We’ll love each other fiercely:  

in the end 

there is no greater work that we can do. 

We who survive will help each other [through]. 

That’s what Kehillah Kedosha,  

A holy community like ours,  

Does.  

We remind each other, that:  

In the quiet of your mind,  

Not aloud,  

Repeat after me: 

I know 

[Pause] 

I’m not 

[Pause] 

Alone 

[Pause] 

Again, silently, in your mind, repeat:  

I know I’m not alone.  

[Pause] 

When I’m frustrated that our celebrations must be different, smaller, rescheduled or postponed, 

[say it in your mind with me] …I know I’m not alone.  

When I worry about my children going back to school 

[Say it:] I know I’m not alone.  

When I fear for my parents or for myself who now need a booster  

I know I’m not alone.  

When I feel overwhelmed by even simple decisions, like what to make for dinner or how dressed up to get 

I know I’m not alone.  

When I am exhausted by so many changes and transitions, both good or bad 

I know I’m not alone.  

When the weight of the world is getting me down 

I know I’m not alone.  

When I’m so exhausted because there’s so much to do 

I know I’m not alone. 

When I connect regularly to faraway family and friends on facetime or zoom, even though I’m not seeing them face to face 

I know I’m not alone.  

When I cannot figure out if this cold requires a covid test 

I know I’m not alone.  

When struggling to make time to take care of myself, whatever that means  

I know I’m not alone.  

You are not alone.  

We are all in this together.  

Remember:  

Not being alone  

Doesn’t mean it isn’t frustrating and overwhelming 

Or worrisome and scary.  

It just means we are not alone.  

So feel that connection,  

Take strength from the community 

And remember the lessons of the shofar. 

The sounds of the shofar  

Parallel our experience. 

What once was whole – tekiah 

Became broken – shevarim 

And sometimes shatters – teruah 

But ultimately, it returns to wholeness – tekiah.  

We are about to again sound the shofar 

Hear the call of the Holy One 

Sending you strength, and hope, and resilience.  

Calling to us  

to tell us 

That… 

No, I am not alone. 

We are not alone.  

We can get through this 

Together. 

Paul Sitz was not the only one we lost this year. We also lost Dan Knopoff. For every medical procedure, he sang the Craig Taubman B’yado.  We sang it right here, the first Friday night we were back in the building in his honor. 

Byado  

 Whatever we face this coming year, I will not fear. You are with me. We are not alone. We are together. Wholehearted.  

We just heard from Jeanette and Chris about how meaningful it has been to have a child to become parents during this past year. I once heard a parent describe being a parent as his most important project. And we welcome Elliott to the bimah for his first time. Now that is a Shehechianu moment.  

(Little Elliott slept through most of his starring role and father Chris helped him act out most of his parts. It was beyond adorable. And another little baby cooed on key with the choir. And then wailed just like one should during Avinu Malkeinu, which is a wail. Sign him up now! ) 

In Judaism, we have a prayer that we say in the mornings…Elohai Neshama. We do it here every Shabbat morning. We just did it early today. It is actually in every morning service.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BaEJKe25BPo   

It begs us to recognize our breath. Take a deep breath.  Know that your breath is life itself. That it is your very soul. And that G-d created it. Formed it. Breathed it into you. And that it is pure. You are a child of G-d. You are beloved of G-d. 

Perhaps you prefer the other version…perhaps you can hear it’s very heart beat. The drum beat. Listen carefully. This one is by Shefa Gold:
Elohai Neshama (Shefa Gold)  

 At what point does that change? The idea that we were created b;tzelem elohim, in the likeness of G-d. That we are pure?  

Rachel Naomi Remen tells a story in Yom Kippur Readings.  I’ve used this story before; but it bears repeating. (This story was hard to tell, as a woman rabbi with a baby boy of the bimah, but work with it. And Elliott was adorable!)

Once a prominent rabbi was giving a Yom Kippur talk about forgiveness. He began by taking his infant daughter from his wife’s arms and bringing her onto the bimah. He then began his rather traditional and somewhat boring sermon. The baby girl smiled and everyone’s heart melted. She patted him on the check with her tiny hands. He smiled fondly at her and continued with his customary dignity. She reached for his tie and put in her mouth. She grabbed his nose and the whole congregation chuckled. He said, “Think about it. Is there anything she can do that you would not forgive her?  She grabbed his glasses. Everyone laughed. He waited for silence and then said, “When does that stop. When does it get hard to forgive? At three? At seven? At sixteen? At forty five? How old does someone have to be before you forget that everyone is a child of God?”  

I would add again, created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of God, with the divine spark inside.  

This is the morning we say the world was created. Hayom Harat Olam. The Birthday Day of the World.Go ahead, sing it with me. Yom Huledet Samayach!  

Sometimes, however, creation is hard.  In the midrash we learn that G-d created 974 worlds before this one, struggling to get it just right. (Midrash Tehillim 90:13)  

There is a great desire to create. To give birth. To leave a legacy. That legacy could be children and grandchildren or it could be poem or other writing or a business. Some people become teachers and their students are their legacy. (That applies to corporate training and mentoring too!) Nobody on their deathbed ever asks to be able to work longer. Most want to spend more time with family. A legacy is what you leave behind. What values do you want to leave? 

Sometimes, as we see in both today’s Torah and Haftarah  portion, couples struggle with infertility. Every month seems to be an indictment of our own personal worth. Some of you have struggled with those feelings. Some of you have lost children or have kids who have become estranged. Some of you chose not to have children. Some of you adopted children.  And some of you have created other legacies. Buildings, businesses, teaching, coaching, foundations, research, artwork, a novel, a poem. 

Our stories in the Torah are sacred. Our individual stories are sacred too. Each of your stories, the good ones and the bad ones, are woven together into the fabric of CKI. We are actually a collection of individual stories and those stories are important. We’ll talk more about that tomorrow. Hagar, Sarah and Hannah in today’s portions, their struggles are important stories. They were imperfect people dealing with an imperfect world. 

We hear the story of Abraham listening to Sarah’s voice and sending Hagar and Ishmael out into the desert, with just a jug of water and some bread. Hagar, running out of water, puts Ishmael under a bush and prays, “Don’t let me look on while my child dies.” No name. Just my child. Imagine being the mother of a sick child dealing with the inevitable. Not praying “Heal my child (by name)” but “I can’t bear to watch.” That’s desperation.  

But what if we turn that desperation into resilience? We’ll talk more about resilience tomorrow. What if we remember that everyone, according to Brene Brown in her book, Rising Strong, is trying their best.  

Brene Brown continues that “This doesn’t mean we stop helping people set goals or that we stop expecting people to grow and change. It means that we stop respecting and evaluating people based on what we think they should accomplish and start respecting them for who they are and hold them accountable for what they are actually doing.. It means that we stop loving people for who they could be and start loving them for who they are.” 

“Loving them for who they are.” Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, Ishmael. Each of you. Created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. This little baby before us and each of you individually—however messy your life may seem.  

But this isn’t always easy. Because Brown added that the people who struggle with perfectionism have a hard time thinking that anyone is doing their best. “I know I ‘m not doing my best, so why should I assume others are?” That was a lifechanging thought.  

Everybody is doing the best they can.  

Was Abraham trying his best? Was Sarah trying her best? She desperately wanted a child to give to Abraham, to secure their legacy. Was Hagar trying her best when she ran away? Was G-d trying G-d’s best  when G-d told Hagar to return to Sarah and submit to her harsh treatment? What does that do to our text to think that although they were imperfect, they were still trying their best? At a Chicago Board of Rabbis meeting this summer, sitting on a deck outside so we could be socially distant but the first in-person meeting in who can remember, we wrestled with just those kinds of questions. It got heated and split down gender lines when we talked about G-d’s role here.  

Tomorrow we will read the story of Abraham taking Isaac up the mountain. They return. Forever changed. Abraham winds up estranged from both Isaac and Ishmael. Abraham died alone. He was never able to reconcile with either child, apparently. Isaac and Ishmael only come back together to bury their father. Part of our work during this High Holy Day season is to find another way., to look for reconciliation and peace. To not give up when things seem desperate. 

We have been given the opportunity to give birth. To leave a legacy. To build and rebuild. We need to figure out what that world would look like after the pandemic, just like Gale told us in her “one wild and precious life “speech. 

I asked a question recently, what do you need to hear? Not much has changed. Surprisingly to me, it is nearly identical to the list from 2018:   

But let me tell you what you need to hear. What you crave to hear: 

• That you are loved 
• That you are forgiven 
• That there is hope 
• That the world is going to be OK—for us, for our children, for our grandchildren 
• That someone is proud of you 
• That what you did made a difference 
• That we can reconnect with G-d, with each other, with ourselves 
• That we can find balance 
• That you are OK…right now. Just the way you are. 

Let me say it clearly then: 

• You are loved,  
• You are forgiven 
• There is hope 
• The world is going to be OK—for us, for our children, for our grandchildren because we are partners with G-d in creation. 
• I am proud of you, of all of us 
• You did made a difference, that’s your legacy
• You can reconnect with G-d, with each other, with ourselves 
• You can find balance 
• You are OK…right now. Just the way you are.  
• You are doing your best. 

Honi the circle drawer saw a man planting a carob tree. He wondered why since it would take 70 years to bear fruit. The response was that just as my ancestors planted to me, so do I plant for my children and grandchildren. That’s a legacy. That’s resilience. That’ hope. That’s the message of the messy lives of Sarah and Hagar. 

Yet there is hope. That hope lies in the Pacanowski’s baby. And the Goldmans, and the Rassmussens’,  the  Sitzers and the Gothmanns’.. Five new babies this year with more on the way.  May we leave a legacy and build to tomorrow as we celebrate a time to be born.  

 Jim Croce -Time In A Bottle (Lyrics) 

In the 1979s when I sang in the Temple Emanuel choir we sang this song as part of National Jewish Music month. It still gets me everytime…and it is perfect for tonight. (Although standing here in this place, on this bimah it was all I could do not to become weepy!)

We just heard Jordana and Matt reflect on our theme for the year. And Mazel Tov in advance! To everything there is a season and a time for everything under heaven. This is our study theme for the year. It has lots to do with lifecycle, and hope and resilience and in the course of the next 10 Days, the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Atonement and Wonder and Awe we will explore them together. 

Perhaps you are sitting there thinking, whether on Zoom or in the room, what does this have to do with me? Perhaps you are wondering about this G-d sitting on a throne evaluating your deeds and inscribing you in the Book of Life, hopefully for a blessing. Perhaps you are thinking that you can do enough tefilah, teshuvah and tzedakah, prayer, repentance and charity to avert the decree. That’s OK.  

Perhaps you use this time that you have set aside to think about your family, your community, your connection to your tradition. That’s OK too. 

Perhaps you are like the story, Goldstein comes to synagogue to talk to G-d. Goldberg comes to synagogue to talk to Goldstein. That’s OK too. 

For many, this has been a hard year. This is not where any of us would have hoped for one year ago when services were all on Zoom. One year ago I stood in this sanctuary, by myself. It was just me and Ali Mikyska in the building. Today, we are thankful that Ali is still here. We are grateful that all of you are still here, whether in the room or on Zoom.  

Together, over time, we are going to figure this all out. Together.  

Time is sacred in Judaism. We sanctify time. We separate time. We make time holy. We mark big moments and little moments. When we make kiddush, for Shabbat or like later this evening for a festival we take the ordinary and make it extraordinary.  

When we gather for special occasions, we recite Shehecheyanu, giving thanks to G-d for giving us life, for sustaining us and enabling us to reach this very moment. We say it in the plural. Because we are still here as a community. Perhaps a bit battered and bruised. But here. After almost 130 years.  

But the shehechianu should have an asterik, as Leah Berkowitz teaches. While the statements still ring true, we aren’t through this yet and we haven’t quite made it. We are together again to welcome the New Year, with some joy and some trepidation. Some with courage and some with fear about our personal health and safety.  

Candi Stanton wrote another song that was new to me, that captures our mixed emotions:

“Praise God till your blessings come down
Praise God till your situation turns around
You gotta to lift up your voice and say:
Hallelujah anyway.” 

Hallelujah, anyway. That’s what we sing in Psalm 150. 
Hallelujah.
Praise God in God’s sanctuary; In this beautiful world G-d created.
praise Him in the dome of the sky, G-d’s own stronghold 
Praise G-d for mighty acts; G-d’s exceeding greatness.
Praise G-d with blasts of the shofar; that we will hear tomorrow
with harp and lyre. with timbrel and dance; with lute and pipe. with resounding cymbals and with loud-clashing cymbals. 
Kol Haneshameah t’hallleyah
Let all that breathes praise the LORD.
Hallelujah. 

No matter who you are, no matter what our circumstances or our beliefs, with every breath of our being, we praise G-d.  

This is a jar. In this jar I am going to put some rocks that I found in Michigan. Is it full?
What about now as I add a few pebbles?
What about now as I add some sand?
What about now as I add some water?
Now it is really full.  

The jar is your life. The rocks are the truly important things, like family, health, relationships. If all else was lost and only the rocks remained, as the professor who first did this experiment explained, your life would still be meaningful. The pebbles are the other things that matter to you—like your job or school. The sand is the small stuff and material possession. If you put the sand into the jar first, there is no room for the rocks or the pebbles.  

 The same can be applied to your lives. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are truly important. Pay attention to the things in life that are critical to your happiness and well-being. Take time to get medical checkups, play with your children, go for a run, write your grandmother a letter. There will always be time to go to work, clean the house, or fix the disposal. Take care of the rocks first – things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just pebbles and sand and water. 

Tonight, is the end of Labor Day weekend, for some the last gasp of summer, maybe time for one last trip to the beach, or a last BBQ. You have made it a priority to be here, in the room. Thank you for spending time with us. This summer we have been looking at Mary Oliver’s poem, Summer Day. For me, it addresses the priorities that the experiment just forced us to think about.  

Mary Oliver’s poem The Summer Day  

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, 
how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, 
how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life? 

This is a year where I am forced to confront that question. What do I want to do with my one wild and precious life/ I still want to travel–and see the Alps as the question in the Seven @uesionts You’re asked in Heaven. I want to learn to dance. Finally. I want to finish hiking those mountains. I want to paint more and quilt more. I want to love more fully. I want to spend more time with Simon. If I could save time in a bottle…but those are your priorities. This period of reflection causes us to ask, “What will you do with your one wild and precious life.”

Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav who himself struggled with depression believed two things that have come down to us. The first, “All the world is a narrow bridge. The central thing is to not be afraid.” The second is that we should each, individually, just like Mary Oliver and Henry David Thoreau, spend an hour outside in nature pouring our heart out to the Divine. 

As we continue mark this time as a time to rebuild our lives and our priorities, Mary Oliver’s questions are haunting on this Rosh Hashanah, the day we consider the Birthday of the World. Who made the world? And what will you do with your one wild and precious life? That’s what this moment demands of us.  

So while we aren’t ready to say “we made it,” and we aren’t quite ready for bircat ha-gomel. we will recite Shecheyanu again. Now. Because in spite of all that we hoped for that hasn’t quite arrived, we are so grateful for all that we still have, for how far we’ve come, and for the opportunity to greet another year together. So we’re gonna lift our voice and say: Hallelujah Anyway. Shehecheyanu Anyway.

Then it will be a sweet new year.  

With apologies to Tevye and Fiddler on the Roof. 

To life, to life l;chaim. L’chaim, li’chaim to life.
Life has a way of confusing us,
Blessing and bruising us.
Drink, l’chaim, to life! 

What a perfect set of lyrics about a time gone by for the world we find ourselves in today. We are still blessed and maybe a little bruised. Our portion today is about blessings and curses. 

This morning’s sermon is a tough one on a difficult topic. If you need to take a break and take care of yourself, that’s fine. Get up, stretch, walk out of the room if you need to. Call me later if that will help. 

This portion has one of the best verses in all of the Torah. You stand here, all of you, before the Lord your G-d. That we addressed last night. The Hebrew is Atem nitzvaim. You stand before G-d, with G-d, for G-d. You stand at attention. You stand for something. Last night we brainstromed a list of what we stand for. 

We stand for peace, love, happiness, courage, the arts. We stand for diversity and inclusion. We stand for community.  

As Deborah said, as Americans, we stand for freedom. Simon then read a reading from  Gates of Freedom that we use every year in our own haggadah that Simon compiled. We see as blessings:

Freedom from bondage and freedom from oppression,
freedom from hunger and freedom from want,
freedom from hatred and freedom from fear,
freedom to think and freedom to speak
freedom to teach and freedom to learn,
freedom to love and freedom to share,
freedom to hope and freedom to rejoice,
soon, in our days,
amen 

That’s a good list of freedoms and blessings. Ones we have worked to protect. As Americans and as Jews we stand up for the Bill of Rights, the First Amendment, that enshrines our most basic rights. You learned this in high school, right? “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances” 

But what happens if your understanding of freedom differs from mine? What if your courts start to infringe my freedom of religion? Then I have an obligation to stand up, speak up, and be counted.  

When we were driving through Michigan, or maybe Indiana, there were a series of billboards. One said, “Choose Life”. This week’s Torah portion contains the very verse from that billboard. Let’s look at in context. The Israelites are standing, ready to enter the land of Israel. In the sweeping, majestic language that is so characteristic of Deuteronomy, G-d  or maybe it’s Moses, reminds the Israelites, and all of us since the midrash teaches that we were all standing there…even those not yet born, that if we return, a key word for Rosh Hashanah, that G-d will take us back in love. Reassuring words that we read every year on the Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah, as we re-enact these very words. Then G-d continues, “I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day: I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life—if you and your offspring would live.” 

Powerful. Choose life that you may live. Some say it is the best verse in the Torah. Choose life.  As Rabbi Joshua Lesser said “Choose Enlivenment.” Choose to be fully present.  

This week, however, we need to have a difficult discussion—and perhaps some of you will not agree. That’s OK—we are Jews. The recent law affirmed in Texas is against my Jewish religion. Full stop. Rabbi Danny Horowitz, a Conservative Rabbi in Houston, said it very clearly in an op ed piece that  

“Texas’ abortion ban is against my religion. As a rabbi, I will defy it if necessary.” He will stand up. Religion News Service picked up.  

https://religionnews.com/2021/09/02/texass-abortion-ban-is-against-my-religion-as-a-rabbi-i-will-defy-it-if-necessary/?fbclid=IwAR3B4FsitUnhtCm7GFj_IfZ3ghboDx9H2TymU8nim2VWDTmCqJvv3t_beh8 

I know Danny. He is a graduate of the Academy for Jewish Religion, before I was there. But he is a mensch, and because he is in Houston, he reached out to me when Simon was first diagnosed with bladder cancer and made himself and his home and his community available if we needed to go to Andersen Medical Center a pre-eminent medical facility. It was about choosing life. We declined, and we are happy to report that Simon got a great report in Ann Arbor this week, but the gesture on Danny’s part was more than a gesture. It was the embodiment of life choosing. When Houston was ravaged by Hurricane Harvey in 2017, Danny’s synagogue sustained damage and Danny lost his library. YOu may not know this, but we at CKI and I from my personal library sent books. It was about choosing life. Books are enlivement too. 

So what does Rabbi Danny say now.  

“Judaism teaches that potential life is sacred. Nevertheless, our religion also teaches that potential life is not the same as actual life, that a fetus is not a human being. This is directly derived from Scripture. Therefore, even during labor, the pregnant woman’s life has precedence over the life of the fetus. And if we have reason to believe a pregnancy will be a serious threat to the woman’s well-being, whether that be mentally, physically or otherwise, then she will be counseled to abort the fetus, and to do so in a way that maximally protects her own health.” 

I could stand here today and source this. But it is important to understand that there is a fundamental difference between how Jews see the beginning of life and how especially Catholics do. Catholics view life as beginning at conception. Jews view it as being halfway out the birth canal. Until then it is a potential life.  

Rabbi Danny then describes the time that he counseled a woman to get an abortion. He reminds us that “Each case is unique, but the principles remain the same. We would never celebrate the termination of potential life, but neither would we regard it as automatically forbidden.” As his doctoral adviser, Rabbi Byron Sherwin, put it, “Judaism is neither pro-life or pro-choice. It depends on the life and it depends on the choice.” 

Thus, when this woman came to him for direction, he told her not that she could have an abortion, but that she must have an abortion, that the God of his understanding would want her to do it. 

And he told everyone, “My action would likely be considered a violation of SB 8, the new Texas law making it illegal to assist someone in pursuing an abortion. Thus, this law is a restriction on the practice of my religion. And it would likewise impose a religious standard upon anyone from any religion who believes abortion is not always the evil our state officials believe it to be.” 

I have faced similar situations. I have sat with women who have had to make painful decisions. When I did my CPE, Clinical Pastoral Education, I worked with a young woman, a Protestant, in a Catholic hospital, who had had a botched abortion. She was an incest survivor at the hands of her step-father. She was bleeding out. It was an ectopic pregnancy and it would not have made it to full term. She wanted to know from me if she was going to Hell. That was a difficult conversation for this rabbi to be and I often wonder what happened to her. Her step-father had checked her out of the hospital the next day, against medical advice. That abortion that the Catholic Hospital performed was medically necessary to save the life of the mother. It would not have been allowed under this new law. I have sat with women who have been raped and impregnated. Some chose to have abortions. Others did not. Those abortions were necessary to save the life of the mother and would not be allowed under the new law. In each of these cases, I have helped people choose life. 

None of these choices are easy. No one wants to have to choose abortion. Sometimes women who have had abortions feel guilty or shame. If you are a woman that made that difficult decision, I hear you, I see you, I stand with you. At this season where we just read that G-d will take us back in love, I add:  G-d sees you; G-d hears you; G-d loves you.  

This is not a new topic for me, sadly. One of the first sermons I did here at CKI covered very similar topic. https://www.theenergizerrabbi.org/2012/08/27/pursuing-justice-and-speaking-up-shabbat-shoftim/  

I am proud to be part of the National Council of Jewish Women’s Rabbis for Reproduction, a group 1000 rabbis strong. So like Danny, I stand with those 1000 other members of the clergy. I will use my voice and stand up and be counted to protect every woman’s right to choose life. Her life. 

God would like us to be joyful,
Even when our hearts lie panting on the floor.
But how much more can we be joyful
When there’s really something to be joyful for?
To life, to life, l’chaim. 

That is the message, this week, of Choose Life.  L’chaim! 

What if the internet goes in and out. Not a complete failure but disruptive. You write up what you were planning on saying. Here is some of last night’s discussion….

With thanks to Temple Beth Sholom in New York and Congregation Kneseth Israel in Elgin, IL, we participated in a late night services to really “open the gates” of the Days of Awe. This ancient service used to take place just before dawn when Jews believed G-d is closest to us. Others would begin the service at midnight. We started at 8:30 East Coast time or 7:30 Central time.  

With the help of The Bayit and the excellent music of Cantor Jerry Korobow and the words of Rabbi Sharon Ballan we began with Havdalah and continued through the high lights of the prayers for the High Holy Days. It is all designed to get us in the mood, to beg G-d for forgiveness and to make us think, to reflect about our lives. For this we use the ancient words that G-d taught Moses, reminding G-d of G-d’s very nature that includes that G-d is merciful and compassionate, slow to anger, full of lovingkindness and truth, and forgiving of iniquity, transgression and sin. 

We used a setting for these 13 Attributes of the Divine from Beged Kefet.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRKs2k3e634   

This setting is part of how I became a rabbi. Growing up in Grand Rapids I was always reminded by others that the Jewish G-d is the G-d of vengeance and the Chrisitan G-d, you know, Father, Son and Holy Ghost is the G-d of Love. What I didn’t understand fully is that G-d is G-d. G-d is One. G-d is loving. Period. And G-d will forgive our sins. Period.  

Yet, we are also taught “For sins between a person and God, Yom Kippur atones, but for sins between a one and another, Yom Kippur does not atone, until he or she makes peace with his fellow.” 

My congregation has a four part vision statement that includes meaningful observance. It is a challenge, because what is meaningful to me might not be to you and visa versa. The real challenge is in making a life of meaning.  

Our discussion last night centered around Ron Wolfson’s book, The Seven Questions You’re Asked in Heaven, Reviewing and Renewing Your Life on Earth. 

Wolfson identifies seven questions that you might be asked in heaven. It fits squarely with the metaphor for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur that G-d is evaluating our lives and writing our names in the Book of Life.  

Here is the list: 

1. Did you tell the truth (in business and elsewhere)? 

2. Did you leave a legacy?
3. Did you set aside time to study?
4. Did you have hope in your heart?
5. Did you get your priorities straight?
6. Did you enjoy this world?
7. Were you the best you could be?

And for each question there are other questions that could be asked or explained. Let’s dive in.: 
1, Did you tell the truth? We talked about telling the truth can be difficult. Can mean in business that you are not a team player but in the end it is better. We talked about “Is it kind? Is it necessary? Is it true?” and whether being able to maintain a filter can help. We talked about Brene Brown’s book, Rising Strong, and her idea that if we assume that everyone is doing the best they can, we can eliminate much grief.  As Wolfson said, “It’s not easy to live with lies.” And in fact, all the way back in our reading for Yom Kippur, the holiness code, we are commanded to have honest weights and measures. As our former CKI president would say, “It is all about balance.” Balance and honest in our work lives and in our personal lives. Honesty is about accountability. Do you count on others? Do others count on you? That’s how we become a blessing. Debbie Friedman’s beautiful misheberach, the prayer for healing of mind, body or spirit, says, “Help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing.” Every one of us counts, just like in the beginning of the book of Numbers, which starts with a census. Honesty, truth, faithfulness are related words in Hebrew with the root, Emet, which is another name for G-d. It represents the first, the middle and the end. They are the key values of a life well lived. Be honest with others. Be truthful with yourself. Be faithful with your G-d. How are you honest.  

2. Did you leave a legacy? Many times we see our legacy, our place in time as our children and grandchildren. However, a legacy could be your children and grandchildren or it could be a poem or other writing or a business. Some people become teachers and their students are their legacy. (That applies to corporate training and mentoring too!) Nobody of their deathbed ever asks to be able to work longer. Most want to spend more time with family. (That gets to priorities, see below.) It is what you leave behind. What values do you want to leave? Here I usually tell the story of Honi. He saw a man planting a carob tree. “Why are you planting something you won’t be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor.” The answer was “Just as my ancestors planted for me, so too shall I plant for my children and grandchildren, my descendants.” It is part of how we live out the message of Girl Scouts, to leave the world a better place. How are you leaving a legacy? How are you teaching others? How are you making the world a better place? 

3. Did you set aside time to study? It teaches in Pirke Avot that we should, in fact, set aside time to study and many of the people on this call are active participants in adult study, whether that is a book group, adult Hebrew, Torah Study, even going to services. But study doesn’t have to just be Jewish. One person talked about teaching juggling to kids who were having a hard time succeeding in school. What great mentoring. Teaching and Learning in Hebrew have the same three letter root. For me and my husband, we try to study with another rabbinic couple every week. Thursdays at 2 will find Rabbi Steve Peskind, his wife Judy, Simon and me drinking coffee, laughing, catching up on our lives and reading a book together. Yet it is hard in our busy lives to keep to the schedule. Someone is late. One of us has a funeral. Someone has had a hard week. Currently, we are studying a book called “The Talmud of Relationships.” We don’t often agree with everything in the book but it is a great discussion starter. Pirke Avot also teaches that without Torah there is no bread (sustenance, income) and without bread there is no Torah. We also say that we turn it again and again. That’s why we read it in a yearly cycle. If we turn it again and again, we will learn everything. “Through the study of Torah, by applying its lessons to our lives, we learn to make a living and to make a life well lived.” The study of Torah leads to it all. See we are back to creating a meaningful life! Often, I have dreamed of learning Spanish or studying voice. Those goals will have to wait for another year. What do you long to study or teach? How do you make learning a priority? 

 4. Did you have hope in your heart? We talked about how hope helps us with fear. We talked about Rebbe Nachman’s song, “All the world is a narrow bridge. The important thing is not not be afraid.” Louis Armstrong sang, “What a wonderful world.” When G-d created the world, G-d saw it was very good. That’s hope. When Anne Frank was hidden, she wrote, “Despite everything, I believe people are really good at heart.” That’s hope. Roosevelt talked about it in his famous speech Obama wrote about it in the Audacity of Hope. “It wasn’t just the struggles of these men and women that moved me. Rather it was their determination, their self-reliance, a relentless optimism in the face of hardship.” But sometimes hope is hard. As Wolfson says quoting a cancer survivor, “We don’t always feel it. Whan you insist that we be hopeful and positive, we feel we have failed when we aren’t. Don’t cut off the possibility that we will share our burden with you and the opportunity to support us through hard times.” How have you fostered hope and optimism? 

5. Did you get your priorities straight? Did you understand one thing from another?  Say what? We’re back to priorities. What is really important to you? How do you find the things that matter to you most? How do we achieve balance? Sometimes I use a Star of David and put the things that matter to me most in the six points. Sometimes I replay the experiment of the rocks in the jar. (Spoiler alert—you will see that one in person or on Zoom soon). What is the most important to you? Ultimately, this is about asking the big questions. Did you ask questions about your life experience that led you to wisdom. Did that analysis lead you to understanding? As Wolfson put it, “Were you able to combine your analytical abilities with your hard-won wisdom from your experience to make good choices.” If you knew you only had one more day to live, what would you do? I’ve thought about this a lot recently. For me, I would still like to travel—that includes back to Israel and Italy and places I haven’t been, Alaska, Hawaii,  Giverny, Savanah. I would like to learn to dance. I would like to be a better wife and mother. And according to the very first piece of Talmud I ever learned, I should repent one day before I die. The rabbis then ask, how do we know when? Then we should repent every day. How perfect as we approach these Days of Awe. Teshuvah is not just for the Yamim Noraim but every day. These are the questions that will help us answer our big question. Did that you lead a life of meaning? 

6. Did you enjoy this world? This is the one that has really captivated me this year. In a year where it has been hard to celebrate, it is important to find ways to still enjoy life. The actual question was “Did you see My Alps.” G-d created the Alps and they are a thing of beauty and an awesome sight. It is OK to enjoy them. It is more than OK to enjoy them. You are supposed to. But like with meaning, what is enjoyable or pleasurable to you may not be to me and visa versa. The rabbis of the Talmud teach we should say 100 blessings a day. What blessings for pleasurable things can you think of. When we were driving through Michigan this summer there was a billboard, “Do what you love.” It was a sign for a job fair. Wolfson summed up this chapter giving us permission. “Enjoy G-d’s creation. All of it that is permitted to you. Each and every minute. Today…and every day.” How have you enjoyed this world. What would you still like to taste, touch, see, smell, hear?

7. Were you the best you could be? This was the question that Reb Zusia asked. When he was dying, he was crying. His students, his legacy, were surprised. “Why are you crying?, they asked. He answered, that when he died, he was not going to be asked, “Why were you not Moses?” Instead, he would be asked why was he not Zusia. This is like the Army commercial. We are asked to be all that we can be. We don’t need to be Moses or Zusia. We need to be the best we can be. We need to be fully, uniquely, ourselves. Figuring out who we are is our life’s work. 

And in the end, we decided that the questions are very interconnected. And related to the Mary Oliver poem, The Summer Day, which asks the question, “What do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.” We only have one life to live. That life is right now, in the present moment.  

Wolfson sums it up beautifully. “Now you have a choice. You can look at your life so far and answer the questions. Or you can look forward and ask yourself, “How can I get to yes.” How can I be more honest? How can I leave a legacy? How can I find time to study? How can I have hope? How can I prioritze? How can I enjoy? How can I be me?” 

Let’s ask these questions. Now while the gates are open.