Vows. Promises. Spoken and unspoken. Promises Made. Promised Kept. Promises broken. Tonight is about the promises we make to ourselves, to our families, to our communities and to our G-d.
Since Rosh Hashanah, we have been talking about covenant. The question that tonight begs is how do we repair a covenant? What happens if the promises in a covenant go awry? And since we are all human in this room, they surely will, since none of us, least of all me, is perfect.
“Since Yom Kippur is kind of like the Super Bowl of the Jewish calendar, most rabbis try to cram a whole year’s worth of sermons into one big, ‘best of’ sermon. I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to talk about the meaning of God, or the situation in Israel, or the status of Jews around the world. I’d like to talk about something a little more personal. A wise man once told me that no rabbi can save anyone; he can only offer himself as a guide to other people. For a while now, you’ve let me be your guide. You’ve shared your lives with me. You’ve explored your faith with me. You’ve put your trust in me, but I haven’t been sharing my life with you.”
I hope I have been your guide. You may recognize those words. My all time favorite Yom Kippur sermon given by Rabbi Ben Stiller in the movie Keeping the Faith. Three inseparable friends from eighth grade get reunited as adults in New York City. A rabbi, a priest and now a high-powered woman business executive. It begins, in a bar, like a joke. But it develops into much more than who gets the girl. It talks about shared vision, shared “ministry”, interfaith dating, the transition of leadership between generations. I show a clip of it to every Bar Mitzvah student starting his lessons—with parent permission. And I dream of when our own choir or Mishmosh can sing Ein Keloheinu like the Harlem Gospel Choir—or maybe Second Baptist.
Yom Kippur is personal. Highly personal. For each of us.
The Moth Radio Hour recently had a story on about a young woman, Tig, and her stepfather after the sudden death of her mother. As a child, she seemed to think he had no real emotion. When she was young and cleaning her room, he would confiscate the toys, put them in a trash bag, and she would have to do chores to buy them back. Harsh, yes, she said, and totally fair. He wanted to mold her into the person he was. But her mother believed the most important thing was for her to be happy. Even dropping out of high school she was still proud. Eventually she found a career in stand up comedy. Her stepfather thought her career was a waste of her time and her intelligence. She should be a doctor, or lawyer, or go to business school. A decade ago she was on the phone with her mother. They were arguing and her mother handed to phone to her stepfather who said her mother doesn’t want to talk to you and hung up.
This March, her phone rang again.
“Parents” came up as the caller ID. She assumed it was her mother calling to wish her a happy birthday. But it was her stepfather, who had only ever called twice, telling her mother had fallen and hit her head and had massive brain hemorrhaging. She would never be able to talk to her mother again. She believes, she knows that her mother would give anything to come back and say that she loves her. There would be zero fighting. There would only be I love yous and I’m sorrys.
After the funeral during the long car ride home, her stepfather said, “Tig I want to talk to you about something. I want to talk to you about when I hurt your feelings when I told you to go to business school. It was hurtful to say that it was a waste of your time and your intelligence and he started to cry.
I was wrong and I wanted to apologize for that. I didn’t ever understand you as a child. I didn’t get you at all. I projected onto you my life and my route. I’m realizing that it is not the child’s responsibility to teach the parent who they are. It’s the parents responsibility to learn who the child is. And I didn’t do that. And I’m sorry.” Now they are both crying. He continued, “I realize, the only thing you should be doing is comedy.” And she said that she didn’t realize that she how desperately she needed to hear that.
https://player.themoth.org/#/?actionType=ADD_AND_PLAY&storyId=911
What do you need to hear this Yom Kippur?
In asking others, this is a partial list: (SLOWLY)
- 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.
How do we hear those words? How many times do we need to hear those words? What do we do when we have caused damage, whether we know it or not, like the stepfather.
Our Torah portion tomorrow gives us a recipe for living. More of the keys to the covenant. We call the text Kedoshim, the Holiness Code. It tells us that we should be holy because G-d is holy. It tells us we should not put a stumbling block before the blind or curse the deaf, that we should not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds, that we should leave our corners of the field, that we should treat everyone fairly, that we should have just weights and measures
Yet, there is one verse that seems out of place.
It tells us that we should “reprove your kinsman” (Leviticus 19:17) but then it goes on to say you shall not hate you kinsfolk in your heart. You shall not incur any guilt because of them. You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge. Love your neighbor as your self.”
How do we do this? How do we do both, not hold a grudge and offer a loving rebuke or reproach? How do we correct someone when we see someone doing something wrong—or maybe even causing harm to themselves or others? How do we love our neighbor, our fellow, our friend?
It’s simple no? Maybe not. Maybe that is why Yom Kippur comes every year. Maybe we need to try again every year.
The answer seems to be with compassion.
How do you give a rebuke? With love.
Rabbi Rachel Cowen, of blessed memory and only very recently, we are still in the shloshim, 30 day mourning period for her, taught in her book Wise Aging:
In Proverbs 28: 23, we are told, “One who rebukes a person shall in the end find more favor than one who flatters with the tongue.” In the Talmud, we hear from two of the sages: “Rabbi Yosi bar Chanina said: ‘Rebuke leads to love… Any love that does not include rebuke is not really love.’ Reish Lakish said: ‘Rebuke leads to peace… any peace that does not include rebuke is not really peace’” (Genesis Rabbah 54: 3). (Kindle Locations 2417-2418-2420).
Rabbi Esther Adler refers to this as “sacred nagging” and sees it as a sign of love. “If I decide that there is no point in raising the issue because I won’t be heard or because ‘she’ll never change anyway,’ I am writing that person off, forgetting that she, too, is created in the image of God.” But the book of Proverbs (9: 8) also advises caution, “Do not rebuke a scoffer, for he will hate you; reprove a wise man and he will love you.” (Kindle Locations 2423-2427).
A tochachah, then, can be read as if it were actually two Hebrew words, toch ahavah, which translates as “inside love” or “from a place of love.” (Kindle Locations 2434-2435). It is a deep love and expansiveness of spirit and a risk taking that can often open you up to new possibilities.
Perfect for this season of Rosh Hashanah, the head of the year, with its double entrendre of a new change, since shanah means both year and change.
This summer there was a delightful documentary, “Won’t you be my neighbor” Mr. Rogers had just the right amount of compassion. He understood some of these basic truths.
He said, “Forgiveness is a strange thing. It can sometimes be easier to forgive our enemies than our friends. It can be hardest of all to forgive people we love. Like all of life’s important coping skills, the ability to forgive and the capacity to let go of resentments most likely take root very early in our lives.
He said in an interview quoting one of his books “One thing that evil cannot stand is forgiveness”. Then he left a page blank , because it takes a lot of work, as he said to think about this. He’s right. There is a lot to think about.
That’s why we are here today. To begin to think about these topics deeply. To begin to understand how to do this whole teshuvah thing with grace and compassion. And in the process find love and peace.
Forgiveness is another one of those signs of the covenant, another key. You might remember on Rosh Hashanah when I talked about pitchers and catchers being in a sacred relationship. So are teams and fans. Sometimes that trust gets broken.
Now it might be risky to use an example from the Cubs in a congregation that is divided between Cubs and Sox…but I was struck by Steve Bartman’s words:
“Although I do not consider myself worthy of such an honor, I am deeply moved and sincerely grateful to receive an official Chicago Cubs 2016 World Series Championship ring. I am fully aware of the historical significance and appreciate the symbolism the ring represents on multiple levels. My family and I will cherish it for generations. Most meaningful is the genuine outreach from the Ricketts family, on behalf of the Cubs organization and fans, signifying to me that I am welcomed back into the Cubs family and have their support going forward. I am relieved and hopeful that the saga of the 2003 foul ball incident surrounding my family and me is finally over…Moreover, I am hopeful this ring gesture will be the start of an important healing and reconciliation process for all involved.”
Welcomed back. He has returned. He has been allowed to return. That’s teshuvah.
For five weeks, some of us have been studying deeply the Book of Jonah which we will read as a community tomorrow afternoon. Jonah, a reluctant prophet, gives us a glimpse of what it means to be offered a second chance. Or a third or a fourth. We will talk more about Jonah tomorrow but for tonight—we know, because of Jonah, that we all get second chances.
This includes our children—and their children. They get second and third and fourth chances too.
Rachel Cowan said that, sometimes, “we will ask ourselves why: If they (the children) are the guarantors, why do we still sometimes feel like we should be the guardians? What ego investment do we have in what remains of our role as parents? Are we reluctant to relinquish our role in their upbringing because whatever comes next for us is so ill-defined? (Kindle Locations 1680-1682).
Just like Tig learned, “If we are wise and humble we will ask ourselves what we can do to support their growth and wellbeing without imposing our own sense of what their futures should look like. We see how easy it is to intervene too much, and on the other side to fail to step in when help is genuinely needed. It may feel like a delicate balance to turn adulthood over to our children, (Kindle Locations 1677-1680).
So how do we ask for forgiveness without it seeming to be disingenuous. Bruce Feiler, who wrote Walking the Bible, the November book group book, wrote an article in the New York Times about forgiveness, that includes four steps:
- Admit vulnerability. Like the tochacha above, you need to notice that something is broken. You have to accept responsibility for your own role in causing others pain.
- The apologize. Really, really apologize. Not a saccharin, sweet kind. Not one that says, “I’m sorry you are upset.” You are not owning responsibility. Not like the coach of Ohio State did recently in a news conference, “My apology is not for turning my back on domestic violence,” Meyer said.
We all know an empty apology when we hear one.
- Try instead simply: I’m sorry because my actions or my words hurt you. Most of us don’t know how to fix relationships that we have broken. That’s what tonight is about. Learning to fix, to repair our relationships.
- Then ask. You really have to ask. Ask for forgiveness. Say the words. Don’t assume everything is better and that they have forgiven you. Then don’t repeat the mistake. When confronted with the same options, don’t do it again.
https://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/27/fashion/how-to-forgive-in-four-steps.html
Sometimes forgiveness isn’t possible. Sometimes we seek or offer forgiveness from people who have died or that through time or distance we are no longer connected to. Sometimes the hurt is too deep.
So there is an important caution. Rabbi Chana Leslie Glazer reminds us that we all know that sometimes it is not so easy to forgive. It could be our own stubbornness or spite. But sometimes it goes deeper. The work of Teshuvah doesn’t mean that we tolerate or overlook unacceptable behavior from someone especially if that is abusive behavior.
Forgiving is not forgetting. Forgiving can only happen once a person is safe. Sometimes that requires not being with the person who has hurt you. Sometimes, it can’t happen immediately. There needs to be trust. And confidence that the behavior won’t happen again. It might mean that this can’t happen on its own, as part of some formula we recite at services. It may require outside help. Talking with a counselor or a therapist.
Story from Yom Kippur Readings from Rachel Naomi Remen, MD who wrote Kitchen Table Wisdom. She tells a story of hearing a prominent rabbi talk on 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? Heads nodded in agreement. 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, created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of God, with the divine spark inside. Naomi added that for her, God’s forgiveness was easy to understand but that personal forgiveness was difficult. If we are supposed to be like God and follow in God’s footsteps, isn’t this the message? It is not a lowering of standards. It is being in a family relationship.
So I will tell you tonight, so that I hope you can hear me:
- You are loved
- You are forgiven
- There is hope
- The world is going to be OK—for us, for our children, for our grandchildren
- Someone is proud of you
- What you did made a difference
- We can reconnect with G-d, with each other, with ourselves
- We can find balance
- You are OK…right now. Just the way you are.
Then when we get to that final shofar blast, we will be ready to face tomorrow cleansed. We will be ready to face the new year free.
The community we build here at CKI needs to be a place, a safe non-judgmental space where all of our members and our guests can feel that way. Then it will be a shanah tovah, a sweet new year. May we each be sealed for a blessing.