Our Torah portions about Abraham and Sarah, Hagar and Ishmael this morning and then Abraham and Isaac tomorrow are amongst the scariest in the Torah. Many a rabbi has asked why are these the portions that we read year after year for Rosh Hashanah? Where is the joy? Where is the hope? Where is the promise?  

I have a new insight this year. Perhaps that’s why we read them year after year. Every year we confront these texts, and we learn something new.  

First, what is the challenge here? Abraham listens to his wife, and seemingly at G-d’s command, he throws Hagar and their son out of the camp with only a skein of water and a loaf of bread. They run out of water.  She’s scared. So scared she cries out, “Don’t let me look on and watch the death of the lad.” Not by name. Some lad. G-d hears the cry of that child, not Hagar, opens Hagar’s eyes and she sees the water that was there all along.  

In tomorrow’s portion, called the Akeda, the binding of Isaac. Again, seeming at the direction of G-d, Abraham is willing to sacrifice his son, his only son, the one he loves, Isaac. But again, an angel stops the action. Abraham opens his eyes and sees the ram instead.  

Abraham and Hagar are far from perfect parents. Yet, Hagar and Abraham both open their eyes, and they find another way.  

These days we talk a lot about trauma informed care and ACEs. Adverse Childhood Experiences. Isaac and Ishmael both experienced trauma. Both lived with the aftereffects of adverse childhood experiences. 

Yet, both cases are about finding another way. The message is simple. Don’t sacrifice your kids.  Again and again we need to find another way. Don’t give up.  

After these traumas, Abraham lost contact with both of his children. Isaac and Ishmael didn’t come back together until they buried their father. While it was too late for Abraham, the story gives me hope that we can come back together.  

Parenting can be difficult. Being a child can be difficult. Internet, electronics, social media, school shootings, work-life balance, extra curriculars, ACE,  

And yet, that little powerful word, yet.  It can be the joyful. Rewarding. Worthwhile. Meaningful. Hannah longed for a child. Cried for a child. Prayed for a child. Promised she would dedicate a child to G-d. Eventually she was rewarded for her earnestness and Samual arrived.  

Every week we sing about L’dor v’dor. From generation to generation. But in many generations the young ones seem to reject what the older people have done. Maybe, but maybe not. 

Yet we want them to learn something from us, some sense of connectedness, some sense of community, of values. 

We recently ran four workshops on Death and Dyning in the Jewish community. As part of the last session we talked about ethical wills. Those things we want to hand down to our children and grandchildren. As practice we wrote group ethical will for our own descendants. 

We hope. We encourage you to: 

•  Cherish your family and learn about the family you come from Work to keep your family together 
• Learn your family’s special recipe for things like Challah or chopped liver 
• Be courageous 
• Do your best 
• Treat others as you would like to be treated 
• Above all, be kind 

It’s like the song Forever Young:
May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you

May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
And may you stay forever young

Chorus:
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the light surrounding you

May you always be courageous
Stand up right and be as strong
And may you stay forever young

(Chorus X2)
May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift

May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
And may you stay forever young

(Chorus X2)
May you grow up righteous and true
See the light surrounding you
May you grow up righteous and true
See the light surrounding you
 

As educators and rabbis what we hope what we are doing is creating lifelong Jewish memories. This past Sunday was no exception. Much of Judaism is very concrete. We use all our senses. We heard the sound of the shofar. We baked cinnamon challah and tasted pomegranate seeds. The building smelled divine.  And we wrote: 

 At Yom Kippur we chant an alef bet list of sins. This year, our students wrote an alef bet list of blessings that we hope for, that we wish for in our new year 5785. You will hear it later. These are the kinds of things that connect us, one generation to the next. 

 When the Israelites were standing at Sinai, we learn two midrashim. The first, before G-d gives us, we all stood at Sinai, the 10 Commandments, we are told that “our children are our guarantors.” The second that G-d created a voice just for young children. 

I tell this next story from the Talmud, usually at Tu B’shevat, the New Year of the Trees, but it is appropriate here on this Rosh Hashanah: 

One day, Honi the Circle Drawer was walking along the road when he saw a man planting a carob tree. Ḥoni said to him: This tree, after how many years will it bear fruit? The man said to him: It will not produce fruit until seventy years have passed. Ḥoni said to him: Wow, and you will live seventy years? You will wait that long to eat from this tree? The man said to him, just as my ancestors planted trees for me, I too am planting trees for my descendants. 

In Rachel Cowan’s Wise Aging, dedicated to the possibility of living the years ahead with joy, resilience and spirit, we learn that “becoming a grandparent means seeing one’s own children step into their positions as custodians of the future. But there is a cautionary note. “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.” 

This applies not just to our role as parents and grandparents, but also our role as synagogue leadership. 

We need to listen to our children, and their parents. They too are wise. Incredibly wise. When I asked people what they wanted to hear this Rosh Hashanah, the question came up 

“In a changing world of less synagogues and traditional communities, how can we make meaningful and unique experiences and traditions for the next generations?” 

It’s a good question. Look, we are still here. For thousands of years. We have outlived the Greeks, the Romans, the Assyrians and then some. For my father, it was less about the ritual ins and out, though for some, including me, those provide meaning, structure, stability. For my father it was about the ethics of Judaism, our commitment to education, and our very survival. 

That’s what we do at CKI, make meaningful, unique experiences.  

And yet…In every generation we sing a new song. The Psalms tell us so. Sing a new song to the Lord. We sing on Shabbat, “Or chadash. Cause a new light to shine.”  

It’s OK. That’s expected. That’s better than OK—it’s good. Every generation needs new experiences that represent them. New experiences. Nee music. New understandings. 

 We can’t do it for them or to them. We need to listen to them and find a way to provide the seeds. We need to help them find a way that this meaningful to them.  

Rabbi Harold Kushner in his book, How Good Do We Have to Be? Has a whole chapter on the love of Fathers and Sons, Mothers and Daughters. He begin the chapter saying that like many of us he was taught on Yom Kippur we have to atone for those things we had done to hurt other people before we could atone for our offenses against G-d. And that G-d would forgive us only when we had forgiven those who had hurt and disappointed us. That is exactly what it says in the Talmud. But as he grew older he learned that while the first half may be correct the second half may have it wrong. The whole chapter is worth reading. The whole book really. But his conclusion, “I don’t find it necessary to forgive my parents for the mistakes they made. It is no sin to be human. They were amateurs in a demanding game where even the experts can’t always get it right. Beyond forgiveness I love and admire them for all the good things they did, and I hope I have shown that love and admiration in the way they would have wanted me to, by passing on many of the those good qualities to my own daughter, eho I pray will find herself included to understand and to admire me.  

The conclusion of his entire book is that there is enough love to go around. Parents to children, children to parents, siblings, spouses. Those are those deep connections.  

The prophet Malachai, the last book of a prophet promises, yes, still promises,  

“Lo, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before the coming of the awesome, fearful day of GOD.  He shall reconcile parents with children and children with their parents, so that, when I come, I do not strike the whole land with utter destruction.” 

This gives me hope. The hearts of the children will be reconciled to their parents and the hearts of the parents will be reconciled with their children.” We can find another way. This is how we connect parents to children and children to parents. That’s what Rosh Hashanah is about. Easy? Maybe not. But doable. That gives me hope. 

From Wishes, Dreams, Blessings from our Youth:
We hope for:

Apples
The Best Year ever with balls and bananas
Courage and cookies and cats and dogs
Everything, especially exploring the environment
Fun, friends and frogs
Goodness in a good year
Hope, homes and Hebrew
Israel
Joy and Kindness
Love, light and life
Miracles and magic
Nicenes
Openness
Peace and 
Quiet
Rest and rainbows
Self respect and strength
Time
Understanding
Valor and values
Water
Xrays
Youthfulness and years
Zeal and Zen