5 months to 50 Musings

Just random thoughts on this day that marks 5 months until I turn 50 that I feel compelled to share. 

The other day during a conversation with my dad, he mentioned my upcoming 50th.  He remarked that my upcoming birthday is what is now making him feel old.  He wondered out loud, "How is it that I am old enough to have a child turning 50?"   I completely get his question, as I've found myself asking a very similar one, each year my children age.   In 5 months, shortly after turning 50, all of my children will be legal adults.   How am I old enough to have three legal adults? 

My mom often reminds me that our age is just a number.   Yes, and.... how strange to reach a number that you once thought was "old" and you don't think yourself  "old!"     Although, I think I've felt that at other decade birthdays.  I think 30 was the biggest feeling.  Somehow I remember thinking that 30 was old, that I had expected that I would have accomplished so much more by that age (I had accomplished quite a bit - married, two kids, a congregational rabbi, but somehow thought there was more I needed to do by then.).  Of course, I think some part of me feels the same turning 50 - it feels old and I'm thinking about what I've accomplished or what is my legacy (am I too young to think about that?)

Finally, what a strange experience tonight to watch the PBS July 4th special and feel that the music of the 80's can now be classified as "old."  Belinda Carlisle and Boyz 2 Men were featured.   How very strange it was to watch the musical acts of my childhood, those musicians who were a decade + older than me, now perform their music from "back in the day."   I mean, how crazy that the 80s seem old?  Does this mean in another 10 years, Brittany Spears' music will be "classic?"   Oy, scary!!  Interestingly, Alfonso Ribeira was hosting and he was introduced for his time on Dancing with the Stars.  I've never seen Dancing with the Stars and found it funny that for a show featuring 80's music, it wasn't mentioned that he was from Fresh Prince of Bel Air.  Oh well, perhaps too many would have thought of the reboot and not the original where he played Carlton.

The seasons they go round and round. . . .

The task is too heavy, you can’t do it alone.

This is the message I delivered to a joint worship service of North Park United Methodist Congregation, Ecclesia of Christ Church, and United Hebrew Congregation, Sunday, January 16, 2022.

Good morning to all of you. It is awesome to be with you and to see so many faces.  

As we gather let me first say to you that I have fretted over my words today. I said to Pastor Freeman, “who am I to speak at such a gathering, to offer words of hope and celebration. And he said, why not you?”   Know that I am humbled and honored to share a message for today.

 

Yesterday, we celebrated what would have been Dr. King’s 93rd birthday and the Jewish community celebrated and observed Shabbat, a day when we gather in our synagogues for prayer. Our Torah reading was from the book of Exodus, in particular, Parashat Beshalach which contains the jubilant crossing of the red sea, followed by the strike of Amalek against the Israelites walking in the desert.  Yesterday, in the midst of our celebration of Shabbat, a modern-day Amalek arose in the form of a man who decided to walk into a synagogue and take hostage the rabbi and the few that were there praying and running their Livestream. Once word got out, much of the Jewish community spent Shabbat in fear, watching the news, praying, hoping, and waiting to hear what would be of the hostages in the synagogue. After 10 long hours, the crisis came to an end and the hostages walked out of their synagogue.  For us, in the Jewish community, when we heard they were ok, it was like you could feel and hear the collective sigh of relief. 

 

I share this with you because yesterday what I heard from the Jewish community, from members of my congregation was, “not again. When will this stop? When will we be able to feel safe in our synagogue buildings?”  We were afraid, we felt alone and of course, we were sick with worry, hoping and praying for a peaceful ending to that event. And yet I know that we aren’t alone because others know this same fear, we need only remember the victims of Mother Emanuel, the Wisconsin Sikh Temple, and the Christchurch Mosque.     

 

Dr. King taught "We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

 

Powerful words that I believe sit at the heart of Dr. King’s work toward making his dream a reality - We are linked to each other and tied together in a single garment of destiny because we, we are all human beings created in God’s image.

 

Yes, I don’t know what it means to be Christian, to be an African American woman or man but I do know what it means, what it feels like to be othered, to be held to a different standard, to feel scared, to feel alone, and to feel that someone doesn’t see my humanity.   And no one, no one should have to feel any of those things. And even when I don’t exactly know your experience and you don’t know mine, because we are human beings created in God’s image, we should be able to hold each other up, walk side by side and work together to ensure that our humanity is seen, to ensure that each of us never has to feel othered, held to different standards, feel scared, or feel alone.

Dr. King's dream and work toward justice and equality wasn't about politics, bills that need to be passed, and people thinking the same way, yes, laws and bills are needed to ensure and uphold people’s rights, but the only way to get to justice and equality is for people to see each other as human beings.  For people to look at another in the eyes and see each other’s humanity, to see each other’s holiness, and to recognize that ultimately, we are the same because we are all created in God’s image. 

 

Last night when the sunset and Shabbat came to an end. We didn’t yet know the outcome of the hostages in the synagogue in Texas, and still, we sat, filled with hope and of course with prayer.   And as I thought about this upcoming week, along with all the things I was feeling, words from this new week’s Torah portion came to mind. Words that I think Dr. King would have spoken. Moses' father-in-law, Jethro, said to Moses, “The task is too heavy, you can’t do it alone. Let them share the burden with you.”  

 

Justice, peace, equality, throwing off the bonds of racism, of antisemitism, of the many ills and hatreds that affect our county and our world, the work to do that, can't be done by one person alone.   It has to be a collective.  We have to work for each other and with each other.

 

If you heard the Friday evening conversation between myself, Pastor Freeman, and Pastor Bouie-Sledge then you heard Pastor Freeman share the metaphor of my little car. Each person in the car has a different perspective and that perspective can change, certainly, as you talk while riding in the car together, and even more so when you change your seat.   Each person shares a truth that they see, and someone else in the car at the same time, might miss seeing or experiencing that same thing, but it still happened, it still exists. To take that metaphor further, living in the world together is like being in a really, really large car. Your experience is yours, it is your truth, as is my experience and my truth. Neither of us is wrong. What we have to figure out, what we have to work together to do, is to sit with one another, to listen to one another, and to figure out how we raise each other up. How we, together, work to create a world, where each of us knows justice, equality, and true freedom.

 

As Dr. King further taught, “Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be.”

 

We have to help each other be what we ought to be, equal, free, just, holy human beings - and this task is heavy, you can’t do it alone, and I can’t do it alone.  We have to share the burden and we must continue to make Dr. King’s dream a reality, such that one day soon children will not be judged by the color of their skin or by their religion but by the content of their character, a dream when children of all races and religions will be able to join hands with one another as sisters and brothers, and a dream when one day - NO ONE will fear entering their sacred house of worship to study or to pray.

 

Keyn Yehi Ratzon - May it be so!

Jewish Pride and Peoplehood - Kol Nidrei 5782

I begin with a blessing, with gratitude!

Baruch atah Adonai she’asani Yisrael.   Thank you, God, for making me a Jew.  And if I want to be literal – thank you God for making me Yisrael – one who struggles with God.

This blessing is part of our morning prayer service in the section, nisim b’chol yom, daily miracles. 

Some may ask, why would I thank God for making me a Jew?   

Why not?  Why not feel gratitude for something that is part of who you are, part of your identity?

And yet, I worry that today being grateful to be Jewish is hard for so many American Jews.   

Lightning may strike or I might even be put in cherem, excommunicated, by the Reform movement, but I want to say tonight that I think we’ve missed the mark in our attempt to create a vibrant American Judaism.  

The early Reformers attempted to create a Judaism focused on our belief in God and the ethical texts of our tradition, moving us toward a more universalistic understanding of Judaism and seeing Jewish values as being synonymous with what Americans like to call Judeo-Christian values.   For example, no longer did we speak of a Messiah, instead it is a Messianic age, brought about by our ethical actions, not our ritual ones.  And, with this re-imagining of Judaism, we redefined ourselves as a religion, and no longer saw ourselves as part of a people, thereby putting distance between ourselves and our fellow Jews who understand Judaism in a different way.  We separated ourselves from the idea of a Jewish homeland, removing it from our prayers, because we didn’t need it.  America was our safe haven, and yet, we didn’t think about our fellow Jews in other parts of the world, who might one day need Israel. Thankfully many congregations and communities, much like United Hebrew, continued to understand the need for a national Jewish homeland in eretz Yisrael.  

Early on, instead of re-imagining and giving life and new meaning to “old”  practices that felt archaic in an “enlightened” modern world, we got rid of them, instead speaking of choice through knowledge and personal autonomy, which in later generations has sadly equated with Judaism lite.    

With each generation, as our movement focuses more on a Torah of ethics and justice, as opposed to a Torah of mitzvot and middot, Jewish rituals and values, it feels as if we have less and less of a shared, meaningful Jewish connection with which to hold on and pass to the next generation.  

This past Spring, I watched so many of you – young and not so young – struggle with the military conflict in Israel and Gaza.  We all struggle when there is conflict in the world, and especially Israel, but this, this was different.   The struggle for so many American Jews was not only our own conflicting feelings about what was happening but the anti-Semitism cloaked as anti-Zionism that reared its ugly head.  For many young Reform Jews,especially,  besides not knowing how to respond, they were called out as Jews, they were “othered,” because once again Judaism became synonymous with Israel.  

For those of you on tiktok and Instagram, how often did you see negative comments on a post about something Jewish that had nothing to do with Israel?   

For the first time many millennials and Generation Z, were told that if you want to be in a particular space, you can’t support Israel, you can’t be a Zionist, you cannot show up in this space as a Jew.  It hurts.   It hurts even worse when we feel that our only two options are to let go of our Jewish identity and focus on what it means to be part of humanity or to turn inward, thinking that we’re only safe inside of our own Jewish community.  

Many might classify Israel as a political issue one not just affecting Jews, which is absolutely true, so let’s think about Judaism closer to home.  Over the past 18 months, I’ve had conversations with so many of you asking about Judaism.  Struggling with what it means to you.   

Without access to the synagogue building many of us felt lost, unsure of how to do Jewish, as for too long we’ve assumed that being Jewish meant being here, 

our tushes in seats, sitting through services, whether we found them meaningful or not.  Somewhere along the way, what we heard is that Judaism and doing Jewish takes place in the synagogue building.  It is THE place where we pray, where we learn, where we get our Judaism.   

COVID disrupted that – Thank you, God!!   

Let me be clear, the synagogue is a very important part of the Jewish community, but it isn’t meant to be the only space in which we do Jewish.   The synagogue is meant to be a resource, an extension of your Jewish home, the center where you come to be in community and gather the tools that you need to live a rich Jewish life.  Judaism is meant to be lived every day, and yet, we’ve relegated it to religious moments – like weddings, b’nai mitzvah, brises, and baby namings, and even funerals and stone dedications.   While so many of these moments are meaningful and incredibly special, they don’t sustain us, they don’t nourish us, they don’t truly give us the tools to navigate life in meaningful, Jewish ways.  And, when we don’t value Jewish education and think it not relevant and boring, then we truly limit ourselves because we don’t know or understand our history, the why’s, the how’s, and so on. 

You may be thinking, Rabbi, I’m not religious, I don’t believe in God, I don’t really buy into religion and spirituality, I’m just “Jew” ish.  I hear you.   And my answer to you is that Judaism is so much more.  

If we think of Judaism as only a religion, then what does that mean for Jews who don’t believe in God?  What does that mean for Jews who don’t connect with or find meaning in prayer? 

Does that make you not Jewish?   

If so,  then it should be easy for us to shed being “Jewish” or being seen as Jewish by the rest of the world, and yet, that has never happened.   Think about it, in every generation, Jews have converted to other faiths by force or by choice, and yet, time and again, they were still seen as Jews.  We only need look at Nazy Germany in the late 30’s for an example of this.  Anti-Semitism doesn’t care if you beleive in God or Not and countless Germans learned this when they were taken to the camps for having a Jewish grandparent.   

The reality is that we Jews are not merely a group who just share the same religion, we’re a PEOPLE – we’re a nation – we have a land, a shared language, our own calendar - we are B’nai Yisrael – the children of Israel, a people connected not only by our faith, but by a shared history and shared experience.   

I believe it is our sense of peoplehood that we’ve lost in our desire to become more American.  We can absolutely be both American and Jewish, but somewhere along the way we gave more credence to being American, to being part of the universal, and let go of those aspects of Judaism, like daily rituals and practices, that were particular and set us apart.  

How many of you grew up in kosher homes?  For how many of you are your memories of holidays not of sitting in services at the synagogue but gathering with family and friends, eating specific foods, singing songs or prayers and hearing chatter in Yiddish or Ladino?  

I recently read the book, Jewish Pride: Rebuilding a People, by Ben Freeman.  I highly recommend it.   It was the book I needed, as I worked through the past year, the past six months of watching and feeling the struggle with what it means to be Jewish in 2021 in America.   Mr. Freeman’s premise is that for too long, for too many generations, we’ve allowed and accepted other people’s definitions of Judaism, of anti-Semitism, and it’s time for us to define ourselves, to be proud of who we are, proud of our history, proud of our traditions, not be afraid to “own” who we are as Jews, and not to feel that we must hide our Judaism or set it aside to be accepted into society at large.   And yet, to do this, we must first connect with our Judaism, know and understand our history on our own terms and not on others.

There is a story told of a young Jew, in his mid-twenties, who was raised in a Jewish family, but with little Jewish observance or Jewish learning.  He was an intellectual, but he didn’t connect with Judaism, and he found it a religion not in touch with the modern world around him.  He didn’t want to be connected to something old and meaningless.  Rather, he wanted to be part of the world around him, to feel like he belonged and was contributing to society.  

He gravitated to the religious understandings of the majority, feeling that it offered him a path toward greater acceptance, as well as the possibility of spiritual connection with a higher power.   

This young man decided to convert to Christianity, as many young Jews of his time were doing.  However, he felt the need to say farewell to the religion of his ancestors by taking in one last worship service.  He found himself in a traditional synagogue on Kol Nidrei, surrounded by Jews young and old, wrapped in their white kittles, praying and singing, pouring out their hearts and souls to the Almighty.  Something happened that evening, the young man had an experience, an awakening he felt deep in his soul, something for which he could never explain but it was a moment that connected him to Judaism.  That evening the young Jew didn’t convert to Christianity, instead, he chose Judaism.  He recognized in that moment that he needed to learn more, more about Judaism and his history, and in so doing he found a relevant, meaningful faith tradition that he assumed didn’t exist because it was never taught to him. 

 

This is a true story.  108 years ago in Berlin, Franz Rosenzweig, a young Jew whose Jewish experience was like so many of ours today, thought he was walking into a synagogue for the last time.  And yet, how amazing that during this holy season of return, that is exactly what he did.  He never explained what happened, what “clicked” for him, however, he shared with a friend the following insight:   “I descended to the vaults of my being, to a place whither my talents could not follow me; that I approached the ancient treasure chest whose existence I had never wholly forgotten, for I was in the habit of going down at certain times of the year to examine what lay uppermost in that chest: those moments had all along been the supreme moments of my life. But now the cursory inspection no longer satisfied me; my hands dug in and turned over layer after layer, hoping to reach the bottom of the chest.  They never did. They dug out whatever they could, and I went away with armfuls of stuff—forgetting, in my excitement, that it was the vaults of myself that I was thus plundering! Then I climbed back again to the upper stories and spread out before me what treasures I had found: they did not fade in the light of day. These, indeed, were my own treasures, my most personal possessions, things inherited, not borrowed!” 

 

What I read in Rosenzweig’s words, is that he found in that moment, that he could define for himself and bring his own meaning to Judaism and Jewish living in a way that he had never understood.  He assumed that Judaism was a stagnant, unchanging religion that he had been handed, never recognizing that Judaism was something he had to find meaning in for himself by digging in and experiencing rather than just accepting what was given to him.   After that Yom Kippur experience, Rosenzweig went on to become one of the greatest Jewish thinkers of the 20th century.

 

 “Ein HaTorah overet k’yerusha. Kol dor tzarikh lilmod otah mechadash,” the ancient rabbis warn us, “The Torah is not inherited as an heirloom. Every generation needs to learn it anew from scratch!”  

 

Or as Rabbi Donniel Hartman teaches, “Our responsibility is to protect and ensure the survival of the Jewish people, but our mission is to create a people guided by a tradition which challenges us to live lives of meaning and value and which can be a light both to ourselves and others.”

 

Judaism is meant to be lived and experienced not just received, like a package, and then passed on to the next generation like an heirloom.  We are the ones who give meaning to Torah, we are the ones who transform Torah when we connect wherever we are in life back to it.   This is what it means to be Jewish, to find ways to connect the universal world to Judaism, to recognize that Judaism is our lens, our language through which we walk in this world and share ourselves.    When we take pride in that, when we learn and live Torah - the laws, the lessons, the history of our people, the history and experiences of our individual families, and of course our own personal struggles with God, this is when each successive generation will know that they too must live it, take pride in it, and care for it, because they witnessed us, their parents and grandparents, doing the same.   

 

As we enter this New Year, this choice is ours.  My hope is that like Franz Rosenzweig we’ll choose Judaism and choose to re-engage with Torah and with our history so that our understanding of our past can help inform our future.

Choosing Judaism is recognizing that there isn’t one way to do Jewish and that one size doesn’t fit all. Choosing Judaism means turning to your clergy and seeing your synagogue as your personal Jewish  “Home Depot or Lowes” the place where you can find the tools you need, to do Jewish as Rabbi Bellows alluded to on Rosh Hashanah.  This can be through the various educational classes we offer, join me this year for an exploration of the 613 mitzvot - what they mean and who is obligated, it can be through experiences like our challah bakes, our tzedek days, Israel programs, Artists and Scholars in residence, our upcoming Build Your Jewish Toolbox series, and if there is something that we’re not offering or doing, that you’ve always wanted to learn, to know more about, or experience – call me, tell me about it, and together let’s make it happen.  My guess is that if you’re curious, someone else is too, and together we can learn our tradition anew, just as the rabbis suggested.  

Ask us questions – we’re Jews – we love questions and the only stupid question is the one not asked. Lean on us, let’s work together to rekindle our collective pride in being Jews, pride in being part of an ancient people who have not only survived millennia of persecution, but who time and again have triumphed and thrived because of faith, hope, and the knowledge that we are a part of something greater than our individual selves, we’re a resilient people – B’nai Yisrael – ones who struggle and Yehudim - ones who are grateful! 

As we enter this New Year, I share with you a blessing adapted from a prayer written by Ellie Fish on the occasion of his visit to the grave of our teacher, Franz Rosenzweig.  

 

May it be Your will, Adonai our God, and God of our ancestors, that we find success in this new endeavor. Help us find the path, and help us help others find the path, from Torah to life, and from life to Torah; to find eternity within the details, and the details of the Eternal. Unite us all in the pursuit of Jewish learning, so that we may embrace the whole of Judaism.  Permit us to return to You by returning to the treasures we have inherited from our ancestors and help us appreciate that others may embark on similar journeys and discover very different treasures. In the merit of our teacher, Franz Rosenzweig, grant us the courage to face life’s challenges with humor, dignity, and common sense, and to heed, study, teach, observe, perform, and uphold Your Torah with love.  

And in so doing, may it be that we rise each day and proclaim, Baruch atah Adonai she’asani Yisrael.   Thank you, God, for making me a Jew.    Amen. 

Blessings, Gratitude, Gam Zu L’Tovah

Picture in your mind a person, clothed in flowing white garments, standing on top of a tall hill.  What stands out to you is how majestic that person looks as they begin to sound the shofar.  While you see the person - you not only hear the sound but feel it, as it reverberates from every direction.   You feel the sound deep in your soul, calling to you, nudging you - it’s time, something is happening, get moving. 

This is how I imagine our ancestors felt thousands of years ago when the Temple was standing, on Rosh Hashanah morning.  They didn’t have calendars like we do today and instead the cycle of months was indicated by the moon and community fires lit on hill tops and New years truly began with the call of the shofar.   This morning, like our ancient ancestors, we hear the call of the shofar, and not only will it announce and awaken us to a New Year, this year, it also announces a Shmita year.  A shmita year is a once in every seven years phenomenon, mentioned in the Torah.    In Exodus 23 we learn that every seventh year the land is granted a Shabbat, a rest. The land may not be worked, and the produce of the land may not be bought or sold. Simply, the land is left alone and people may pick what grows naturally in the fields and orchards as they need. 

The idea is that just as we need Shabbat, so too does the earth need a rest.   Beyond allowing the land to rest there are numerous rules surrounding the shmita year which focus on feeding the poor and forgiving debt.  It is a complicated system of rules that have puzzled the rabbis for millennia, and until 1948 was relegated to something Jews studied and puzzled over as opposed to doing.  Why?  Simply, the laws of Shmita only apply to the Land of Israel.   With the establishment of the State of Israel, the chief rabbis and modern scholars continue to figure out how to follow Shmita in today’s world.  In Israeli media over the past few months there have been the following headlines, 

from the Jerusalem Post - “Jordan, Israel sign agriculture agreement for shmita year”, the Times of Israel “As Israel’s biblical farming sabbatical nears, medical cannabis is budding issue”, and my favorite from Israel HaYom, “Shmita politics, here we go again”  as you can see Shmita is a big deal in Israel.  

So, why am I telling you about Shmita when it applies only to the Land of Israel? Because it’s mentioned in the Torah and as Jews we should know about it, even if we aren’t affected by it.  And, I believe that there is something that we, non-farmers, living in St. Louis, can learn from the lessons of the Shmita year. 

 

You’ve likely heard the term Sabbatical. This comes directly from Shmita. A sabbatical is when on a seven year cycle, one takes a pause and steps away from their work to do something different.  Can you imagine having the opportunity to hit the pause button for a year? You probably can given the past 18 months, but that was a forced pause and not one for which we had prepared ourselves,often feeling more like a roller coaster than a pause.  But imagine what life would be like if every seven years, we were able to truly take a pause, take a step back from the daily grind of living and look at our lives, see what’s working and not working, make change where needed and most importantly find the good and give thanks?  This is the essence of Shmita - an opportunity to pause and rest, reimagine, and renew.  

Lately, I’ve been wondering why it is that we human beings so often seem to focus on the negative instead of the positive?  What do I mean by this? So often, we focus on what we can’t do, what we don’t have, what we don’t like, and so on. .  . instead of recognizing the blessing of the moment we’re in and what we do have.  

The past 18 months have been hard, and together we’ve been strong.  In 5781 we focused on strength and courage, two attributes, middot, that we needed to remind ourselves of just how resilient we are and to help us move through this pandemic.  This year, we introduce a new attribute a new theme upon which we can focus and enhance our lives, the middah of Hakarat haTov.  So often it is translated as Gratitude, but it is so much more, it is really about our attitude toward the world around us.  Hakarat HaTov is literally translated as finding the good.  And that is our challenge for this Shmita year, to find the good in every moment.  

Our tradition teaches that we are to say 100 blessings a day.  That is 100 moments of gratitude, as a blessing is a moment of thanks for what is happening.  You may be thinking, 100 blessings, I can’t even imagine 100 blessings in a day?!  And yet, you’ve probably already experienced close to a quarter of those blessings this morning.

 

Think about it -

 

You woke up this morning - a blessing

You washed your hands, your face - a moment of blessing

You went to the bathroom - yes, that too, is a moment of blessing

You drank coffee and/or ate breakfast - blessing

Perhaps you put on something new this morning- a blessing

You’re sitting here in the sanctuary or sitting in our extended sanctuary, your home, because of technology - both blessings

 

You do a lot of these things every single day, but that does not diminish that they are blessings.  The core of Jewish teaching is being thankful for everything around us.   If you think back to how we started the service this morning, Rick sang words from the blessing, Asher Yatzar,  “I thank you for my life body and soul,” this is a prayer that is said every morning and in fact, it is the traditional prayer said every time one uses the bathroom - because why not recognize the fact that our body is working, doing what it is supposed to do - that is, in and of itself, a blessing!   The essence of hakarot hatov isn't just to express thankfulness to those around you and for the things you have in your life, it is to truly feel gratitude deeply, in your heart and soul, and this takes practice. 

 

Gam zu l'tova - this too is for good 

 

This is a phrase that I have known and loved and was reawakened to it this past year when Joseph was applying to college, and it became a phrase I used as he and we navigated a very different senior year of highschool. One of Joe’s college essays asked him to write about a person, a figure from whom he has learned.   He chose to write about Rabbi Akiva, one of the greatest Torah scholars (thank you to Joseph’s year in Israel studies).  He focused on the following Talmudic story.  

 

Rabbi Akiva was traveling far from home with a donkey, a rooster, and a candle. When night came he tried to find lodging in a nearby village, only to be turned away. Rabbi Akiva was forced to spend the night in the field, but he did not lament his fate. Instead he made his habitual remark: "Everything God does is for the best.”  Suddenly a strong wind came and blew out his candle, a cat ate his rooster, and a lion came and ate his donkey – Yes, the Talmud likes hyperbole -- but again, Rabbi Akiva's reaction was "Everything God does is for the best.”

Later that night a military regiment came and took the entire town captive, but Rabbi Akiva, who was sleeping in the field, with no bright light, no noisy rooster or donkey to attract attention, went unnoticed and was spared. When Rabbi Akiva realized what had happened he said – you guessed it: "Everything God does is for the best.”

Interestingly enough, Rabbi Akiva isn’t the one who coined the phrase Gam Zu L’Tovah rather it was his teacher, Nachum ish Gamzu.   It is said, that like Akiva, Nachum Ish Gamzu endured numerous trials and no matter what was happening he always said, “gam zu-l’tovah; this, too, is for the good.”

 

In case you’re thinking, wow, that’s the same as “everything happens for a reason,” let me suggest that it isn’t.  While I do believe that things can be beshert or “meant to be,” I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason.  I don’t believe that people get sick for a reason or people die for a reason and so on.  What I do believe our sages want us to learn from Gam Zu L’Tova is to reframe the situation in a positive way, not so that we’ll do nothing and just accept what is, but to give us even a glimmer of hope, which compels us to keep moving forward.  

 

I’m not so naive to believe that every time we experience anxiety, loss, distress, grief, you name it, that we’ll immediately say, “this too is for good”; but being positive and having an attitude of gratitude is something we can work on.  

 

Our Sages teach in the Mishnah (Ber. 33b), “One is duty-bound to praise God for the bad days as well as for the good.” 

 

A student, puzzled by this teaching, once asked of his rabbi: “How can we praise God for the bad days in our life?” 

 

“You raise an important question,” replied the rabbi. “I advise you to go to the town of Anapole and find Reb Zusia, a man who has suffered much in his life and he will give you the correct answer to your question.” 

 

The student went to Anapole and asked for Reb Zusia. He was told that on the outskirts of town, there lived a poor man by that name. He went to the place and found Reb Zusia living with his wife in one room. Their clothing was shabby, their furniture broken, and the only food on the table was some stale bread and some apples. Nevertheless, Reb Zusia welcomed his guest and invited him to have supper with him and his wife. “No, thank you,” said the visitor. “My teacher sent me to you because he said you could explain to me the meaning of the rabbis’ teaching, that we must thank God for our bad days as well as for the good.” Reb Zusia seemed surprised. ``l don’t understand why your teacher sent you to me for that purpose, because I never had a bad day in my life. I am grateful to God for every day I live, no matter what it brings. Every day offers me a new opportunity to celebrate life and give thanks to God.” 

 

Similarly, there is a story of a rabbi who was overwhelmed by the number of people coming to talk to her about their worries. So she invited them all to come together so they could discuss their worries in a group session. When the time for the meeting arrived, the rabbi announced that she had an emergency to attend to and perhaps they could begin to discuss their worries among themselves until she returned. Coming back an hour later, she found an empty room and a note: “After listening to each others’ worries, we all decided that our worries weren’t so difficult to bear. Have a nice day.” Often, talking about our troubles with others gives us perspective and reduces our worrying.

 

Life is not easy, and it feels even more so in our current circumstance of a pandemic. Every one of us here has issues and problems. We look around and we envy others - thinking to ourselves, they have the perfect life, perfect family, perfect job, perfect children, excellent health, but if we really stop and look closely we see that it isn’t so. Perspective - It is a matter of perspective -do I focus on the negative or do I focus on my blessings - do I look at and rejoice in the good, the wonderful of my life?  

 

Everything doesn’t always go as planned or as we hope. More often than not, when things do go well, we don’t realize it, we expect it.  Before March 2020, we took “normalcy” for granted. Think about it, how often did we really stop and recognize what was happening to us - good or bad - before our “normal” lives came to a halting stop?   When things are going well, we expect them to, so we don’t stop to recognize the good - “hallelujah the school bus came on time and we were able to get in a snack and make all of our afternoon appointments,” “I feel blessed that I ate lunch sitting down instead of on the run, or forgetting to eat because it was so busy,” “Thank you, God, I got through that painful night of excessive homework and got an A on that assignment (ok, maybe our teens aren’t quite thanking God for getting through homework),”  but it seems that it  is only when the natural order breaks, that we are aware and instead of finding the good, we likely get frustrated, sad, mad, angry.  But what if we were for a moment to celebrate those breaks more - maybe we would rejoice more in the good. 

 

Alan Morinis, in his book Everyday Holiness: The Jewish Spiritual Path of Mussar, points out that “we are experts in wanting and complaining, and even if the problems are real and things aren’t perfect, we don’t give due appreciation to what we already have in hand. Yes, the glass is half empty, but it is also half full. Someone once challenged him ‘What could a prisoner in a concentration camp be grateful for?’ ‘Being alive,’ he answered.”

 

This is the challenge I put before us this year, this transformative shmita year, to recognize the awesome blessing of just being alive and to find moments of awe and blessing every day for the next 384 days (the number of days in a lunar leap year, with 13 months, which 5782 is).  How do we do this?

 

How about 100 blessings a day?  I know it’s a lot, and 100 seems intimidating but could you start with just one?  At the end of each day or end of each week, write down one thing for which you are grateful, one thing that was good, one thing that was a blessing.  Perhaps in a couple of weeks move yourself to finding 5 things then, 10 things, working your way up to 100.   Inspire others by sharing your daily blessings on social media using the hashtag #uhblessing challenge.

 

If you don’t like writing things down on paper or social media, what about a gratitude jar?  At the end of each day or week write down at least one thing that was good for which you are grateful and open the jar and read those blessings when you need to be reminded, game zu l'tova- this too is for good.

 

The Hebrew word for the Jewish people, Yehudim, comes from the name of Judah, Leah and Jacob’s fourth son  “Yehuda” from the Hebrew ‘ahodeh or ‘odeh’ meaning to thank.  When Judah was born Leah said “ha pa’am odeh et-Adonai”, this time I am grateful to God.  From this, we Jews are “grateful people” - it is in our name!!  

 

Our people have survived for thousands of years, through oppression, persecution, and near destruction. We have a modern, Jewish democratic national homeland. We are blessed to live in America where we can express our Judaism and live Jewishly.  We live in a time where ancient rituals can find new meaning and help connect us to the past as we create an amazing future.

 

Let us commit ourselves in this shmita year, to an attitude of gratitude, so that we may truly live up to our name “Yehudim - Grateful ones.”   

 

Shanah tovah!

RENEW US. . . Erev Rosh Hashanah Sermon 5781

Remember March?   Ahh, the good old days. Those pre-pandemic days when we had so much to look forward to - spring sports, summer, vacation and travel.  We were busy every hour of the day and we could anticipate what was happening the next day, the next week, the next month.  Things were so good back then.

 

How often have you found yourself thinking those thoughts??  If we could only go back to March?  If we could only return to life before COVID?? 

 

Tonight, you are there, and I am here, and this is not the holiday either of us expected nor wanted.  But it is what we have.   And we've experienced this before, it happened to us at Pesach. Remember?  That was the first holiday we had to figure out how to celebrate differently and it feels like we’ve been wandering in the COVID wilderness ever since.  

 

This COVID wilderness journey, I can’t help but think how similar it seems to that of our Israelite ancestors’ journey out of Egypt, 

only we have yet to experience a redemptive miracle.  Like them, the beginning of our journey, though frightening because of an unknown virus, for some of us it was a little exciting and refreshing as we looked to find ways to fill our newfound time.   We baked, cooked amazing meals, did puzzles, some started exercising or doing meditation, and so many of us reconnected with family - sitting down to family dinners with those in our homes as well as reconnecting with those who live far away through regular zoom or facetime calls.   And yet, for others of us, even from the beginning, it was a daunting time, because we were home alone or we felt cut off from our family in town who we couldn’t see, for their safety and ours.  

Then reality set in.  Some of us experienced loss and had to deal with our grief in new and different ways, often with few friends and family around.  Some of us had to decide what to do about long awaited life cycle events.  All of us realized this journey is going to be longer than any of us expected.  Which means, we aren’t returning to our “set” routines anytime soon, and all of us recognize that life isn’t going to look like what we expect or may even want for a while.  This is a difficult realization, one that is ripe for negativity and complaining. 

 

For our ancestors about 6-8 weeks in, they began to focus on what they left behind.  Sound familiar?  They asked, “Why did we leave Egypt? It was so much better than this.  There was good food - fish, cucumbers, melons, onions.” They romanticized Egypt, focusing only on the past.  They complained, they drove Moses and God crazy, but more importantly they lacked faith - faith in themselves and their ability not only to survive but thrive.  Their negative attitude and mindset got them into trouble, which ultimately led to a 40-year wilderness journey!!   

I’m going to guess that like me, many of you have had your own moments of negativity and anger during this journey.  I can tell you that seminary didn’t prepare any of us for how to be clergy and serve a congregation during a pandemic. And, like so many of you, I’ve had to figure out how to parent during this pandemic, work from home, be a supportive partner, and deal with my family’s disappointments as I deal with my own.  And, probably like many of you, I’ve had days where I want to curl up in a ball and just cry or sleep away the days until this is over.  

 

No, this truly hasn’t been the year that any of us expected nor wanted, but I can’t help but think about the fact that our ancestors’  journey in the wilderness didn’t improve until their mindset and their attitude changed.  While I believe we have more than a few months of this journey ahead of us, I surely don’t want to wander this COVID wilderness for 40 years because we allowed ourselves to sink into our negativity and despair.  

Recently I read a twitter post that said, “2020/5780, you should be asking us for forgiveness!”  While funny, that post and so many others lamenting the year have me asking myself, was this year really so bad??  I don’t think it has been, but I also recognize that so many of us are just ok, we’re not great.  This isn’t a terrible place to be, but I for one would like to be doing more than just surviving.   

Rosh Hashanah not only celebrates a new year, but celebrates the creation of the world, specifically the creation of humanity.  On the sixth day God created human beings and imbued us with so much more than any other of God’s creations.  We can think, we can create, we can choose, and we can change.  Much of this season is about us, individually, recognizing who we are meant to be and what we are meant to be doing in this world.  This is the essence of teshuva; it is returning to the best of ourselves.  Interestingly enough, COVID caused so many of us to start this teshuva process earlier, although perhaps we didn’t realize it.  Think about it, as this COVID journey began many of us were given the gift of time - we were no longer racing from activity to activity because we couldn’t.  Instead we filled our time with things we wanted to do or perhaps things we never had time to do.  COVID time, has given us the time to think about life - who we are, who we want to be, how we want to fill our time.  We’ve been adapting and adjusting as we’ve moved through these long months.  And yes, there are the things that we’ve had to cancel, rethink, or experience differently than we imagined, but I bet many of us could say, that some of the most memorable moments of the past 6 months have come out of things or plans that didn’t happen the way we imagined.  Yes, we have all experienced loss during this journey, but there is much that we have gained.  And yet I wonder, how many of us are missing the moments of blessing because we’re only focused on what we’ve lost? 

Hashiveinu Adonai Elecha v’nashuva, Chadeish yameinu k’kedem, return us to You, God, so that we can return, renew our days as before - this prayer is the essence of this season.    We return to ourselves, but what does it mean to renew our days as before?  Is our tradition suggesting that we should be longing for March, for those pre-COVID days?

Chadeish Yameinu K’kedem - renew our days as before - is often understood as a prayer to return us to the idyllic, perfect world, which in our tradition is the Garden of Eden.   For humans, it was a time and a place, where life was seemingly perfect because everything was provided for us.     Rabbi Robert Scheinberg offers us a different meaning to these words.  He points out that the word kedem has a second meaning;  in the biblical text, it is used for the word  “east,” as in the cardinal directions, “north, south, east, west.”   When Adam and Eve were banished from paradise, the Torah says they were sent mikedem l’Gan Eden, to the east of the Garden of Eden.  And what he teaches is that their life - human life - really began east of Eden. Think about it, after being banished from the Garden, Adam and Eve had to begin again. They had to adapt, adjust, and learn how to live life in their new reality.  East of Paradise, they developed into themselves - becoming thoughtful, independent human beings who learned how to deal with hardship and challenge.   

Chadeish yameinu k’kedem according to Rabbi Scheinberg,  “Renew our lives, as you renewed our lives after we were exiled from the Garden of Eden.”   Think about it, it was outside of the garden that we became true partners with God, caretakers of the world rather than guests with all things provided.   These words are not a plea to return to the perfection of Eden but rather a plea for the ability to renew ourselves, to make our lives better than the moment in which we are living.   

Recently I was told, “we need to flip the switch.”  We need to flip from the negative feelings we are holding onto because life right now isn’t what we want it to be and flip our mindset to the positive, to recognize that even in this moment of uncertainty there are blessings and silver linings all around us.  In so many ways flipping the switch moves us from merely surviving to thriving!  Chadesh Yameinu K’kedem - flip the switch - our people have been renewing themselves for millennia.  We have experienced wilderness journeys that have tested our faith, tested our resolve and in every instance, we have prevailed.  Why?  Because over and over we have learned to recognize what is most important and then to adapt, adjust, and keep moving forward. It doesn’t mean that we won’t experience nor remember the negative or experience moments of sadness and disappointment, because we will.  But it’s what we do with the negativity, the sadness and the disappointment that has meaning - rather than sitting and wallowing in despair, we look back at the experience, we learn from it, we let it go, and then we move forward with as much chizuk/strength as we can possibly muster.   

Chazak v’Amatz, strength and courage, these holy words of Torah have been chosen to guide us, as our theme, for 5781.  They are words that have kept our people going when they reached a crossroads or were experiencing uncertainty.  Moses was the first to speak them - Chazak v’Amatz - be strong and courageous and keep moving forward!!  We have miles to go in this COVID Wilderness journey, but with strength and courage we can move forward doing what we do best - adapting, adjusting, surviving and thriving! 

  

Behind me, you can see our beautiful Torah covers for the season.  They are exquisite in their design and the stories they tell.  If you look closely at the front center cover, there is a very small letter Bet, for the first word in our Torah, Bereishit.. The Torah takes us step-by-step, day-by-day through God’s act of creating the world. And, with the close of each day, God looks around and says, “This is good.”  Think about it - God doesn’t look around and say, “Well this is ok for now, but tomorrow I think I’ll try this or maybe add this to make it better and then it will be good.” No, God stays in the moment – God creates day by day, experiencing and appreciating each day as it happens. 

What would it mean during this COVID journey if we stopped each day and recognized it as good?  

How might you experience this journey differently if you took it one day at a time, instead of thinking weeks and months ahead?   

 

Tonight, as we enter the year 5781, let us flip the switch and change our outlook.  

My prayer for all -

Makor chachayim - Source of life, 

Hadesh yameinu k’kedem — Renew our days and Remind us that life is a blessing and living, in the moment, is holy.

Hadesh yameinu k’kedem — Renew our days and Teach us to appreciate this moment in history, which has given so many of us the thing we wish for most, time. 

Hadeish yameinu k’kedem - Renew our days and Let us experience the blessing and beauty in the unexpected.

Hadeish yameinu k’kedem - Renew our days and Help us to realize that life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, but about learning to dance in the rain. 

Hadeish yameinu k’kedem - Renew our days and give us the courage to dare to dream and the strength to recreate the world, as we can only imagine, a world of blessing, great health, immense joy and enduring peace.   

Amen.