This Shabbat is Shabbat Shira, the “Shabbat of the Song”, the Shabbat on which we read Shirat Hayam, the Song of the Sea from the book of Exodus. In honor of the “Shabbat of Song, I share a personal experience which, while very simple and brief, points to the power a song can have. 

This past summer, we traveled to North Carolina for a family wedding. With most of a day to do a bit of sightseeing, we drove to Durham to see the Duke University campus. 

After driving through the beautiful campus, we drove into Durham and found that the weekly Farmers’ and Artisan’s Market was taking place. We wandered through the stalls for a while, admiring the produce and chatting with some of the sellers.

As we were leaving, we noticed a store which offered various handmade products from different artisans. The store was very pleasant with music from “our era” (the 60s and 70s) playing over the sound system. We spent some time in the store admiring the different pieces and, finding one that we liked, we went up to the counter to purchase it. 

The man behind the counter, whose accent and dress reflected his Caribbean background, was clearly busy with running the store and, while smiling sweetly, did not say much to us as we gave him the item. He took it and began to write out the receipt. 

As we waited, the unmistakable introduction to a somewhat well-known song from the 70s filled the room. I immediately smiled and turned to my wife and as the introduction ended, sang “O-o-h Child, things are going to get easier”… 

All of a sudden, I realized I wasn’t the only one singing. The man behind the counter had started singing at the same time and looked up to see who was joining him in the duet. He looked at me with his smile growing wider and we both sang a line or two together in rather perfect harmony. 

He grabbed my hand, shook it hard and was still smiling when we left the store. 

It was such a simple moment. But, it was one I will never forget. 

A song has the power to lift our spirits, to inspire us, to bring people together, including people from completely different backgrounds who met briefly and created a simple, beautiful memory which warms my heart as  I remember it on this cold winter day.

May the songs we sing always warm our hearts and souls.  

One of my favorite traditional texts is found in Rashi’s interpretation of Psalm 23, verse 1. Commenting on the introductory phrase: “Mizmor L’david“, A Song of David, Rashi writes:  The Rabbis said: Wherever it says: “A song of David,” he would play [his musical instrument] and afterwards the Shechinah, the Divine presence, would rest on him. And, wherever it says: “L’David Mizmor” Of David, a song, the Shechinah rested on him [first] and then he recited a song.

I love this idea. Sometimes, the inspiration of the Divine presence inspired David to sing. Other times, he sang and thereby brought the Divine presence to him.

This is a critical text to consider when we think about prayer in Jewish tradition. Sometimes, we are deeply moved and inspired to pray. Sometimes, the prayer itself is what brings the inspiration.

Our tradition teaches: Mitoch she lo lishma ba lishma, performing a religious act even when we are not inspired to do so is important because performing the act can itself bring the inspiration.

This is a beautiful thought and one which is often proven true. Saying the words of a prayer can inspire us in unexpected and unanticipated ways.

But, I think that there is a larger context that we should consider and I discussed this in my podcast last week. Sometimes, the inspiration does not come immediately but comes nonetheless.

Each morning, I put on my tallit and tefillin and say the morning prayers. After so many years of doing this each morning, it has become routine and I will admit that some (many?) mornings I am neither inspired by the Divine to be moved to prayer nor do I have a revelation of the Divine presence during the prayer.

But, that does not mean the inspiration does not come.

By beginning the day in this way, I think we are providing a context for the day and part of that context is to open ourselves us to the reality that sometime during the day we will be moved by something we see, something we hear, something we experience that will bring us that inspiration that we so deeply seek.

It is unreasonable to expect that every religious ritual we perform will transform us immediately by giving us a glimpse of that which is greater than us. But, by structuring our lives around these rituals, we are making a statement that we are ready and willing to be inspired during the course of the day. The rituals remind us that sometime each day we can be inspired to sing a psalm of our own. And, more often than not, that psalm will come.

You can hear more on this subject on the episode of my podcast Wrestling and Dreaming: Engaging Discussions on Judaism entitled Searching and Finding. wrestlinganddreaming.podbean.com

This post is a sermon which I delivered in 2018. It was the only sermon I have ever given in which a round of applause interrupted the delivery- and, as you will see, it was not directed at the rabbi. The words I wrote and spoke then are even more critical and urgent today as three years has not brought any of the changes that must occur in this nation. I dedicate this sermon to the memory of the 4 students who were killed in Oxford, Michigan last week and to all of those who were wounded and to the families and close friends of all who were affected by this terrible tragedy. When will we learn?

SERMON FOR PARASHAT VAYIKRA MARCH 17, 2018

Rabbi Robert Dobrusin

And so, we begin the book of Vayikra, the book of Leviticus.

The first half of the book contains, in so many ways, too much information about a tradition whose time passed centuries ago. One might ask: why do we need so much detail about the sacrificial tradition? 

It is a legitimate question. Even though so many of our traditions have their roots in the sacrificial system: the Ner Tamid -the Eternal light- the Musaf service, the shankbone on the Seder plate just to name a few, we still don’t seem to need to read all these details.

And yet, we read them because they are part of our Torah and, in fact, despite the archaic details, the book holds a unique place in our tradition. It is well known that from Talmudic times through to today in some circles that young children began the study of Torah with the book of Leviticus. They didn’t start from Bereshit, from creation, but from Vayikra, from Leviticus.

Why?  

One Talmudic rabbi offers an answer. Rav Assi said: “Surely children begin with Vayikra because children are pure and the sacrifices are pure, therefore let the young children come in purity to study purity.”

On a simplest level, I understand Rav Assi as saying that there is a childlike element to the sacrificial system which children can best understand: “I will give you something if you will be my friend”. 

But, many understand him as saying something deeper. I read a quotation online attributed to Rabbi Ari Israel who wrote: “Youth, who represent our past, present and future are first taught the book of purity and spirituality. Children, filled with optimism, can readily look at the world with hope. They start out sans any preconceived biases. God is pure. Children are pure. Leviticus is pure. Let them all find each other and holiness can spring forth.”

And so, according to this interpretation, the children understand more than the adults because, in their naïve optimism, they can see further or more deeply. 

This is a beautiful thought. It is truly beautiful.

I don’t know when Rabbi Israel wrote this but I assume it was not recently.

I say that because our children today are not filled with optimism. They have seen too much in their young lives. They have read too many stories. They have seen too many news reports. They are not naïve. They know quite a bit and they don’t have confidence that their parents and grandparents, no matter how good our intentions, no matter how much we love them, have done enough to stem the horrible tide that has taken the lives of so many of their contemporaries. 

And so, they closed their books and took to the street to say to us that their time of innocence and hope has been threatened and that they must be the ones to move our nation to open a new book. We must open a book which is not filled with violence, one which tells us to open our eyes to suffering and make wise decisions now, a book which seeks holiness and wholeness in a nation by doing all we can to putting an end to the horrendous plague of gun violence. 

And, they have something to say to all of us. 

Far from being naïve, these young people are saying to each and every one of us, that we are the naïve ones. We have sacrificed our moral compass to political expediency. We are guilty of allowing endless political squabbles focusing on technicalities to drag on interminably while more die.

I know the problem is too big to solve with good will alone. I know the epidemic won’t be stopped with catchy slogans or symbolic actions. 

But, the young people know that too.

They know that walking out of school won’t solve the problem. But, they are telling us all loudly and clearly that, for their sakes, in memory of the victims and in the name of everyone whose future lies ahead: Dayenu. It’s enough. It’s time to act.

It is long since time to open that new book. And, far from telling our children to get out the way, it is time to let our children lead us to do what we, the “responsible” ones, need to do.

I’d like to ask all the young people here who walked out of class this past Wednesday and those who couldn’t do so but supported those who did to stand up so that we can recognize you and thank you. (A spontaneous burst of applause from the congregation as many middle school and high school students stood up.)

Thank God, you’ll be voting in a few short years. 

More than saying thank you, we promise you to your face that we respect you, we hear you and we will act.

May you go from strength to strength and teach us what we must learn. 

On Tuesday evening, my beloved Boston Red Sox will meet the New York Yankees in a one game playoff to determine which team advances to the American League Division series against the Tampa Bay Rays. The Red Sox and the Yankees have a long standing rivalry, dominated for decades (almost a century) by the Yankees but in the 21st century, the Sox have the advantage of four World Series Championships to the Yankees’ one.

In tribute to my love of the Sox and of baseball in general and in response to a comment made by a Facebook friend that I could be a baseball announcer, I am posting this sermon I delivered many years ago. It is a frank appraisal of my “experience” as a baseball announcer and my satisfaction that I had made a better career choice.

SERMON FOR PARASHAT NASO 1992

A VISIT TO THE BROADCAST BOOTH

This past week, I fulfilled one of my lifelong ambitions. 

It wasn’t quite for real but it was the next best thing. 

On Thursday night, I was able to sit in a booth on the top level of Tiger Stadium, put on a headset, watch a monitor and simulate a broadcast of one inning of a game between the Tigers and the Red Sox as part of the “Fantasy Play By Play” promotion. Despite the fact that the inning that I chose to broadcast, the third inning, was the quickest, least interesting of a long and otherwise interesting ball game, I felt, for those ten minutes like I was where I was always supposed to be. 

As I sat high atop the stadium and barely resisted all inclinations to lock myself in for the duration of the season, a serious thought came to mind. I thought about one element that connects baseball to this week’s parasha, to Judaism in general and to myself. 

Baseball is a game of rituals. These rituals are found on two different levels. First, there is the ritual involved with the fans. In no other game or pastime is there such a unifying sense that you are participants, doing what you are supposed to do. You have to stand up for the seventh inning stretch. You have to eat hot dogs, unless thankfully spared by the laws of kashrut. You have to at least make a passing attempt to keep score in the program. You must. There is no choice. 

But, baseball’s more enduring ritual is the ritual on the field. Each game, in essence, is exactly the same: a very carefully structured, balanced, regulated progress of 3 strikes, 3 outs, 3 times 3 innings, 60 feet 6 inches from the pitcher’s mound to the plate and 90 feet between the bases. As my teacher in such matters, the late Bart Giamatti wrote: “Baseball is a game of symmetrical demands in a symmetrical setting which encourage both passion and precision.”

Giamatti expressed the idea that because of baseball’s ritual precision, the players were encouraged to act passionately: to find the meaning in the precision by creating within the tight boundaries of the ballpark, new responses to the immutable structures of the game. 

As I sat on top of the stadium Thursday evening, I realized that one of the responsibilities of the announcers is to express the passion and allow others to feel like they were there and involved in the passionate ritual.

Before I listened to the tape of my broadcast, I knew I had failed miserably.

I only spoke. I knew what I was feeling but I wasn’t passing it along. If someone had read the script of my performance, it wouldn’t have seemed too bad. But, I just didn’t pass along the emotion along with the ritual. 

What a challenge it is. It is what separates Ernie Harwell and Vin Scully and Harry Carey and, my favorite baseball announcer, Ned Martin, from all the rest.

And, it is also the ultimate challenge for those who engage in public Jewish ritual.

We have chosen as a people to believe that service to God needs to be repetitive in form, consistent, predictable. Our prayers and rituals mean more than the sum of the meanings of each individual word, that the structures are worth keeping merely because they have been kept for so long and because their roots are in our experience of the divine.

But, somewhere, the passion must come through. 

This morning, we read the section of the book of Numbers which contains birkat kohanim, the blessing of the priests which is such an important part of our tradition. 

Let me share with you two brief comments on this blessing. 

First: the priestly blessing is introduced with the words; koh tivarachu, thus you should bless the people of Israel. The commentaries offer many explanations to the word: thus. Each of these teachings indicates that the blessing had to be said in a particular way: aloud, in Hebrew, standing, with arms outstretched. The blessing was not just the words but also all that went along with the words. 

But Jewish tradition added an element to this ritual. It was not enough that this be a beautiful grouping of three phrases, each with a similar cadence, 3 words, 5 words, 7 words; the structure was not enough, even if we add the different elements which were required: aloud, standing etc. 

When the priests blessed the people, they preceded the blessing with another blessing: that God had commanded them to bless the people in love. It was not enough that they say the words and perform the rituals. They had to do it with love. 

I am quite sure that, on occasion, priests said this blessing without that sense of love. But, it is the potential that ritual has to be infused with love which keeps it alive. It is, in our tradition, the infusing of symmetrical structures with subjective emotion that brings about true worship.

I couldn’t pass that along the other night at the ballpark. No matter how much I love the game, I couldn’t quite pass it along the way I could while sitting in front of the TV or in the stands watching with friends. There the passion came through but not in the broadcasts booth.

My experience taught me that what a rabbi does is not so different from the announcer. It is the rabbi’s role to make sure that those who aren’t on the field feel the passion involved in Jewish ritual by explaining, elucidating and commenting, orchestrating and coordinating. No rabbi succeeds in those tasks all of the time. But, it is the potential to do so that keeps us trying. 

Thursday night, I learned that there are similarities between the two respectable professions: baseball announcer and rabbi. 

I also learned the most important thing: no matter what my dreams might be, I’d rather be here. 

I will begin this morning with a phrase from the Rosh Hashana musaf service.      

היום יעמיד במשפט כל יצורי עולמים.   

This day, all the creatures of the universe stand in judgment before You, O God.              

This core statement of traditional High Holy Day theology is one which may not reflect our conception of God during the rest of the year; but we are drawn to it when the High Holidays arrive.

The Mishna teaches that we pass before God on these days as b’nai maron, which is explained by many, including the author of U’ntaneh Tokef, as passing before God as sheep before the shepherd. But, in the Talmud, Resh Lakish has a different explanation of these words. He teaches that the residents of a mountainous village called Maron, b’nai Maron, reached their village by climbing up a path so narrow that they had to walk single file. So, we pass before God as individuals, walking alone, singled out. The rest of the world fades away in the background as God focuses on each of us individually and we have God’s undivided attention as each of us stands in judgment. 

On the High Holy Days, we should find at least one moment when we truly feel that we are standing on a narrow path alone in the presence of God, as the mortal, fallible and yet grand individual that each of us is. 

This concept is, I believe, the essence of the High Holy Days.

As we think about this concept, we should quickly dismiss the question: how God could possibly attend to each of almost 8 billion human beings as individuals at the same time. Of course, time and space in that sense mean nothing to God so there is no reason God couldn’t focus on 8 billion people individually. We shouldn’t ruin this beautiful idea by being rational.

So, it wouldn’t matter if there were twice or hundreds of times or thousands of times as many souls to confront individually, God could handle it. 

And perhaps there are.

Maybe there are more souls to judge than those 8 billion.

Right here, some of you might be thinking that I am going to talk about animals again. While I do believe that animals have souls in one sense or the other, that’s not my subject today. 

I’m thinking in another direction.

You might say that I’m thinking vertically, not horizontally.

This morning, I would like to share some thoughts on a book published this year that I just read for the third time- It’s great to be retired. It is a fascinating book which I would love to discuss with those of you interested at some point after the holidays. I can’t do the book or the subject justice within this time frame. I’ll try to whet your appetite though. 

The book was written by Avi Loeb, professor of Science and former chair of the astronomy department at Harvard University.  

The title of the book is simple enough, but it is the subtitle which will grab your attention. The book is entitled: Extraterrestrial and the subtitle is: The First Sign of Intelligent Life Beyond Earth.

Professor Loeb believes that we may very well have witnessed that sign. 

Let me assure you that he has not seen little green people. He hasn’t taught musical scales on top of Devil’s Tower or come across that tall man carrying a book entitled To Serve Man. He hasn’t climbed into a machine to go through a wormhole in the time space continuum. The sign he refers to is more subtle: an object hurtling through our solar system which was sighted by astronomers in a Hawaiian observatory in 2017 and given the name ‘Oumuamua, Hawaiian for “scout”. 

Professor Loeb explains that ‘Oumuamua wavered from the path of an object influenced only by gravity of the sun and that it showed no evidence of gas or debris following it which would affect its movement. He writes that the most reasonable  explanation given the evidence is that it is an artificial object with its own system of propulsion, the product of intelligent beings somewhere out there. 

Of course, not everyone agrees with him. That is an understatement. 

But the science behind his hypothesis, and he is careful to call it a hypothesis, is fascinating. The book solidified my belief that such extraterrestrial intelligence does exist and that we should continue to search for it to the extent possible.

Professor Loeb brings up many critical ideas. I will discuss three of those ideas that I believe are particularly meaningful during these Days of Awe.

First, while Loeb says: “I put my faith and hope in science” and certainly I absolutely agree that trust in science is crucial especially in this era of COVID, he is highly critical of the way in which the scientific establishment, by and large, refuses to take his hypothesis seriously. He says it is evidence of the arrogance of scientists who will not consider ideas which don’t fit into their prior assumptions or haven’t been proven conclusively. Loeb writes that the failure of scientists to consider theories that are not immediately verifiable is preventing many from considering this possibility and he sees this as a missed opportunity. I will quickly add that I feel the same way when scientists dismiss some experiences which are referred to as “paranormal”. I think many deserve strong scientific consideration and investigation. 

We must acknowledge that there is mystery in creation that we have yet to completely understand. 

Professor Loeb is passionate about this perspective and writes with language which takes on a spiritual character, even as he states that he is “secular”. His personal musings about his youth in Israel and his reflections on seashells and galaxies clearly display an awe with which he sees the universe and a desire to understand our place in it.

He expresses ideas which could be found in any number of rabbis’ High Holy Day sermons, including certainly my own. For example, he writes: “We are here for a short time and consequently we had better not fake our actions. Let us stay honest, authentic, and ambitious. Let our limitations, very much including the limited time we are each given, encourage humility.” Humility can lead us to acknowledging that this world is full of mysteries and possibilities which enhance our respect for creation. 

Secondly, a thought about our present and our future, certainly on our minds on the High Holy Days. 

Loeb refers to the theologian Blaise Pascal who famously stated that human beings wager with their lives on whether God exists or not. Pascal argued that it is better to live our lives as though God existed. If we are wrong, all it cost us was a few pleasures. If we are right, we are saved from eternal punishment.

Similarly, Loeb says, we should bet our future on the idea that ‘Oumuamua is extraterrestrial technology. 

Professor Loeb stresses how critical it is that we recognize “the promise of betting right, of exploring out among the stars for the life we expect to find there: betting wrong and planning too little and too late could hasten our extinction.”

But, why now? With all the dangers and challenges we face in the world, why even consider this possibility now? In this context, Loeb refers to economist Robin Hanson who coined the term “filter” to refer the age when a civilization advances technologically to the point where it can achieve great things but can also self-destruct.

The lessons we would learn and the discoveries we could make would justify investment both with resources and with our creative energy. We might discover something which would enable us to surmount this “filter” in one way or another and help the prospects for our survival. That is quite an argument and one which, again, you need to read in more detail to completely appreciate.

Finally, he addresses the questions which are often raised in connection with the issue of extraterrestrial intelligence. How would religion deal with this discovery? What would it mean to those of us who believe in God of creation and of human beings created in God’s image? As we might say: Is it good for the Jews? 

Professor Loeb reminds us that at different times, both religion and science have bolstered arrogance of humility. Frequently, both encourage their practitioners to put on blinders restricting their thoughts, teaching that we have all the answers we need in front of us.

But he notes that occasionally both disciplines have encouraged people to shed their blinders and open themselves up to the new, the controversial, the unexpected. 

He is correct. But, I can say with respect to religion,  it needs to happen more often. 

So, how do I see this from my perspective as a rabbi?

I believe that there is nothing in traditional Jewish faith that would in any way be threatened by assuming or even proving the presence of intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. Perhaps some of our texts even pre-suppose this reality. After all, the word for universe in the Machzor text I quoted before, is olamim, plural of the word olam, world. Think about that. 

If we believe that God is limitless in creative power, then the presence of other beings who believe in whatever way they might that they are created in the image something greater than they themselves, who stand on narrow paths looking up to the heavens in awe in no way invalidates our uniqueness, as individuals of as a species, in God’s eyes. 

This entire question is not a threat to our faith. And I will take this one step further. I think this search is vital and can be extraordinarily meaningful on a spiritual level.

Taking the leap of faith that those other beings exist and, in fact, searching for them, would keep us appropriately humble, believing that there might be others created in God’s image. It would also widen our vision to more deeply acknowledge the wonders of the universe. 

Two of my favorite movies, Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Contact are about the search for extraterrestrial intelligence, and I often use them as metaphors for the searches we are all on in our spiritual lives. But these are science fiction and while I find them fascinating and thought provoking, I do not expect human beings to experience extraterrestrial intelligence in the way these movies propose.

However, I can readily accept the idea that an object hurtling through our solar system came from another type of intelligent life. I can readily accept it especially if accepting it could bring human beings together to contemplate and better understand who we are and how we connect with the universe and our creator. 

After all, isn’t that the message of the High Holy Days?

It is a fantastic, courageous book.

If you’re interested in continuing the discussion, I’m ready any time. 

This is the fourth and final posting of original prayers which I shared with the Congregation on the first night of Rosh Hashana. This prayer, from 2002, followed a d’var Torah in which I commented on a line from the Shabbat morning service: Yismach Moshe B’Matnat Helko.

The words are translated: “Moses rejoiced with the gift of his heritage”. But, the word yismach is actually a future tense verb so we would more accurately read this as: “Moses will rejoice”.

The paragraph which follows this line is: “Veshamru B’nai Yisrael et HaShabbat”, a verse from the Torah which is usually translated: “The people of Israel should keep the Sabbath”. But, I suggested we translate it as: “The people of Israel will keep the Sabbath”. Perhaps this is a promise from God to Moses that in fact the people would observe the commandments that he had delivered to the people and that this made Moses happy in that he rejoiced in the fact that his sacred work would be rewarded.

That led me to think of what it is that we could do that would make different figures from Jewish history rejoice. Here is the prayer that I wrote:

As we have made Moses rejoice by our gathering tonight, may we continue to make our ancestors rejoice through our actions in the coming year.

May Aaron, who taught us to seek peace and pursue it, rejoices as we seek and pursue peace in our homes, in our community, in our nation and in our world.

May Miriam, who taught us to sing a joyous song to God, rejoice as we find new ways to express our joy at being alive and our thanks to our creator.

May Joshua, who taught us to be strong and courageous, rejoice as we find renewed strength and courage to face the difficulties of life in the year ahead.

May Esther, who taught us to always be prepared to step out from behind whatever masks we may wear and remember our responsibility to our people, rejoice as we and our children proudly identify with our Jewish community and our Jewish people. (2021 note: this does not apply to COVID masks, please continue to wear them.)

May Rabbi Akiva, who taught us that we are never too old to begin to learn, rejoice as more and more of us take on the commitments of serious Jewish learning at whatever stage in life we are.

May Hillel, who taught us to be gentle and flexible in our efforts to do God’s will, rejoice as we realize that strength and loyalty to our people is not an excuse for belligerence and arrogance.

May Maimonides, who taught us that the middle way is the proper way, rejoice as we find a way to avoid extremes and seek moderation in our daily lives.

May the Ba’al Shem Tov, who taught us to find mystery and ecstasy in our daily life, rejoice as we rise above the every day to find beauty and holiness in our world.

And, may all of those who lived and died so that we might be here tonight, rejoice in the commitments we have made to return again and again throughout this year.

May God bless us all of us together with a year of life, peace, health and rejoicing.

Best wishes to all for a Shana Tova u’mituka: A sweet, healthy, year.

       

I want to share a third prayer which I wrote to share with the Congregation on the first night of Rosh Hashana. This prayer, written in 2015, was based on a song: a beautiful song with a very simple but memorable melody. One of the song’s writers, the man who first performed it, had died a few months before. After I heard the news of his death, I found myself singing the song repeatedly for several days and decided to use his song as the basis for my prayer. 

It is a song which continues to inspire and, in fact, just the other night while at a family wedding celebration, I heard the unforgettable introduction and watched as so many people of different ages started immediately singing along. 

The song was inspired by words from Psalm 46 and from an old Christian spiritual. Its message of loyalty and love and connection speaks to all of us. It has been “covered” by more than 400 artists including Ike and Tina Turner, MeatLoaf, John Lennon, Tracy Chapman in an extraordinary performance on the David Letterman show just a few days, coincidentally, before the songwriter’s death and, last but certainly not least, Timon and Pumbaa from The Lion King in a hilarious video. 

       To further solidify its place in my heart, in the mid 1980’s it became the title song to one of my favorite movies.

       The song, as you might have concluded by now, is Stand By Me and the name of the man who died, the co-writer and original performer of this beautiful song was Ben E. King. .

Before I read the prayer on Rosh Hashana that year, I sang one verse of the song softly and invited the congregation to join with me, softly as well, addressing it both to God and to the people closest to us. I wanted the song to bring more meaning to this night as we ask God and our loved ones to sustain us regardless of what this year might bring.

Here is the text of the prayer from 2015:

       When the night has come

       And the land is dark

       And the moon is the only light we’ll see.

       No, I won’t be afraid, I won’t be afraid

       Just as long as you Stand By Me.

As we gather together at the beginning of this New Year, O God, help us to stand through the year. 

       Help us to stand by our family and friends, to share their joy and comfort them through sadness.

       Help us, O God, to stand by and for our people and our faith. Let us express pride and remain always dedicated to our brothers and sisters, our tradition, our history and our commitment for our future. 

       Help us, O God, to stand by the values You and our great teachers have instilled in us: values which compel us to search endlessly for peace and justice and to hear the cries and concerns of all people everywhere, the hungry, the oppressed, the refugee, the unfairly and unjustly imprisoned and those who live in danger and isolation, and reach out a hand to help them.

       Help us, O God, to stand by our hopes and our dreams. Help us not to give up the wild, revolutionary, and authentically Jewish idea that the world can be a place of perfection if we join hands with all throughout the world to make it so. 

       And, O God, stand by us as we navigate this frustrating, difficult, maddening and so, so beautiful world. When the night has come and the land is dark, help us to find the moon and stars to guide us one step at a time to fulfill our responsibilities and embrace our world with confidence and hope. 

       May we stand by those we love and may they and You, O God, always stand by us as this new year unfolds.

Shana Tova

Last week, I posted a prayer for the New Year which I wrote in 2016. This week, I am posting a prayer I wrote in 2007.

The prayer followed a sermon in which I taught a Midrash I love about our patriarch Jacob who was also known as Yisrael, Israel. The teaching is that Jacob remains alive as long as the people of Israel, who bear his name, remains alive.

This prayer builds on that idea and refers to many teachings regarding our patriarchs and matriarchs. Some explanations of the references in the prayer can be found below the text.

I hope you will find the prayer meaningful as we continue to plan for the New Year which is fast approaching.

This year may we dedicate ourselves to keeping alive the souls of our patriarchs and matriarchs as we endeavor to make the most of our lives and to serve our people and our world.

May we strive to reach greater spiritual heights, inspire our travels with meaning, shake the foundations of our world where necessary and become an inspiration to our children and grandchildren. In this way we keep Abraham alive.^[1]

May we continue to believe in a better future no matter how absurd that may seem. May we laugh when the time is right and keep ourselves active and vital as we age. In this way, we keep Sarah alive.^[2]

May we be loyal and willing to do what is necessary for the future of our people and our world. May we understand that being a bridge from the past to the future is, in itself, a great honor. In this way, we keep Isaac alive.^[3]

May we be courageous in the face of difficulty and resolute in standing firm for our ideals. May we be trusting of family and community and willingly share in the ambitions and priorities of those around us. And, last but not least, may we always care for the animals who mean so much to us. In this way, we keep Rebecca alive.^[4]

May we be renaissance people, widening our areas of interest. May we reach for the heavens and wrestle with reality. May we give our name to our people and may we always, always seek ways to reconnect with those from whom we have been separated. In this way, we keep Jacob alive.^[5]

May we convey the message that real beauty comes from within. May we take seriously our role as elders and see ourselves as the mothers and fathers of generations to come. In this way, we keep Leah alive.^[6]

May we tell our children always that there is a hope for the future. May our tears be dried and may our legacy live on after us. In this way, we keep Rachel alive.^[7]

May God bless us as God blessed Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and Rachel and Leah. May we invite their spirit into our homes and invite them into our hearts. May we keep our patriarchs and matriarchs – and our people – alive.

Shana Tova. 

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^[1] God’s initial call to Abraham was: “Lech Lecha” Go forth to the land that I will show you. The tradition teaches that he was the first to believe in one God, an idea which challenged the beliefs of the time. 

^[2] According to the Torah, Sarah laughed when she was told she would give birth to a child in her 90s. The name of the child, Isaac, may derive from the word for laughter.

^[3] Isaac was the second of the Patriarchs and often viewed as providing the essential link between his father, Abraham and his son, Jacob.

^[4] Rebecca wsa considered to be the “purest” of the Matriarchs and Patriarchs and her love of animals was evident in the story of her kindness to the camels whom she watered.

^[5] Jacob was a man of many skills and our people bear his name Israel. 

^[6] Leah’s sister, Rachel, was considered more beautiful than she according to the Torah but Leah was a loyal wife to Jacob and mother to many children. 

^[7] The prophet Jeremiah speaks of Rachel crying for her children as they are led to exile in Babylonia past her grave. The prophet tells her to dry her tears as there is hope for her future and her people would come back to the land and to her. 

For many years, I had the tradition of writing a prayer for the New Year which I read at the conclusion of services on the first night of Rosh Hashana. These prayers often reflected one of my interests or events taking place in the world at the time. My words were often more “charges” than prayers, words of encouragement to consider what is truly important in our lives as we engage in the process of teshuva, repentance, which is the major theme of the High Holy Days. 

In our tradition, Teshuva is not just for the Holy Days. The entire month of Elul, which began yesterday, is a month dedicated to teshuva in preparation for the High Holy Days. During the month of Elul, I will share some of those prayers on my podcast and here, in my blog.

You will hear one such prayer in this week’s edition of my podcast (which will be posted on Thursday, August 12). That prayer focuses on my love of geography. The prayer I am posting below, with the original introduction, is based on my love for sports and my fascination with the Olympics and was delivered on Rosh Hashana 2016, after the summer Olympic games.

         PRAYER FOR EREV ROSH HASHANA 2016

                  

As I do each year, I have written a prayer for the New Year.

As a rule, I try to keep my prayer on the light and hopeful side each year but as you no doubt feel, it is difficult to ignore all that is happening outside of our doors and in our hearts and minds. Still, I want the prayer to reflect the beauty of our world and the opportunities we have to elevate our souls even at times of sadness.

So, my prayer is in two parts linked together by one idea: the concept of movement. 

During the middle of the summer, I, like many Americans, at least those of us who are not completely cynical about the Olympics enjoyed a bit of a break from the bad news around us by watching the games. As many of you know, I had more than a bit of a personal interest in the US women’s gymnastic team as I was paying particular attention to my cousin Aly Raisman but it was the entire gymnastics effort which amazes me. So, I used the four events of woman’s gymnastics: vault, bars, floor exercise and balance beam, as the metaphor for my prayer.

Please understand that I am not making the claim that these young women must be the role models for everyone, especially young girls. There are so many women and men in our nation with inspiring academic, business, philanthropic careers who deserve our admiration and respect. I know that. But, for a few days this summer, I and so many others were uplifted by these young women’s ability, tenacity, poise and strength.  (Note from 2021: Strength is measured not only in physical terms but in the ability to know ourselves and to have the strength to make courageous decisions. Thank you Simone Biles for teaching us a lesson we all need to learn and for being a role model in this different way.)

         But those uplifting moments in the Olympic gym can’t blind us to the problems we face as a nation as we enter this new year so the prayer has, in essence, two parts. And, as our Mishna teaches about telling the story of the Exodus, I will begin with the sadness and end with hope

         Before we turn to the fancy moves of gymnasts, let us never forget how for so many simply walking down a street is a tremendous and often life-threatening challenge.  

We pray O God that you protect all of the young children in our inner cities and throughout the nation so often tragically caught in the crossfire of violence and all who are victims of our national obsession with guns. O God grant heath, hope and peace of mind to those who face the reality that simply walking or driving a car can become a dangerous act for no reason other than the color of their skin. Let us stand by them in their struggle for justice and equality.

We pray for the safety of the law enforcement officials who protect us all. May they perform their roles with wisdom, courage, compassion and appropriate caution as they do a job more difficult than most of us could ever imagine. 

We pray for those for whom the very act of walking does not come easily, if at all. We pledge to stand by them with assistance, encouragement and respect. 

Let us continue to stand with lesbian, gay and transgender individuals, especially youth, many of whom walk to school each day in fear of bullying and ostracization.

 And O God, as we walk through life, stand with us and help us all be safe from the dangers which plague our nation and the world. 

Help us, O God, to be a nation where all can walk with their heads up, in freedom and without fear. 

But, let us also not give in to fear and despair and let us not limit our movements to walking.

         Help us to get a running start in the New Year, to dare to vault over the obstacles which are in the way, to come down standing firmly on our feet and ready to face the next challenge along our path. 

         Help us O God to move from the highs to the lows of life with grace and dignity, to continue to seek higher ground and more meaningful and celebratory moments. 

         Teach us O God to move through our life, staying within the boundaries that we have established for ourselves and that you O God have established for us. But let us realize that within those boundaries there is plenty of room for jumps and twists and impressive, creative movements that will enliven our days and inspire those around us. 

         And, most importantly, O God, teach us to find balance in our lives. Let us never be afraid to reach out to grab for those around us to keep us from falling, to rely on the wisdom of our tradition for stability in a difficult world but always, always seeking balance in our lives.

         May we always remember that there are often no medals for getting through life impressively, that goodness may truly be its own reward but that we will never know how many people we have taught and inspired because, believe me, they’re out there watching. 

         

         Shana Tova. 

Last week, I wrote about Harry Chapin but, in truth, I have many favorite songwriters and performers and one of them is Neil Diamond. I love the varied styles of songs he wrote and sang. I should quickly add that I admired Neil Diamond’s work even before Red Sox fans at Fenway Park started singing Sweet Caroline after the 8th inning of every game.

One of Neil Diamond’s best known songs is America, a song about immigrants coming to this country. It is quite a meaningful song and there is one part of the song that I think is truly remarkable and I’m sure most of you have heard it and can hear it in your mind as you read this. Towards the end of the song, he repeats a line which he sang earlier: “We’re coming to America” but adds the word “today” to the end of the phrase. Then, while the word “today” is repeated by the back up singers, he recites the words of the patriotic song: “My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing…each phrase is punctuated by the word “today’ sung by the singers until the end when he joins in with “of thee I sing…Today”. repeating the word several times allowing it to echo in our ears as he connects the experience of past generations of emigrants to the love of country we feel today.

The song reflects a remarkable quality about the word “today”. When Neil Diamond sings it, he is clearly making a connection between a “today” of the past and our “today”. When we read any quotation or hear any words spoken from another time which includes the word “today”, it challenges us to connect ourselves with the past and to realize in many cases that we are linked closely to the “today of the past’.

Think about the line from the Psalms: “This is the day the Lord has created, on it we will rejoice and be happy.” The word for “the day” is the Hebrew word hayom which in fact also means “today”. So, while the Psalmist is talking about the day of the Exodus, which is the context, we are reminded as well that the day we are reading or singing the line is also “the day”, and that each day is a day on which we should rejoice and be happy in God’s miracles.

This Shabbat, we read parashat Re’eh which begins with Moses telling the people about to enter the promised land: “Re’eh, see, I am placing before you hayom (today) a blessing and a curse.”

We naturally concentrate on the words blessing and curse but when we do that, we miss the impact of the word hayom. 

Hayom, today. When Moses spoke those words, it must have seemed totally natural. But to us reading them millennia later, that word challenges us to feel the reality of the experience of Torah in a unique way. Those words are still being said “today” and the choices are still before us in our “today”.

The words which Moses said about the blessing and the curse are still every bit as true today as they have ever been. Each day we are given the opportunity to choose between blessing and curse. Each day we are presented with choices about how to live our lives, what priorities to choose, which path to follow; and while the choices we made yesterday do influence our path today, there is always the opportunity to turn around, for good or for bad, and make a different choice. 

Next week, we will begin the month of Elul — the last month of the year, the month of teshuva, of repentance — ushering in the High Holy Day season. We think about the changes we must make and the choices we must continue in the year to come. 

On Rosh Hashana, during the Musaf service, we recite the words “Hayom harat Olam”: today the world was called into being. This recalls the Rabbinic opinion that the world was created on the first day of Tishre and that the anniversary of the creation presents us with the opportunity to change our lives through teshuva.

However, we can’t wait for Rosh Hashana. The Rabbis taught that every day is the proper day for teshuva, for repentance.  And thus each day we can truly say: “Today the world is created again.”  For today, like every day, we are presented with the choices that will affect our lives — and affect our world — for days far beyond today.

Let the word “today” continue to echo in our minds as we consider the power and potential of each “today”.