Kol Nidrei 2008

Reuven and Shimon were at the shore of the Red Sea on that remarkable day. You know the day I am referring to. Even though it happened some 3200 years ago we still talk about to this very day. What a day that was! The sea split and the water stood like walls while Israel escaped to freedom on the other shore. It was awesome beyond words, but Reuvan and Shimon did not really see it that way.

They were there in the crowd, but they never looked up. Their entire attention was focused on the mud at their feet. Reuven turned to Shimon and said, “What’s with this mud? Yucch. It’s all over the place.” “Blecch,” responded Shimon. “I have muck all over my sandals. This is awful. When we were slaves we had to makes bricks out of mud like this.” Reuven agreed. “You’re right. There’s no difference between being a slave in Egypt and being free in this disgusting mud.”

And so they went on, whining and complaining all the way to the other shore. For them, there was no miracle, only mud.

The truth is, when you are caught in the mud it is hard to appreciate God’s miracles.  For many of us now, the mud is pretty thick. As we move from the year 5768 to 5769, many American feel themselves to be in a kind of quicksand, and sinking fast. Our nation is facing an economic crisis that few of us can understand, and that lack of understanding makes it all the more terrifying. Some years ago an Israeli expert in economics, speaking at an Israel Bonds function, reported that just one year earlier the Israeli economy was standing on the brink of disaster, that before them loomed an abyss of financial catastrophe and they were on the edge of a great precipice.  Now, he said, in the last 12 months Israel has taken a great step forward. Many of us have that feeling about our American economy, and more significantly, our own personal economy. In the last few months, we have seen banks fail and brokerage houses topple. Suddenly, the real estate section of the newspaper is filled with foreclosure listing, and people have seen their pensions, their IRAs and other retirement savings drop precipitously in value. It is indeed a frightening time.

How do we get through such crises? How do we maintain perspective in the face of such uncertainty?

In this season, twice every day, our tradition has us read Psalm 27. I think in this Psalm we can find the beginning of an answer to the question of getting through these perilous times. The last two lines give me direction:

Lulay he-emanti lirot betuv HaShem b’etez HaHayim-

If only I would have the sensitivity and the faith to see God’s beauty in the world,

Keveh el HaShem, chazak v’ya-ametz libecha, v-kaveh el HaShem.

Then I would hope in the Lord, I would be strong and my heart would take courage. Yea, I would hope in the Lord.

The man or woman who wrote this Psalm was clearly in difficult straits. He or she was at least as frightened about the future as we are. The Psalmist pleads with God, “Do not abandon me to the will of my foes, for false witnesses have risen against me, purveyors of malice and lies.” We seem to have those kind of people in our midst today. Certainly someone is to blame, but we are not sure who it is? Is it the people who entered into mortgages they could not afford? Was it the people on Wall Street who may have given us bad advise? We are confused and wonder, “In whom can I put my trust? Where do find refuge?”

The Psalmist pleads: “One thing I have asked of Adonai, for this I yearn: to dwell in the House of Adonai all the days of my life, to behold God’s goodness, to pray in God’s sanctuary.”

The Psalmist is not telling us that we will find a solution by coming to shul. He is saying that he wants to feel God’s presence, to know that God is in his life and with him in this difficult time. Rabbi Harold Kushner says it beautifully in a reading we did on Rosh Hashanah. “I am not asking God to change the world for me. I ask only one thing of God, nothing but this: Reassurance that God is there, that God is real, that God makes a difference.” We all share that desire. We want to appreciate God’s goodness so that can begin to achieve a measure of tranquility.

And that is not a small thing to ask for. Being aware of God’s goodness is not always easy. Too often it takes a real crisis to recognize what really counts in life; to understand what blessings are most important to us. What gives the psalmist a sense of certainty is that no matter what happens to him, he can still strive for the things that really matter in life. No matter how crazy and uncertain the world is, He knows that God will be there for him and that in God’s presence he can find peace.

Sometimes, sadly, it is a tragedy that teaches us what the real blessings in life are. When we lose a loved one - and it happens to all of us - we are reminded of the significance of the every day blessings of life we enjoy. We tend to take so much for granted and only when life takes a sad turn do we begin to appreciate the blessings we had all along.

The Psalmist says, “Achat sh’alti may-et Hashem” One thing I asked of the Lord. If you could ask just one thing of God, what would it be? My suggestion on this Yom Tov is that the one gift that would benefit all of us the most would be a greater sense of appreciation for life’s blessings that we already have, a deeper awareness of God’s goodness toward us.

Thinking back on our history, lack of appreciation has been a problem for our people from the very beginning. Perhaps the problem of ingratitude is a genetic disease, because we see in the Torah that our ancestors suffered from the same malady. I don’t know if the Israelites were familiar with knitting, but they certainly knew how to kvetch! When the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for forty years following the Exodus, complaining seemed to be their major occupation. Earlier I told you about Reuven and Shimon and their whining. The rest of the people seemed to appreciate the miracle. You recall the singing and dancing in thanks to God, but appreciation lasted about a day and a half. No sooner had our ancestors crossed the Red Sea then they began complaining about not having enough water to drink. God solved that problem for them, and again with the complaining. While God is giving them their sustenance every day and twice on Friday, all they can say is “What? The same Manna again? We want meat!” To compound the ingratitude, instead of remembering the misery of slavery and feeling grateful for freedom, the Torah tells us they said, “We recall the fish that we used to eat in Egypt, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions and the garlic.” They seem to have had a remarkably distorted memory. It sounds like as slaves they enjoyed a daily bar mitzvah buffet!

How could it be that our ancestors were so lacking in appropriate gratitude? Do you know why we are called Jews? It comes from the name of the tribe of Judah. When Leah gave birth to her fourth son, she gave thanks to God, and she chose a name for the boy, Judah - Yehuda, from the same root as the word “Todah” which means “thank you.” We are not called Israelites or Hebrews, but Jews, the people that gives thanks. The Midrash tells us that the Temple was built in the portion of the land given to the tribe of Judah to emphasize our eternal gratitude. Every day in that Temple, for as long as it stood in Jerusalem, a Korban Todah, the sacrifice of thanksgiving, was offered. Gratitude is the foundation of the Jewish attitude to life, and it is also the key to happiness and mental health.

Melanie Klein, one of Freud’s most devoted followers, wrote an essay on envy and gratitude. It is considered a classic in the field. She writes that if we do not cultivate gratitude, we will become consumed with envy and jealousy. We will be filled with rage and anger, and want what others have, feeling that we are deprived of something to which we are entitled.

And that is the essence of the problem: a feeling of entitlement.  

The authentic Jewish attitude is diametrically opposed to entitlement. There is a bracha that is said at the Torah by someone who has survived a potentially life-threatening experience. A friend and colleague, Rabbi Arthur Lavinsky in Phoenix, told me that just a few weeks ago he recited this bracha. He was driving from his home to Las Vegas and fell asleep at the wheel while traveling at about 75 miles an hour. He woke up very suddenly after crossing the undivided highway, and he found himself driving in the shoulder of the opposite lane. That he wasn’t killed is truly a miracle, and if ever anyone should recite Birkat HaGomel it was Arthur. The bracha says, “Baruch atah HaShem, Elohenu Melech HaOlam, HaGomel l’chayavim tovot, sh’gmalani kol tov. Blessed are You Adonai our God, King of the universe, who bestows goodness on those who are undeserving, and has given me all good things.” “On those who are undeserving.” That is the key. What could be more of a contrast to the notion of entitlement?

At the seminary, there was a bookseller, a traditional Mocher Sfarim, by the name of Mr. Gruber. I see him in my mind’s eye like it was yesterday, not 40 years ago. He was a Hasid and stood in the lobby of the cafeteria every day with an armful of books, and he somehow knew what book we ought to buy today because a teacher was going to refer it in two weeks. A colleague told me that one day, as he entered the lobby and saw Mr. Gruber, he greeted him with an enthusiastic “Mr. Gruber, Vas macht a Yid - how are you today?” to which Mr. Gruber responded, “Baruch Hashem, thank God, miserable.” What a wonderful lesson in Jewish theology! Undoubtedly, Mr. Gruber was miserable. He led a very difficult life. Nonetheless, he understood that the appropriate attitude was to give thanks that he was alive, able to peddle his books, and he knew that whatever was making him miserable would pass, thank God, he would come to sell his books yet another day.

Prayers of thanksgiving, from the first Modeh Ani in the morning, thanking God for a new day, to the Shema at night, are meant to cultivate gratitude, and nothing is better for the soul. When we focus on the blessings in our lives, we don’t take nearly as much time or energy to complain or focus on the negative. It is really a law of theological physics: if you take up your psychic space with gratitude, you won’t leave room for negativity. People talk today about spirituality. There is no better way to grow our souls than through the cultivation of gratitude. If we could all do that in this new year, we would certainly have something for which to thank God.

L’shana tova u’mvorach. May this new year we have begun be good for us, for all Israel and for all humanity, and may it be filled with a multitude of blessings for which to give thanks. AMEN

 Yom Kippur Yizkor 2008

“B’Rosh Hashanah yicatayvun u’v’yom tzom kippur yay’chataymun” “On Rosh Hashanah it is written and on Yom Kippur it is sealed: How many shall leave this world, and how many shall be born into it? Who shall live and who shall die?”

The Unetaneh Tokef prayer is a high point in the liturgy, yet, it may be one of the most troubling prayers we recite, and perhaps the least understood. If we take it literally, it is terrifying. Even if we do not take it literally, which is my preference, its message is nonetheless alarming.

Perhaps because this prayer is so disturbing, most of us miss the paragraph that follows. We are so caught up reflecting on the frightening notion that this may be our last year and who knows how we will meet our end that we don’t hear a very significant and comforting message that follows.

“Your glory God is Your nature. You do not desire the sinner’s death, but that he turn from his path and live.”

The Yizkor hour naturally sets our mind to consider our own mortality. This summer two obituaries that caught my eye. I do read the obituary pages, and like my grandmother, my eye is attracted to the Jewish names, even though I am well aware that the concept of a Jewish name is less and less relevant today. I am curious to see which Jewish organizations have lost their biggest givers. The two obits that most interested me recently were not Jewish, and no Jewish cause is going to be poorer for their demise.

In July, Randy Pausch died after a battle with cancer, and in August, Dave Freeman died following an accident in his home. Let me tell you why these deaths were notable and why they reinforced certain lessons for me. Both of these men were just 47 years old, so the first lesson that strikes me is that life comes with no guarantee as to how long it going to last. Clearly, procrastination is not a good policy in life.

Let me tell you a bit more about each of these two unusual men.

Pausch taught computer science and human-computer interaction at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh. There was a tradition at that school called “The Last Lecture.” Professors were asked to think about what mattered to them most and then to give a hypothetical final talk. But for Pausch, there was nothing hypothetical about it. This lecture was indeed his last. The irony was that a man whose field was virtual reality had to deal with a very concrete reality. His talk was remarkably inspirational and became a sensation on YouTube. A Wall Street Journal reporter, Jeff Zaslow, turned it into a book for him. It immediately jumped to the top of the best-seller list, stayed there for months and earned $6 million.

So what did Randy Pausch say in his final testament? In the tradition of the film “The Bucket List,” he talked about the dreams he managed to fulfill in his lifetime, things like being in zero gravity, writing an article for the World Book Encyclopedia and working with the Disney Company. The one dream that had eluded him was playing in the National Football League.

As you might expect, Pausch’s basic message was about treasuring each day as a gift, a very Jewish sentiment. He said, “If you lead your life the right way, the Karma will take care of itself, the dreams will come to you. And anybody who is out there who’s a parent – if your kids want to paint the bedroom – as a favor to me, let them do it. It will be OK. Don’t worry about the resale value of the house.”

The remarkable irony is that while millions of people heard or read Randy Pausch’s last lecture, he said that he was passing on this message for the sake of only three people, his children Dylan, Logan and Chloe. What he did was very much in the Jewish tradition of the ethical will.

The other obituary that caught my attention was that of Dave Freeman. The great irony was that his best selling book was a travel guide entitled 100 Things to Do Before You Die. Of course, he had no inkling when he wrote it how prescient his title would be since his death was very sudden as the result of a tragic accident.

One particular line in his book sums up its essence: “This life is a short journey. How can you make sure you fill it with the most fun, and that you visit all the coolest places on earth before you pack those bags for the very last time.”

Friends, I won’t disagree with Freeman’s sentiment. I too want to have fun and visit the coolest places before I make my exit. But I want to do more than that, and I imagine you do as well. Certainly, our Jewish tradition would urge us seek more than what’s cool and what’s fun.

In Edinburgh this summer, we visited the Scottish Parliament building. I learned there that the mace on the Prime Minister’s podium is inscribed with four words, presumably to guide the actions of the legislative body: “Wisdom, Justice, Compassion, Integrity.” It sounds like it could have come from the Bible, or perhaps the Ethics of the Fathers. Certainly a wonderful piece of guidance; but I think the prophet Micah said it even better nearly 3,000 years earlier: “He has told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: Asot Mishpat – Only to do justice, v’ahavat chesed – to love goodness, v’hatzneah lechet im elohecha – and to walk humbly with your God.”

At first blush, it sounds a bit overwhelming, perhaps platitudinous, but can you contradict it? Rabbi Simlai in the Talmud said it was a summary of all 613 commandments. In this life, being as brief as it may be, you had better aim high. To do that, you could not have a better yardstick against which to measure your deeds than this one.

Asot Mishpat – do justice. Clearly, our world cries out for justice to be done. The message of the prophet here is that each of us has a to play role in bringing justice to the world. You may not be able to relieve the poverty in lands where autocratic rulers and corrupt sheiks live off the suffering of the masses, but you can make a difference in the life of a child who needs to learn to read and have a chance to climb out of the poverty in which he growing up. You may not be able to feed a starving village in Ethiopia, but you can make a contribution to Mazon to see to it that a food bank has the wherewithal to provide groceries to families in need. You might not even be in the position of writing a big check to a worthy charity that helps the underprivileged, but you can sit in front of a super marker with our Social Action committee and collect food items for the poor. The point is, you can make a difference. Doing justice is not beyond you.

The second phrase in Micah’s triad is Ahavat Hesed – love goodness. Hesed is such a powerful word and so important a Jewish value. While Tzedak - Justice relates more to the world in general, Hesed – goodness or loving-kindness tells us how to act with the people with whom we come in contact. Living with Hesed may not be easy, but it need not be complicated. It involves trying to hear what others say; attempting to be empathic to their pain. Louis Nizer said it very well:

We would say, he is a Baal Hesed, one who exercises that all important value. Hesed is an umbrella mitzvah under which come so many beautiful things that we can do. When you extend condolences to a family in a meaningful, loving way, you are acting with Hesed. When you remember to bring in a can of soup for the emergency food pantry, you have performed an act of Hesed. When you sit down with a friend and allow her to pour her heart out to you, you are fulfilling the prophet’s imperative. When you invite for a Shabbat or holiday meal, someone you know doesn’t often receive an invitation, you are being a Jew who knows the meaning of Hesed.

Micah’s third directive for fulfilling God’s desire of us may well be the most difficult. “v’hatzneah lechet im elohecha – to walk humbly with your God.” How does one walk humbly with God? Indeed, what does it mean to walk with God and what does it mean to be humble?

The Talmud asks what this means in two texts that immediately come to mind. One passage deals directly with this verse from the prophet. It says, “’To walk humbly with your God’ means to assist needy families at their funerals and weddings.” How typical of the rabbis. A statement that sounds like elevated theology is brought down to earth; doing God’s will means helping those in need.

In a very similar vein, commenting on a verse in Deuteronomy, “Follow Adonai your God,” Rabbi Chama asks, “What does this mean? Is it possible for a mortal to follow God’s presence? The verse means to teach us to follow the attributes of the Holy One. As God clothes the naked, you should cloth the naked; as the Holy One visits the sick, you should visit the sick; as the Holy One comforted mourners, you should comfort those who mourn. The Holy One buried the dead; you should bury the dead.” Again, our tradition doesn’t demand complex theological treatises; it wants loving action.

And how are we to be humble? To answer this question, I will conclude with a story; one most appropriate to this Yizkor hour.

Mayer Amschel Rothschild was the founder of the Rothschild family banking empire. Three years ago, the Forbes magazine list of the “The Twenty Most Influential Businessmen Of All Time” ranked him as number 7.

Legend has it that from time to time the Emperor would send visitors to the luxurious Rothschild palace. It was the most lavish and well-appointed palace in all of Austria and every wanted to see its beauty.

During one visit, Rothschild took his guest from room to room and the guest was awed by the display of wealth.  He showed him room after room, but when he passed a certain door, he continued walking. “I am sorry,” said the banker. “This is the one room in the palace I cannot show you.”

The visitor reported back to Emperor Franz Joseph and told him about all he saw, and about the room he could not see. This peaked the Emperor’s curiosity. He asked the man why he suspected that room was off limits. “Perhaps that is where Rothschild has his magic money machine.”

The Emperor did not know whether to believe the man so he sent a second government official to visit the palace, and then a third and a fourth. They all came back with the same report.

Finally, the Emperor decided to visit the palace himself and when they reached the forbidden room, he demanded entry.

What choice did he have? Rothschild took out his keys, opened the door, and invited the Emperor to enter. There, in the small room, was a simple pine box, and some plain white cloth on the table. That was all that was there.

“What is this all about?” asked the Emperor.

“We Jews have strict rules about burial,” explained Rothschild.  When a person dies, he must be buried in a simple coffin and his body must be clothed in a plain white shroud. This is to maintain the equality of all God’s creatures.”

“But why here is this in this room?” asked the Emperor, impressed but very confused.

“At the end of each day, I come to this room, and view the coffin and the shroud, and I am reminded that even though I have great wealth and power, I am still one of God’s simple creatures, and at the end of my life, this is the end I will come to like all of God’s children.

As we remember our loved ones who have come to the end of their journey, we too are humbled. “Zeh sof kol ha-adam” This is the end of every person.

So what are we to do? I can give no better advice than that given by the prophet Micah. “He has told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: Asot Mishpat – Only to do justice, v’ahavat chesed – to love goodness,  v’hatzneah lechet im elohecha – and to walk humbly with your God.”