When the clock hits midnight in a few days, the whole world
will celebrate the arrival of a new year.
New Year’s Day is not considered to be a Jewish holiday (we have our own
New Year, Rosh Hashanah in early autumn), however, January 1st is a big marker
of time! It serves as a reminder to stop
and think about where we are at this moment both as individuals and a
society. In light of this calendar
change, I’d like to reflect upon the lessons that I personally learned in 2015
and my hopes for the future.
Stand up for what you believe
Earlier this summer, I received multiple invitations from
Reform Rabbis to join “America’s Journey for Justice” a forty day march from
Selma, Alabama to Washington, DC coordinated by the NAACP. This march highlighted the deep racism and
income inequality that pervades our society.
After hearing about the march, I thought about whether I had the time or
the inclination to travel down to rural Georgia. Luckily, I made the right decision and stood
alongside people of all ages, races, and religions, to march for justice. The lesson I learned is that talk can be
cheap. We must stand up for what we believe
and act in order to better our world.
Support Our Friends
Just a few weeks ago, our society was rocked by the vicious
terrorist attacks in Paris, France and San Bernardino, California. Certain politicians and the media began to spew
hatred about Muslims. Our leaders began
to talk about closing the US border to Syrian refugees, while others lambasted
the Muslim community saying that many were terrorists. Just days after the attack in Paris, I was
contacted by my friends from the Islamic Center of Long Island to join with
them to condemn ISIS and to state publicly that moderates of all religions care
about human life. I was proud to join
them and be one of the few Jewish representatives. When our friends need our support and our
help, it is our obligation to stand by them and speak out against hatred and
fear.
Change Does Happen
It can be hard to be an optimist in today’s world. It seems that our country is becoming even
more polarized and that politicians utter whatever is in their hearts without
thinking about the ramifications of their words. Terror and fear pervade our world and too
many still are affected by the economic collapse. It sometimes feels that we are moving
backwards instead of forwards. However,
this June, we celebrated a major victory: Gay Marriage became the law of our
land. Millions of same-sex couples,
their friends and families, were able to celebrate as their relationships were
now legally recognized. Change does
happen! It might be slower than we like
and there might be many downs before there are ups, but change does
happen! It’s a tough road ahead, but
when we support our friends and act for justice, our world can become a more
peaceful and transformative society. May
we continue to do our part in 2016 to bring Tikkun Olam, healing to our world.
I love Chanukah!It’s a time of true joy and celebration.What’s better than lighting the candles,
eating delicious latkes, or opening a present!But… in recent years, I’ve noticed a change in how Chanukah is
celebrated.Whether it’s American
materialism or the close proximity to Christmas, it seems that the focus of
Chanukah is the gifts!The conversation around
the Chanukah table is often about the latest electronics, the best toys, or the
hottest clothes.Now, don’t get me
wrong, Jewish tradition has never frowned upon giving gifts.For hundreds of years, Jewish children received
a dreidel, chocolate coins, and even some gelt (money!) during Chanukah.These gifts were small tokens from a loving parent
or grandparent during this joyous holiday.However, the money given was often used as a way to teach children about
the mitzvah of tzedakah (giving charity to the poor).That’s
why Temple Sinai of Roslyn has decided to transform our celebration of
Chanukah.We are inviting Jews in
Roslyn, across Long Island, and around the world to give back to our community
and bring light to the world. Our
Chanukah celebration this year is called “8 Nights of Giving!” During each night of Chanukah, we’re hoping
that each of us can give back to our broader community by donating to a local charity,
dropping off a donation, or doing a hands-on-project!Check out 8nightsofgiving
and follow us at #8nightsofgiving.May
our acts of loving kindness bring light and joy to the world around us!
Earlier today, I joined a dozen other ministers, priests, and imams to speak out against terrorism and hatred. The Islamic Center of Long Island invited me to join them to denounce the terrorism that occurred last week in Paris. It was a privilege to express to the world that people of all religious traditions deplore violence. Below are the words I shared this afternoon:
In a few hours, the Jewish Sabbath, Shabbat, will be upon
us.Jewish communities around the world
will gather to read words from the Torah, the Jewish Bible.We will reflect upon the story of Jacob’s
dream.Jacob dreamt of a ladder that
went from the Earth all the way up to the Heavens above.On that ladder, were angels, going up and
going down!When Jacob awoke from his
dream, astonished, he replied, “God was in this place, and I did not know it!”
Thousands of years after Jacob dreamt his dream, we gather on
these steps to proclaim that “God is in this place and we know it!”Those of us, from the Jewish, Christian
communities gather with our friends from the Islamic Center of Long Island to stand
as one.We recognize that not only is
God in this place, but God is found everywhere around the world.We value human life because we believe that the
spirit and the soul of God is inside each and every person.
Sadly, there are a few people, who are unable to comprehend
Jacob’s dream.These men and women
possess hatred in their hearts.They
believe in the idolatry of violence and destruction and death.They allow animosity to rule over life and
companionship and peace.Today, we join
with the Islamic Center of Long Island to cry out in unison, that we deplore
violence.We stand against everything
that the terrorists believe to be true.We value human life and freedom and liberty.We care about religious pluralism.We respect difference.This afternoon, we speak out forcefully against
violence and terrorism and say, “No More!No more shall hatred rear its ugly head!”
The prophet Isaiah shares this utopian vision for the future: "They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more." We believe in Isaiah's vision. Together we join hands and pray for compassion, for respect, and for peace. Amen.
Yesterday evening as I drove towards Temple, I heard the
news about the horrific terrorist attack in Paris. All of the joy and happiness I felt was
shattered as I discovered the depth of the carnage and destruction. Throughout Shabbat, Paris has been on my mind
and these words of prayer have been in my heart. Paris is the City of Light which beckons all
the world to search for truth and enlightenment. May the darkness be lifted and may peace and
light shine once again.
A Prayer for the City of Light
By Rabbi Andy Gordon
O Holy One, Creator of Light,
The City of Paris has been darkened by destruction,
innocent people murdered or injured
solely because they were celebrating with friends
or
gathering for dinner.
Creator of Light,
throughout the ages,
the poets, philosophers, and teachers of Paris
taught the world to think differently,
to respect diversity,
to believe in liberty, equality, and fraternity.
In this time of deep darkness,
may enlightenment and peace
conquer fear and hatred.
May the city now filled with darkness and dread,
once again shine ever brightly.
And may all of us, across the globe,
join hand with hand and heart with heart,
together bringing peace and compassion to our world. Amen.
This week, we once again begin “In
the Beginning” with the story of the Creation of the World. We meet the first human beings, Adam and Eve;
we celebrate the first Shabbat; we discover the first moment of love; we watch
the birth of the first child. Life seems
idyllic, truly peaceful. Unfortunately,
shortly after the world was created, we also experience the first moments of
pain, of struggle, and of death.
Many of us know the story of Cain and
Abel, the story of the first murder. The
two brothers were complete opposites: Abel a shepherd was giving and big
hearted, while Cain, a farmer, thought only of himself. The two brought gifts to God: Abel shared his
most precious animal, while Cain brought ordinary vegetables.
Cain became jealous of his brother’s many
successes. The Torah teaches, that in
midst of a field, Cain approached Abel and killed him. Afterwards, God asks Cain, “Where is your
brother Abel?” Cain replies: “I do not
know. Am I my brother’s keeper?” These famous words, “Am I my
brother’s keeper?” are renowned throughout history. Interestingly, Cain never receives an answer
to his question. What follows is
silence. Cain is punished, required to
wander the earth. But, why does God fail
to answer Cain’s question?
When God finally addresses Cain, God
tells him: “your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground!” The word blood, damim, is in the plural. It
should be translated as bloods, “your brother’s bloods cry out to Me…” The rabbis teach that Cain did not only kill
Abel, he also killed all of Abel’s future descendants; an entire family line was
uprooted in this murder.
As I reflected upon the story of Cain
and Abel, my thoughts turned towards the rampant gun violence that pervades our
society. Just as Abel’s blood cries out
to God, so too do we hear the cries of innocent victims murdered last week in
Oregon. We mourn the loss of life, of
families broken, of entire family lines uprooted. Recently, I recognized how desensitized I have
become to the many shootings that seem to occur month after month. There have been too many deaths from gun
violence: from Virgina Tech, to Columbine, to Charleston, and now to Oregon,
and many more. Every few weeks another
massacre occurs and yet nothing seems to change. There are words of mourning, eulogies
delivered, but once again life returns back to normal. Time after time, my thoughts turn back to
Cain’s question: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” and God’s silence.
As one of the first human beings,
Cain might not have known the power he possessed in his hands. As only the third person in the world, Cain
was still figuring out how life worked, how relationship worked, how anger and
violence worked. Was his crime solely
the murder of his brother or could his crime be something even more profound?
I believe that the words “Am I my
brother’s keeper? - are the true essence of this story. Yes, Cain murdered his brother, this was his
sin. But, I believe that his crime was
deeper than that. Cain had an inability
to recognize his responsibility for others.
Cain showed no remorse and did not seem to care that his brother was
gone.
That’s why God never answers Cain
directly. In the silence, God affirms
that Cain must find the answer himself.
Yes, God punishes Cain, but God wants Cain and all those that follow
after him, including us, to discover our responsibility to care for and watch
out for all of humanity.
Cain didn’t discover the answer to his
question as he used brunt force or after the crime was committed. It was only later, that he was able to change
and to grow. The Torah teaches that when
God doled out punishment for the crime, Cain tells God, “My punishment is too
great to bear!” The word avon – punishment – is often translated as
sin. Cain tells God: “My sin is too
great to bear!” Here, we witness a
different Cain; a man who is aware of his failings, who has finally taken responsibility
for his actions. At this moment, he
begins that process of teshuvah, of repentance, and taking on the repercussions
of his actions. In many ways, after each shooting,
after each massacre, I feel like I’ve stepped into Cain’s shoes. I recognize how desensitized I’ve become to the
violence; how powerless I feel to change anything; how complacent I’ve become
with the status quo. After each
shooting, I hear myself asking: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Yet, all I hear is
silence. Cain found the answer himself
and changed his ways. So too, after each
massacre, must each of us, and our elected officials, look deeply into that
silence, answer the question, and move forward.
Judaism teaches that “to save a
life, is to save the world.” By
preventing one murder, we will save a family, a community, and a world.
Many
years ago, a young Jewish man from Boston traveled down to Florida for his
honeymoon. He and his wife were picked up at the
airport by an African-American cab driver.
As they drove through wealthy neighborhoods, they passed by a Country
Club, with a large sign out front, with the words, “No Jews, No Dogs.” The man was shocked. He turned towards the cab driver and asked if
that was common practice down there. The
driver answered: “At least you made the sign.
They don’t even mention us.’”
That young man, Kivie Kaplan, became an activist and a
philanthropist. He marched with Dr. King
in Selma, travelled to Mississippi for Freedom Summer, and served as a
president of the NAACP.
Late in life, Kivie helped found the
Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism.
The RAC has a long history of advocacy and fighting for justice. A few years after the RAC’s founding, the
very words of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965
were penned on its conference room table. Kivie Kaplan was one giant among a
generation of Jewish leaders who stood against racial injustice. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel and Rabbi
Joachim Prinz and scores of other Jewish men, women, and college students
risked their lives for the rights of others.
They helped make our world a more just, a more tolerant, a more equitable
place for all. That
is why I am saddened by the recent news of racial injustice. There are still too many who face prejudice
solely because of the color of their skin.
We’ve seen parts of the Voting Rights Act struck down, and now, new,
onerous laws make it challenging for many to vote. On Rosh Hashanah, Rabbi White reminded us of
the power that words hold, such as Eric Garner’s “I can’t breathe!” There are too many stories of black men who
were stopped by the police and failed to make it home. In
light of these recent events: of the shootings and the demonstrations, of the
rulings and legislation: Cornell Brooks, President and CEO of the NAACP, called
for a march, “America’s Journey for Justice.”
This was not any march; it was a 40 day, 1,000 mile journey that began
in Selma, Alabama and ended in Washington, DC.
Why march? Because “our
lives, our votes, our jobs, and our schools matter.” Why march? Because “Black Lives Matter.” Fifty years ago, hundreds marched
with Dr. King from Selma to Montgomery, to address the injustice around voting
rights. On your seats is a picture taken
from that march. Standing next to Dr.
King, is Rabbi Maurice Eisendrath, then president of our Reform Movement,
marching and carrying a beloved Torah scroll. When our Reform Movement heard about
“America’s Journey for Justice,” they pledged that at least one rabbi each day,
alongside a Torah, would march the entire 1,000 miles of the journey. I knew that I must follow in Rabbi
Eisendrath’s footsteps. That’s how, I
found myself, in the middle of August, on a desolate road in rural
Georgia. Alongside me were dozens of
other marchers of all races and religions.
In the heat and the humidity, with sweat pouring down my face, I marched,
carrying the Torah. I learned so much
just by walking, talking, and journeying alongside my fellow marchers. I’d like to share some of the stories I heard
and I hope, that together, we can work to bring justice and compassion to our
world. That
morning, I sat down for breakfast with Royal, who lives in Ohio, just a few hours
from where I grew up. Royal shared how
terrified he is when his teenage son gets into the car and drives away. I thought about all of the parents who worry
when their kids get behind the wheel for the first time. Royal worries about this too, but it’s not
his only concern. Royal fears that his
son could get pulled over for the crime of “driving while black.” Could his son be dragged from the car,
arrested, or even worse, never make it home? Carrying
a 20 pound Torah in the 100 degree heat isn’t easy and as I marched next to
Royal, the Torah truly became a burden.
But, it wasn’t the Torah’s weight that bothered me; it was its values of
justice and righteousness that truly bore down upon my soul. I couldn’t help but think about the prophet
Isaiah, whose words we will read tomorrow morning:
Cry from the depths, says God – do not hold
back, lift up your voice like the shofar…[i] Royal’s
cry and the cries of millions of parents like him, sound like a shofar,
awakening me from my complacency, my comfort.
I thought about all of the times I wanted to lock the doors of my car or
hold tight to my phone. I reflected upon
my own prejudice and my own discomfort around race. This
Yom Kippur, I focus my Cheshbon HaNefesh –
the accounting of my own soul – on racial injustice. I challenge myself to look at the fears that
plague my soul and the internal racism that goads me. I challenge myself to understand the benefits
of being white and finding ways to create equality and fairness for all. Later that day, I marched alongside
Sheila who is concerned about the next generation. In her hometown of Detroit, Sheila told me
that those without an education often only find work as a restaurant server –
making the minimum wage – barely enough to make a life. Sheila described the pain she feels for those
stuck in the cycle of poverty, whose schools fail them, and whose job prospects
are dim. Sheila inspires me. She just started a new job tutoring high
school seniors, providing them with the skills they need to move forward with
their education and their dreams. As I marched alongside Sheila, Torah in
my arms, I once again thought back to Isaiah who reminds us that to change our
world, we must act:
Is
not this the fast I desire – to break the bonds of injustice and remove the
heavy yoke; to let the oppressed go free and release all those enslaved? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
and to take the homeless poor into your home, and never to neglect your own
flesh and blood?[ii] Without a doubt, our schools are
failing many who live in low income areas.
This disproportionately affects students who are black because our
schools are more segregated now than they were forty years ago.[iii] There are so many barriers preventing us from
fixing our schools, yet Sheila did not throw up her hands and walk away; she
acted! She is doing her part to better
our world. There
are already so many in our community, from the grassroots to government, from
philanthropy to hands-on work, whose acts make a huge difference in Long Island
and around the world. But, we know there
is so much more we can do both individually and as a community to tackle racial
injustice. Here are just four things,
some easier than others, which I hope will push us to do even more: First,
you can do something as easy as filling out a postcard! In 2013, the Supreme Court struck down
certain sections of the Voting Rights Acts.
Since then many
states, most famously North Carolina, passed laws making it difficult for
thousands of citizens, often people of color, the poor, or the elderly from
accessing the ballot box. There is
nothing more unjust than preventing citizens the right to vote. On your seat is a postcard. Take a moment to fill it out and drop it in
the baskets on your way out of services. This
October, learn and study and open your minds!
The Temple Sinai Book Club will be reading Ta-Nehisi Coates, “Between
the World and Me.” Written as a letter
to his fifteen year old African-American son, it powerfully describes race in
America today. I hope you will read the
book and join us for the discussion. This winter, help build a better
community. We already have a close
relationship with Pastor Victor Lewis and the Friendship Baptist Church. We will come together to have a discussion
about race and religion. This will not
be an easy conversation, but by truly listening to each other, we can uncover
new truths, deepen our relationship, and work together to heal our world. This
year, become an activist! Temple Sinai
is a partner of LICAN, a Long Island Community Organizing Initiative. We advocate for social change as part of
Reform Jewish Voice of New York and the Religious Action Center. Whether it is a local issue or a national
law, our congregation needs leaders who will help us advocate for justice and
equality for all. Please volunteer and
join us! I know these might seem to be small
things, but this is just the beginning.
Don’t let it stop here. May our
study and our building of relationship, encourage us to help all who are in
need and discover new ways to give back to our community. As the day grew hotter, I marched
alongside Keisha and learned her story.
In 1996, the Ku Klux Klan chose Ann Arbor, Michigan, her hometown, as
the location for its next rally. A small
group of Klansman showed up wearing their white robes and conical hoods, while
across the way, hundreds of others stood together in a counter-rally. All was peaceful until a woman with a megaphone
yelled out: “There’s a Klansman in the crowd!”
A white, middle aged man, wearing a confederate flag t-shirt with an SS
tattoo on his arm, stood in the middle of the counter-demonstration. Shouts of “Kill the Nazi” were hurled at
him. As he was knocked to the ground,
the protesters began kicking him and hitting him with sticks. Suddenly, Keshia, then only 18 years
old, a High School senior, threw herself upon the man, protecting him from the
blows. Asked why she did this, she
shared: “I knew what it was like to be hurt.
The many times that happened, I wish someone would have stood up for
me.”[iv] I asked Keisha if she ever spoke with
the man whose life she saved. She never
did. But one day, when she was at a
local coffee shop, a young man stopped and thanked her. “What for?” she asked. “That was my dad” he answered. Keisha’s act not only changed one son’s
heart, it transformed the trajectory of her life as well. Like Kivie Kaplan, experiencing hatred and
hostility, pushed Keisha to become an activist.
Twenty years later, she continues to fight for
justice and equality. We all can’t be
Keshia, but we can possess her willingness to see each other not by the color
of our skin, but as other human beings. This evening, on Kol Nidre, as I begin my
fast, Isaiah’s cry summons me: Is not
this the fast I desire – to break the bonds of injustice and remove the heavy
yoke; to let the oppressed go free and release all those enslaved?[v] Isaiah calls me to recognize my prejudice and
my fears. Isaiah calls me to act, to do
my part, to not remain silent. But, it
is not only Isaiah who calls me: Royal, Sheila, Keisha and millions upon
millions of others cry out, their cry like a shofar, for justice and equality. They remind me that I have the power to heal
our world so that on one feels injustice or hatred or discrimination for who
they are. I hear their call. Hineni, Here I am, I am ready.
[i]
Isaiah 58:1 (Verses from the Yom Kippur Morning Haftarah Reading)
[ii]
Isaiah 58:6-7 (Verses from the Yom Kippur Morning Haftarah Reading)
Long ago,[i]
there was a great king.This king
possessed the most beautiful diamond.It
was perfect in every way.The diamond
brought the king great joy and he spent hours gazing at its beauty.One day, tragedy occurred.The diamond fell from the king’s grasp, smashing
upon the marble floor.A deep, long
scratch, now marred its exquisite perfection.
The
king was distraught.He sent for his
best artisans pleading with them to fix the diamond.Each diamond-cutter looked closely at the gem
and shook his head sadly.The scratch
was too deep to be repaired.
Finally,
one last diamond carver arrived and gazed at the gem from every direction.He told the king that he could create
something beautiful out of its flaws. Within
the week, the diamond cutter had returned.The king lifted the gem towards the light and saw that the long scratch
still remained.He became furious.“Why do you mock me?” he yelled!“Look closer” said the artisan. Instead of
seeing the scratch as a flaw, the artisan saw it as the stem of a rose.Patiently, he carved flowers, roots, and
leaves: transforming an ugly imperfection into something unique and truly
remarkable.
At the
start of these High Holy Days, we too focus on our imperfections.We recognize that we made mistakes; we committed
wrongs; we missed the mark.We will
spend the next ten days, searching, uncovering, and repairing the regrets that
litter our lives.The question is: how
will we grapple with our imperfections?The diamond carver recognized that our limitations can’t easily be
erased or polished away; imperfections don’t just disappear, they must be
transformed into something of lasting value.
Our society more than ever believes in
perfection.A politician misspeaks; an
athlete takes the wrong shot; a teen idol fails to live up to her image; and we
gladly lambast them publicly.Social
media, tv advertisements, peer pressure, push us towards the elusive goal of
perfection.We want the killer body, the
Ivy League education, the high flying job, the gorgeous home, and the perfectly
behaved kids.I believe our striving
towards perfection is not only unhealthy, but inherently un-Jewish.The Talmud teaches that: “The Torah was not
given to the angels.”[ii]God gave the ultimate gift, the treasure of
Torah, not to those perfectly behaved Angelic Beings, but to us, human beings,
even with all of our frailties and all of our many faults.Judaism does not expect or even ask that we
be perfect.Our tradition teaches the
reverse: be true to who you are and work to better your life and the lives of
those who surround you.
Nothing
better illustrates this point, than our understanding of God.When Moses and God meet for the first time,
God shares God’s name: “I will be, what I will be.” – The imperfect tense.[iii]Through our personal experience and the
stories shared throughout our tradition, we recognize that God is an imperfect
being.God is continually changing and
adapting, never reaching a state of perfection.We sometimes are challenged or even angered at God’s limitations, but
are reminded that God makes mistakes, just like the rest of us.If God is not perfect and the Torah was given
even with all of our limitations, why must we continually strive for
perfection?Why must we push our
children to achieve unreasonable expectations?
Many of
you might not know this… but I guess there is no better time than this, to come
out of the closet, and admit that… “I am… a perfectionist.”Yes, I always make sure that everything is
done “the right way, at the right time.”Being a perfectionist served me well as a teenager, throughout grad
school, and especially as a rabbi, but something changed since the birth of my
son.I’ve come to learn some incredibly
important lessons.As a parent, there is
no such thing as perfection. Caleb is smack dab in the middle of the terrible
twos with potty training to boot.I’ve
come to the hard realization that I’m not a perfect parent.Like many others in this room: “I’ve lost my
cool, said things I shouldn’t have, acted rashly, and didn’t do my best.”
I’ve
also come to the realization that although Caleb is incredible in every way and
I kvell with joy when I speak about him, I don’t want him to be perfect
either.He will make mistakes; will do
things his way, at his time; and will have his own limitations.This year, as we will reflect upon teshuvah – working to better our own
lives – I personally am wrestling with perfection.It’s difficult to step back and affirm our
flaws.It’s challenging to accept the
imperfections of loved ones.But, it’s
these imperfections that can transform our lives into something of lasting
value.
Don’t
get me wrong: I firmly believe that doing our best and working hard are truly
admirable traits.My concern is when our
end goal is always perfection.There is a
danger when we expect perfection for ourselves and our loved ones.Sometimes, we will use any means to get
there: harming our bodies; working far too hard; cheating; finding the easy
answer that might not be the “right” answer.Striving for perfection can be a sign of low self-esteem or of an
inability to believe in ourselves.We
lose our identity: that understanding of who we are and what we believe when we
travel down the path that others assume for us. Imperfections are not always bad.It’s our imperfections that allow us to see the flaws in the world and
work to fix them.Just
look at the story of our most beloved ancestors, Abraham and Sarah.These two stalwarts of the Jewish people were
dedicated to our religion, fiercely loyal to our God, and advocates of Social
Justice.Why?It was their imperfections that allowed them
to see the cracks in the world and work towards the betterment of all.Abraham and Sarah, as we will see tomorrow
morning, were sometimes blind to the needs of family members and hurtful to
loved ones.As the founders of our
ancient faith, we would expect them to be perfect.Yet, even God does not command perfection;
God tells Abraham, “walk in my ways and be whole.”[iv]
What a
beautiful sentiment.Our goal as Jews is
not to reach perfection; our mission is a journey towards wholeness.As the scholar, Susan Handelman explains:
“‘Be whole’ does not mean ‘…flawless [or] perfect.’It means be ‘on the way,’ towards others,
towards the future.”[v]Since Abraham and Sarah, we Jews journey
forth, not towards perfection, but towards the pursuit of wholeness.A journey towards wholeness in not concerned
with every detail of the moment or with every social expectation.Instead, it focuses on the big picture – on
the larger goal of bettering our lives.
That
means allowing ourselves the freedom to fail.Often, we are scared of failure, terrified that a wrong turn will careen
us off the path of life.But, failure
makes us stronger.Moses stood before
Pharaoh ten times before he could “Let his people go.”Moses wasn’t worried about failing, he wasn’t
petrified about how others viewed him; he kept on stumbling, kept on trying,
and became stronger from the experience.It’s not only Moses: Albert Einstein failed out of school.“What?A nice Jewish boy didn’t make the honor role?”And Oprah, queen of television, was fired
from her first job because she was too emotional.She was “unfit for tv.”By taking risks, recognizing that we aren’t
perfect, and are special for who we are, we can achieve our dreams and pursue
that path towards wholeness.
We all
feel the need to be perfect, but it is our kids who bear the brunt of the
pressure.Beginning at an early age, our
kids are told to not only achieve their best but to BE the best.Our kids
are expected to be the valedictorian, the star athlete, the prom queen, the
prom king, and now to tower over everyone else.Our teens continually jump through hoops in a race to nowhere.
Recently
you might have seen Frank Bruni’s column from the New York Times on “How to
Survive the College Admissions Madness.”[vi]Bruni will be speaking at Temple Sinai later
this year.I hope you will join us!He tells the story of Matt Levin a senior
from Cold Spring Harbor, who was about to hear from his top schools.His parents Craig and Diana were worried
about him and wrote him this letter expressing their thoughts.He could read it whenever he wanted; they
just wanted him to know they wrote these words before he learned his fate.
Dear
Matt,
On
the night before you receive your first college response, we wanted to let you
know that we could not be any prouder of you than we are today.Whether or not you get accepted does not
determine how proud we are of everything you have accomplished and the
wonderful person you have become.That
will not change based on what admissions officers decide about your
future.We will celebrate with joy
wherever you get accepted…But your
worth as a person, a student and our son is not diminished or influenced in the
least by what these colleges have decided.
We
love you as deep as the ocean, as high as the sky, all the way around the world
and back again – and to wherever you are headed.Mom and Dad
.
Matt
read these words hours after learning that he was rejected from his top three
schools.As mentors, teachers, friends,
and parents, we must remind our kids that we love and support them no matter
which direction life takes them.We are
proud of our kids for who they are and our love will not be diminished.
Long ago, a king possessed a
beautiful diamond; a perfect gem that was marred by a deep, long scratch; an
imperfection.We are that diamond.Each one of us begins life as a perfect baby,
but no matter where our journey takes us, we veer in the wrong direction, make
mistakes, and miss the mark.Deep down,
we know that we possess flaws and blemishes; that we are imperfect.That faithful artisan recognized, that our
imperfections can be transformed into something unique --- something remarkable
--- something even beautiful. During these High Holy Days, we
become the artisan, transforming the blemishes that are upon our souls.We open our eyes to the journey ahead and
recognize in our hearts, that our goal is not perfection, but a pursuit of
wholeness.Let us be willing to
fail.Let us revel in our identity. Let
us support our loved ones for who they are.Judaism doesn’t expect you to be perfect.It only asks: be true to who you are and work
to bring wholeness to our world.
[iii]
Check out this great article by Yoram Hazony entitled “An Imperfect God” from The New York Times, November 25, 2012, http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/11/25/an-imperfect-god/#more-136650
[v]
“Yom Kippur – loving our imperfections,” Sh’ma,
September 1989
[vi]
Frank Bruni, “How to Survive the College Admissions Madness,” March 13, 2015, The New York Times, http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/15/opinion/sunday/frank-bruni-how-to-survive-the-college-admissions-madness.html
