On this Rosh Hashanah, I am sad. I can’t help it. Today, I am in mourning. It has been an excruciatingly difficult
couple of months. I never imagined that
we wouldn’t be together to welcome in another New Year. And now, as Rosh Hashanah began, we hear of
RBG’s death, it’s brought me to a state of despair. How did we get here? How do we get out of this nightmare?
I feel a little bit guilty sharing
these thoughts with you. However, I take
solace that the New Year wasn’t always a day of celebration. Take for example, a Rosh Hashanah, some 2,500
year ago. Ezra the Scribe convened the people by the water gate in
Jerusalem. On top of a large wooden
platform, Ezra gathered the men, women, and entire community. From dawn until midday, he taught words of
Torah. As the people listened to Ezra,
they began to cry and mourn.
For life was hard. Our people had been exiled to Babylonia. For generations, they were separated from
their homeland and they pined to return to Israel, to return to normality.
Even after arriving home, life didn’t
improve. In Israel, our ancestors were
harassed by locals. The walls of
Jerusalem and the Holy Temple were in disrepair. Many of the returnees had adopted pagan
customs and moved away from Jewish observance.
On that Rosh Hashanah, the people
recognized how far they had drifted as a community and as a country. They felt powerless to make a change. And so, they did what they could: they cried
and mourned the state of their world.
I know that many of you are in
mourning too. Covid has ravaged our
country. Almost 200,000 people dead from
this virus. Many loved ones have gotten
sick; others terrified that they got covid or passed it on inadvertently. Many of our children can’t go to school. Our economy is shuttered, our synagogue
closed, and there is no end in sight.
And it’s not just covid. Our president and his enablers are making a
mockery of our constitution and our democracy.
We worry about the ballot box and if every vote will count. We hear about another police shooting of an
unarmed black person and are reminded once again, of our country’s original
sin, racism. We too feel powerless to
make a change. We like our ancestors,
mourn the state of our world.
At the water gate, Ezra had a choice.
He could have overlooked the sadness or gotten angry at the people. Instead, Ezra did not allow the people to
mourn or wallow in their misery any longer.
“This day is holy to the Eternal your
God. Neither mourn nor weep… Go, eat and
drink things that are sweet and delicious, and send portions to those who have nothing
prepared, since this day is holy to our Eternal One. And do not be sad, for your joy in the
Eternal is the source of your strength.”[i]
Ezra changed Rosh Hashanah to the
holiday we know today. The New Year
became a joyous day of food and drink and celebration. “Do not be sad, for your joy, is the source
of your strength.”
At this moment, we too, more than
ever, need joy! And we have a lot to be
joyous about. There have been so many
hidden miracles during this pandemic.
You’ve shared some of these blessings with me:
Like the blessing of slowing down and
stopping literally to smell the roses.
The afternoon walks with friends, time outside on our decks or
balconies, gardening, and a new appreciation for nature.
It’s the meals we’ve consumed. Those of us lucky enough to have family
around can have lunches and dinners together each day. And others of us have taken up baking:
challah, sourdough, and new sweet treats.
It’s the miracle of zoom. We all get zoom fatigue, but being together
for services, family reunions, drinks with friends, and even shiva minyans,
that’s a blessing.
It’s time together at Bolton Street
Synagogue: services, boker tov, Torah study, religious school, and our
gathering remotely in celebration.
And there is a new appreciation for
the nurses, doctors, and medical professionals; the firefighters, police
officers and postal carriers; the teachers and babysitters; the cleaning people
and the barbers. We possess much
gratitude for the hard work of those who help keep our society afloat.
There is so much pain and sadness in
our world. We need joy more than
ever. These blessings and miracle shine
a small amount of happiness on our darkened world. Joy provides us with the strength to get up
each day, to repair our own lives, and provide a flicker of optimism that
tomorrow will be better than today.
Ezra also believed in an optimistic
vision. That Rosh Hashanah, some 2,500
years ago, became a clarion call, a rededication[ii]
for a stronger community. Ezra
recognized that mourning and deep attachment to the past provided a pathway to
nowhere.
Ezra’s joyful call was centered
around Torah; a vision that we would live and breathe Torah: learn and teach
Torah; gather in community to study Torah; act and follow the ethical and
religious commandments of Torah.
At that moment, Ezra’s vision seemed
preposterous. The people had veered so
far off the path, that they didn’t even understand a word of Hebrew. There was no connection to Judaism or Jewish
belief. Their country was in shambles, lawlessness,
fighting with neighbors, and a lack of morality.
Over the course of months, years,
even decades, that vision centered around Torah slowly became a reality. The kernels planted on that Rosh Hashanah
grew into the Judaism that we know and love today. Teachers taught Torah and students learned;
joyous celebration; the pursuit of mitzvot and acts of loving kindness became
the heart of Judaism.
This was not an easy change or a
quick one. There was no superman or
superwoman or super person who changed society on a dime. It took diligence and patience, it took
collective action, it took everyone in the community to bring this vision into
reality. It was the long haul that
brought us the Judaism of today.
Our holiday of Rosh Hashanah is a
little bit muddled. The New Year is a
day of contrasts: of sadness and celebration, of memory and sweetness, of
repentance and creation. Today, we take
a few moments to mourn; to be sad at all that we’ve lost and to cry at the
state of our world.
But we must not wallow in our misery
for much longer. Our mourning and sadness
can only bring us so far. It is joy that
is the source of our strength. We must
get to work, to bring to fruition the optimistic vision, that tomorrow will be
better than today. For we envision a
society where democracy prevails, racism is extinguished, climate change
averted, where Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s legacy is preserved. A world where covid no longer impacts every
moment of every day, where our Jewish community flourishes, and where all
people, no matter who we are, are treated as the children of God.
We must be in it for the long haul,
for change does not come quickly or easily.
It takes patience and diligence and requires each of us to step up and
build the world as it should be. Believe
me, we want change now; we want the quick win, the revolution. But, sustaining a revolution takes hard work
and energy and time. I believe, no I am
confident, that this vision will prevail, there is no doubt of it. It just needs us to make it so.
[i]
Nehemiah 8:9-10
[ii]
See the Introduction to “The Koren Rosh Hashanah Machzor,” commentary by Rabbi
Lord Jonathan Sacks, p. xx – xxii. I’m
also in gratitude to Rabbi Leon Morris for sharing his thoughts at a CCAR High
Holy Day Call – July 2020
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