This has been a tough few weeks. For months, we were pining for a
vaccine. It would be the end to all our
troubles; and for a while it was. It
felt almost “normal” again. But that
feeling of optimism has ended. With the
rise of delta, many of us are worried about our kids; others nervous about the
vaccine’s effectiveness. If feels as if
the doors have begun to close; as if we are stepping back into the darkness. There is a lot of uncertainty, a lot of fear,
and a lot unknown.
For millennia, when our ancestors
felt those same feelings of worry, they would recite the words Ani Ma’amin. “I believe.”
“I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah, and even
though the Messiah might delay, nevertheless, I wait each and every day for the
Messiah’s arrival.”
Faith. For years, our ancestors had faith that the
Messiah would bring peace and celebration after so many years of fear and
sadness. They possessed faith that
tomorrow would be better than today; faith in something greater than themselves.
Our Torah and Haftarah readings on
Rosh Hashanah describe individuals who have everything stacked against them, and
still, even in their struggles, they possess faith that their dreams will come
true. Abraham and Sarah have faith that they
will create a new religion. Hagar and
Ishmael have faith that they will survive the horrible ordeal in the wilderness. Isaac has faith that a ram will appear, so
that it and not he would be sacrificed to God.
Hannah has faith that after years of infertility, she too would become a
parent.
Our ancestors possessed faith. They believed. They described this as faith in God who would
provide them with the answer, with the gift, with the assurance that they could
live a full and meaningful life.
I know that I’m taking a big risk
here! It’s one thing to talk about faith
at a Shabbat service, but on Rosh Hashanah, to talk about God? We don’t often talk about faith in
Judaism. Unlike Christianity or Islam,
Judaism doesn’t require belief in a specific theology or divinity, in order to
be a Jew. I also know, from
conversations with so many of you, that our congregation is filled with those
who question God. You might describe
yourself as agnostic, atheist, or humanist.
I love our community’s willingness to question, to have difference of
opinion, to address our beliefs in unique and diverse approaches.
This morning, I’m not asking you to
believe what I believe. What I ask is
that you have an open mind. I ask that
you reflect upon faith, however you define it.
In Hebrew, faith is translated as Emunah. Emunah can mean many things. It can mean faith, trust, or fidelity. Throughout our Torah, there are numerous
descriptions of faith in God. In Exodus
14:31, we read: “Israel saw the work of Adonai upon the Egyptians, the people
feared God, and believed in God…” Emunah
is translated here as belief. During
Biblical times, faith was a belief that God would provide miracles or other
actions to help us during our time of need.
My belief is different. Albert Einstein once taught, “There are two
ways to live your life. One is as though
nothing is a miracle. The other is as
though everything is a miracle.”[i] Or to put it differently, in our prayer book we
poignantly read, “Pray as if everything depended on God. Act as if everything depended on you.”[ii] I recognize my power, my voice, my actions,
but I also believe in miracles and in the divine. I feel our world is limited when we focus
solely on human power. I must believe in
something greater than myself, something that can comfort me, provide me
strength, and help propel me and humanity forward. I call that belief, God.
That is my belief. My understanding of the world. You might believe something completely
different and that is wonderful. I ask
only this, whether you have a firm theology or if you question God or if you
are an avowed atheist, please take time this holiday to reflect upon your
belief. What is your faith? What do you
believe? What provides you strength at
this moment?
For all of us, are struggling. This is a very difficult moment in all of our
lives. And I don’t know about you, but I
am constantly questioning myself.
Everything these days is gray, there is no black and white. I look at all of the decisions I need to make
and I lack faith that I’ll find the right answer.
The question, I keep coming back to,
and I’m sure you’ve asked it hundreds of times as well: “Am I doing the right
thing?” It’s become my mantra. Should I go on that trip? Should I attend that
funeral, that wedding, that birthday party?
Am I being a good parent? Am I
taking care of my family and friends? Am
I acting with kindness with compassion to those in need?
Our tradition asks us to be faithful
in our actions. To have faith in
ourselves. Yet, how can we when we
aren’t sure we are doing the right thing? That’s why I urge you to be mindful of this
famous commandment in our Torah: “love your neighbor as you love
yourself.” We often focus our energy on
the first part, “Love your neighbor,” but it’s high time that we address the
latter half, “love yourself.”
We don’t have all the answers. We will make mistakes. We aren’t perfect. That’s ok!
It’s time to focus on love, self-love.
This holiday, give yourself a break and love yourself, respect yourself,
forgive yourself, and most importantly have faith in yourself.
I’d like to return to that phrase,
“Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” Honestly, I’m having difficulty with the “love
your neighbor” piece. I have little
faith in humanity at this moment. When so many of our fellow citizens don’t
believe in science. When others won’t
take the vaccine or refuse to wear a mask; when it seems that our society is
crumbling, growing ever further apart, it is excruciatingly difficult to have
faith in humanity.
I’m not sure I have the answer, but I
turn to Margaret Mead who once famously said, “Never doubt that a small group
of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only
thing that ever has.”[iii] That’s what provides my faith in
humanity. That a small group of us, here
in our congregation, our allies in Baltimore, our Jewish community, and so many
others, can join together and bring about a small spark that can transform our
world.
One way in Judaism that we show that faith
in each other is through a little word, Amen.
Amen means “I agree” “May it be so.”
It’s connected to Emunah, faith.
It’s an acronym for El Melech Ne’aman, “God the Trustworthy King.”
Our tradition teaches that the person
who answers Amen receives more reward than the person who recited the blessing
in the first place.[iv] Amen boosts the power of the statement. Amen expresses a commitment to each other. Amen means solidarity. Amen is an affirmation of faith.
On this Rosh Hashanah, I ask for your
Amens, your commitment, your affirmation, your solidarity:
This year, may we have faith in our
personal power to make change. Amen.
This year, may we have faith that we
can fix the brokenness in our world.
Amen.
This year, may we have faith in the
sacred. Amen.
This year, may we have faith in
ourselves, Amen.
This year, may we have faith that we
can change the course of history. Amen.
Long ago, our ancestors would recite
the words Ani Maamin, I Believe, when they yearned for the Messiah’s arrival
during moments of great challenge. There was no more difficult time than the
Holocaust, when our ancestors prayed for a better day.
A tale is told that after the Holocaust
ended, a Swiss journalist found a small cellar in Cologne, Germany where Jews hid
from the Nazis. On one of the walls, is
a note, written into the pavement by those who stayed there: “I believe in the
sun even when it’s not shining. I
believe in love even when I can’t feel it.
I believe in God even when God is silent.”[v]
It has been a difficult year, and the
weeks and months ahead look bleak as well.
A lot of uncertainty, a lot unknown, a lot to worry and fret about. Our ancestors always believed, even in times
of difficulty. They believed in God who
would support and strengthen them. They
believe in the Messiah who would rescue them.
They believed in the sun, even when it was dark outside. They believed in love, even when all they saw
was hatred.
Your belief will be different than
theirs, that’s ok. But you need faith,
too. What do you believe? What provides you strength and solace? What helps you get up each day to make a
difference?
Ani Maamin. I too believe. I believe in a power that connects us to
nature, to history, to one another. I
believe in myself, even when I don’t know the right answer or even when I make
a mistake. I believe in humanity, even
with all of its failures, and fractures, even with all of its weaknesses,
pettiness, and self-centeredness. But, most importantly, I believe in you. I believe in your power, our collective power
to make a difference. For I know, that I
have you, you have me, and we have each other.
For together, we say: Amen.
[i] http://www.alberteinsteinsite.com/quotes/einsteinquotes.html
[ii]
Mishkan T’filah: A Reform Siddur, p. 165 (words by Ferdinand Isserman)
[iii] https://americanhistory.si.edu/collections/search/object/nmah_1285394
[iv]
Babylonian Talmud, Berachot 53b
[v] https://humanistseminarian.com/2021/04/04/i-believe-in-the-sun-part-v-the-source/
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