Long ago, there was a small village
located far away at the very edge of a kingdom.
Although the village was very tiny, it was a vibrant community with its
own park, library, school, hospital, court of law, even a synagogue. Only a few hundred people lived in that
village, yet there were tailors, shoemakers, carpenters, and masons. Only one trade was missing; there was no clockmaker.
Once, there was a clockmaker, but long ago they moved away. Before leaving, the clockmaker warned the
village, “Make sure to wind your clocks each and every day.” At first, they all followed the clockmaker’s directions,
but after many years, the clocks became increasingly inaccurate. How annoying to always be looking at the
wrong time! No one knew if or
when a new clockmaker would arrive in their far-off village. And so, they stopped winding their clocks and
let them run down.[i]
Our world these days is filled with lots of ifs, whens, and maybes. There is so much uncertainty. Too many problems keep us up at night! Will our democracy survive another election? What about our Jewish community with the threats of antisemitism, Israel’s future, and continued assimilation? What about the climate? Can we stop emitting carbon quickly enough to save our planet? The problems of the world seem unsurmountable, but perhaps, maybe, with a little bit of human ingenuity, technological knowledge, and a miracle everything will be, ok? These challenges seem beyond our capacity as individuals. What does our Jewish tradition teach about navigating uncertain times?
Dr. Alyssa Gray, professor at the Hebrew Union College, teaches[ii] that for our rabbis, “uncertainty is the stage of which all human beings, Jewish and not, act out their lives.” Our Jewish tradition loves to live in the gray, in uncertainty. Major theological questions often go unanswered. Does the innocent suffer? No, says Deuteronomy. Yes, says Job. Are we punished for the sins of our ancestors? Yes, says Exodus. No, says Jeremiah. Unlike other religions, so many of our Jewish beliefs are unclear. It is in uncertainty that we thrive as a Jewish community.
It can be liberating to have such flexibility in answering theological questions. Unlike many other religions, we Jews love to ask questions, to debate, and to come up with dozens of answers to a single query. But how do we move forward? We can’t live in uncertainty forever, can we?
One answer to that question is found in a Talmudic debate.[iii] We learn that the Roman military leader Turnus Rufus encounters the great teacher, Rabbi Akiva and asks him this provocative question: “If your God loves the poor, why does your God not support them?” As befits this type of question, a theological debate occurs between rabbi and general. Each of them, contemplates God’s role in the world and attempts to understand why God would or would not act. After much back and forth, Rabbi Akiva concludes his argument with a quotation from the prophet Isaiah (a verse found in tomorrow’s haftarah reading), “It is to share your bread with the hungry, and to take the homeless poor into your home” (Isaiah 58:7). Rabbi Akiva then asks the question: “When do we bring the poor into our homes?” He answers: “Right now!”
Dr. Alyssa Gray sums up this idea: “Over the course of his dialogue with [Turnus Rufus], [Rabbi Akiva] has come to realize that there can be no certain, confident answer to a “Why?” question (“Why are there poor? Why doesn’t God take care of them?”). The only possible certainty lies in answers to questions of “How?” and “When?” to act. And the answer to “When?” is clearly “Now.”[iv]
What must we do in uncertain times? We act! Our world is burning, and we can’t fathom why humanity allows this to continue. Russia attacks Ukraine in an unjust war and we can’t understand why the world refuses to act. Homophobia, racism, misogyny, and antisemitism fester openly, and we question why decent people won’t speak out. Why do bad things happen to good people? Why does God allow these problems to continue? We don’t know and are often unable to answer any of these why questions! We can’t contemplate the theological or complex problems that are seemingly beyond our personal reach. But we aren’t expected to find an answer to these questions. Our role, according to Rabbi Akiva, is to do our small part to answer how and when we can make this world a better place. We just need to act, right now!
How must we act? Just reflect upon Rabbi Akiva’s answer to Turnus
Rufus. “When do we bring
the poor into our homes?” “Right
now.” Our Jewish tradition believes that
during uncertain times we must act together. We do this work not alone, not off by
ourselves, but in solidarity with each other.
Our Jewish tradition teaches that we pray together in a minyan
with at least ten adults, we study together in chevrutah with at least
two people, and we work to heal this world in community.
I believe that many answers to our
questions can be found by looking closely at the natural world. The beauty of nature has so much to teach
us. One example is the incredible
sequoia trees known as the California redwoods.[v] Perhaps you’ve been lucky enough to see them? These magnificent trees can grow well over
300 feet tall, up to 35 stories, and can be up to 26 feet in diameter, so big
that a car can drive through them. Many
have lived over 1,000 years. What
contributes to their incredible height, but also their longevity?
You would think the trees would have deep root systems, but their roots only travel five or six feet into the earth. That is shocking considering how tall the trees can become. A redwood tree, alone in the world, with a root system this shallow would not survive even the smallest gust of wind.
Instead, the roots of each tree branch out over 100 feet away from their trunk. Each sequoia tree intertwines their roots with other sequoias providing them with strength and vitality and resources to continue their growth.
The redwoods only thrive when they form “tribes” or communities of trees where their roots can fuse together. This provides them with incredible resilience to survive the most damaging floods, droughts, earthquakes, and other natural disasters.
During uncertain times, we too only thrive when we are in community. Alone, we will fall, but together we support, strengthen, and continue each other’s growth. When we act together, in solidarity, we are better equipped to fight adversity and survive the challenges of uncertainty.
But what keeps us going? Last summer, Dahlia Lithwick[vi] of Slate was feeling utterly shattered in this uncertain world. Not only had COVID gotten her down, but in only a few few weeks, Roe was overturned, the Uvalde school shooting, the racist attack in Buffalo, and the continued assault on LGBTQ+ people paralyzed her. Dahlia was searching for a word that summed up her feelings of helplessness, a word that expressed the need for action and hope.
Out of nowhere, a friend introduced her to a Yiddish word, tzebrokhnkayt, which is typically translated to mean dejection or despondency. But Dahlia’s friend translated this word in a more positive light “the quality of broken heartedness that gives strength in healing.” As Dahlia Lithwick shares, “at its essence we each carry our shattered pieces with us.” Tzebrokhnkayt is not something in need of a quick fix, it instead should be honored. We are obligated to gather up, tend to, and honor the pain, but also take up the work of healing.
Our people encountered pain and
adversity for thousands of years. Our
Temple was destroyed, we were expelled from our land, we wandered the world
never truly feeling at home. We faced
crusades, pogroms, and antisemitic attacks.
And yet, during the uncertainty, we continued forward, that path was
hope. We always believed that tomorrow
would be better than today, that there was always a possibility of redemption.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks teaches:[vii] “Optimism and hope are not the same. Optimism is the belief that the world is changing for the better; hope is the belief that, together, we can make the world better. Optimism is a passive virtue, hope an active one. It needs no courage to be an optimist, but it takes a great deal of courage to hope.”
Our world is filled with uncertainty. There is so much worry and despair, so much unknown about the future. It’s so hard to keep going. The big problems seem so overwhelming and out of our control. How can we stop climate change when too many deny that it’s even happening in the first place? How can we end gun violence when our leaders prevent even the smallest regulation to pass? How can we protect transgender individuals, queer people, women, and the most vulnerable when laws are enacted that take away their rights?
We navigate these uncertain times by holding
on to hope. Hope isn’t passive, it isn’t
pollyannish, it’s not rainbows and unicorns.
It is courageous to hope. Hope is
the belief that through our actions we can make this world a little bit better.
Long ago, there was a small village
whose clockmaker moved away. “Make sure
to wind your clocks each and every day.”
At first, many followed the clockmaker’s directions, but after many years
the clocks became increasingly inaccurate.
No one knew if or when a new clockmaker
would arrive in their far-off village.
And so, many let their clocks run down.
There were others, a small group, who maintained that if the clocks ran,
they should not be abandoned. So, day
after day, they wound their clocks even though they knew they weren’t
accurate. One day, news spread through
the town that a new clockmaker had arrived.
Everyone rushed to see the clockmaker with their clocks in tow. But the only clocks that could be repaired
were those that had been wound every day.
The abandoned clocks had grown too rusty!
After so many years, too many of those villagers lost hope. How long can you stare at the incorrect time before giving up? But for others, the clock was of value to them. They cared, they hoped, they kept winding those clocks.
In this uncertain world, may we too be
filled with hope. We face so much
despair, so much fear of our shared future.
Our small actions often seem like a drop in the bucket. But, if we stop turning the clock, we
guarantee that it will break. Hope
requires action. May we find the courage
to wind our clocks day after day, for even the smallest actions can make this
world a little bit better. Amen.
[i] Story
by Rabbi Israel Friedman found in Man’s Quest for God (1954) by Rabbi
Abraham Joshua Heschel (Adapted)
[ii]
Uncertainty, Action, and Faith: Talmudic Theological Musings for the Year(s) of
COVID by Dr. Alyssa Gray (pp. 3-4)
[iii]
Babylonian Talmud, Bava Batra 10a
[iv] Uncertainty, Action, and Faith: Talmudic Theological Musings for the Year(s) of COVID by Dr. Alyssa Gray (pp. 9-10
[v] https://joanneeddy.com/2016/06/29/intertwining-roots-a-lesson-on-community/
[vi] https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2022/06/uvalde-shooting-politics-is-the-poison-and-the-cure.html
[vii]
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, To Heal a Fractured World, p. 166
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