Joy, the Source of Our Strength - Rosh Hashanah Morning Sermon 5781

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

Saying Goodbye...

After five wonderful years, this evening, I said my final goodbye to Temple Sinai of Roslyn.  This was my last Friday evening service with this wonderful congregation.  As I travel forth to Bolton Street Synagogue in Baltimore, I can't thank everyone in the congregation enough for all of their support and love.  As we say in Judaism, l'hitraot, not goodbye, but see you soon!

I’m not sure if you know this… but, I don’t like long goodbyes!  Now, most of you know me.  You know that I love to schmooze. I love to meet people.  I love to talk and hear about what’s happening in our lives.  But … when the party’s over, the check’s been paid, the final bow has been taken, I like the quick kiss, hug, and a very quick “goodbye.”

That’s not the JEWISH goodbye.  We Jews have to say goodbye to everyone!  There’s so much hugs and kisses happening!  And once we’re ready to leave, we have to do it all over again.

So… you can imagine that this month has been a little bit challenging.  There have been so many goodbyes and celebrations, lunches, dinners, and brunches as I prepare to become the next rabbi at Bolton Street Synagogue in Baltimore, MD.  It has been truly incredible, heartwarming, amazing, and overwhelming.

When I began rabbinical school, I dreamed about what my impact would be.  Would I be a good teacher?  Would I be a comforting presence?  Could I help guide those who were looking for substance, meaning, and spirituality?  What I’ve learned from all of you is that I’ve fulfilled my wildest dreams.  I’ve put my heart and soul into my rabbinate… and I’ve been utterly grateful to learn that it’s been appreciated.  Thank you for your thank yous and your goodbyes.  It’s been an incredible gift to me as a person and as a rabbi.

As I conclude my final Shabbat service at Temple Sinai.  I thought deep and hard about what this final goodbye would look like.  What words did I wish to share with you all?  I wanted these words to have substance.  To explain my role as your teacher and your role as MY teacher.  And I decided the only fitting words were those from the Kaddish d’Rabbanan.

You’ve heard Kaddish.  The Chatzi Kaddish, the Mourners Kaddish.  But Kaddish D’Rabbanan is a unique Kaddish.  It’s pretty much unknown and unfamiliar to many of us.  It’s words are situated towards the very beginning of the morning service.  Must traditional Jews aren’t yet at synagogue when this prayer begins (they filter in a little bit later) and most Reform synagogues don’t often recite this prayer due to time constraints.

Yet, there are a handful of other times when Kaddish D’Rabbanan is recited.  When a community has completed a book of study, a volume of the Talmud, or a major endeavor together, Kaddish D’Rabbanan is read.  It’s word are a conclusionary blessing.  A bridge from the place we’ve been to the place we’d like to travel to.  A bridge from the past to the future.

  

There’s a reason why these words are recited after the completion of study.  It’s this extra paragraph found in the middle of Kaddish D’Rabbanan.  It reads:

God of Heaven and Earth, grant abundant peace to our people Israel and their rabbis, to our teachers and their disciples, and to all who engage in the study of Torah here and everywhere.  Let there be for them and for us all, grace, love, and compassion, a full life, ample sustenance, and salvation from God, and let us respond: Amen.

These words are all about study.  About teachers and students.  About the completion of Torah and future Torah study.  And it’s a blessing for us all: compassion, love, life, sustenance.  What a better blessing, what a better Jewish goodbye than this?

Today, as I stand here, on this final Shabbat, I recognize that I have blessed to be your rabbi for five wonderful years.  And seated here today, are a group of congregants from Scarsdale Synagogue, where I was your rabbi for four wonderful years.  I’m deeply honored to have you all here.  You’ve all been my students and my teachers.  I’ve been blessed to comfort you, teach you, guide you, pray with you, study with you, and change the world with you.  We’ve completed so much Torah together.

And yet, there is much Torah to learn.  We might not learn Torah together each and every day going forward, but we’ll still learn from each other.  Whether it’s through e-mail or facebook or times together in person, we won’t be strangers, we won’t be apart. 

And, we will learn more Torah from new teachers and new students.  Part of the Jewish way is making sure we don’t go grow bored, we don’t grow stale.  It’s important to learn from new teachers to challenge us, inspire us, and push us to think differently.  In our congregations, we will continue to grow and learn and make our world a better place.

You know I don’t like long goodbyes.  And that’s why, in Judaism, we never officially say “goodbye.”  Instead, we say Shalom – meaning we’ll be saying Hello in the near future.  And we say l’hitraot, meaning, see you soon.  To my teachers and my students, Shalom, l’hitraot.  Blessings, kindness, and peace, until we see each other next.  Amen.

Marking the Miracles

            A few weeks ago, the weather finally turned towards winter.  It was the first brutally cold December day and the snow began to fall for the first time.   “Oy,” was all I could think.  I had enjoyed the warm fall weather, the coatless days, and the changing of the colors.  The meteorologists all expected a winter filled with huge snowfalls and I dreaded the impending storms.  “Not again!” 

            As the snow began to pick-up, Caleb and I left home to go pick-up some food from the grocery store.  I was shivering from the cold and depressed by the first snow fall.  Yet, Caleb was all joy.  “Look Abba, look at the snow!”  He was running around in circles and trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue.  He was the happiest I had seen him all day.  “Cool, Abba, it’s so cool!”  It was at that moment, I realized how miraculous it was that it snowed that day.  It was after all, the first snowfall of the season!  How many days of snow would we receive this year?  A dozen perhaps, give or take a few days.  It was a blessing, a miracle!

            I looked at Caleb and told him that this was a Shehechiyanu Moment.  This was a special moment where we should thank God for the miracle of snow.  Together, we recited the blessing, thanking God that we were able to reach this moment together.  Afterwards, I grabbed his hand and the two of us spun around outside on our lawn catching snowflakes on our tongues.

            Just a few weeks ago, Rabbi Paul Kipnes visited Temple Sinai to share some insights from his new book “Jewish Spiritual Parenting.”  One of the best lessons he provided me was our responsibility as parents and mentors to teach our kids how to be grateful.  A perfect approach to move towards gratitude was to mark all of the blessings in our lives.  Taking a moment each and every day to recite the Shehecheyanu teaches us (and our kids) to “thank” God for all of the gifts of life.

            Caleb reminded me to look at the positive and I taught him to be thankful for the blessings of life!  As the cold and the snow begin to beat down upon us, may we reflect upon our bounty and our joy.  Wishing us all a wonderful winter season!

Giving Thanks

Blessed are You Adonai our God, Sovereign of the Universe, 

who gives strength to the weary.

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of the Universe,

who removes sleep from the eyes, slumber from the eyelids.

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of the Universe, 

who has made me free.

The words above are three blessings located in the middle of a morning prayer entitled Nisim b’Chol Yom (our daily miracles).  Hundreds of years ago, these blessings were recited as a person woke up and began to prepare for the day.  Our ancestors recited a blessing when they opened their eyes, when they took their first step, and when they put on their clothes.  Over time, these prayers became a fixture in the early part of the morning service.  The three blessings above are located amongst a dozen others which are recited as a pseudo-mantra.  The purpose of these morning blessings is simple: to thank the Holy One for all of the miracles in our lives. 

As we approach this season of Thanksgiving, it seems appropriate to reflect upon the bounty that surround us.  Many of us will gather in a few days around our holiday tables to carve the turkey, eat some pumpkin pie, and gobble down the cranberry sauce!  As we gather for Thanksgiving, it’s a perfect opportunity before the food is served to express our gratitude for all our blessings, whether it’s thanking our family or the Holy One for all of their support and help.

We know how challenging it can be to pause in our day and express gratitude for all of the many blessings of daily living: the miracle of the senses, nourishment, companionship, our bodies, and nature.  The morning blessings serve to “wake us up,” reminding us to stop our daily routine and provide thanks for all of the blessings that surround us.  In this Thanksgiving season, may we find a moment during our days (either when we wake up or when we prepare for bedtime) to reflect upon all of the many blessings in our lives.  May we find the time to thank our loved ones and the Holy One for all of their support and love.  Happy Thanksgiving!