Loneliness to Belonging: Rosh Hashanah Morning Sermon 5784

 

Long ago,[i] at the very dawn of humanity, all the inhabitants of the world moved from the east to gather at a singular spot.  They wished to build a great tower that would reach the very heavens.  A tower we call Babel. 

There were no stones in that valley, so the people forged kilns to make bricks.  As the Tower grew taller and taller,[ii] bricks were hauled up to the very top of the construction site.  If a brick fell, the build  ers would lay down and weep: “Woe to us, when will we have another to replace it?”  But, if a person fell down and died, they would step right over them and continue their work.  No attention was paid to those who perished.

The Tower of Babel is a stark warning of what can occur when human life is devalued.  The builders became so transfixed in their work that the people who stood next to them became insignificant, irrelevant, invisible.  Each person’s humanity was reduced until they became “nothing of importance.”   

Unfortunately, that’s not just ancient history, Americans are becoming more and more separated from one another.  The cause or perhaps the symptom of this problem is loneliness.  This past May, Surgeon General Vivek Murthy[iii] warned of the growing “epidemic of loneliness and isolation” that threatens our personal health.  Loneliness leads to greater risk of heart disease, dementia, depression, and strokes.  Most surprisingly to me, loneliness is as bad or worse for our health as smoking up to 15 cigarettes a day.  Rising levels of suicide as well as deaths from alcohol and drug overdoses are linked to loneliness.

Our country’s social fabric is fraying, trust is shrinking, and social connection is declining.  We now spend more time by ourselves than ever before; many of us socialize less than 60 minutes a day.  Surveys also show that many Americans have less than three confidents or close friendships in our lives.  Loneliness affects us all, but especially older adults, those with physical or mental health challenges, those with disabilities, racial and ethnic minorities, and our young people.

Our Jewish tradition has a lot to teach about loneliness.  As the first human beings were created, God recognized that “It is not good for human beings to be alone.”[iv]  We all need people in our lives, whether friends, family, partners, or a beloved community, who we can share our lives by way of comfort, companionship, and friendship.

Our Jewish tradition teaches the importance of being together, panim al panim, Face-to-Face.  Our ancestors recognized that we create deep personal relationships when we are in each other’s physical presence.  Ironically, technology and social media can make it much more difficult to be social!  Those who use social media more than two hours a day had increased perceptions of social isolation.  We need to put down that phone, reach out to homebound neighbors, strike up a conversation with a stranger while waiting in line, ask the cashier their name, and spend more time with family and friends in physical company. 

Alas, it didn’t happen that way at Babel.  Our Torah teaches[v] that all the inhabitants spoke the same language and the same words.  Then, God came down and said “Look – these are all one people with one language, and this is just the beginning of their doings; now no scheme of theirs will be out of reach!  Let us go down and confuse their speech so that no one understands what the other is saying.”   That is why it is called Babel, for God confused their speech and scattered them all over the face of the earth.

What a strange action by God!  You would think it would be preferable to speak the same language and same words, but not so says our tradition.  Rabba Sara Hurwitz reminds us that “conformity ‘being of one language with one common purpose’ at first seems compelling.  But the Tower of Babel shows us that conformity leads to selfishness, to prioritizing things over people. So God introduced us to diversity.”[vi]

God didn’t want us to walk in lockstep.  God compels us to recognize the power of diversity and does this by creating many languages, dialects, and diverse communities.  The Tower of Babel serves as a reminder of the threats of conformity and the fear of totalitarianism.  I often wish that we all possessed the same beliefs and similar opinions.  But the danger in speaking one language is the dehumanization of the other. 

That’s happening more and more.  Loneliness and separation are not just affecting our physical health, it’s also bubbling over in resentment, anger, and even paranoia.  Americans live in their echo chambers, only hearing their own opinions. As the Surgeon General writes about loneliness, “We will continue to splinter and divide until we can no longer stand as a community or country.”[vii]

Just reflect about the ways we engage with each other on social media and out in the world.  We block each other, mute each other, cancel each other, or ghost each other.  Is that how we should deal with conflict?  Ignore those whom we disagree with?  Cancel them completely?  What does that say about American society?  What does that say about our own humanity?

A few weeks ago, David Brooks in The Atlantic wrote a piece entitled “How America Got Mean.”  He develops a connection between loneliness and divisiveness to the rise in hate crimes, murder rates, and gun sales.  America is becoming more violent while social trust is plummeting.  As Brooks writes, “Politics… provides an easy way to feel a sense of purpose.  You don’t have to feed the hungry or sit with the widow to be moral; you just have to experience the right emotion.  You delude yourself that you are participating in civic life by feeling properly enraged at the other side.”[viii]

I experienced these ideas personally this past May when I attended the Maryland-Israel Development Center Annual Gala.  I witnessed firsthand the deep division amongst our Jewish community. 

As I arrived at the Israel Gala, a group of mostly Jewish protesters stood by a fence waving Palestinian Flags while raising up their voices against Israeli actions.  As I drove past, I saw a local rabbi who I very much respect standing with the protesters.  I was struck by the division.  A fence divided two Jewish communities, two rabbis with two very different political perspectives on Israel. 

As the event unfolded, a small group of the protesters entered the building, disrupted the speakers, and caused even more angst.  On one side of the room, some Jews yelled, “Free Palestine,” while across the room, other Jews yelled “Am Yisrael Chai,” “The people of Israel live.”

I was very taken aback by the events that happened that evening.  And yet, I believe in dialogue.  I believe in healthy debate. I believe that no one should run away from conflict.

And so, I called this rabbi.  I was so thankful that she agreed to meet in person.  Over the last three months we have gotten together a few times to discuss what happened that evening and to listen to our very different opinions on the conflict.  It has helped strengthen our relationship.   I’m saddened, but not surprised when she shared that I’m the only person who reached out to talk.  Hundreds of people attended that event, but no one else picked up the phone to talk, listen, or hear an opinion different from their own. 

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m still upset at how the protest unfolded.  We don’t see eye to eye on some of these issues.  But, not to talk, then what?  To grow farther apart?  To create further stereotypes, divisions, anger, or God forbid even violence?  

Jewish tradition believes firmly in the principle that: “These and these are the words of the living God.”[ix]  Even when we disagree, we believe in debate, diverse opinions, questioning, and dialogue.  Now, I know that this is hard, especially when one side’s views might be anathema to us.  It might feel better to just scream at each other and go into an argument with guns blazing.  Instead, we need to do our best to also listen, be empathetic, to learn and to teach. 

You might know that my theology and personal practice follows the teachings of Martin Buber, the German Jewish theologian.  Buber believes that each of us needs to do our part (whatever we can) to engage deeply with those that surround us.  Buber recognizes that often we engage with those in what he calls an “I – It” relationship.  We ignore the other treating them as nothing but a passerby.  Buber urges us to move to “I – Thou” relationships where we see the other, engage with the other, listen to the other, and are present for each other. 

Unfortunately, the builders of Babel didn’t even know each other at the most basic level.  Biblical scholars notice that throughout the Babel story not one name is mentioned.  No individual people are described; it’s only one mass of people. Contemporary interpreter Judy Klitsner[x] points out that the verses immediately prior and immediately following the Babel story describe dozens of individual names, including one of the sons of Noah, Shem, which in Hebrew means name!  The Torah hits us over the head with the belief of how best to build a community, a country, through relationship: one person at a time, one name at a time.

That’s not easy, especially with our fraying social connections.  Just a few weeks ago, Perry Bacon Junior[xi] opinion writer at the Washington Post addressed the great dechurching of America.  More and more Americans, 40 million in total, used to attend church, but do not now.  Mr. Bacon grew up in a charismatic church in Louisville, but because of reasons of theology, politics and values, now classifies himself as a “nothing in particular” or a “none.”  I was most heartened when he ended his piece with these words, “Theologically, I’m comfortable being a none.  But socially, I feel a bit lost.”

Too many in our country and in our Jewish community are clicking the “none” or “nothing in particular” box.  The rise of the “nones” weakens our social fabric and lessens our social bonds.  Socially, many of us also feel a bit lost.

Our Jewish tradition teaches: “that it is not good to be alone.”  I pray that in this New Year, each one of us will walk away from being a “none” to become a “someone.”  A someone who witnesses the humanity and the value of each person who comes across our lives.  A someone who strengthens social ties with family and friends and spends more time in each other’s physical presence.  A someone who sets down roots in community: whether with your synagogue, a civic group, club, or activity.  A someone who engages with those whom we disagree: who listens, debates, questions, and learns. 

As America grows lonelier and more isolated, as our differing opinions divide and fracture us, more than ever we need to walk away from being a “none” to become a “someone.”  Amen.

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[i] Genesis 11:1-9 (wording adapted from “The Torah: A Modern Commentary, Revised Edition” edited by Rabbi W.  Gunther Plaut

[ii] Pirke D’Rabbi Eliezer, 24

[iii] Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation (hhs.gov)

[iv] Genesis 1:18

[v] Genesis 11:6

[vi] https://ejewishphilanthropy.com/harmony-not-conformity/

[vii] “Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation (hhs.gov) (p. 4)

[viii] https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2023/09/us-culture-moral-education-formation/674765/

[ix] Babylonian Talmud, Eiruvin 13b

[x] “The Heart of Torah, Volume 1” by Rabbi Shai Held, “People Have Names,” p. 19

[xi] https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2023/08/21/leaving-christianity-religion-church-community/

Diamonds and Shmaltz: An Erev Rosh Hashanah Story 5784

 

Shana Tova!  As has become our tradition, I’d like to begin these High Holy Days with a story as told by the great rabbi, the Chofetz Chaim. 

Long ago,[i] in a far-off town lived a kind merchant named Shai.  Unfortunately, misfortune after misfortune seemed to befall Shai.  No matter what Shai did, bad luck seemed to follow.  A ship laden with Shai’s supplies sunk in the Ocean.  Shai’s faithful horse broke its foot.  And just when Shai’s canal boat business was looking to succeed, the railroad came to town.  No job seemed to work out.  There was never enough money to feed and take care of the family.    

One day walking by the city’s docks, Shai heard a rumor about riches found on a far-off island.  The island was so remote that it took a yearlong boat trip just to get there.  The journey and the hardship were well worth it because the island was covered with diamonds and jewels.  The diamonds were so plentiful that they lined the streets.  And these diamonds were for the taking.  If Shai could get to this island and collect some diamonds, the family and the community would be taken care of for a lifetime or longer!

Shai began preparations for the long and risky voyage.  Bags packed, the family informed, and then the waiting began.  Only one boat a year would travel to the far-off island.  The boat would toot its horn three times and just minutes later would set off for the yearlong voyage.

A few weeks later, three toots bellowed from the port.  Shai rushed to say goodbye to the family, gave them big hugs, and readied for the three year’s journey.

The travel was arduous with horrible waves and many bouts of seasickness, but finally the island could be seen in the distance.  Shai looked with anticipation and excitement for the riches that would be found there.  As everyone disembarked from the boat, Shai saw diamonds everywhere.  The rumor was true!  There were so many diamonds on the island; they even paved the streets with them. 

Shai was shocked!  People were oblivious to the diamonds.  They walked right over them; they ignored them.  It was such lunacy!  These diamonds would bring such riches to each person’s life.

Shai immediately sat down in the middle of the street and put pocketful after pocketful of diamonds into a bag.  And then Shai noticed something strange.  Everyone was pointing and laughing.  “What’s the rush?  You have a full year to collect diamonds.  Enjoy your time here.”

Shai didn’t know what to think but decided to pocket two of the smallest diamonds.  For Shai was so hungry after the long journey.  At the nearest restaurant, Shai ordered the most expensive item on the menu, a fancy 12-ounce steak.  When the bill came, Shai proudly paid with one of those tiny, beautiful diamonds.  “Keep the change!”  

Once again, people laughed and pointed!  “Those jewels are worthless here.” 

“What is the currency here?  What is valuable to you?”

“Shmaltz”

“Shmaltz?”

“Yes, shmaltz, chicken fat!  Fat used for cooking and frying."

“What do you mean shmaltz?  At home, shmaltz smells, it’s disgusting, it’s not even worthy of putting on the table.  How can shmaltz be valuable?”

“Shmaltz is a luxury here!  It’s so hard to obtain fat on our faraway island.  Anyone who can produce, store, and sell shmaltz will make a killing!”

As Shai began washing dishes (you need to pay for that expensive dinner somehow), a plan was hatched on how shmaltz could be developed, produced, and sold.

Soon, Shai became immersed in the shmaltz business.  The merchant skills from home came in quite handy.  First a small batch of chicken fat was produced.  Soon an assembly line was created.  A factory built and dozens of employees began to work there.  Overnight, Shai became one of the richest people on that island.

Like all the others, Shai often forgot the purpose of this voyage!  Every once in a while, Shai would look down and see the diamonds.  They’d sparkle and gleam in the sun.  Shai remembered that they were important, but here on the island, it was all about shmaltz!  Shai stepped over the diamonds, oblivious to their worth.  Instead, Shai doubled down on shamltz, continuing to build a bigger and bigger supply of fat!

And just like that (as often happens in these stories), days became months, and months became a year.  Shai remembered that the boat would be returning to port shortly.  “Listen for the three toots of the horn” as I’ll only have minutes to board the ship for the return trip home.

Shai began preparations for the voyage.  Bags readied, friends and co-workers informed, and the shamltz packed up in barrels ready for transport.

One Friday afternoon, three toots were heard bellowing from the port.  People began running to the boat.  Shai hurried as friends helped load barrel after barrel of shamaltz on board, dozens of barrels, worth millions on the island.  All of the inhabitants waved goodbye to Shai as the boat departed. 

The voyage lasted months.  Slowly a smell began emanating from the hold of the ship.  A stench that something might be wrong, but Shai continued to be oblivious.  “I can’t wait to share my riches with my family.  They will be so excited to see all of this shmaltz!”

As the boat returned to Shai’s hometown, the entire community came out to greet the ship.  Barrel after barrel was unloaded from the hold.  With each new barrel, Shai’s family became even more and more excited.  “Oh my, the richest we will receive!”

Shai came down the gangplank with thunderous applause!  Roses were thrown at Shai’s feet, the entire community excited to see the treasure found inside those barrels!

Shai gave a very long and drawn-out speech and then with a flourish, excitingly opened the first barrel: “Now, I present to you, my three year’s work, the riches of riches … shmaltz!”

“Shmaltz?”

The family went over to look inside the barrel, but they couldn’t get close enough to see because of the smell.  The stench was so powerful that the barrels needed to be thrown away immediately!

The family was confused.  Where were the diamonds?  What about the jewels that were supposed to make our lives worth living?

Shai was mortified, realizing immediately the mistakes and failures of the years away.  Shai was humiliated.

It was at this moment that Shai felt something in a pocket.  The two small, beautiful diamonds that were put there on the first day on the island.  The local jeweler whistled!  “These two diamonds are worth a fortune.  They will feed your family for a full year!”

Shai’s family was so excited about these two small diamonds.  Yet, Shai was mournful.  “I had the ability to spend my time mining diamonds and yet foolishly, I only grabbed a couple of jewels.  Instead of collecting diamonds, I spent my time and efforts with shmaltz… doing absolutely nothing.”

The great rabbi, the Chofetz Chaim, teaches that the reason we came into this world is to collect diamonds – which he defines as the mitzvot – the commandments and responsibilities of being a part of our Jewish community.

And yet, it’s so easy to be influenced by those that surround us.  It’s simpler to lose site of the responsibilities we have for our Jewish community and human family.  When so many in our world focus their energy on shmaltz, on what’s trivial, it’s easy to be influenced by them and by their perceived riches.

There are so many diamonds in our world – diamonds that line our streets, our homes, and our lives.  There are diamonds, mitzvot, that involve chesed, kindness.  Mitzvot such as visiting the sick, helping the poor, working against injustice, providing tzedakah, consoling the bereaved, and lifting up all those in need.

There are diamonds, mitzvot, that involve our Jewish community.  The study of Torah, the learning of our Jewish tradition, the gathering together in prayer, the building and strengthening of our synagogue.

The Chofetz Chaim reminds us that our days are filled with choices.  Diamonds and shmaltz are everywhere, always competing at every turn, at every decision.  And yet, we have so much time.  Minutes that add up to hours, days, and even years.  How do we want to live our days?  Do we wish to spend our time focusing on shmaltz or do we wish to search for the jewels: righteous deeds, works of tikkun olam, study of Torah, celebrating Jewish holidays, and uplifting our community.

A few diamonds here are there are lovely but imagine what we each could achieve if we made diamonds our life work.  Shana Tova!

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[i] Adapted from “Diamonds in the Street” found in The Maggid Speaks by Rabbi Paysach J. Krohn, p 253 as well as version of the story told by Rabbi Dan Milner

Thank You Temple Sinai of Roslyn

A few weeks ago, Temple Sinai of Roslyn, honored me for my five years of service as one of their rabbis.  It was a true honor and gift.  These were the words I shared in gratitude for all of their support!  It has been a true honor.  From strength to ever greater strength as I journey forth to Bolton Street Synagogue in Baltimore!

One of the greatest gifts, I’ve been given as a rabbi, is to be welcomed into your lives at moments of great holiness and intimacy.  I’ve been invited to sit alongside you at the hospital room, to listen and hopefully bring a little bit of comfort.  I’ve been honored, to stand alongside side you at a funeral or shiva minyan and hear the stories of your loved ones.  And, I’ve been overjoyed to officiate at B’nai Mitzvah, weddings, baby namings, and countless services, to see the mazel and happiness in your lives!

These sacred stops alongside the journey of life have become an incredible gift to me.  Over the last five years, you’ve constantly reminded me about what matters most: family, friendship, love, dedication, making an impact on the world.  You’ve invited me into your lives, and through that invitation, you’ve changed me for the better.

With all of these blessings, there is one moment, that occurs often, yet not too often, that for me is the pinnacle experience, the most holy and sacred moment of my rabbinate.  That is when I’m able to share words with you from the Birkat Cohenim, the priestly benediction. 

I’m sure you’ve heard these words, probably countless times.  At B’nai Mitzvah, weddings, baby namings, even the High Holy Days.  May God Bless You and Keep You.  May God’s face shine upon You and be Gracious to You, May God’s face be lifted upon you and grant you peace.

When I stand upon this bima or at a beach, or a catering hall, or your home, when I look at the face of a wedding couple, a young thirteen year old, a tiny baby, a congregation filled to the max, and recite these words, I feel a sense of great joy.  I watch your faces as I bless you with these words.  And I reflect upon all of your hopes and dreams to come.  In its truest sense, it is an honor and a blessing to be given this great responsibility to share these words with you all.

And how fitting, that on this Shabbat, as I say goodbye, as I reflect upon my five years at Temple Sinai of Roslyn, that these words, the Birkat Cohenim, are found smack dab in the middle of this week’s Torah portion.  It is besheret, meant to be!

I’ve been thinking about why these words matter so much to me.  And I believe it connects to two different aspects that have been at the forefront of my rabbinate: Teaching AND Relationship!

This prayer was first recited by Aaron, Moses’ Brother, the first Cohen Gadol, High Priest of Israel.  He blessed the people three thousand years ago, yet amazingly this blessing continues to be given today.  As a rabbi, I have the great privilege of passing on the words of our tradition that have become the foundation of who we are!  When I offer this blessing, I think back to all of the other rabbis and leaders who have blessed our people and how from generation to generation, we continue to learn, grow, and strive. 

It has been my greatest honor to teach, to learn, and to continue to share the words of our tradition with you all.  It gives me great comfort to know that I stand upon the shoulders of all those who came before me, and to know, that others will continue this path after me.

But, most importantly, is that this blessing is offered face-to-face!  As the blessing is given, we look into each other’s eyes.  At that moment, we are not strangers, but we are in relationship.  And, it is the relationships that I have built during my time here that have been most important to me.  It is these relationships that have helped me flourish.  It is these relationship that matter the most.  I’ve been honored to be a part of this community, to learn from you, to grow from you, and be a part of you.  I have so many thank yous to be given, which I’ll share later at dinner, but I want to thank you all for all that you have done for me.  Todah Rabbah, it is so much appreciated.

Thank you for opening up your lives to me.  Thank you for making me one of your rabbis, your teachers.  Thank you for all of the blessing and kindness you’ve given me.  And thank you for being you, for your friendship!  I know that there will be many blessings and thank yous given to me, but now I have the opportunity to thank you all one last time.  I ask you now, to please rise:

May God Bless You and Keep You

May God’s Face Shine Upon You and be Gracious to You

May God’s Face be lifted Upon You and Grant You Peace.  Amen.

Lessons Learned in 2015

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.