Rosh Hashanah Morning 2015
Boker Tov!
So often
when we think about the story of the Binding of Isaac, we focus on the actual
sacrifice. We think of Abraham tying up
Isaac, we think about Isaac, who was just 16 years old according to some,
willingly offering himself up; we think about the Angels coming and saying “stop!”
at just the right moment. But we don’t
think about how this one event impacted those associated with it.
Where is
Sarah? Is she aware that her life’s
partner, Abraham, is about to offer up the son that she prayed and prayed for
to God? Does she loose her trust in
Abraham that day, believing that he will always be there to protect her and her
family? After all, how could he protect her, if he is willing to kill her son? She
lost her family that fateful morning. Specifically
for Sara, though Isaac never died according to the Torah, she lost him. In fact we learn that they never did see each
other again. There is a tradition that
Sara did discover what was happening on top of Mount Mariah and it crushed her.
What about
Abraham? He lost his wife; their relationship was never the same. Not long after this event she dies.
What about
Isaac? He seemed too scarred by this
event that he did not participate significantly in the world around him again.
For the key players – Abraham, Sarah
and Isaac this event was tragic. They
each lost something significant as a result of it.
NO one can
say in this room that they have not lost someone or something. Everyone has experienced loss. Perhaps it was a loved one. Perhaps it was a child. Perhaps it was a loved business or perhaps it
was a pet. Perhaps it was a love. Perhaps it was a career. Some of us have lost money and therefore our
status within society. Others of us have
lost our marriage. More significantly as
we age most of us lose our mobility and independence. We lose trust that our body will respond the
way it always had. Whatever it was for you – your health, your family, your
career, or even a dream – we have all lost something we loved.
When I
engage with a person or a couple in pastoral counselling, often I hear about
them describe a problem. Sometimes, I
hear strong emotions like hurt and anger or betrayal. But usually, if I work closely with them, I
can find something else. I can find what
is lurking behind those emotions – what is lurking is usually a loss of some
sort.
Everyone has
experienced loss. Sometimes that loss is
exacerbated by feelings of entitlement.
That this was not supposed to happen to me; yet I assure you this happens
to you because you are a human being and suffering is part of the human
condition.
Yet we can
learn things from our suffering.
The poet
Irving Layton wrote:
“There were
no signs”
By walking I
found out
Where I was
going.
By intensely
hating, how to love.
By loving,
whom and what to love.
By grieving,
how to laugh from the belly.
Out of
infirmity, I have built strength.
Out of
untruth, truth.
From
hypocrisy, I wove directness
Almost now I
know who I am
Almost I
have the boldness to be that man
Another step
And I shall
be where I started from.[1]
From
suffering we learn how to have compassion for others and how to understand
others. When we see that someone has
suffered a loss, whether it is developmentally appropriate like watching them
grow up to learn that the world is not black and white. To losing their
innocence by discovering that the dream they wished, hoped and prayed for erupts
before their very eyes. We know about
loss. As we experience loss we can tap
into the well of empathy and compassion we have for one another.
We can help
hold that person in the deepest bonds of love.
When I was a
little girl, I would spend a week every summer visiting my grandparents. My grandparents, I thought were the coolest –
they had cable and MTV. My mom was
opposed to cable and we never had it when I was growing up. Therefore I could watch a ton of MTV and my
sister and I could have dance parties – i.e. the best time ever.
What was
amazing about them was my grandfather’s love with John Wayne. He loved almost all of his movies. Whenever there was one on, he would watch
it. During my maternity leave, I decided
to watch a John Wayne classic while walking around my living room at 1am trying
to get Daniel to go to sleep. I got to
see John Wayne in all his glory. He was
the American ideal – total independence! Yet the more I thought about John Wayne as our
ideal, the more problematic that image became for me.
How could he
choose to help others or have sympathy for others? If he suffered anything, he would swallow the
pain and trudge on. In the end of the
film, he would have regained what was lost; he was always in control and always
won. This, in many ways is the myth of
America - that we need only rely on ourselves.
That the pain we are experiencing will make us tougher. One of the things that we often say to each
other is: “God only gives us what we can handle and that it is a test for us to
pass on our own.” But imagine if you are
hearing that phrase. How untrue it
is. Someone says it because they can’t
handle that amount of pain and they want to feel separated from it.
But that is
not the Jewish way. The Jewish model of
community is something that teaches that we are supposed to rely on each other. That we are supposed to be present with and
for one another by bringing that pot of chicken soup to someone who has the flu;
a food tray to a house of mourning; rocking a newborn baby so that a tired new
mom could sleep. These are things that I
have seen this community do for each other.
This past winter we had an unprecedented loss that our community
experienced. Two individuals – one a
past president and one someone who grew up here passed within in days of each
other. What I saw from this community
was also a miracle. People drove from
one shiva minyan to the other one to ensure that there was a community presence
at both places. People held both
families in loving arms. When a few days
after that, a member of our board lost his mother, again people came together
to his house to help create a minyan. When
this community lost a Rabbi, the community rallied. When the daughter of this community who became
a cantor passed while still in her prime, the community rallied. When her sister passed away, the community
rallied.
Whenever
this community experiences loss, this community rallies. In spite of all of the pain of those losses,
this community stood up and said: “Shema
Yisrael Adonai Elohanu Adonai Echad”.
“Hear oh Israel Adonai is our God, Adonai is One.” We remembered that the letter Yain and
Dalled appear larger in the Torah. When
put together they spell the word AID
or witness and that we are taught to witness people’s suffering just as much as
we are commanded to be present with the bride and groom and bring joy to every
occasion. When a mom in this
congregation was sick and unexpectedly hospitalized, this congregation stood up
to say even though you have lost your health temporarily, we are here. Let us help take care of your children so
that you can recover.
The Jewish
way is to pray and act as it says in the Talmud, “a man should always associate
himself with a congregation.” (Berakhot 30a)
We cannot offer our prayers individually, but our stormy and tempestuous
hearts must merge and blend into a beautiful chorus. We must, “rise above our individual
uniqueness to achieve a sense of communal unity” (Soloveitchik p. 76). In the book of Job, we learn that one of the
lessons Job understood from his suffering was how to be a member of his
community. To be present when the
community suffers and celebrate the joys when the community finds
happiness. That is the meaning of the
verse: Then “the Lord turned the fortune of Job, when he prayed for
his friends.”(Job 42:10)
I want to
offer my own experience of this community, of how you supported me. Some of you know that my last pregnancy was a
hard one for me physically. I was in the
hospital on 4 different occasions because I had such a hard time keeping food
down. I want to say thank you for being
there for my family and being so supportive.
You are amazing community! You
are a blessing to those around you!!!
One of the
biggest stories of loss is the story from the Garden of Eden. The Garden was a place of paradise where we
had our needs met. We were not wanting
anything or missing anything. Yet when
Adam and Eve ate from the tree of knowledge, we as a society lost our moment in
Paradise, we lost our innocence. In a
way we have always mourned that loss. We
strive to live in a feeling of utter joy and happiness all the time, to
recreate the garden around us. But God
taught us that it was lost to us. God
put angels as guards to the entrance and hid the entrance to us so that we
could not get back. Do you think that the
Garden of Eden ever left us or we left it?
It is still with us, though we will never be able to reenter the actual
place. That is why we have moments in
our lives of absolute bliss.
We tell each
other the story of the Garden of Eden because we don’t want to accept that we
will never be allowed to go back. Yet we
cannot return.
There is a
before and an after. We had something
and then we lost it. Things will never
be the way they were before. There will
be a new normal.
For victims
of the Holocaust, there was life before and there was life after, and there was
hell during. How were people able to
pull their life back after facing such a catastrophic tragedy? How did they go on living after losing so
much? Did they find God or did they
decide, because of all of their loss and pain, that God did not exist anymore?
What is then experienced is God’s silence.
Victor
Frankel describes his reconnection with God and feeling redeemed after leaving
a concentration camp.
One day, a few days after the liberation, I walked through
the country past flowering meadows, for miles and miles, toward the market town
near the camp. Larks rose to the sky and
I could hear their joyous song. There
was no one to be seen for miles around; there was nothing but the wide earth
and sky and the lark’s jubilation and the freedom of space. I stopped, looked around, and up to the sky –
and then I went down on my knees. At
that moment there was very little I knew of myself r the world – I had but one
sentence in mind – always the same: “I called to Adonai from my narrow prison
and God answered me in the freedom of space.”[2]
Rabbi Joseph
Solovetchik, a modern orthodox rabbi, wrote an article offering a theology of
loss. In his article he offers an understanding of the binding of Isaac by emphasizing
something powerful about loss. He taught
that when God explained to Abraham what he had to do, he also explained that he
would never have Isaac back again.
Therefore the Akeidat, the Binding of Isaac, challenged Abraham both in
the present and in the future. This tragedy and loss that Abraham and Sara
were to undergo, therefore impacts every subsequent experience.
When I speak
to someone who has a strong belief in God, I hear someone who has a dual experience. At various moments they feel God’s nearness
while at other times experience God’s distance.
We love to say that there was a good reason for suffering, yet for many
of us, loss is so terrible that no reason could possibly be given that would be
good enough. We will never understand
the “why?” of suffering. All we can do
is utilize our experience by asking a different questions: “for what?” “What was the purpose of my suffering?”
I have been
privileged to walk with many of you in your loss. It has sensitized me further
to concealed pain. When I perform
funerals I find myself even more appreciative of the finitude of life and value
the sweetness of the present moment all the more. Why is it that we must experience actual pain
to have developed this sensitivity? Why can’t I just read about it in a book?
The answer is that it must be lived! It
must be experienced because we are human beings with both an intellect and a body. “Hesed
means to merge with the other person, to identify with his pain, to feel
responsible for his fate.” (Solovetchik).
I have found
that when we come together, when we arrive and are present then the Holy is
with us!
I hope and
pray that we are able to enjoy the present in a far sweeter way. It is only in enjoying the present moment
that we can truly become sensitive to all aspects of life. May we be able to continue our quest to
experience God, to cleave to Him, as he communicates to us through a cloud of
mystery and uncertainty. I know that somehow
we will find our way through our losses, with God’s help along with the help of
our community and loved ones.
May you have
a shannah tovah u’metukah. A
sweet, healthy and happy new year where you are able to celebrate the joys of
life and present for its sorrows while still feeling deeply connected to those
around you.
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