Yom Kippur, 5767, Rabbi Kelman
Yom Kippur
5767
Rabbi Kelman
This is our 18th year together – 17 as guests here at Northbrae – and my final one as rabbi here with you at Netivot Shalom. Many people approached me at Rosh Hashanah and during this past week and asked me how I felt about this milestone. My reaction was surprising – even to myself! I have this tremendous feeling of joy! Naturally, there is a tinge of sadness – but the sense of joy is overwhelming (no, not because I will no longer have to deal with the day-to-day – actually, moment to moment life in this congregation) – but rather because when I look out at you, I am amazed and proud at what we, together, have created in just 18 years So, this will be for me (and you) a year of reflection and of charting the future.
Now that I have acknowledged the reality of this moment I want to share some thoughts this evening, as I have done each Kol Nidre – thoughts of two kinds: the first is simply to learn from our classic texts; the second is to assess this moment and speak about the future -for you, for me, and for our community.
My primary text this evening comes from a midrash that I found in Art Green’s book: Seek My Face. Tonight, is exactly 40 days from the beginning of our High Holyday season. It is the 10th of Tishre. We began counting on the first day of the previous month of Elul. While we are required to do teshuva every day of our lives, our annual process of returning typically begins with Elul when we are asked to examine our deeds, to recall our mortality, and to return to the path from which we have all inevitably strayed. But above all, says Green, “it points beyond all these, hinting both at the rebirth of the spirit and at a sense of oneness with [God, our] Beloved”. It is on these days that we remember - and we re-enact. Memory is primary on Rosh Hashanah; re-enactment on Yom Kippur. It’s odd - that with all our preoccupation with sacred history, the Torah cites no one historical event that is connected with these Yamim Noraim. While the Torah is silent about an historical event; the Midrash is not. Here’s what the Midrash says: Moses actually goes up to Mt. Sinai on the first day of Elul to get the second set of tablets. When does he return? 40 days later – on Yom Kippur. So today, according to the midrash, the 10th of Tishre commemorates an event which is almost forgotten. It is in fact, a second holiday of revelation (Shavuot being the other when the Torah was first given). It marks the day of the giving of the second set of tablets. On this day, Moses asks to see God’s glory and hides in the clefts of Sinai’s rocks as God’s Presence passes by – at that very moment, God’s 13 attributes are called out: Adonai, Adonai …. gracious/compassionate/forgiving which becomes the overarching theme of our Yom Kippur liturgy – the request for forgiveness.
So, what is the significance of the giving of the second set of tablets on Yom Kippur? What can we learn from it.
Art Green points out that the key to these questions lies in the fact that this second set of tablets represents kind of a renegotiated marriage between God and the people of Israel. The first time around, it was God who fashioned the original set of tablets. Israel was overwhelmed by the experience – all they could do was stand far back, make demands and create a golden calf. God’s call was much too intense for these mortals to comprehend. So they had to seek out an idol of their own making. Ah, but the second time – the second time God had actually learned a lesson about dealing with humans. This time around, God says to Moses: you carve out the tablets (like the first ones), and I’ll write on them. This remarriage is to be a partnership, one that is fashioned together by shared human and divine effort. This time around, thank God [so to speak] the relationship lasts significantly longer than the first.
This is the message of these Yamim Noraim. There is a possibility of return –of coming home. The original harmony, be it that of a parent and child, or of a young and improperly balanced marriage, may have ended in pain and separation. But there is a way to come back. With real human participation in the terms of the reunion, the way home remains open, and the prospects for longevity of relationship if they are to be judged by Jewish history – are more than good. This eternal optimism of the Jewish tradition is captured each morning when we give thanks for once again, being conscious and appreciative of our souls and our bodies and our minds.
Teshuva isn’t going back and doing the same act once again, it requires tremendous creativity and optimism to change behavior. It is even reflected in the sounds of the shofar: we begin with a whole sound; then three longer broken ones, followed by 9 staccato blasts, and then one whole one again. Halacha says that each of these four notes, while they have different number of sounds, have to be the same in overall length. I was whole, says the tekiyah; I was broken, cries shevarim; I was even in smaller pieces, wails teruah, and then whole again – but I am still who I am. I am still the same person – and I shall become whole again.
How? It’s all in what we do. Prayer can take us only so far – it can awaken us to who we are and what we’ve done – but repair comes only through action. On Selichot evening, we walked teshuva – on the labyrinth in the Montessori courtyard, we walked and thought and pondered. Our feet were praying [to paraphrase Heschel]. But when we were through, although we may have felt cleansed, meditative walking provided only our first steps.
So this second ‘giving’ of the tablets on Yom Kippur is our opportunity – to be creative and keep our eternal optimism alive and vibrant. Sometimes, as Eric Seder reminded us, it is just taking a baby step; and sometimes, it requires taking a giant one.
But I believe that this very same message applies to communities as well as it does to individuals. Look at us, at our community, at our shul.
Last week, on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, we did not hear the sound of the shofar. Each year we wait in anticipation and we miss it when we don’t. All the more so, for those who come to shul only on the first day. This past year, as part of my ongoing work with the Mahzor committee, we studied the shofar service and the blowing of the shofar. It turns out that the whole notion of not blowing the shofar on Shabbat is quite questionable from a halachic perspective. It’s not the blowing of the shofar that is specifically prohibited; it’s that blowing the shofar might lead to a violation of Shabbat by carrying the shofar to shul. Now isn’t the time to explain in detail, but, as a consequence of what I had learned, I struggled mightily with the question of whether or not we at Netivot Shalom should blow shofar this year on the first day of Rosh Hashanah. I even told this to our ritual committee and then joked - that my successor could have the pleasure of dealing with this issue! And then something else became very clear: there’s something more important than historical halacha at work in this case. There’s another lesson embedded in that halacha: it’s the lesson of priority, of ranking, of importance. What’s more important is the foundation of this halachic question: shofar or Shabbat? That is the central question. And the response lies in the rabbinic maxim: Tadir v’lo tadir, tadir kodem – if you have a choice between what happens regularly, says halachic rule, and what happens only occasionally, it is the event that is regular that takes precedence.
So the first lesson for us from the historical lesson of the second giving of the 10 commandments is that of recommitment and reengagement. That is why our synagogue applied for and was awarded a grant from the STAR Foundation to fund a project called SYNAPLEX [spell the word]. We’ve chosen 5 Shabbatot this year to observe in full – 25 hours, on the model of what we experienced when we dedicated our new home. In addition to what we already do on Shabbat, this grant will enable us to provide multiple ways of observing Shabbat in our community – much the same way that a Cineplex movie theatre complex allows multiple choices. As they say – stay tuned!!
Similarly, we need to recommit to our origins as a congregation. I must confess that knowing that this is my final Yom Kippur drash here at Netivot Shalom; I looked over some of the drashot I’ve given. And they were all {with two exceptions} about our shul – about us. They reflect on the stages of our life – early in our life when we decided to create a chevra kadisha or a group that would visit those who are ill; or the year we could finally say the word “building” out loud; the pain of the intifada; the great shock of 9/11; the staggering loss of members we thought we couldn’t live without.
I continue to define a synagogue as a place that makes it possible to do mitzvot. I still believe that to be our charge - now more than ever. And almost each year, I have repeated what I believe to be the mission statement of this congregation: “These are the deeds that yield immediate fruit and continue to yield fruit in time to come: honoring parents; doing deeds of loving kindness; attending the house of study punctually; morning and evening; providing hospitality; visiting the sick; helping the needy bride; attending the dead; probing the meaning of prayer; making peace between one person and another, and between husband and wife. And the study of Torah is most basic of them all” {Shabbat 127a). I take Larry Hoffman’s words to heart: “To last, ideas need to be embedded in institutions”. And so I ask again for each of us to recommit to these core values. For some of you, like teshuva, it may be a baby step; for others a big one. Some of you may participate in collecting clothes for YEAH, the homeless shelter on University - a small step; others may want to help start are group for elderly assistance in our community – something more challenging.
That’s why, each year, we publish this Mitzvah Guide – so there can’t be any excuses for not understanding or knowing our mission, Why do we need synagogues: to make it possible for us to concretize those Jewish values we all hold so dear – and make them happen.
And synagogues also need to constantly remind us that some practices and values are of a higher order than others. Shabbat IS more important than shofar. And that the values of Shabbat and hesed and tzedek stand on a higher plane. It’s about the larger values and concepts. We spend a lot of time on issues concerning gays and lesbians or roles for non- Jews. They are key and fundamental. But they are only timely expressions of the core values of Judaism: justice, kindness, equality – about everyone being created in the image of God.
Now that I’ve focused on recommitment and reengagement, let me shift gears. Since our founding, we’ve had a spirit of ‘we will make it happen’. We certainly have been risk takers. Whether it was the purchase of our first Torah, the move to 1841 Berkeley Way; even the hiring of our first rabbi [me]; our new home on University – all these involved a high degree of faith and hope and risk and hard work – and money. Now, we are poised to confront new challenges. I want to mention 3 very briefly: Just three weeks ago, our board of directors voted that it is our intention to establish and open a Netivot Shalom pre-school as of September 2007. We knew that this was a pressing need when we built our new home – but we also knew that the footprint of our building was such that it would not be adequate for a full-blown pre-school. Well, it turns out that we do have the possibility of opening a one room preschool in our own facility – and that this one room school can become the basis for future expansion. We are able to take this bold, giant step because there are people in this congregation who have stepped forward and said: we will commit time, energy, and financial resources to make this happen. Our kids are our future. Others of you, I know, will step up. With your help and God’s blessing, one year from now there will be around 15 pre-school age children in school, daily in our own home. It’s a risk – but this is not the first time that we have dreamed and then made it real.
Second – Each Shabbat morning, I invite you to drop in on Shabbat B’yachad or Rimmonim – our two award winning programs for families with young children. But we’re still missing a generation of people in their 20s and 30s. A new study authored by Steven Cohen, one of the world’s leading sociologists of the Jewish experience and by a young, new expert in the field, one Ari Kelman, who is on the faculty at UCDavis [and whose parents are very proud], reveals that “There is indirect evidence that young Jews [in their 20s and 30s] care about being Jewish, but they are expressing it in ways that are not institutional.” They are expressing their Jewish identity through culture. “There is an opportunity for organized Jewry to be more active in engaging younger Jews…These people are not rejecting synagogue; some just haven’t found one where they feel comfortable.” This, too, is our challenge: to build a culture of welcome and inclusion for everyone. Only synagogues are charged with this mission..
The third challenge is more about identity than about people. Carol has spoken [or will speak] about our joining The United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism. I fully support our action. But I’m also well aware of some recent thinking on just what it means to be a Conservative Jew. There is the beginning of what I believe to be an evolution in our thinking about the most difficult of positions: the middle ground. Formerly we’ve said we are neither Reform nor Orthodox – we’re in the middle. That’s no longer adequate. What are we then, besides being neither this nor that? All around the world, the extremes are gaining strength – and here we are, trying to define a strong middle. This challenge is ours – to define ourselves in positive, activist, dynamic terms, we need to be able to articulate just how it is we care for each other; how we talk to each other, what new agadah as well as what new halacha propels our movement. I believe that nationally, under the leadership of the chancellor elect of the Jewish Theological Seminar, Arnie Eisen, this will happen. And we, too, at Netivot Shalom, need to find formats to engage in these exciting and difficult discussions. Stay tuned for Etzlaynu Bashechuna – a reconstituted In Our Neighborhood program.
Rabbi Menachem Mendle of Kotzk once put this question to his students. What was the hardest part of the Akeydah for Abraham? Was it the initial call, the long walk to Moriah, or the binding? His answer: the hardest part was coming down the mountain. Rabbi David Wolpe writes: “In peak moments of our lives, the immediacy, the rush of adrenaline, often carries us through. What happens afterward is the true test of sincerity, for afterward we must live with the consequences of our actions. …The hardest part of Yom Kippur is not the fasting. The hardest part is two months later, when we are supposed to live by the promises we made. There is great drama in falling in love. But the test of love is not in the falling; it is in the staying. The test of life is not in moments of passion … the test of life is after the crisis has passed. Our worthiness is measured not in the pinnacle, but in the persistence. ….We should treasure the summit of inspiration, but not live by it. Here below, once we have come down the mountain, our task awaits.”
We are down from the mountain; we need to act – individually and communally. We can not afford to ‘wait and see’. We can however, try to act in the original spirit and emotion – of our dedication weekend on Shabbat in June 2005; of the excitement of creating and experiencing the joy at all our ‘firsts’.
God gave the Jewish people another opportunity – a second moment of reengagement and recommitment: to reaffirm and recommit to the dream once again of the possibilities open to us. Back to our Midrash. When Moses asks to see God’s presence, God places him in the clefts of the rocks and shields him until God had passed by. Only then does Moses see – not the face of God, but just the back. Carol Ochs says that the rabbis who commented on this text understand from it that we can discover God in our lives only in retrospect, but can’t see where God will be in the future, or even where God is in the immediate present. When you stand here one year from now, may you be able to look back and see God’s presence in your own life and in the life and actions of this congregation.
G’mar hatimah tova.