Chol Ha-Moed Sukkot: A Booth Filled with Meaning

What do you think of, when you picture a Sukkah? This week, we begin the holiday of Sukkot. At Ohev Shalom, we've built our community Sukkah. In my backyard, I too have built a Gerber family Sukkah, and I imagine that at least some of you reading this have built your own as

well. When you hear the word, "Sukkah," do you picture the one in your backyard, the one built when you were a child, the huts built by the Israelites during their exodus from Egypt, or do you picture something else entirely? I'd love to hear from you, so please write a response on this blog, e-mail me personally, or stop me in the hallway and share. Our Jewish Tradition is actually filled with lots of references to Sukkot, but there are some interesting conflicts and contradictions between them, which leads me to believe that even our Biblical and rabbinic ancestors had lots of different images of Sukkot in their heads when they heard the word. So which one is it?

Underlying this question is a fundamental disagreement about the nature of the Sukkah. Is it a symbol of stability or of fragility? We see both images in our liturgy, so it's kind of confusing. A colleague

of mine, Rabbi Julia Andelman, wrote about this for our shared alma mater, JTS. She pointed out that, on the one hand, we refer to God as "Ha-Poreis Sukkat Shalom Aleinu," (the One who spreads over us a shelter of peace), but on the other hand, the Birkat Ha-Mazon (the Grace after Meals) on Sukkot includes the line “Harachaman Hoo Yakim Lanu Et Sukkat David Ha-Nofalet” (may the Merciful One establish for us the fallen Sukkah of David; based on Amos 9:11). So we see that the Sukkah is either (both?) the powerful protection we get from God, as we did during the Exodus from Egypt, or it's the Temple in Jerusalem that was destroyed first by the Babylonians and then the Romans.

Yet, in some ways the Sukkah really is both. It reminds us of the fragility of our lives, and how much we're dependent on heat, refrigeration, plumbing, and a good night's sleep. Stepping outside our

comfortable homes for just a short while in the Sukkah makes us VERY grateful for what we have, and perhaps reminds us to do more for those who live everyday in a Sukkah of insecurity, without a roof over their heads, without enough food, and without the ability to improve their situation. At the same time, the Sukkah also persists. Like the phoenix, it is destroyed and rebuilt, over and over. Even when it rains or snows, or the wind blows, the Sukkah either survives it all, or we wait and reconstruct it after the weather has passed. Either way, it's an eternal symbol of our people, and a constant reminder that despite our fragile beginnings in the desert of the Exodus, and all that our people have endured throughout the ages, we are still here; and so are our Sukkot!

I have many memories of this holiday, and this silly little hut: Snow-covered Sukkot in Sweden; rooftop Sukkot in Israel; the largest Sukkah in North America (for over 200 people), in New York City; and the first Sukkah I assembled on my own, that I built for my wife and daughter,
here in Wallingford. For me, the Festival of Booths is very much about BOTH the fragility and the stability. We need the humility of the Sukkah to remind us to care for others, and to feel gratitude for the blessings in our lives. We also need the flimsiness of the Sukkah to see how tied we are to the earth, and to our task of caring for the environment and living our lives in greater harmony with our planet. At the same time, the Sukkah is a powerful and enduring symbol, reminding us of God's role in our lives as well as the tenacity and resolve of our people. But it also can and should mean something different to each person. So my question again is, what does the word Sukkah mean to you? I look forward to hearing what you have to say.

Chag Sameach - Happy Holiday!

Images in this blog post:
1. Gerber Sukkah 2012
2. & 3. Gerber Sukkah 2014
4. Caroline enjoying her first Sukkah!

Yom Kippur Morning Sermon 5775

Shanah Tovah! - Happy New Year! 

For anyone who wasn't able to join us at Ohev Shalom for the High Holidays, but was curious to hear what was covered in the sermons, I'm posting them here on my blog. Below you will find my sermon from the morning of Yom Kippur. In the right-hand column of this blog, you can see a list of previous posts; there you'll find all my High Holiday sermons. And, if you feel like it, please post your comments/thoughts/reactions here, or send me an e-mail at rabbi@ohev.net. 

Thanks so much, and have a Happy, Healthy, and Sweet New Year!

Ok, so this one is a little bit harder to put on the blog in written form. It involved a bit of theatrics on the bimah, so you’ll have to use your imagination. Sorry. Basically, picture me fumbling around nervously. First, I started delivering the wrong sermon, went back to my chair to get the right sermon, dropped IT on the floor and the papers flew everywhere, then finally made it to the table, where I continued to fidget, tap the table nervously, knock the microphone with my hand, and have trouble getting the words out correctly. (It had the desired effect…) Finally, I began my sermon:

When God first called to Moses at the Burning Bush, Moses was frightened. (Clear throat) He really didn’t want the job. He felt… Excuse me. (Take out handkerchief, wipe forehead…) He, Moses, that is, felt that he wasn’t the right (tap table) person for the job, that he wasn’t able to speak so good. (Clear throat again) Not, in a sense, he didn’t feel he had a way with his words.

In fact, the Torah mentions SIX different times that Moses protests to God, giving various reasons why God should pick someone else. The first time is in… wait, I had the citation here, hang on… It was Exodus, chapter 2. No, sorry, chapter 3. Right, verse 11 in chapter 3, and then in chapters four, five, AND six.

And reading about all the protestings of Moses’s, we are kind of left picturing him as a bit of a nervous wreck! The kind of person who it might have been painful to have to listen to, who couldn’t really speak in public.

It would be so awkward, you know? [Pause] Kind of like, if a person started the wrong speech. Then dropped his papers before even starting to speak. Or had to keep wiping his forehead, creating uncomfortable pauses. And said things like ‘speak so good’ and ‘protestings,’ and kept clearing his throat, tapping the table, and fidgeting while speaking. It would be unpleasant to listen to, I think?

But Moses grew, he improved. He probably learned to take a deep breath whenever he got nervous (take a deep breath), and then, gradually, he began to trust his own abilities to speak in public. [Pause]

[By now, I’m delivering the speech in my usual tone and pace.]

It was indeed in chapter three that God first approached Moses at the Burning Bush, and first called him to the formidable and daunting task of freeing the Israelites from bondage in Egypt. And then Moses did, in fact, protest SIX times, eventually pleading and begging God to just, please find someone else. But God knew that Moses was the right person for the job, just as I imagine that, on some deep level, Moses too knew that he could do this.

Even before that first encounter, at the fiery shrub, God was watching Moses’ actions, not listening only to his words. He, Moses, defended an Israelite being abused by an Egyptian taskmaster, when he himself, raised in the palace, had nothing to gain and everything to lose by sticking up for this lowly slave. He then came to the rescue for a group of women by a well in Midian, chasing away their male harassers, even though he was an outsider, and again was risking his own safety by intervening in someone else’s affairs.

Even the Burning Bush itself showed Moses’ readiness. The rabbis tell us, in a midrash, a rabbinic story, that the bush had actually been burning since the dawn of time. A Ner Tamid, a perpetual flame. Moses was just the first one to actually stop and notice it, the first one aware enough of his surroundings, curious and inquisitive, sensitive to disturbances in the world around him, to pause and turn aside to look. All of these things were seen by God, and so Adonai knew the right person for the job was standing right there, even though Moses was not yet convinced.

And, of course, when God DID reach out to him at the bush, Moses’ response was… “Hineini.” And so today, in this the final of our four sermons on “Hineini,” on mindfulness and presence, I want to talk to you about saying this difficult word even when we’re not ready. And I began my sermon by kind of putting you through a little awkward display of poor public speaking, because I really don’t think Moses was good at it at first. We know the Moses who led the people for 40 years, brought them out of bondage; but I wanted us all to actually experience an earlier version of Moses, nervous and sweaty. In my mind, I picture some of the Israelites, who, when first approached by Moses while in slavery, saw this anxious, fidgety schlemiel, a dope even, who didn’t present well at all, and they probably thought to themselves, “This guy is gonna stand up to Pharaoh and free us from oppression?? No way!!”

But later, on the other side of the Sea of Reeds, and then years later, after receiving the Ten Commandments and having Moses lead them through countless battles, and fending off rebellions and constant complaints, those same Israelites must have looked at him with new eyes and thought, “Boy, were we wrong about him! Who knew that he could accomplish so much?” I’ll tell you who knew… God! And THAT is not only how I want us to understand Moses, that is how I want us to look at ourselves here today as well.

We cannot afford to wait until we feel completely competent, ready to go, free of fear and doubt, and only THEN will we be ready to say “Hineini.” No! We must say “Hineini” first. We must push ourselves to declare, “Here I am! I am ready to make a difference in my life, I am ready to be more present to family and friends, to be kinder to myself and to truly improve in the year ahead”; and when we make such a declaration, the journey can then TRULY begin.

We can ALL be Moses. We can start off saying “Hineini” even when we’re nervous as can be. We can grow into the person and the ideals that we long to embody. But we need to be deliberate. We need to make choices, and we need to have our eyes open, like Moses, to the burning bushes that may be out there along our journey. I can tell you right now, they won’t be lying right there, IN your path, waiting for you to step over them! They may be off to the side, out of your current field of vision, slightly inconveniently located away from the main path; you have to choose to turn aside and find that bush.

I want to share with you a story:

Lincoln Hall was the name of an Australian mountain climber who scaled Mount Everest in 2006, but who, on the way back down, was afflicted with altitude sickness. His companions, his sherpas, they all tried to help him, but to no avail. Eventually, they just left him. Several other groups also passed by, either going up or down Mount Everest, but they never turned aside to try and help Lincoln Hall. Incredibly, he survived a night alone.

The next day, another climber, Dan Mazur, was passing by with his team, and they saw a man sitting alone, with no oxygen tank, half undressed, and clearly not in his right mind. Mazur chose to abandon his own mission, later stating to reporters, “The summit is still there and we can go back. Lincoln only has one life.” This all took place at 8,700 feet, much closer to the top than the bottom, but Mazur stepped off his own path, and instead helped bring Lincoln Hall back down to safety.

In that moment, SO close to your goal of reaching the summit, you might think the worst thing would be to have to abandon your quest. Who will remember me, if I don’t actually make it to the top?? Yet ironically, many other people climbed to the peak of Mount Everest, but most of them are not famous. The story of Dan Mazur is known today, and has been the subject of books and movies, because he saw that his journey lay elsewhere, not in forging ahead and upward, but in turning aside and stepping OFF that path.

When Mazur was interviewed after this ordeal, and asked how he could abandon his quest, he also stated: “There is a Buddhist teaching that life is all about the journey, not the destination.” This is also a very Jewish saying. In Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of our Fathers, the rabbis teach us: “You do not have to complete the task, but neither are you free to desist from it.” Don’t worry about beginnings and endings; focus on the journey, focus on the here and now.

This certainly sums up the life of Moses. He never does reach his destination, assuming that destination is supposed to be the Promised Land. But if we look at Moses’ legacy, can we really say he didn’t achieve his goal? We sometimes lament for him, because we think the purpose of it all was to set foot inside Canaan. Yet Moses achieved SO much in life, and lived with great purpose and meaning. And really, THAT is what it’s all about.

The word “Hineini” is all over the Hebrew Bible, 178 times, in fact. But most of them are used, not in the strongest form of mission-driven purpose and great intentionality, but in passing speech. Only 14 of the 178 are powerful examples of people opening up their eyes – to themselves, to the people around them, and to God – and realizing that they can be more, they can DO more with the time they’ve been given on this earth.

I want to pause for a second, before I conclude this, my final sermon of four on “Hineini.” Why did I choose this theme? Why is THIS, mindfulness in Judaism and in our everyday lives, the most important issue to me, especially considering the violence in Israel, the rise of anti-Semitism around the world, and so many other crisis issues capturing our attention right now, like climate change, gun violence, ISIS, and Ebola? Why devote FOUR sermons, on the most well-attended holidays of the year, to talking about “Hineini”?

Many people in the Jewish community today do not feel that Judaism is relevant in their lives. They don’t believe it speaks to their experiences, it doesn’t know what they are going through. I have chosen to devote the majority of my time this High Holiday season to saying to you, Judaism CAN help you navigate through your daily challenges and stresses, it does have SO MUCH to say about our everyday lives.

When we read about people saying “Hineini” in the texts of our Tradition, we need to look past the specifics of their situation, the ancient contexts of their existence, and see that the Bible is reaching out to you and to me, it’s trying to offer some wisdom about how to live our lives to the fullest. In our library, just down the hallway, Amy Graham, our librarian, has put out books for people to peruse during the High Holiday season. (She does this every year, which I think is fantastic) One of the books that’s sitting by the couches is Hineini in Our Lives by Norman J. Cohen. In it, Cohen writes about the people who say “Hineini” in the Bible, much as I’ve shared with you on these Days of Awe, and he echoes this sentiment I just expressed, about the connection between ancient models and everyday life in 2014. He explains: “Every moment of calling and response is a model for each of us, who must learn how to discern the call of the other and react to it appropriately. We are the Abrahams, the Moses’s, and the Samuels of our time, and we are challenged to hear the call and the cry as they did.”

We began the holiday on Rosh Hashanah, reading Torah portions about Abraham, and how he said “Hineini” and was able to be present to himself and God. Earlier this morning, Fran Stier chanted beautifully our Yom Kippur Haftarah, from the prophet Isaiah, which (perhaps by now not so surprisingly) ALSO contains the word “Hineini,” in its strong, present, purposeful form. But this time, it is not a person saying “Hineini” to God; it is God saying “Hineini” back to us! P. 286, v. 9, reads: “Then, when you call, Adonai will answer; when you cry out, God will say: Here I am.” And in the margin, our Machzor takes note of the connection between Abraham’s “Hineini” and God’s, and how the two bookend the High Holiday season.

But it doesn’t just tie together Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, it is the message I want to convey to us all here today. When we make the effort, when we reach out and challenge ourselves to be present to our own experience, and to really push ourselves to say “Hineini” even when we’re not ready, even when we feel like bungling fools, dropping papers and making nervous mistakes; IF we can say “Here I am to this life; Here I am to what the world has to offer me; and Here I am to make the most of it all,” THEN God will be our partner. God will join us in our projects, and the work of our hands will be blessed.

Judaism has SO MUCH to offer us, to help us navigate our everyday lives. I hope you will choose to say “Hineini” and join us on this journey. Turn aside from the ordinary path; seek out the Burning Bush that will inspire and enrich your life. If you do, the community and ALL the stories of our Tradition will be here to respond resoundingly, to welcome you in and to say “Hineini”

Shanah Tovah!

Kol Nidrei Sermon 5775

Shanah Tovah! - Happy New Year! 

For anyone who wasn't able to join us at Ohev Shalom for the High Holidays, but was curious to hear what was covered in the sermons, I'm posting them here on my blog. Below you will find my sermon from Kol Nidrei, the evening service at the start of Yom Kippur. In the right-hand column of this blog, you can see a list of previous posts; there you'll find all my High Holiday sermons.

And, if you feel like it, please post your comments/thoughts/reactions here, or send me an e-mail at rabbi@ohev.net. Thanks so much, and have a Happy, Healthy, and Sweet New Year!

Kol Nidrei Sermon 5775:

It’s late at night. The middle of the night, in fact. Right now, I am not a rabbi, I am a security guard at a museum, working the graveyard shift. There is one other guard as well, and after the two of us have finished our rounds, we retire to two separate guard posts, just a few rooms away from one another. It is quiet. The only sound that can be heard is the backup battery in the emergency exit sign, the soft hum of the security monitors, and faintly, in the distance, a radio program the other guard is listening to, “This American Life,” perhaps.

Then, suddenly…

[The congregation hears a disembodied voice over the loudspeaker. Each "Jeremy" in quotes below is another instance of the other voice, not me, speaking my name.]

“Jeremy.” 

A voice. Out of nowhere. Says my name. (My first name is Jeremy, by the way. I know many of you thought it was ‘rabbi’….) Obviously, it must be the other guard… although it didn’t really sound like him. But I get up, walk two rooms over, and ask him what’s up. “I didn’t call you,” he says. “Go back to your post.” Confused, I return. I check my iPhone, nothing there. The radio is off. I go back to watching the monitors, when, again, I hear it:

“Jeremy.”

Clearly, my colleague is playing a prank, so I walk back again, feeling slightly annoyed. “Here I am, buddy. What’s going on?” He assures me it isn’t him. We argue for a few minutes, and I return to my desk… though walking a bit slower this time, and starting to feel a chill up my spine. As I sit back in my chair, I hear it yet again:

“Jeremy.”

I burst out of my chair this time, insistent that it’s him… partly because I have no other explanation, and partly because I’m starting to feel frightened about what else might be going on. So I run back to the other guard a THIRD time. “Here I am, ok? Quit playing around!!” Again, we argue. And in the end, my exasperated colleague says, “Hey, if you hear it again, why don’t you just try answering the voice directly, huh? See what it says, and quit buggin’ me.” He chuckles to himself, and this time I walk back VERY slowly, and very bewildered. I ease my way back into my chair. It creaks. I can feel myself starting to sweat now. I’m nervous. I brace myself for the sound I do NOT want to hear, but sure enough:

“Jeremy… Jeremy.”

With great trepidation and foreboding, I respond, “Here I am – Hineini.”

This, with a few modern upgrades, is the story of the great prophet, Samuel. It was he who anointed the first king of Israel, Saul, and who eventually, at God’s command, also took the throne away from him. He then anointed David to take his place, and a descendant of David’s remained on the throne throughout the period of Ancient Israel. To this day, the line of David is still considered the royal bloodline of Israel. And it was Samuel who first declared David king.

When Samuel first heard God call to him, in the scene I described for you, he was just a boy. But I shared with you this little theatrical piece because I wanted each of us, every person in this room tonight, to imagine what it might have felt like for Samuel to hear that call. To picture instead a modern setting, with modern characters, and actually hear a disembodied voice speaking out of nowhere, and wonder, perhaps, for just a second: If this were you, could you respond to God with “Hineini”?

In today’s society, we often talk about not feeling the efficacy of prayer, that prayer actually “works.” I also hear people ask “Why don’t we hear God’s voice anymore? Why don’t we see miracles, and signs of God’s existence” But honestly, I think if we DID hear God’s voice speaking to us, calling us actually BY NAME, we would be terrified. What would it imply? What would come next, and is there any way that we could decline whatever God was coming to say???

I have always thought about this in regards to the prophet Jeremiah, who was ill-fated with the task of chastising and yelling at the people for their wrong-doings, and everyone hated him for it. His was a miserable existence. So why didn’t he just stop? Well, chapter 20, verse 9, is, in my opinion, one of the most chilling verses in the entire Bible, when Jeremiah cries out: “I thought, ‘I will not mention God, no more will I speak in God’s Name’ – but it was like a raging fire in my heart, shut up in my bones; I could not hold it in, I was helpless.” He had no choice. He was doomed to live this life, and say things to people that they absolutely, positively did NOT want to hear. And he, AND they, suffered for it.

What if God showed up one day and gave you a task, wanted you to rebuke the Pharaoh of the day, maybe Bashar al-Assad or Vladimir Putin? Or even just told you to turn to your family, your friends, and your neighbors, and start preaching to them about doomsday and the sinful lives they are all leading. How terrifying to even imagine, just for a moment, having to give up our jobs and our everyday lives and do such a thing.

But there ARE people who do this. And I am not talking about people who’ve had mental breakdowns or who have psychological problems. I’m also not only referring to ancient examples, like Samuel, or the other three Biblical figures who also heard God urgently call to them in the same way Samuel heard it, by doubling their name, “Abraham, Abraham; Jacob, Jacob; Moses, Moses,” and who ALL responded: “Hineini – Here I am.” I am NOT talking about them alone. Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King, all of them felt it as well; the fire SHUT UP in their bones, that demanded they speak up against injustice, even at personal risk and ultimately, sacrifice.

And yes, many of the most famous examples set out with religious agendas, speaking of God and Biblical morals, but you don’t need that. Let us, for a moment, take that out of the picture. Let’s remove God briefly, yes, even here on Kol Nidrei night, IN synagogue, ON the holiest day of the year. Let’s take God OUT of the picture. Look, I want to be totally honest with you. Many people in this room do not believe in God, or you aren’t sure what you believe. And believe it or not – literally – that is OK! So forget God, I’m serious.

We can still feel that fire in our bones, in our souls (if there is such a thing as the soul). Don’t be distracted by the question of whether there’s a God or not, focus on whether you can believe in a cause, ANY cause, with the kind of passion that sometimes, but not always, comes from religious belief. Do you need God, to care about children dying because of terrible gun laws? Do you need God, to know that Ebola is a horrible virus that must be stopped? And do you need God, to dump a bucket of ice water on your head and donate to an incredibly worthy cause, that will fight an otherwise incurable, terminal disease?

On Rosh Hashanah, we talked about “Hineini” being directional, relational; it’s always said TO someone else. But that ‘someone’ doesn’t have to be God! We talked about saying “Hineini” to ourselves, but we can also say “Hineini” to the very notion of being called, of feeling passionate and committed to something you believe in. The real enemy here is apathy, cynicism, and jaded indifference. When we’re sitting in that guard booth at the museum and we hear someone call our name, it’s definitely easier to imagine it’s candid camera, or a prank, or ANYTHING other than a voice calling us to devote ourselves to something, to make the most of our lives, and to be a force for GOOD in the world… because it’s scary to care.

But what if there IS a voice calling to you? What if that voice is inside you – conscience, morality, whatever – but it is CALLING you… and you are just too scared, too worried about what it’ll demand of you, too concerned about what you’ll have to give up, to listen.

Please, listen.

What IS the message of Kol Nidrei? The lights feel dimmer, small candles line the back wall, the haunting melody of Kol Nidrei has been sung, and we’re all bracing ourselves to feel the impact of the fast, which hasn’t yet set in, since we recently ate… but we know it’s coming. We have set the stage; we have created the mood, the atmosphere. But now YOU have to choose to HEAR the lesson of the day.

I believe, that message is to believe in something, to care, to want to make yourself a little bit better, and thus to make the world a little bit better. In Rabbi Dov Peretz Elkins’ book, Moments of Transcendence: Inspirational readings for Yom Kippur, he quotes Eugene O’Neill as saying, “Each of us is capable of an unimagined greatness. Each of us is a treasure house of vital potential. Yet apprehensive love and inhibited talent pervade the expression of our being. Past failure and present fear restrict the range of our feelings and the purview of our thinking. While these days of meditation awaken us to the truth of what we are, they must also quicken within us the reality of what we can be.”

“Past failure,” “present fear,” these things are also the enemy, along with the apathy and cynicism I mentioned before. We don’t believe we can change, and it’s SCARY to imagine change. But the message, the TRUTH, of Yom Kippur is that we DO have that ‘unimagined greatness’ in us… if we’re willing to hear it calling out to us, begging us for a “Hineini.”

Even the great prophet Samuel, after whom TWO books of the Bible are named, even he needed to hear God’s voice FOUR times, just as our museum guard did, before he could accept that it was, in fact, God! All the great leaders, in the world, in our communities, and our own personal heroes; they have ALL had moments of doubt and self-criticism. They’ve wavered from their path and wondered if it’s all worth it. It’s ok to be unsure. It is hard to get ourselves to a place of being ready to say “Hineini.” But tonight is a good place to start.

Use the opportunity of this evening, and perhaps also of the entire day tomorrow, into the last service at dusk, Neilah, when the curtain in front of the Ark will be opened, and you are invited to come up and stand before it to offer a personal prayer. Use this time to think about, consider – meditate perhaps – on the word “Hineini.” How are you here, and how are you NOT here?

You don’t need God to get something out of Yom Kippur, but you DO need YOU! Bring yourself fully to this experience, to the fasting, the praying, the beating our chests, and yes, to standing in front of an open Ark at Neilah time, and it WILL lead you to new “Hineini” experiences beyond this holiday, beyond the synagogue, and beyond Judaism. You will open yourself up to new opportunities in life, and to greater harmony with yourself and others.

So don’t wait, and make that voice call to you FOUR times before you respond. Listen to it today, Divine or not, and begin this new year with a resounding “Hineini!”

Shanah Tovah!

(…and G’mar Chatimah Tovah – may we all inscribe OURSELVES in the Book of Life before the gates close.)

Rosh Hashanah - Sermon 2

Shanah Tovah.

You know, I never thought I would start a High Holiday sermon talking about Scotland. But here goes. Last week, I found myself intrigued – as so many people around the world were as well – by the vote for independence taking place in Scotland. I think, perhaps, that one of the reasons why people across the globe followed this particular vote was because of its seeming simplicity. I mean, let’s face it, how often in life does ANYTHING come down to JUST saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’???

Sure, there were repercussions to either outcome in Scotland, both within that almost-new country itself and for so many other places considering their own push for independence, like Catalonia in Spain, Kashmir in India/Pakistan/China, and Quebec just, you know, slightly north of here. But ultimately, for over 5 million people, it was a question of ‘no, let’s stick with the UK’ or ‘yes, let’s go it alone.’

And certainly for anyone connected to Israel, another country debating a one- or two-state solution, there is something incredibly covetous about Scotland’s situation. Could you imagine anything being this simple in Israel? Is there any question at all being debated that could in any way be answered with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’? The answer, of course, to THAT question is ‘no, not really, well maybe sort of, but ultimately, sadly, probably mostly no.’

Even sitting here, on the High Holidays, if I asked you why you’re here, or what Rosh Hashanah means to you; is there a simple answer? Or would your response likely incorporate past experiences, both positive and negative, expectations and hopes, theology, culture, gastronomy, and so much else? Nothing in life is ever as simple as it may appear, and that, perhaps, is why we were all so intrigued by the straightforward vote in Scotland.

And yet, even as uncomplicated as it was, the decision of 5 million Scots was always going to affect other people; it was not a vote cast in a vacuum. That is, perhaps, because the whole notion of living in a vacuum, of someone, anyone, making a choice that impacts NO ONE else, is basically always false. Everything we do touches the lives of those around us.

I say this because our theme this year, “Hineini,” the Hebrew word “Here I am,” which is so crucial in the Bible, also does not take place in a void.

As I mentioned at the end of yesterday’s sermon, EVERY time the word is used in the Tanach, it is in response to someone else. No one ever speaks it alone, and no one ever says it without directing it AT someone else. Even though it SOUNDS like a word of independence, entirely about me and my relationship with myself, it is actually very much a statement filled with interpersonal meaning. “Here I am” for a task, to do something, with someone else. So even though we’ve talked about “Hineini” as mindfulness, as being present to your own experience at any and every moment in life, it is also true that “Hineini” is about noticing those around you as well. When your eyes are open to your experience, you start to notice how others around you are impacted as well.

Yesterday, I shared with you the wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh, a Zen monk and meditation master, who writes and speaks a lot about presence. He also talks about the importance of the Other, saying: “if you are really here, something else will also be here: the presence of the other. You are here and the other is here.” And he also adds that “your presence is the most precious gift you can give him or her.” Yesterday we talked about how important it is to be present and mindful to ourselves, and today I want to add the notion of being present to others, of not just paying lip service to one another, talking about mundane things like the weather or the Eagles, or trying to seem intelligent and worldly, by talking about international issues, like the vote for independence in Scotland.

This is our question of the day: Can we say “Hineini,” “I am here… for you,” for each other, and really mean it?

I want to share with you the accounts of three generations of our patriarchs in the Torah; Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph. All of them use the term “Hineini” in fascinating ways, and we understand them better when we see the differences in how they speak this one word, throughout the various stories of the Book of Genesis.

First, though, I want to declare that none of them are perfect. They are models to us, not because of their flawlessness, but because of their journeys. They struggle, they grow from experiences, they relapse and make the same mistakes again, and then they keep moving forward. That is one of the things I love about the Torah, its willingness to be vulnerable, to present our ancestors as REAL people, with real shortcomings whom we find ways to love anyway. So too it is in life.

We jump right into the messiness of their lives, with our ancestor, Jacob, lying to his father, Isaac.

In one of the first, and most famous, stories about this troubled family, Jacob and his mother, Rebecca, conspire to steal a special blessing from Isaac, which was really intended for the other brother, Esau. While Esau is out hunting, Jacob pretends to be his brother and goes in to see his father, who is nearly blind.

It’s a tense moment for everyone, including you and me, the readers. Jacob goes up to his father and says “Father?” And Isaac answers, “Yes, who are you, my son?” Meaning, “Which of my sons are you?” But right there, in that very moment, something is already off. I never saw it before myself, but Isaac doesn’t actually say, “Yes” to his son’s question, as the English translation suggests. Instead, he says “HiNEHni,” using the weaker form of the word, NOT the stronger one that indicates full and complete presence, “HiNEIni.” Even before Jacob gets the opportunity to misrepresent himself, to pretend to be Esau, Isaac senses that something is wrong. He says “HiNEHni,” because he isn’t really there.

Jacob doesn’t appear to notice this distinction, perhaps because his father – who blatantly preferred Esau throughout their lives – was never fully present to Jacob. Theirs was never a relationship of face-to-face encounters, of genuine connection. And that is the ultimate tragedy of their story.

But the devious plan is successful; Jacob wins his father’s blessing, and he flees his brother’s wrath and goes to live with his uncle. However, he never seems settled or at peace in any new place he lives for the rest of his days. It is heartbreaking to realize that Jacob’s entire life is marred by the lack of love and attention he received from his father. And yet, it is perhaps even more tragic to witness him perpetuate this behavior with his own progeny. He openly and insensitively favors Joseph over his other eleven children, and Joseph’s brothers grow to hate him for it.

I mention all of this because “Hineini” reappears in this story. Jacob, now the father, sends his favored son, Joseph, to spy on his brothers out in the fields. When Jacob calls his son over to prepare him for his journey, Joseph responds to his father with… “Hineini.” Incredibly, THIS is the last word he will speak to his father for twenty years. In the story, he goes to find his brothers, they grab him and sell him into slavery, he is taken to Egypt, gets thrown in prison, but rises to fame and fortune… AND only after two decades is he eventually reunited with his father. And before all of that, the final word that Jacob heard from his son, Joseph, was “Hineini.”

Think about how ‘presence’ plays out in these stories, and how our ancestors’ decisions to be in the moment, or be removed, has SUCH lasting impact on their own lives AND the lives of those around them. Isaac speaks “HiNEHni,” absently, and he is then an absent character in the Torah. Joseph, even as a child, says “HiNEIni,” with great strength, and demonstrates why he is really the hero of the Book of Genesis. He is ready for his task, and with this single word, “HiNEIni,” he foreshadows the Odyssey of meaning and growth that lay before him.

And what of Jacob’s presence? The middle generation? I think he struggles to find himself. He began his life lying to his brother and his father, and is then repaid – perhaps a Biblical form of karma – with an uncle who deceives him, wives who manipulate him, and children who trick and fool him as well.

Three times we actually hear Jacob use the word “Hineini” as well, BUT two of them are somewhat dubious. In Genesis 31, Jacob recounts to his wives, Leah and Rachel, his meeting with God, and claims he said “Hineini” when God called to him… but we never actually heard him use the word in a conversation with God, just his version of that story. Similarly, when he and Joseph are reunited, later in life in Genesis 48, he again references an audience with God, and uses “Hineini,” though we did not hear him say it in realtime. Only once, in chapter 46, does he use the strong and sincere form of “Hineini” when ACTUALLY speaking with God.

Perhaps we can look at Jacob’s life, and say that he struggled to be present to the people around him, and was only able to bring himself fully to his encounters with the Divine, not other human beings. But as the rabbis remind us regarding the High Holidays, we have two relationships to maintain: “Bein Adam La’Makom,” between us and God, AND “Bein Adam l’Chaveiro,” the relationship between people. You cannot ask God for forgiveness, if the one who was wronged was a family member or a friend. Our actions all have consequences, and we need to be fully present to those ramifications, and SEE how our choices can harm or heal another, and only then can we be forgiven.

Our ancient ancestors reminded us to think long and hard about our relationships. Sometimes we make a comment absent-mindedly, or while we’re stressed or irritated, and we don’t think it’s such a big deal, if we even notice it at all. Imagine a child, OUR child, walking into the room, seeking connection, attention, and like Isaac, we say “HiNEHni,” NOT fully engaged.

To us, it’s minor and we forget about the encounter moments later, but to that child, it could be incredibly hurtful, and it could stay with them for years or even decades to come. 

But we are also reminded that life is unpredictable and fragile. Who knows when you have seen someone for the very last time? As you run out the door in the morning, late for work, you snap at your spouse for not emptying the dishwasher, but you don’t know if those could possibly, God forbid, be the last words they ever heard you say. You plan to apologize that evening, but like Jacob and Joseph, the next opportunity to speak face-to-face may come twenty years later, if in this lifetime at all.

To me, there’s an urgency in the word “Hineini.” Or at least there should be. “I am here… because I cannot afford to waste another minute.” And I need to use my time wisely, to both be in relationship with myself and with the people around me.

That, by the way, is the reason why Ohev Shalom is shifting its focus a little in the way we do things here at the synagogue. Bonnie and I both have themes this year that speak to connection, to relationship. As Bonnie shared with you yesterday, her theme is about personal narratives, about hearing one another’s stories, and allowing them to become the foundations for engagement and stronger bonds between individuals. And my theme, “Hineini,” is basically the same idea; being more present to yourself and your own story, realizing how IT impacts others, and then also identifying and connecting to the stories of those around you.

We’ve both drawn our inspiration from a book called “Relational Judaism” by Ron Wolfson, and the Ohev Board of Directors is actually reading that book together, throughout the year. Wolfson introduces the reader to NINE levels of connection, nine different relationships that we’re each engaged in, with self, family, friends, community, Israel, God, etc. The word for ‘between’ in Hebrew is “Bayn,” and Wolfson cleverly calls these the nine “Bayns of our existence.” He writes, “The sacred self is relational. The sacred self is unique. The sacred self is imbued with a sense of kedushah – a spirituality born of the realization that what I do in the world makes a difference, a unique contribution that only I can make.”

This, to me, is “Hineini.” The sacred self that is BOTH unique AND relational. Like Abraham, in yesterday’s sermon, we strive to be in closer relationship with our self, and to be here in this present moment; at the same time, like Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph, we need to learn that our lives are interwoven with so many others.

Our ancestors remind us that we cannot waste any more precious time; we need to refocus on cultivating relationships and sharing stories. Another Buddhist teacher, Jack Kornfield, writes, “When we look at what’s satisfied us in the past week or month or decade, it’s been the connections, the love and the openness of our lives to the places we’ve traveled and the people we’ve met.” And it’s true; if you think back to what was really meaningful in just the past few days or even the most recent few years, I am sure most of you would agree it’s been experiences, places, and relationships, NOT possessions or work goals achieved.

These High Holiday services invite us to refocus, recalibrate. That’s not to say it’s easy or simple. It’s not like a casual vote for Scottish independence. You can’t just say “yes” to making a change, and then “poof!” everything’s different. But Ron Wolfson reminds us that our kedushah, our holiness, comes from realizing that our lives make a difference. You have a choice: Do you want your life to look like Isaac’s, Jacob’s, or Joseph’s? Absent to the people around you, struggling to find your sense of self, or present and ready to make the most of every moment.  

Rabbi Nathan Lopez Cardozo, who teaches at the David Cardozo Academy in Jerusalem, writes: “Our encounter with God on the High Holidays teaches us a powerful lesson: There are no deeds of insignificance. It warns that we should never see our lives as common and irrelevant. However small a deed may seem in our eyes, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur make us aware that our entire lives, and even the most trivial deeds, should be attuned to eternity.”

Don’t let your life be filled with absently spoken “HiNEHni”s, with missed opportunities and lack of presence. Instead, use every moment to declare “HiNEIni,” I am truly here… for myself and for you.” Thich Nhat Hanh reminded us that our presence is a gift. Please make the most of that gift each and every day, and in all of the votes that you cast in life’s many complicated and nuanced ballots.

It’s as simple as that.

Shanah Tovah!

Rosh Hashanah - Sermon 1

Shanah Tovah! - Happy New Year! 

For anyone who wasn't able to join us at Ohev Shalom for the High Holidays, but was curious to hear what was covered in the sermons, I'm posting them here on my blog. Below you will find my sermon from the first day of Rosh Hashanah, and I'll also be posting my second day sermon here as well. Next week I'll add the Yom Kippur speeches, in case you're interested. And, if you feel like it, please feel free to post your comments/thoughts/reactions here, or send me an e-mail at rabbi@ohev.net. Thanks so much, and I hope to see you at Ohev for Yom Kippur!

Shanah Tovah.

I’d like to ask everyone to please indulge me for a second (and, if possible, answer as honestly as you can); please raise your hand if you are actually happy to be here, in this place, at this moment, right now. (Terrific; you all get extra credit after services.)

And this, obviously, is the riskier one, but please raise your hand if you wish you were somewhere else right now, anywhere else! (Thank you, teenagers, you can put your hands down now…)

I began my sermon this way because I think it’s important to be honest. We’re here, right? We’re all in this room together, and yet we each come with our own biases, preconceived notions about the High Holidays, expectations, hopes, fears, and so on. However you’re feeling right now, let’s also be fully present to this experience, together. Presence, mindfulness; that is my theme for this year’s High Holidays, so you’re going to hear a lot about that in a few minutes. But I want to step away from that concept for right now.

I recently realized something about my HH sermons, in general, after listening to a podcast (like radio shows you download to your smartphone and listen to anytime) – it’s really like a sales pitch. I was listening to ‘This American Life,’ where one of their producers, Alex Blumberg, is leaving to start his own business. And he was talking about trying to woo investors, but he was nervous about it, because he said you only have a short amount of time to make your ‘sales pitch.’ He talked about creating a PowerPoint, called a pitch deck, and how he was perfecting his ‘elevator speech,’ his short presentation, in which he was trying desperately to grab the attention of investors and really wow them.

And then it hit me: You are my investors. Whether you want to be here or not, basically this, right now, is like your agreeing to meet me at Starbucks to hear my pitch deck, my PowerPoint presentation. Even if you’re happy to be here, you and I both know our time is limited.

Lucky for me, I’m not ACTUALLY trying to sell you a product, but I DO want your buy-in, I AM looking for you to invest. And I’m hoping that my message, and your subsequent investment of time, energy, and enthusiasm in yourself and in the community will have an impact, not just today, but for the duration of the HH, and hopefully for the rest of this year, and maybe, just maybe, even beyond that. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

So here’s the pitch. In one word: Hineini. Now, I’d like to think I’ve already done some of my homework on the sales pitch with you, because I’m guessing at least a decent percentage of the people in the room knew I was going to say ‘Hineini.’ I’ve already dropped little hints here and there, mentioned it at the Congregational Meeting in June, it made its way into a new series in our monthly newsletter, L’Chaim, without my even having to propose it, and some people have already been talking about it. So you and I may be sitting down together at Starbucks for the first time, but I’ve already gotten my buzzword into your head. Yeah, that’s right, I’ve got you right where I want you...

Ok, so let me tell you about ‘Hineini.’ I like to think of it as the most important word in the Torah that you’ve never heard of (that’s a pretty good start to a sales pitch, don’t you think?). Maybe you know ‘Shema Yisrael,’ ‘Hear O Israel,’ or ‘Bereishit Barah,’ ‘In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth,’ or ‘Anochi Adonai Eloheicha,’ ‘I am the Lord, your God’ (the first of the Ten Commandments); I would argue that ‘Hineini’ should be in that same category, but many of you never heard the word until I snuck it into your heads over the summer, or just now, here in Starbucks.

In short, Hineini means ‘I am here,’ or ‘Here I am.’ Now if you HAVE heard of Hineini, it might be from some of its most famous uses. Abraham says Hineini, ‘Here I am,’ when God first makes contact, first speaks to ANY human being, and commands him to leave his homeland and move to Canaan. Moses uses it as well, when God calls to him from the Burning Bush. For Abraham and for Moses, and for a few more important figures as well, THAT moment, that “Hineini” means something very, very special.

It’s not just “Here I am,” like roll call in school – present and accounted for – it’s SO much more purposeful. It’s readiness, it’s realization of mission, it’s filled with dedication: “Hineini, Adonai!” “Here I am, God, let’s do this thing!!” Without perhaps realizing it, many of us HAVE felt “Hineini” moments in our lives. At the start of a new job, perhaps? One that we believe in, feel passionate about, and ready to throw our body, mind, and soul into? Or perhaps parenting, filled with trepidation and uncertainty, but “Hineini,” here I am, bring on the sleeplessness, poop, and messier house than you could have ever imagined. Hineini comes in many forms in our lives.

But Hineini isn’t actually just for big, powerful, life-changing moments or crossroads, filled with mission-drive purpose. As I’ll share with you in a minute, and throughout our High Holiday services together, Hineini is used in the Bible for other, less momentous or famous situations, but are perhaps just as important anyway. Hineini, can also be a word that just indicates ‘presence.’ Here-ness. And as such, I think it’s an incredibly important word that you and I should be saying more often. Like when you’re sitting in services, listening to some rabbi deliver a long High Holiday sermon – it’s just as important in that moment to be present to your experience. We should all be able to say “Hineini,” I am here in this moment, and aware of myself being here.

Thich Nhat Hanh, the great Buddhist teacher and practitioner of mindfulness meditation, wrote a book called ‘You are Here: Discovering the magic of the present moment.’ And guess what? His entire message is about getting his readers to say ‘Hineini,’ ‘Here I am.’ Our ancient Jewish teachings and the equally ancient Buddhist proverbs are both trying to send the same message: How can we live in this moment, right now? How can we open our eyes, our minds, our hearts, and our souls to the world and the people around us, and live more fully in the here and now? This wisdom is especially crucial on the High Holidays.

And indeed, over the course of THESE High Holidays, I want to look with you at some of the people who said ‘Hineini’ in the Bible (as well as some who ‘claimed’ to say it, and we’ll have to decide whether we believe them or not, and some who SHOULD have said it, but sadly did not), and we will examine how the message of ‘Here I am’ in our Jewish tradition corresponds to so much of what others teach about mindfulness and gratitude. When we put it all together, across history and from around the world, my sincere hope is that we will all learn something about how to say ‘Hineini,’ ‘Here I am,’ to ourselves, to the people around us, to Judaism, and perhaps, to God.

I want to share with you a little secret about me… that many of you know: I’m a bit of a stickler when it comes to Hebrew grammar, Hebrew spelling, and Hebrew pronunciation. If you’re a Torah reader or a Gabbai, or you lead services for us, you’re probably nodding your head right now and rolling your eyes at me. (But some day you’ll thank me!) And it was my love of Hebrew grammar and spelling that perked up when I began looking for instances of ‘Hineini’ in the Bible, because I was very surprised to discover that it is spelled in three different ways.

In fact, the three variant spellings are amazingly significant, and each changes how the word is pronounced. It’s either ‘HiNEHni,’ HiNEIni,’ or ‘HineNI,’ with the emphaSIS on the last syllaBELL.

The most common form, “HineNI” means ‘look’ or ‘now,’ or perhaps more famously, ‘Behold!’ This form shows up in TONS of really significant moments in the Torah. In the story of the Exodus alone, it shows up at the burning bush, when God sends Moses to Pharaoh, for several plagues, at the splitting of the sea, the giving of the manna, the striking of a rock for water, AND at the giving of the Ten Commandments. But despite its prominence, this is NOT the form that means “purpose” or “life-altering” mission. “HineNI” reminds us that even in our everyday, mundane lives, we should be present to our experience. “Be Here Now,” no matter what you are doing in this moment.

Thich Nhat Hanh talks about the miracles of mindfulness, and the first is “presence.” He writes, “Being TRULY here is very important… where mindfulness is, true life, solidity, freedom, and healing also manifest.” So even the everyday moments, the “HineNI”s are essential.

As for the other two forms, I don’t want to bore you with grammar, but basically Hebrew has pairs of vowels that are similar to one another, but one is considered stronger than the other. This is not a value judgment, just a reality of Hebrew grammar. And yet, the Torah uses them to indicate strength and weakness in a fascinating way. Even though the weaker form only appears twice in the whole Torah, one of them is in tomorrow’s Torah reading. And an instance of the stronger vowel is in that reading as well, so we can compare the two.

On p. 103, God calls to Abraham, just as he did when he sent him to Canaan, but this time God aims to test his faith with the infamous Binding of Isaac. Abraham responds, in verse 1, with great strength and religious conviction, ‘Here I am’! He uses the stronger form of the word, “HiNEIni.” Just six verses later, on p. 104, Abraham and his son, Isaac, are walking together up the mountain. Abraham knows he is about to slay his own son, but Isaac does not. The child innocently perks up and starts to ask his father a question. ‘Father,’ he says? Abraham responds, ‘Here I am,’ but with the weaker vowel, “HiNEHni.” Such a subtle little distinction between them! A single dot, in fact, but the fear and uncertainty in his voice reverberates so loudly! He cannot face his son, he cannot be fully present to him. Perhaps Abraham doesn’t want to bring himself fully to ANY PART of this awful scene, trying to remove his heart from the terrible act he is about to perform.

And if that weren’t enough, when Abraham is on the brink of doing the unthinkable, four verses later, v. 11, with his child bound below him and his arm raised high with the knife poised to slash and kill, an angel calls out to Abraham, doubling his name: “Abraham, Abraham!” And Abraham yells back, cries through his tears, ‘HINEINI’!!!

The stronger form is back, and Abraham is now demanding of God, ‘Is this really what you want??? Is this where I am meant to be, can this be what you want of me??!?!?’ And the two of them are both released.

‘Hineini,’ Here I am.’ In the absence of angels or mountain sacrifices, it may feel as if OUR presence, OUR mindfulness does NOT have the same implications of life and death as Abraham’s.

It’s not true.

When we live without being fully present to our experiences, we are not alive, or maybe as alive as we could be. Thich Nhat Hanh jarringly states, “Some people live as though they are already dead. There are people moving around us who are consumed by their past, terrified of their future, and stuck in their anger and jealousy. They are not alive; they are just walking corpses.”

Sometimes you and I, we are so busy thinking about work, and obligations, and anything other than what’s going on right in front of us, that even when we DO respond to others around us, we are not there. We say “HiNEHni,” half-heartedly, rather than “HiNEIni,” fully present. And as a result, we eat without tasting our food, we read without internalizing words, and we pray without feeling any real intention. We miss those precious moments with family and loved ones, when we are physically in the room, but mentally absent, on a phone or focusing elsewhere. Life ebbs away, and we are left with regrets. Are we then any better off than Abraham, who was about to lose his son?

So here’s the challenge of “Hineini”: In order to be more fully present ALL the time, we need to experience the highs AND the lows, the positive moments in life as well as the negative ones. Sometimes what happens is that we try to protect ourselves from the bad stuff, so we deaden our emotions a little. Pain, illness, heartache, death – we don’t want to FEEL the intensity of those moments, so we go through life a little bit removed. But when we censor one aspect of ourselves, we lose other parts as well. It would be really nice to be able to remove the bad emotions and keep all the intense highs, the joys and celebrations in life. But that’s just not how it works. When we remove ourselves from one emotion, we unintentionally remove ourselves from ALL emotions.

So “Hineini” actually requires us to bring ourselves back to the whole range of emotion. Which is particularly true here, on the High Holidays. It would be great to just get to come here and sing the fun tunes, see all our friends we haven’t seen in a long time, enjoy the apples and honey and cake at the end of services, and that’s it! But the main message of the season is repentance; we need to do the hard work as well – say we’re sorry, own our mistakes and shortcomings, be open and honest with ourselves, and with God – and THEN the lighthearted parts of the holiday experience, the songs, the loved ones, the food, will be that much more enjoyable.

In the case of our patriarch, Abraham, God called him, the first time, to an incredible, unique relationship, unlike anyone before him, and the second time called him to do something unthinkable and terrible… and BOTH times, Abraham said “Hineini.” We must all challenge ourselves to be present to all of life’s experiences, and to be able to say, to them ALL: “Hineini,” “Here I Am.”

So that’s it, that’s my sales pitch, that’s my pitch deck. And like a new entrepreneur, trying to court an investor to help with a new startup, I hope that my elevator speech hasn’t just left you with something to think about, but that’s is also tempted you to come back for more! Tomorrow I’d like to introduce you to the very different ways that three generations of ancestors use “Hineini” in the Torah, and what we can learn from each of them. We also have yet to explore the prophet Samuel, trying to decide what “Hineini” meant for him, and on Yom Kippur morning we’ll end our journey standing next to Moses at the Burning Bush, where hopefully you’ll be challenged to look at “Hineini” in an entirely new way.

But for now, we’ll end with Thich Nhat Hanh’s message of presence. In his book, You are Here, he says simply, “How can you love if you are not here?” Our theme for these High Holidays is “Hineini,” but “Hineini” is always offered in response. In Genesis 3:9, God says to Adam and Eve, “Ayeka,” “Where are you?” And really, that is the underlying theme behind “Hineini”; the question that drives the reply.

Sooo… “Ayeka” – Where are YOU? I hope you’ll come back so we can continue answering this question together.

And when you do, I look forward to buying you another cup of coffee.

Shanah Tovah!