RH1 5780 - Main Sermon
Shanah Tovah! … AND… (Pause)You were expecting me to say something else there, weren’t you? I mean, that makes sense. You can’t exactly end a sentence - much less a greeting - with the word “and,” can you? It’s not considered a grammatically correct practice even to BEGIN a sentence with “And,” so it surely isn’t acceptable to trail off saying “And,” with nothing whatsoever to follow it! … but it DOES grab your attention, doesn’t it?
And I would argue that the reason it doesn’t work well at the start OR the end of anything, is because “And” is a connector. Some of you may already have read my September article in L’Chaim, our synagogue newsletter, where I subtly hinted that the word “And” would be integral to my theme this year, to the topic which I hope to continue expanding upon through the four main sermons of the High Holiday services. The more I’ve thought about it, over the past few months, the more I’ve felt it is a perfect metaphor for community, for engagement, for relationship; because “And” cannot stand alone. It needs to connect to something - or someone - on one side... and ideally it really needs someone to hold its hand on the other side as well.
I want to pause and give credit for this year’s theme to my friend and colleague - really, my teacher - Rabbi Kelilah Miller. Months ago, she and I were engaged in one of our extended, philosophical conversations, which happen with some frequency around the office, and somewhere along the way, this idea was born: We are not one thing. None of us, not a single person in this room, no human on earth, and perhaps not even any living creature anywhere, is defined simply by one trait, one belief, or one action. You are not exclusively a male or a female, such that all your decisions or actions can be traced back to your gender. You are not a Democrat or a Republican or an Independent or apolitical; meaning that the dividing lines are not solid, firm, and clear, with no commonalities across the various spectra. And we cannot be labeled entirely as Jewish, Muslim, Christian, atheist, Hindu, Buddhist, Baha’i, Sikh, humanist - and thereby imagine that all our choices and behaviors stem from our faith or lack thereof. We are not one or the other. This OR That. Right OR Left. We are “Jewish and…”
For the rest of this sermon, and then for three additional sermons - tomorrow morning, Kol Nidrei evening, and Yom Kippur morning - I want to talk with you about the topic of “Jewish and.” And today, on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, my sermon’s subtitle is “Jewish and Different.”
Sometimes, especially in cultures like ours here in America, or even across Western Civilization, it is easy to create stereotypes and simplistic pictures in our heads. Indulge me for a moment, and close your eyes, right now. If I asked you to picture “A Jew,” what would you see? Just create an image in your mind. Is this person wearing a kippah? Maybe a tallit? Maybe it even tips over into the stereotypical, and your mental image is of a male, and HE is wearing all black, maybe has peyes and a big beard. But even if all that is not true, and you didn’t picture that at all… I imagine you likely still pictured a Caucasian. (You can open your eyes now)
Now, my pointing this out isn’t meant to make you feel bad, or ashamed in any way. What I want us to do is look at our own preconceived notions, so that we can step away from them. It is difficult - maybe even impossible - to change and evolve, if we can’t first look at ourselves RIGHT NOW honestly and openly. Each person here has a framework within which s/he sees the world AND it is almost certainly different from the person sitting next to you, AND we need to talk about our own frameworks in order to make room for someone else’s. To be in relationship, we need to make space for ‘And.’ Right now, we are in the Season of Repentance; the High Holidays. And most of us know that the main theme of Rosh Hashanah is NOT celebrating or merriment or even eating (though food is obviously central to this, and EVERY, Jewish holiday too…), but really, Rosh Hashanah is about reflection and introspection. We are preparing for Yom Kippur, just ten days away, and trying to begin this new year better than the previous one.
And I would argue, that it is hard to do any real self-examination or experience any true growth, without asking some tough questions. Certainly in my own experience, wisdom - which is quite different from intelligence or knowledge - wisdom comes from perseverance, resilience, and challenge. Sitting comfortably and relaxed, enjoying services and not feeling pushed to search inside yourself at all, simply CANNOT lead to change. So if you and I are serious about why we are here for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, if we MEAN what we say when we claim to want to begin a new year fresh, with a desire to be better, to improve, to strive for different, then it has to begin with questions that challenge us, AND with examining our relationships with the people around us.
We need to start with looking at ourselves. When we think “Jewish,” we sometimes forget to imagine “Different.” It’s not intentional, but we likely imagine “Jewish = looks like me.” “Jewish” can ALSO mean African-American, or Latino, or gay, or someone with different needs or abilities. And/or a vastly different origin story. Last year, Siona Benjamin was our Artist-in-Residence, and she provided us all a wonderful opportunity to learn about the Jewish communities of India. Her artwork, which combined Judaic imagery, with traditional Indian and Hindu symbols, as well as American ones, was incredible, and hopefully we’ll have a chance to enjoy her art again soon. My main takeaway from her visit was a way to see the term “us” as expanded. To think of “Jewish and…” as meaning more than just Ashkenazi, or American… or white.
The title of a 2015 documentary about Siona Benjamin and her art is called “Blue Like Me.” This is a reference both to the influence of a type of art called Indian “miniature” paintings with a lot of blue figures, but also to what Siona herself describes as the feeling of an outsider looking in. People who live in a Jewish community that is predominantly white, Ashkenazi, and heteronormative, but who don’t fit into one or more of those categories, or feel they don’t “fit” some other accepted norm within our community, can often feel like an outsider looking in. My point here is, someone around you might feel like an Other, and you don’t even know it.
Now, you could be thinking, “Do we HAVE TO recognize our differences, our diversity, explicitly? Why should our specific terminology matter, if our actions demonstrate what a welcoming and inclusive community we are?” And my response is, when people don’t feel they are represented, see someone like them on the bimah, hear their story in our tradition, then they may NOT feel welcomed and included. If we don’t talk directly about marginalized groups or give voice to the tough and painful questions that many people feel inside, then are we really being warm and welcoming? Aren’t we just putting “And” at the end of a sentence, without bridging it to something on the other side?
To be in relationship, we need to make space for ‘And.’ I mean, REALLY make space for it. The challenge is one of humbling ourselves, of withdrawing a little, and not making assumptions about who “fits in” and who doesn’t. The ancient rabbis of the Mishnah famously wrote about being open to difference in their own way, writing statements in Pirkei Avot - Ethics of Our Fathers - like, “Eizehu Chacham? Ha-Lomed Mi-Kol Adam.” “Who is Wise? One who learns from ALL people.” And a separate teaching, from the Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Ta’anit, is a perfect partner to that first quote: “Rabbi Chanina taught, ‘I have learned much from my teachers. I have learned more from my colleagues than my teachers. But from my students I learned more than all of them.’”
In other words, when read together, these two texts remind us to learn not just from ALL teachers, from all people who identify themselves as educators - who teach a class or a Lunch n’ Learn or deliver a sermon or an instructional YouTube video. No, we truly learn from ALL people. We need to withdraw our own egos, humble ourselves a little, and discover how amazing it can be to learn from 4-year olds, from complete strangers on the street, from an annoying co-worker who usually only says obnoxious things. Or, during this Season of Repentance, perhaps we can challenge ourselves to learn from someone who has angered, upset, or disappointed us? Or learn by pulling back, and listening for a still, small voice that may offer an unexpected teaching, that we were ONLY able to hear because we created space with our silence?
We’re here, right? We’re in synagogue ON Rosh Hashanah, taking seriously the themes presented to us about making changes to begin the new year better than the previous one. So what does that mean? For me, for you, for each person here? Can change really take place, without examining ourselves, without asking some challenging questions, without evaluating our relationships with the people around us? If change doesn’t involve any of those things, how is it meaningful, substantive, significant change?
I want to share with you one, final image that encapsulates this concept of “Jewish and” for me. It is a window, metaphorically AND tangibly. As an aside, I want to share that our building is filled with artwork. Some you see immediately, others are more subtle or blend in with their surroundings. Some might be incredibly beautiful and eye-catching, while other pieces are - shall we say - an acquired taste. Or perhaps slightly dated in their appeal. But what they all have in common are stories. Incredible, personal, meaningful, beautiful stories. As the rabbi of Ohev Shalom for over ten years now, I have had the privilege to learn many of the stories that predated me, and the even GREATER privilege to make new stories along with you. Occasionally, I find it sad that so many people will never know the details, intricacies, and the history that is hiding behind a glass dove or a plaque in the grass or inside a Torah cover. But I want you to know, today, that each one unlocks an entire life and a series of events. As part of our Centennial celebration, we are hoping to record as many of those stories as possible; if you personally want to know any more details about something you see anywhere around Ohev Shalom, please ask. Each is like an “And”; a relationship waiting to open up to you.
One such story began just one year ago, when we dedicated a beautiful new stained glass window in our Balin Chapel (across the lobby). The window depicts a gorgeous tree, sprouting some unidentified, but delicious-looking orange fruit. And throughout the roots and the branches of that tree are words in Hebrew and in English. Like the art around the building, some are obvious, others are hidden. Every word connotes relationship. For the family that dedicated the window, each characteristic mentioned represents a facet of a relationship that is incredibly meaningful and powerful. But like all artwork, it begins with one story, but it spreads out - much like the branches of the tree in that window - to create new possibilities. New branches, leaves, and fruit, or for each new onlooker, new interpretations, personal meaning, AND a relationship.
I love our new chapel window. On sunny late afternoons, the light reflects into that prayer space at the perfect angle, creating an inverted, glassy, watercolor-like image on the wall opposite the window. Other times, the whole room is bathed in a warm, soothing, blue shimmer. It kind of makes us all look a bit more similar; a bit more "blue like me"... Depending on how I am feeling, a different word in the window will catch my eye, or the little mockingbird hidden among the branches. The art itself might not change, but we shift and grow and evolve, and so the world around us seems altered all the time. If you change your perspective, or change your approach - or maybe even just look out a new window - you really can see things in a different light.
Every year, the focus for me at these High Holidays is relationships. How is our relationship to ourselves, our family members, our friends, our community, the world, AND God? But it has to begin with an honest look at where I am RIGHT NOW. The goal isn’t to be totally different, to change everything about yourself! But we do need to make space for growth. To do that, we have to look at ourselves through a new lens and a new light, AND then we have to remove ourselves enough to hear other people’s stories and their challenges, AND then we have to spend some time on relationships. It may seem like a lofty goal, but I know we’re up to the challenge. We may all be different, but we can all make space for relationships. We can grow new branches and new fruit, we can learn from all those we encounter along life’s way. We are not just one thing; none of us are limited nor are we immutable. No. We are “Jewish and…”
AND… Shanah Tovah!
No comments:
Post a Comment