Posted below is my main sermon for the morning of Rosh Hashanah, Day Two. To read additional sermons from this year's holidays, go to the drop-down list on the right hand side of the screen. Or from the main page, you can keep scrolling down. Thanks!
YK Main Sermon 5779
Shanah Tovah!
My last two years in rabbinical school, I had the tremendous
pleasure of serving as the rabbinic intern for a small congregation outside
Charlotte, NC, in the town of Davidson (You may be familiar with Davidson
College; Go Steph Curry!). I would fly down to Beth Shalom of Lake Norman,
based in Davidson, once a month or so, as well as write a weekly Torah
commentary (of course), answer e-mail questions, and work to help them grow
their membership and engagement. I loved that congregation, and the terrific
people there, and I am pleased to say I am still friends with some of my former
congregants... AND, I once did something very dumb in that community.
After having completed a full year as their rabbi, I decided
we knew each other well enough; it was time for some radical honesty (though I
didn’t use that term back then). I was twenty-seven, I hadn’t even graduated
rabbinical school yet, and I’d had twelve successful months in a quasi-pulpit;
so yeah, I was basically an idiot. Therefore, on Yom Kippur of only my SECOND
High Holidays with them, I talked about a very personal topic. I shared with
them that I have been in a life-long battle with eating and with my weight. I
told them I was doing Weight Watchers, that it was going quite well, and that
it was important to be able to talk about challenging issues like these.
Well, for the next full year, just about every single person
in that congregation would come up to me when I’d arrive for my monthly visits
and ask, “How’s it going? How much have you lost? Have you been sticking with
your plan? What’s your current weight? I shouldn’t offer you any food, should
I? Ha, ha, ha! Hilarious…” When the year finally came to a close - and I really
DID love all those people and we had a wonderful rapport - I vowed NEVER to
speak about weight and eating ever, ever, EVER again.
So, today, I would like to talk to you about my weight. I
lasted a decade, ok? I think that’s pretty good. In a way, this feels like an
unnecessarily stupid risk, in part because I will NOT be finished with you
people twelve, short months from now, and I have no real reason to believe that
people here will be more respectful of my privacy. Nevertheless, I am going to
do this, because I am a firm believer in radical honesty. It is my focus for
these High Holiday sermons, indeed it is my theme for the entire year, and honestly,
the more I think about it, it may be a new pervasive thread that will permeate
my entire rabbinate. (Unless this backfires horribly…)
I must admit, I cannot remember a time when I wasn’t
dieting. As a kid, I remember trying those horrible soup diets, where you eat
the same soup for seven days in a row, for one or maybe even two meals EVERY
day. That didn’t go too well. I’ve done Weight Watchers four or five times,
dating back to my teen years, I’ve tried Atkins and South Beach, I’ve worked
with nutritionists, therapists, and psychiatrists. I’ve probably fluctuated 60
or so pounds, up and down, in the past twenty years, and I am incredibly afraid
of the repercussions if I cannot get a handle on this before I turn 40. If
we’re being really, REALLY honest here - and no point in holding back now,
right? - my therapist, whom I’ve now seen essentially since I moved here,
recently said that looking at my anxiety around eating, my constant struggles,
my overeating, my fears around it, my obsessions; at this point, we should
probably consider this an eating disorder. Wow, I just said that, didn’t I?
“Eating disorder”??? That’s kind of ludicrous, don’t you
think? I mean, eating disorders are typically bulimia or anorexia, no? Not
this! And don’t they mainly affect women and girls, usually in their teens? But
those are kind of stereotypes; one-dimensional stories we tell ourselves, and
that actually do more harm than good. It took a while for it to sink in, for me
to own it, but it is true; my eating is VERY disordered. Food is never NOT on
my mind. It’s rumbling around constantly, like a white noise machine whooshing
constantly in the background. You think it’s just fine, you tune it out, it’s
no big deal… but then if and when someone actually shuts the darn whoosher off,
your whole body relaxes, and you realize how annoying it was. I’m still waiting
for someone to hit the off-switch…
Now, I don’t want to pretend that I’ve reached some peace
with this, some equilibrium, and that’s why I’m talking about it. Sadly, that’s
not it. I am quite terrified speaking about this right now. I haven’t won this
fight; I’m wrestling with it RIGHT NOW - Remember, Yisrael, means “one who
wrestles with God.” I’m not sure it’s EVER meant to end… I feel overweight all
the time. I am not ready to say “fat” just yet; it feels too mean, too unkind,
too judgmental. But I have tremendous awe and respect for public figures who
own that word, who wear it proudly. Like Lindy West, an incredible journalist,
activist, and comedian, who is a contributor to This American Life, a feminist,
and a leader in the fat acceptance movement. West speaks bluntly about a
struggle that is VERY real for me, and I was recently reading an incredible
article of hers in The Guardian from 2017, entitled “I’m not going to answerthe same question about being fat any more.”
West writes: “The most salient thing I have learned over my
past six years as a public fat woman... is that everybody is in pain. We all
suffer from this hierarchy of bodies. The people lashing out and the people
pleading for help exist on the same spectrum. So when fat activists fight to
destroy that hierarchy, we are fighting for you, even if you hate us.” I must
admit, it’s a fine line, accepting and loving yourself and STILL wanting to
change. West has let go of that second half. I’m not there yet. I haven’t found
a path down the middle, but I AM searching desperately. In the meantime, I’m in
a lot of pain.
I don’t know if this topic resonates with you. Maybe this
isn’t your issue at all, not even a little. But I began this sermon series,
back on Rosh Hashanah, emphasizing the importance of seeing our privilege, and
being sensitive to others who are disadvantaged by it. This IS actually a
societal problem, as well as a personal one, so a little Radical Honesty is
needed here too. Not too long ago, when Governor Chris Christie of New Jersey
was a public figure, he was often the target of A LOT of criticism. I’m not
going to speak to whether I was a supporter or critic of his, but I DO want to
say that perhaps AS often as people spoke about his politics, they talked about
his weight. Maybe more than his politics. Jokes about overeating, size,
clothing, restaurants, fitting, making room; it was painful to hear. Even as
racist jokes and misogynist cracks and anti-Semitic slurs are publicly
criticized (though we all know they DO, very much, still exist…), humor
directed at fat people seems untouchable; still entirely socially acceptable.
And yet, this sermon is not actually meant to be all about
weight and body image. It is, at its core, about vulnerability. I’ve tried to
offer a sound byte from each of my sermons, either explicitly or just by
repeating it a few times. We started with “If you aren’t aware of a
disadvantage, you’re probably the beneficiary of it.” And I wonder how many
people here were really, fully conscious of bias against people who are
overweight? My Second Day sound byte was “Truth and Fact are not synonyms.” And
last night, I didn’t specifically offer a quote to remember, but I might
articulate it as, “We have to name our fears, AND tell our own stories.” Today,
I simply want to say, “Being vulnerable is hard… but necessary.” Yom Kippur
really tries to strip away our defences. We fast, and I think every year I’m
amazed at how irritable, exhausted, sluggish, and lethargic all of us become…
after not even ONE, whole day! It reminds us of our human frailty; we are not
machines, we cannot push ourselves infinitely. Then we also pray for hours on
end, not because we keep adding new sentiments, but really to wear away our
resistance, and force us to be HONEST and real with ourselves and with one
another.
As the day begins to wane, we add a pretty interesting
ingredient to this mixture. If you come back after our midday break, around
3:45 p.m., we will not only conduct the Mincha, afternoon service, but we also
read the Book of Jonah. If you know anything about that particular Biblical
book, you probably recall the whale, or big fish, that swallows Jonah whole and
then spits him back out. First of all, I firmly maintain that the big fish is
the LEAST interesting thing in that whole book! Nearly everything else is worth
discussing, has nuance and different levels, and the fish is just a special
effect, and kind of a low-budget one at that. No, let’s talk about something
else. When he’s first introduced to us, we learn that Jonah’s full name is
Yonah ben Amitai. Which might, indeed, mean that his father’s name was Amitai;
that’s how Hebrew names work. But, it is also perhaps interesting that the word
“Amitai” comes from a Hebrew root you now know quite well, namely “Emet,” our
theme word for the holidays. So we can also read his name as meaning “Jonah,
the Truth Guy,” or perhaps more poetically, “Jonah, the Truth Seeker.” And
indeed, that is just who we discover him to be.
In short, Jonah is sent to a great city, Nineve, capital of
the Assyrian Empire, where God wants him to prophecy that the people should
repent and change their ways, or the city will be annihilated in 3 days. Ok,
now, spoiler alert (if you don’t want me to ruin the ending because you’re
coming back this afternoon, just cover your ears for a second…): The people
repent, and the city is saved. Then, a plot twist: Jonah is furious! He didn’t
want them to be saved; he felt they were bad people who deserved what was
coming to them. Remember, Jonah is a Truth Seeker.
When he challenges God for accepting their repentance, he
quotes a line we just discussed last night. “Adonai, Adonai, Eil Rachum
v’Chanun.” The Thirteen Attributes of God! A central part of our liturgy. They
speak about God being compassionate, kind, and loving, and Jonah essentially
says to God, “I knew that verse, and I KNEW you would be forgiving if I spoke
on their behalf.” And when he quotes that verse, Jonah only refers to half of
it, he stops short right before which word? Emet. Subtly, he is saying, “You
may be kind and compassionate, but you are NOT being honest!” Jonah’s top
priority is honesty, even if it has to be brutal honesty that is unkind and
definitely not vulnerable; that is just who he is.
Jonah has a defender, by the way. He is not alone in
espousing this opinion. A few centuries later, just after the year zero, two of
our greatest teachers, Hillel and Shammai, were each the heads of a school. In
the Babylonian Talmud, in a tractate (or volume) called Ketubot, a question is
posed: “What do you say to a bride at her wedding?” Beit Hillel - the house or
school of Hillel - responds, “You tell her she’s beautiful.” There’s no
question about it. Every bride is beautiful on her wedding day; the most
important Jewish value is to speak words of kindness and generosity, NO ONE
wants to hear anything else at this moment. Beit Shammai, however, says: “You
describe the bride as she is.” When Beit Hillel tries to protest, Beit Shammai
retorts, “If she were lame or blind, would you still say of her, ‘she is a
beautiful and graceful bride’?? Does it not say in Exodus 23:7: ‘Keep far from
a false matter’?” Like the prophet Jonah, Shammai is a Truth Guy. What kind of
a society would we have if we lied??? No white lies, no softened truths, just
give it to me straight, doc. Just the facts, ma’am; just the facts.
Of course, you might say, “Well, Rabbi Gerber, surely you
agree then! Your theme, after all, is ‘Radical Honesty’!” Are you not a “Truth
Guy” as well?? But even in my first sermon, I made a distinction between
Radical Honesty and Brutal Honesty. If you have to be unkind and cruel, that is
NOT Radical Honesty. And I was also emphatic about the difference between Fact
and Truth. Jonah wanted to list all the crimes of Nineve and let that determine
whether they should be punished or not. JUST the facts. And Shammai wasn’t
interested in anyone’s opinion, or whether it was a cruel thing to say; JUST
the facts. I know it sounds like an extreme position, but I actually think we
see it around us all the time. Rather than open our hearts, internalize someone
else’s story, be vulnerable ourselves, and form deeper relationships, it’s
easier to simply judge and stereotype. Tell one, simple story, and ignore the
true complexity that may be just under the surface. Being vulnerable IS hard…
but it is also extremely important.
To some of you, it may seem crazy that I talked about being
overweight, about having an eating disorder. It may even seem cruel, even
though I’m doing it to myself... because we certainly CAN be cruel to
ourselves. Sometimes even MORE ruthless than anyone else ever would. You might
say, I’m being TOO honest, perhaps even brutally honest! We don’t need to know
this! It’s ok!! Well, I am sorry if this is uncomfortable, but it IS my truth,
and I am trying to challenge you to share yours as well. I told you on Rosh
Hashanah that I was going to push you; well, this is it! Not just for these
High Holiday sermons, not just until the final shofar blast this evening, but
all the time. To paraphrase Lindy West, when I’m trying to tear down these barriers,
I’m fighting for you, even if you don’t want to hear it. These conversations
cannot stop here, cannot end when we’ve got food back in our stomachs. This
year, Rabbi Miller and I are going to hold a second Death Cafe, an evening of
discussion around a topic that is SO hard for many people to talk about. Death
is a paralyzing fear for a lot of you, but we need to NAME it, and form more
stories around it to process those fears.
I also hope to invite Men’s Club members to join me for yet
another conversation about our role in the #MeToo movement and the changing way
society views masculinity. If you’re not sure what I’m talking about, or don’t
agree a change is coming, please Google a commercial for a company called
Bonobos, that uses the hashtag #EvolveTheDefinition, or the shaving company
Harry’s that has a commercial called “A Man Like You,” which insists there’s no
one way to be a man. This is no longer your grandfather’s masculinity…. I was
also watching Comedy Central’s “The Daily Show” with Trevor Noah, and he was
speaking to another writer and activist, Darnell Moore, who said, “society has
to let go of our deep, deep, deep, deep desire - attraction! - to the toxicity
that is masculinity... get rid of that!” I hope we are ready to discuss this toxicity
with Ohev’s Men’s Club…
So what do YOU want to talk about? These tough subjects
shouldn’t all begin with me. Do we need another conversation about addiction in
the Jewish community? Focusing, perhaps, on how we all are affected by the
opioid crisis in this country? Or maybe we need to revisit our conversations
with the Presbyterian churches about Israel and Palestine? I want to have these
conversations with you, and so many more, just as long as we are talking, and
as long as we are being Radically Honest.
Let me share one other reflection with you: Some of you may
be familiar with the writer and journalist, Malcolm Gladwell. He’s written
books like “The Tipping Point,” “Outliers,” and “David and Goliath.” He also
hosts a podcast, an audio show you can download to your smartphone, called
“Revisionist History.” I LOVE “Revisionist History.” It’s fascinating,
thought-provoking, blunt, and sometimes radically honest… possibly bordering on
brutally honest. Let’s just say, he has an episode about golf that I know a lot
of people here would not like. Malcolm Gladwell hates golf… Anyway, Gladwell’s
latest episode, the finale of Season Three, is called “Analysis, Parapraxis,Elvis.” Again, I’m going to ask for a little trust here; you may not see where
I’m going with this.
Gladwell begins by talking about a phenomenon called
“parapraxis.” You might know it by another name, The Freudian Slip. This occurs
when you accidentally say the wrong word, but on a deeper level,
subconsciously, it’s actually precisely what you MEANT to say. Like a man who
has had a lot of health issues, and the doctor prescribes him yet another
expensive medication, and the man says, “Please, doctor, don’t give me any more
BILLS, I can’t swallow them!” Or the famous quip: “A Freudian Slip is when you
meant to say one thing, but you accidentally say ‘your mother.’” That’s
parapraxis. Malcolm Gladwell then talks about Elvis Presley, and his song “AreYou Lonesome Tonight.” It’s one of his most famous songs, but it’s also a
fascinating example of parapraxis. Apparently, Elvis could never quite get
through the song without messing up. I mean, like, EVER! He couldn’t get the
words right.
There are versions where he’s laughing hysterically, almost
maniacally, then other times he’s crying or just speaking gibberish. And Elvis
Presley was otherwise known for recalling massive amounts of music by heart. It
was a block, a mental barrier. Gladwell talks about Elvis’ mother, his wife,
Priscilla, and a lot of his struggles, and somehow this song, “Are you Lonesome
Tonight,” became a symbol of all of that. His inability to remember the words
was another form of parapraxis. The subconscious is just too overpowering…
Gladwell then interviews a country singer named Casey Bowls who wrote a song
about HER mother, and sure enough, she too can never quite get through it
without making mistakes. I’m not doing the episode justice; it’s worth
listening to, if you’re interested. But ultimately, Malcolm Gladwell gets to
his crescendo, and it will help me arrive at mine:
These mistakes appear embarrassing. They seem like
disastrous errors, and surely the ideal would be to get through a performance
flawlessly, perfectly. No, says Gladwell. “Parapraxis is a gift. It is a window
on our pain. Mistakes reveal our vulnerabilities. They are the way the world
understands us; the way performers make their performances real.” Our entire
society is geared towards NOT making mistakes, NOT crying, NOT breaking down,
and certainly NOT showing vulnerability. But as a result, we have addictions,
we have anger issues, we struggle in relationships with family, spouses, and
friends, AND we have eating disorders. It’s NOT all fine. We are NOT fine.
Something needs to give… but again, it’s a fine line, a
tough and narrow path to walk. We should be kind to ourselves, compassionate,
and forgiving, BUT we also need to be Radically Honest. Gladwell concludes by
pointing out how we judge one another for mistakes. We criticize any public
mistakes really, but for our purposes we might mention being overweight, or
being blind to our privilege, or not being religious or observant enough. Says
Gladwell: “The easiest thing in the world is to look at those mistakes and
condemn. The much harder thing is to look at those mistakes and understand.” My
dear Ohev Shalom family, do not obsess over the facts. It’s easy to put two and
two together and let the facts guide your opinion. But that will blind you;
it’s too extreme! It might lead you to say some pretty harsh things to a bride
or condemn an entire city - or perhaps, these days, an entire religion -
without really seeing a deeper truth.
A new year is beginning. Do not miss this opportunity. This
is OUR “Torat Emet,” our Torah of Truth; our Instruction, Teaching, Heritage,
and Creed. hThe easiest thing in the world is to nod your head, beat your
chest, and then, tonight, go have a bagel and forget the whole thing. It is
much harder to resolve to change, and then stay committed to it. Our Torat Emet
reminds us to examine our privilege, search for genuine truths hiding behind
endless facts, and strive to be more vulnerable, more kind, and radically (but
not brutally!) honest. To me, THAT is what it means to genuinely and lovingly
search for truth. That is how we can all become ben, or bat, or mi’beit Amitai -
Seekers of Truth. The search continues, our journey continues. But I feel
blessed and honored to share this journey with all of you.
Shanah Tovah!
More often they saw it as a failure in themselves, and repented along with the rest of the people. And if they did point out that they knew the future all along, they probably employed a little more subtlety than what I depicted above. And it's very possible that they learned the more humble approach from the Torah itself. This week, we see a very graceful (almost hidden) "I told you so" uttered by the Biblical narrative, and I think it teaches us something very valuable.
This week, the Israelites have escaped slavery! However, they may technically be out of Egypt, but they are not out of the proverbial woods yet. They are instead running for their lives; marching day and night to escape the pursuing Egyptian army. It is only when they successfully cross the Sea of Reeds (commonly, and erroneously, referred to as the Red Sea) that they taste true freedom. And at this point, the Bible states, "Then Miriam the prophetess, Aaron's sister, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her in dance with timbrels" (Exodus, 15:20). Since when is Miriam a prophetess? And why is she referred to as Aaron's sister, and not Moses' sister?? What's going on here?
Well, one possibility is that this enigmatic verse is meant to remind us of something that was only revealed in a midrash (rabbinic story), and not in the text itself. When Pharaoh, long before, first decreed to kill all male Israelite children, the parents of Miriam and Aaron decided to get divorced (or so the story goes...). "Why bring more children into this terrible world?" they asked. And Miriam, their daughter chastised them both. "You're worse than Pharaoh!" she proclaimed. "At least he only intends to kill the males, you want to end our people's story altogether!!" And then she added, "And who knows? Maybe the next child to be born will be our savior..." And wouldn't you know it? They got back together and had one more child: Moses. This is "only" a story, but it suddenly comes to life when we read that right at this moment, standing on the banks of the Sea of Reeds, the Israelites are FINALLY free. Miriam has finally become a prophetess, since she predicted that Moses would redeem them. And when she made that prediction, she was only Aaron's sister, because Moses had not yet been born. Subtly, gently, and with a hint of a smile, the Torah is saying: "See? I told you so!"
Right now, as we look at wars, destruction, and horrific earthquakes, we are tempted to think like Moses' parents. "How can we bring children into this world?" But we human beings are here for a reason. We are here to work towards repairing God's earth. To create a better, more harmonious place for all the people, animals, and plants that share this world. It is an enormous task, and not one that can be done quickly. But who ever said it would be easy? All I know is, God gave us each the tremendous gifts of life and of ethical thinking. We must repay God by doing the most we can with it, and trying each and every day to make the world a better place. Who knows? Maybe one of us will merit to be the next Moses, charged with the task of leading an entire people to freedom. Moses was 80 years old when he first confronted Pharaoh, so you truly never know! And maybe, just maybe, one day I can turn to you with a hint of a smile and say, "See? I told you so!"
