Rosh Hashanah Morning 5772 Rabbi Susan Talve, Central Reform Congregation (After the reading of the Akeda and the first day Haftarah, before the shofar service) This story of Hannah always gives us hope. Hannah picks herself up, and in spite of the judgment and discomfort of everyone around her, she demands justice from the universe. She redeems a tragic situation and turns it into something that gives us hope, even today. But don t tell me to take the story of Abraham and Isaac, or even of Abraham casting out Ishmael, these lemons, and make lemonade. Don t dare to suggest that there could be a blessing in this or any other tragedy or painful moment in our lives. That is not what we want to hear when we are in the midst of the mess, the pain, the sorrow. I have said it myself: Take your lemonade, take your blessings. I want my loved one back, I want my relationship back. I want life without all these bumps and bruises back. Once again this difficult story is put before us and we are challenged to find the transformative teaching in it. To take this moment where a parent gets this close to killing his son and we are expected to take this awful moment, this terrible event, and find something redeeming in it. It dares us to turn the curse into a blessing. And we try. Abraham s dramatic act becomes a chilling reminder of what we are capable of, that even the best of us can make terrible mistakes. And you think you feel guilty about something you have done? From this one act, Sarah died of shock. And Isaac? Isaac never spoke to his father again. And Isaac and Ishmael are at odds for generations to come. Abraham, the great father whose name that suggests, av-father-rachem-compassion, really makes a difficult choice and causes great pain. But most of the time our suffering comes even if we have made the best of choices and done nothing wrong and still the hurt is so deep, the loss so devastating, the betrayal by a loved one or even the betrayal from the unfairness in life is so awful, you just know there is no lemonade coming from these lemons. There can be no blessing out of this, just hurt and sadness. I have stood with many of you during these awful times when something terrible has happened or is happening. The last thing you want to hear is that there will be a blessing from this curse. From the miscarriage, the stillborn, the agonizing illness, the tragic accident, the suicide. You know the list. There is nothing more annoying
than the suggestion to take those lemons and make lemonade. Life is messy and complicated and sometimes just so broken that you just have to acknowledge it. The hurts and losses so great, even tragic, that all we can do is be present. Not try to fix what is so broken or make sense of the chaos and imperfection. Like Aaron after the death of his sons, the only response can be silence. Most times we know we have done nothing to cause or deserve such awful suffering. It just is. The text teases us and says, After these things god did test Abraham. But there is nothing more cruel than to suggest that the universe is testing us, or playing with us or, god forbid, punishing us. There is no reward and punishment. There may be consequences for our actions but I can promise you that sickness and suffering and tragedy are never, ever punishment. That was an old idea. For us there are no gods playing with us, determining our destinies. We fought long ago against the Hellenistic notion that we were at the mercy of the gods. For us there is no original sin that requires salvation from a source outside of ourselves. The story of the mythical Adam and Eve tries to explain that eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil freed us from a life of ignorance and indifference. Outside the garden, we came alive with knowing that it would be up to us to fix what was broken and that our purpose would be to relieve suffering whenever, wherever, we could. The mythical stories of Genesis warn us what happens if we live for selfinterest instead of the common good. They tell us that war and famine will be present as long as we stay isolated and alienated. The Torah lays out the possibility that we can spiritually and morally evolve. Our stories weave a garment that requires both deep humility and what we call holy chutzpah, to write the next page in our books of life in spite of the imperfection of creation, in spite of the brokenness and tragedy that threaten to dim our hope and weaken our faith. There is no book of life, no Sefer Chaim, that is written for us. The book we sing about on these holy days is not inscribed by others. We write our own books by the way that we respond to the tragedies that we face. We write the book in the way we respond to the cruelty of others, and to the sickness and sorrow that seems to be a part of this imperfect world. A world that desperately needs us to love it more. Not long ago, as the Jews in the Warsaw Ghetto were starving and sick and afraid, as loved ones were dying and there seemed that little could be done to change anything, a rabbi named Kolonymous Shapira preserved a book he had written, a very practical book, called Conscious Community, A Guide to Inner Life. Imagine losing everyone you love, everyone around you, to senseless hate and still believing that one day there would be survivors who would find the pages of your book buried in the walls of the ghetto and believe that they would carry on your holy
vision of a better world. A conscious community that would transform the way people live together and treat each other. In the midst of the pograms, and in the shadow of the dark cloud that many knew was coming, and in the agony of waiting for a cruel and painful and unnecessary death, this man taught others what it would take to save the soul of the world. Perhaps this is the deepest truth of this story of Abraham and Isaac; To help us recognize when the soul of the world is at risk. When a father would come this close to sacrificing his son, the soul of the world is at risk. When one nation throws away food and another starves, the soul of the world is at risk. When people shout upon hearing about the uninsured, let them die, the soul of the world is at risk. When there are disparities of any kind that threaten a level playing field demanded by torah the soul of our nation the soul of Israel the soul of the world is at risk. When we think we can solve problems with violence. When human life and basic human rights are not held sacred, the soul of the world is at risk. You know the list. We are challenged once again during these Holy Days to save the soul of the world, of our nation, of Israel, of our community, of our families, and perhaps even our own souls. I read Rabbi Shapira s book many years ago but I have only begun to understand its wisdom by studying it with a small group that has been meeting in the library of CRC. Rabbi Shapira tells us that souls yearn for connectedness. Alienation allows for the sadness that puts us at risk. But, planted within each of us is a desire to serve. Within each of us is the ability to resist the mundane excuses, and petty blaming that keep us stuck and keep us from changing behaviors that we know put our souls at risk. So he teaches us how to see holiness in everything, yes everything, that we may dissolve in a holy embrace and know, really know that we are part of something so holy that it can pull the soul back from the abyss and save us all. As part of this conscious community, he teaches us to rise above the noise and tumult of the world, not for rewards or honors or recognition, not to make our
mark, but to be part of a community that is moved to tears by the suffering and that still believes that even though our souls are still un-evolved, our potential for holiness, our potential for raising up a generation that will do better, care more, say no to violence and not sacrifice their children, is possible. The book is a guide to being that kind of community. This summer we were in Israel when Dafne Leaf, a young working woman who could not keep up with her rent, pitched a tent on Rothschild Blvd in Tel Aviv. Within a few days many joined her and the cause grew from affordable housing to every social justice issue that threatens the soul of Israel from the unregulated price of cottage cheese and other essentials that have fallen under monopolies, to the demolition of Palestinian homes. Without violence and with blessings from the Mayor of Tel Aviv and many others, a movement swept through Israel. There were tents throughout the country and we watched as the tent dwellers were cheered on and fed and protected by a nation that for the most part, listened. Hope was born for a generation that had given up because all they had known was war and all that went with it. Dafne said, This hope was born, like many hopes, out of a feeling of despair, alienation, inequalities that became impossible for all of us, inequalities that almost became impossible to overcome. But she said: We ve created a new discourse here. This is the new discourse: We ve replaced the word pity with the word compassion. We ve replace the word charity with the word justice. We ve replaced the word donation with the word welfare. We ve replaced the word consumer with the word citizen. We ve replaced the verb to wait with the verb to change. We ve replaced the word alone with the word together. This is the greatest thing that we ve done this summer. We are moving forward, to a better future, to a more just country. Dafne is the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors. I couldn t help but wonder if she was an inheritor of Rabbi Shapira and his conscious community. This movement and the other movements like it are the proof that we can do better. There was a time that we tolerated slavery but no more. There was a time that we stood silently when LGBT people were forced to live in secret in the military and as whole and healthy families but no more.
This moral and spiritual evolving is taking hold as Saudi women will drive and vote. This is bound to affect others in the region. There was a time we tolerated inequality for women but no more. There are many examples, large and small, of conscious communities all over doing the inner work that is transforming our worlds and truly changing business as usual. And this is what will save our souls. So let us take these holy days to think about what we will write in our life books this year. How will we negotiate the twists and turns of our journey in this imperfect world. What tents will we build in the face of injustice that will draw us together in the most conscious community we are capable of building for this New Year. How will we become deep wells of wisdom for each other? How will we keep our souls alive and well and hopeful in this New Year knowing all that we know? All that can and most likely will threaten our peace and serenity? Back to the lemons. As difficult as it is, our way out of despair is to find the blessing in the curse. To take that knife of Abraham and turn it into a pruning hook or a plowshare. To take that knife and use it to tell others how close we can get to sacrificing our own children. To take that knife and let it be a lesson for generations to come to put away the weapons of war because they will ultimately not keep us safe and will only cause more suffering. Take that terrible disease and find the blessing in spite of it. Walk or race or bike for the cure so that someday it will not cause this kind of suffering to anyone else. Share your stories of sorrow and strength with others walking through the valley of shadows. Once that knife was lifted, Abraham could not take back what he had done. We cannot give back what has been lost or take back the tragedies we have suffered but as much as we may not want to we are wired to turn heart ache into hope. It is our nature to find the blessing in the cruelest curse. To remember that the people in Joplin and the Gulf Coast and so many other places still need us and that we will continue finding ways to help.
To remember the suffering even when it is not in front of our eyes and to bear witness. To remember that we will make mistakes and as long as we will learn from them and redeem them, when we forgive ourselves and each other know that they will save us from our sorrow. In a few moments we will hear the sound of the shofar. The horn of the ram that Abraham sacrificed instead of his son. The secret is that with each call it draws something new into the world. Just when you think you have seen it all. Just when you think there is no solution, no justice, no healing. Just when you think there is no hope. The tekiah gets our attention and breaks through to the wholeness that once was. The shevarim shatters our faith, the teruah breaks our hearts but we know that there will be another tekiah, this time a great tekiah turning the heartache into hope. Promising us that together in conscious community, arms around each other, we will draw something new into the world this year, something we have yet to imagine, and when we do, when we do, as a conscious community, we will take those curses and turn them into blessings and take those lemons and turn them into --------.