Living With Brokenness RH Morning 5777 You may be familiar with the Mel Brooks movie History of the World. One of the scenes famously depicts Moses bringing God s commandments to the Israelite people. Holding three tablets, Moses proclaims The Lord, the Lord Jehova, gives you these 15 --at which point, one of the tablets falls from his hands and shatters-- 10, these 10 commandments. Of course, in the real scene from the book of Exodus, Moses comes down the mountain with only ten commandments to begin with. However, Mel Brooks is 1
correct that in the story of the commandments, the tablets do get broken-- but it is no accident. Moses breaks the first two sets of tablets which God gives him because of his intense anger at witnessing the Israelite people dancing around a golden calf they made while Moses was up on Mt. Sinai receiving the Ten Commandments, and watching the people dance around the calf, as they said These are your gods, O Israel. Imagine Moses frustration! Having worked so hard to liberate the Israelites from Egypt and then receiving the Ten Commandments--he sees the people turning their backs on him, on God, on everything he has worked for 2
and everything he has stood for. To say that Moses must have been disappointed would be an understatement. It might be more accurate to say that Moses, like the tablets he threw to the ground, was broken--and I suspect, afraid for the future. What do I do with these people now? he must have wondered. Will my dream of bringing them to the Promised Land ever come true? Is this noble and sacred mission, given to me by God, over forever? Needless to say, Moses was not the first, nor will he be the last person, to experience brokenness, anger, disappointment and fear. 3
As welcome the New Year 5777, a wide range of Americans feel that much is broken in our nation and are afraid about the future. That feeling of brokenness stems from our ongoing struggle to create a just and equal society, where all people are treated fairly, and have equal opportunities, no matter their race, their religion, country of origin or sexual orientation; where no one is a target because of the color of their skin or the color of their uniform; where anti-semitism and racism are a thing of the past; where we and our children can earn a decent living and live reasonably comfortable lives on a planet that can sustain itself far into the future. 4
And, yes, we are scared--of radical Islamic terrorism, of mass shootings in places that we might reasonably expect to be free of people firing military grade weapons at innocent men, women and children--elementary schools, colleges, nightclubs and movie theaters. We are struggling to fulfill the vision outlined in the Prayer For Our Nation which we read from our own Temple Sholom prayerbook on Shabbat mornings: May we... help to make our nation a society that excels in freedom, justice, tolerance and compassion 5
As individuals, many of us are experiencing our own personal pain, fear and disappointment and know all too well the brokenness that Moses feels. Loved ones--or we ourselves--face serious illness; People we love have died; We have lost jobs; People--including those whom we love the most-- disappoint us when they don t make the choices we would like them to, or hurt us in some way. Perhaps we have seen our marriage shattered, the love that we once had for someone faded. 6
We have unrealized dreams, unfulfilled hopes, our and unmet aspirations. And this leaves us feeling broken and shattered, like the tablets at Moses feet. The question we face is Do we let our fear rule us, or do we rule it? Do we let the brokenness define us, or do we use our pain to create the next phase of our lives in a meaningful way? Jewish tradition offers us some guidance on these questions. 7
There is a beautiful teaching in the Talmud that Moses actually kept those broken tablets and placed them in the Holy Ark side by side with the new, second set of tablets he receives from God a short time later. Why doesn t Moses disregard the broken tablets altogether and just move on? Why hold onto a reminder of something so upsetting? The rabbis are teaching us that we cannot avoid brokenness. It s a part of life and the key to living with that brokenness and fear is, well, to live with it-- not to sweep it under the rug, not to wish it away--because we can t-- but 8
to carry it with us and to find the seeds of renewal and rebirth in that brokenness. The Apter Rebbe, a 19th century Hasidic rabbi, teaches us that Moses actually gave the broken tablets back to the people so they could put the broken pieces back together themselves. Rabbi Margie Ronkin explains the teaching this way: The Israelites carry both sets of tablets because the second tablets are actually made of the first tablets, reminding us of the power of creating something whole out of what was once broken. (Sh ma Now, June 2016). 9
Like the ancient Israelites, we too, can pick up the broken pieces in our lives and put them back together to create something new, and maybe, something lasting and stronger. Today is yom harat ha-olam, the day of the world s creation or birth. In Genesis, the Torah describes the creation of the world seemingly from nothing--god just speaks it into being. But in Kabbalah, the Jewish mystical tradition, creation is viewed rather differently--in the mystical myth, creation could not have occurred without something breaking first. 10
R. Isaac Luria, the great 16th century Kabbalist, teaches that because God is everywhere, there was no room for the world to come into being, so God had to step back, so to speak, to create room for the universe to be be created. When God made the world, God sent forth a powerful ray of light which was to be contained in a set of vessels that were created at the same time in order to receive the light. However, the light was so powerful and strong, that some of these vessels shattered into pieces. In other words, the world itself could not have been created without something--the vessels--breaking first. 11
This is the paradigm for anything we create in our own lives--something always breaks when something new comes into being and when something breaks, it means there is the possibility of creating something new, a new world for ourselves. It means picking up the broken pieces and putting them together to create something new--a second set of tablets, if you will. One of the ways we can reassemble the broken pieces in our lives is by opening ourselves to family, friends and community. I often see how, at the most challenging times in their lives, people are moved and strengthened by the 12
love they receive from others, precisely when they and their world are shattered. I saw it myself when my father died at the end of May. It was the first major loss I have experienced and what made it easier to navigate was the way so many people were present for my family and me through notes, cards, tributes, attending the funeral and paying condolence calls during shiva. It reminded me, in a concrete way, of how blessed I am to have so much love and caring in my life. My father s illness also connected my two older brothers and me as we worked together to coordinate my Dad s care. While always close, the three of us live busy lives of 13
our own, and it was a blessing to be in more frequent contact--albeit for a sad reason--as we dealt with my Dad s struggles. During this time, I also felt a particularly strong connection with God and our tradition. I know that is a shocking statement coming from a rabbi, but I found the rituals and prayers at that time to be even more comforting than I could have possibly anticipated, I suspect because they connected me to something larger--after all, these prayers and rituals have been used for centuries, making me feel that I am not alone in having lost someone. I feel that I have now joined a not very exclusive club of people who have experienced a significant loss. I believe that my own 14
personal loss will attune me and connect me in a new and heightened way to others who have also lost someone they loved dearly. We can all use our experience of loss to help us be present when other people s lives are shattered by death. I found myself open to receiving another blessing when my father died--gratitude. His death caused me to reflect on his influence on me, the happiness he had, and his professional and personal achievements. Hearing and reading the tributes to my Dad from his friends and colleagues was inspiring and made me appreciate even more than I previously had, what he accomplished in his life. 15
I was also thankful, quite honestly, that he gained peace through his death and that he would no longer have to struggle with his various medical challenges. One of my goals this New Year is to hold onto that feeling of gratitude and make sure that I always look for things to be grateful for in my life. In all these ways, the shattering that my father s death brought also created new and good things, and provided me with exactly what I needed to be able to return to life. A part of me will always remain broken, to be sure, but out of those broken pieces, I hope to be able to recreate my life with all the gifts I received from this shattering--the gifts 16
of connection with family, friends, community and tradition, and the blessing of gratitude. I am keenly aware that this is far easier said than done, and there are times, as we know, when the shattering we experience is truly tragic, which makes it much harder to pick up the pieces and put them together again. Let me be clear that I am in no way saying that because brokenness contains within it the seeds of renewal that this means that God is closing a door and opening a window, or that Everything happens for a reason. While I respect the fact that those notions are helpful for some, 17
those ideas make me feel as if there is some nice, neat plan that God has for us, that when bad things happen they are meant to be, and that does not sit well with me, especially when a truly tragic event occurs. Instead, I am reflecting the Jewish notion that brokenness is hard wired into life, that we have nothing of any value, nothing to cherish or to love, without loss, and that the seeds of something new are always found in the midst of loss--whether it is the loss of a dream, the loss of a person, the loss of trust we once shared with someone. 18
Marriage is a good example of how losing and gaining are intertwined. As you know, we conclude Jewish wedding ceremonies with the shattering of a glass. This reminds us that while we gain so much when we get married, this gain also entails losing, as our previous life comes to a close. As Estelle Frankel, in her book Sacred Therapy describes it,...something...is lost and shattered when we commit ourselves to one partner for the rest of our life. When we partner, we must let go of all the other possible lives we might have lived had we not made this choice. Marriage also entails the sacrifice of our singularity as well as the sacrifice of all other potential loves we might have known. 19
Despite all the ways our lives are enhanced by partnership, there are also compromises we will have to make in marriage that will limit our autonomy and freedom of choice. ( Sacred Therapy, p. 70). We cannot gain anything without also losing something in the process, but our losses can open us up to the possibility of new experiences and feelings. I have seen people who have experienced the pain of a divorce eventually create a better, happier life. People who have gone through a terrible illness sometimes emerge with a keener appreciation for, and a 20
stronger, renewed connection with, the people in their lives and a heightened awareness of the blessings that they previously may not have taken the time to appreciate. For those of us who struggle with unfulfilled expectations, and unfulfilled goals and dreams, that loss, too, contains the seeds of renewal. A goal unfulfilled does not mean that we have to throw in the towel in despair, or say that if things have not turned out exactly, or largely, the way we wanted, that all hope is lost; it means that we can set newer, more realistic goals, whether they are our own personal goals or the goals we have for creating a more just and equal society. We learn from the unfulfilled dream 21
what is attainable, and work towards that, instead of lamenting the older, less realistic dream. As Rabbi Harold Kushner teaches, that is exactly what Moses did after the Golden Calf--he now knew what he could reasonably expect from the Israelites, what he could--and could not get done with them--and how. As R. Kushner describes the values of unfulfilled dreams:...the dream that didn t come true helped me discover where truth lies. ( Overcoming Life s Disappointments, pgs. 98-99). 22
I think again of Moses standing with the broken tablets at this feet, facing the moment of truth--how do I go on from here? I also think of Moses at the end of his life, sitting atop Mt. Nebo, looking across the Jordan at the Promised Land he worked so hard and for so long, to bring his people to, but that he himself will never set foot in. I think that we would all agree that despite his moments of anger, disappointment, fear, the losses he experienced and unfulfilled dreams--he never made it into the Land--his life was a success. It was a success not because everything worked out the way he wanted, not because it 23
was free of hardship, but precisely because it was not free of challenges and difficulties. What makes Moses great is not that he always got what he wanted, but that he didn t; instead he took the broken pieces of his life and he made something new, meaningful, beautiful and lasting. This year, we can do the same. 24
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