Rabbi Ron Shulman's Sermons 5785 | 2024-2025
High Holy Day Sermons
rehearsing our lives - yom kippur
Yom Kippur Sermon 2024 |5785
As a rabbi, I try to speak to the universal reality of our humanity from the depth of my own experience. Please forgive me this moment of personal privilege. Join me in thinking about the nature and value of our lives.
Six weeks ago, as I watched the horribly sad funeral in Israel of Hersh Goldberg-Polin, and sadly reflected on the cruel murders of Eden Yerushalmi, Ori Danino, Alex Lobanov, Carmel Gat, and Almog Sarusi, I cuddled my new granddaughter born that very same September 2nd.
What else could I do but wish for Bree Kayla to grow into her life greeting a world of light and love, not darkness and hate. Just as each of you wish for your children and grandchildren. Just as all of us wish for all children.
Those first days of Bree’s life were a time of mixed emotions for me. Beyond my feelings for what was happening in Israel, I was an emotional sandwich. I rejoiced in one hospital in New York where Bree was born. I worried about my mother who was being treated in another hospital in Los Angeles. I grieve her loss this morning.
I am not alone in this experience. Time and again, I share with many of you your similar mixed emotions and personal moments. As well, collectively, each day’s news over this past year since Israel came under attack and went to war triggers in each of us a whole host of different reactions and feelings. How could it be otherwise?
We live most of our days with mixed emotions. Emotions flow from our brains to motivate us. We move toward places and moments of positive feelings. We move away from negative experiences. When pulled between the two, we must choose. Neuroscientists observe this to be a more advanced brain function. Easier for adults than children. Mixed emotions help us to cope and find equilibrium. All of us taste both the bitter and the sweet.
The Biblical Kohelet observes. There is a time and a place for all our emotions. “A time to cry and a time to laugh.” We do try as we can to balance it all. “Doing what is right and good,” as Kohelet declares.
This is life, is it not? We try to do our best while we feel a whole host of different, conflicting emotions every day. One day's joy and contentment. Another day's upset and challenge. One person's happiness. Another person's sadness. Health to enjoy. Illness to treat. Worry can overwhelm. Resilience even so. Hope always to hold. Love in all forms.
“Life can be magnificent and overwhelming,” observed Albert Camus. “That is the whole tragedy. Without beauty, love, or danger it would almost be easy to live.”
Our struggle is not only to live, and not simply to live easily. Our desire is to live well. Not merely to survive but to thrive. That’s certainly our hope and prayer when gazing upon the sweet innocent faces of our youngest children and grandchildren.
Look around. We are synagogue friends who grieve. Who celebrate. Who are ill. Who heal. Who struggle. Who succeed. Who worry. Who wonder. Who doubt, and who believe. Few among us would say we live easily. Many of us might say we live comfortably. All of us want the best we can attain or achieve for our lives.
Which is why today we rehearse our deaths. A spiritual aspect of Yom Kippur to sharpen our focus on who we are and for what we live. The robe or kittel represents the white of a burial shroud. Fasting and abstinence remind us. Physical sustenance and pleasure are ephemeral. Throughout this day we utter confession, viduii, just as on our deathbeds.
Moreover, in poem and prayer, today we ask, “Who shall live and who shall die?” Today is the one day of the year we gaze upon our mortality. And this is the day we all choose to come to shul?! Seriously?!
Yom Kippur reminds us forcefully. You and I will not live forever. Better to confront this fact while we’re healthy rather than to struggle with it when the diagnosis comes.
The Talmudic sage Rabbi Eliezer taught, "Repent one day before your death." His students questioned, “How can we know the day of our death?” To which Rabbi Eliezer responded, “That’s why we must repent every day!”
Every day we repent. We try to do better. To live better than the day before. Today we rehearse. Ritually, if Yom Kippur mimics death, then spiritually today motivates life. Instead of death, let’s rehearse life.
Holding my new granddaughter, I rehearsed. I imagined the full arc and mystery of her life in the years ahead. But then I thought, I’m not Bree. She’ll come into her own. What about me? What new and renewed visions of my life inspire me? Toward what purposes do my many and mixed emotions lead me?
Let’s rehearse our hopes and dreams. Let’s rehearse the possibilities and opportunities that await. Let’s rehearse the purposes and promises we can fulfill. Rehearsing life means training ourselves to see beyond ourselves. To see our place and our purpose not through a selfish lens, but through a self-aware lens of who we are and why we are here.
I’m not talking about recreation or hobbies or travel or pursuing various interests or developing traits and skills. Most of us are pretty good at all of that. Others of us held back by the constraints of time, work, finances, interests, and capacities.
I’m talking about rehearsing the deepest, most personal truths of our lives. Why are we alive? To what are we alive? Toward what purpose and vision of human fulfillment and spiritual truth do we aspire? When we die, for what reason will they say we lived?
Rehearse your life by answering this question. Think about it today. Recall it on days in this New Year when you feel emotionally pulled between conflicting moods and obligations.
Rehearse your life by answering this question. How is the gift of life you received transformed into a present for the world? How does what you want to do respond to what must be done? How is the gift of life you received transformed into a present for the world?
We each get only a few years. Some of us more. Some of us less. We strive to live fully and intensely each day and every moment. Until they become memories of how we lived.
We are born, and typically we die, against our will. Through no conscious acts of our own.
Who we are of body, of soul, and of circumstance we do not choose. Yet, “whether to be righteous or wicked, this choice is completely in every person’s hand to decide,” teach our sages.
Each of us has something valuable to offer everyone else so that others may see the world through our unique lenses. No one of us sees it all. No one of us can do it all. We need each other to succeed and live well. “Even as peoples’ faces are not alike, so too what they understand about the world is not alike. Each person understands the world on his or her own terms,” teach our rabbis.
Life is the most precious gift we ever receive. What we do with this gift makes us worthy of life’s beauty and mystery. Let’s each make something of this gift. Our lives are about more than our desires. Our lives are about our destiny. May we not collect experiences and enjoyments just for ourselves. Drawing on all we encounter may we give something of ourselves to others.
Not anger, pain or hate. Kindness, empathy, and love. Rehearse your life by answering this question. How is the gift of life you received transformed into a present for the world?
Let’s rehearse gratitude, refusing to take the people and supports of our lives for granted. Let’s rehearse forgiveness, letting go of grudges that weigh us down and extending kindness toward everyone we can. Let’s rehearse compassion. Let’s rehearse honesty. Let’s rehearse sincerity. Let’s rehearse goodness. Rehearsing our lives means living out our best intentions as we may.
What are the goals, dreams, and passions we’ve set aside, telling ourselves that we’ll get to them someday? Let today be the day we begin to nurture again our dreams and passions, too easily or necessarily set aside.
Rehearsing life on Yom Kippur means thinking beyond the satisfaction of worldly pleasures, which we deny ourselves this day. We turn inward toward another dimension. We seek to feel our souls not only our senses.
How might we fulfill the natural human quest to sense what transcends us and our daily struggles? Soul. A deep and abiding sense that within us God motivates conscience. God enables us to transcend any difficult moment with visions of what ought to be better and bright.
Rehearsing life means training ourselves to see beyond ourselves. To see our place and our purpose not through a selfish lens, but through a self-aware lens of who we are and why we are here.
This past Monday, October 7th, we marked a deeply difficult and dark day for Israel, the Jewish people, and our world. We felt horrible pain and the enduring trauma of a still endless day. Israelis, and many of us, sought unattainable comfort. They, we, remembered the victims of Hamas’ brutal terror and the valiant who have fallen in defense of Israel and the Jewish people. They, we, sang songs of hope and resilience.
Hatikvah softly sung and loudly heard. “We’ve not lost our hope. The hope of two thousand years. To be a free people in our homeland and Jerusalem.” Victims’ and hostages’ stories told over and again. Heroes and survivors embraced with thanks.
Prayer on behalf of IDF personnel still at war. May God “bless the members of Israel's Defense Forces and its security services who stand guard over our land and wherever else they are, on land, in air and at sea.”
Mixed emotions are our only possible reaction to all we’ve lived through this past year. In 1938, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel declared. “Soldiers in the horror of battle offer solemn testimony that life is not a hunt for pleasure, but an engagement for service…
…We should not spend our life hunting for trivial satisfactions while God is waiting constantly and keenly for our effort and devotion. The Almighty has not created the universe that we may have opportunities to satisfy our greed, envy and ambition. We have not survived that we may waste our years in vulgar vanities.”
Rather than rehearse our deaths, today we speak of rehearsing the deepest, most personal truths of our lives. Why are we alive? To what are we alive? Toward what purpose and vision of human fulfillment and spiritual truth do we aspire? When we die, for what reason will they say we lived? Think about it today. Recall it on days in this New Year when you feel emotionally pulled between conflicting moods and obligations.
Thankful. Proud. Yearning. Celebrating. Grieving. Healing. Growing. Helping. Working. Enjoying. Trying. And so much more. We feel the reality of every emotion. The struggles of our mixed emotions. Mindful of our mortality, let’s rehearse our lives. Commit not just to doing more. Commit to being more.
As a result, may all our children and grandchildren grow into their lives greeting a world of light and love, not darkness and hate. Rehearse your life by answering this question. How is the gift of life you received transformed into a present for the world?
© 2024 Rabbi Ronald J. Shulman
To be a part or to be set apart - kol nidre eve
Erev Yom Kippur – Kol Nidre Sermon 2024 |5785
Kol Nidre, v’esarei, v’haramei, v’konamei, v’khinuyei, v’kinusei, u’shvuot…
All vows…and promises to ourselves and to God…we hereby retract.
We began this sacred evening with those words. Originally intended as apology to God for words and deeds forced upon Jews by medieval oppressive authorities. Unintended words, deeds, or promises. Publicly proclaimed. Privately ashamed. Nullified before God and in community.
Kol Nidrei became popular because, time and time again, Jews were forced by others to do and say things they did not believe or desire. In Jewish history, Kol Nidrei first served as the religious antidote to oppressive obligations.
Aware of that, reflect on whatever are your personal moments and private memories of unintended harms or gaffes -by choice or by circumstance- from the year gone by. While giving this some thought, also try to imagine the imposed pain and yearnings others suffer this night.
I have in mind the unbearable pain and anguish of parents, spouses, children, of so many loved ones, all of whom yearn to hear any word about their relatives and friends still held captive by Hamas in Gaza. Try to touch the depth of such sadness forced upon their hearts. They grieve. They worry. They cry out in protest, and for much too long, they cry out in vain.
Hostage families ache to know something, anything. Their desperate desires given voice by Rachel Goldberg-Polin at her son Hersh’s agonizing funeral on September 2nd. “I no longer worry about you. I know you are no longer in danger.”
As a Jewish imperative, redeeming hostages dates to tales of our Biblical ancestor Abraham. This night, my mind connects the plight of today’s hostage families with a different Biblical patriarch, Jacob. Jacob hears nothing of his son Joseph. Sold into slavery by his brothers, they tell their father Jacob that Joseph is dead.
We who know the Torah story realize that Joseph is alive all the time his father grieves. Once established on Pharaoh’s throne, after he greets his brothers in disguise and guile, after he asks of them about the welfare of their, his, father, why doesn’t Joseph send word to Jacob that he is alive and well? Alleviate his pain.
Jewish lore counts twenty-two years of silence between Joseph to his father Jacob. Finally, as the story draws to its conclusion, Joseph reveals his identity, and his brothers rush home to let Jacob know. “Enough,” screams Jacob. “My son Joseph is still alive!” I must go see him before I die.”
Enough indeed. More than enough for today’s families still awaiting word from Gaza. Not enough for the families of all those lost in the brutality of captivity. (I wrote these words a few weeks back, hoping against hope I might be able to rewrite them, but alas here we sit four days after October 7th, marking more than a year of horrible silence.)
In the medieval Jewish world from which the words of Kol Nidre emerged, communal concerns about how the outside world looked upon the Jewish community, communal concerns about host nations forced expectations on Jews, were expressed through midrash, in a fictional dialogue between Egypt’s Pharaoh and Joseph.
Pharaoh challenges Joseph. “You’ve brought those Hebrews (Joseph’s brothers from the land of Israel who came in search of food) here to destroy the land of Egypt! Send them away or depart from here with them! Choose between me and the Hebrews, between my land and theirs!”
A royal demand repeated often and later in history. Here’s one example. In 1806, French emperor Napoleon sent questions to the French Assembly of Jewish Notables. Among his questions, as he tried to understand the nature of French Jewish identity, Napoleon asked, “In the eyes of Jews are Frenchmen considered as brethren or strangers? Do the Jews born in France, and treated by the law as French citizens, consider France as their country?”
In that legend about Joseph and Pharaoh, Joseph fears the Pharaoh’s demand. Yet, he stands tall. Joseph reveals his true identity. He is a brother to these Israelite sons of Jacob. Remarkably, this pleases Pharaoh. These men are not thieves but trustworthy like Joseph. The story concludes as the Torah explains. Jacob and his family may dwell in Egypt.
So too, the French Jewish Assembly replied to Napoleon. “As to us, our most ardent wish is to be able to report to the emperor that, among individuals of the Jewish persuasion, he can reckon as many faithful subjects determined to conform in everything to the laws and to the morality, which ought to regulate the conduct of all Frenchmen.”
Here’s what’s on my mind. The hostages are a part of their families and our people and set apart from them and us in captivity. In every age and every place, from ancient Egypt to medieval Europe until today, through good times and bad, this is our dilemma.
To be a part or to be set apart. As Jews we are, we want to be, we need to be, both a part of the larger society in which we live, and set apart from it in the distinctive, particularism of Jewish identity and practice.
Historian Dr. Gershon Cohen once explained. “We Jews have always been, and will doubtless continue to be, a minority group; a minority that does not wish to ghettoize itself or that does not wish to become fossilized.”
This makes the hatred aimed at us even more baffling.
Rather than provoke sympathy and compassion for Jews, Hamas’ October 7th massacre liberated hate. “This, for me, was a very big surprise,” observed French Jewish intellectual Henri Lévy. “I expected at least a moment of real solidarity in the face of this enormous crime.” Instead, the murderers were “blessed, excused and praised.” The victims were “accused, cursed and held responsible for their fates.”
We care about others and our society. Yet, that care is not often returned to us by others or our society. This is an extreme view. Not true for all. Still, too many of us feel it. Yet...
We are a stubborn people. Unfailing in our conviction that in God’s name justice and goodness reign. Unrelenting in our belief that being Jewish brings each of us dignity in life and purpose in living.
We are a stiff-necked, stubborn people, Moses tells God when seeking forgiveness for ancient Israel’s sins. Today, we don’t apologize for being stubborn. We affirm it.
We are the Jewish people, descendants of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob, Rachel, and Leah. We live in covenant with God here today as we have everywhere throughout history.
We are the Jewish people, descendants of Prophets and Priests, descendants of pious rabbis and social radicals, descendants of noblemen and paupers, descendants of the persecuted and the celebrated, descendants of survivors and immigrants.
We are the Jewish people descendants of our parents and grandparents. In each of our lives and backgrounds, is the incredible breadth and depth of the Jewish story. We Jews are a microcosm of the world’s population.
We are the Jewish people. People who cherish life’s gifts and blessings. People who inherit a tradition that stands for human dignity and equality, freedom and goodness. We are heirs to standards of personal ethics and celebrations to mark the seasons and milestones of our lives. That’s who we are. That’s what we represent to the world at large.
We are the Jewish people. A stubborn people. Stubborn about making a difference for others and remaining different for ourselves. Unfailing in our conviction that in God’s name justice and goodness reign. Unrelenting in our belief that being Jewish brings each of us dignity in life and purpose in living.
To be a part or to be set apart. As Jews we are, we want to be, we need to be, both. A part of the larger society in which we live and set apart from it in the distinctive, particularism of Jewish identity and practice. Committed to being a part of, and playing our part in, the world at large; and, as families and a community, comfortable being set apart but not isolated from others.
Our Jewish distinctiveness models freedom for everyone in society. But we know. Pride of purpose and place is scary. It requires personal and collective responsibility. It demands respecting all people’s dignity and appreciating social diversity. It does not mean going along to get along. It means having the courage to be a part and to be set apart.
Kol Nidre, v’esarei, v’haramei, v’konamei, v’khinuyei, v’kinusei, u’shvuot…
All vows…and promises to ourselves and to God…
What are yours?
To be a part. What promises can you make to those who are a part of your life and care this year? How will you be present for them, attentive to them, supportive of them, honest with them, loving toward them?
To be set apart. What promises can you make for yourself? Set apart from the others of your personal world. Focusing on yourself, your soul, your personality and character. What more do you hope to become?
To be a part and to be set apart. What promises can you make to our larger society? What promises can you make to the Jewish people? How will you choose to be a part of the larger society in which we all live and set apart from it in the distinctive, particularism of your Jewish affirmation?
These are the questions of this hour. Questions that emerged from the events of the year gone by. Questions awaiting our answers and resolve for the year that lies ahead.
Earlier, we concluded the Kol Nidre ceremony by reciting Shehehiyanu, thankful to be present and participating in this sacred evening. No matter our regrets. No matter our failed promises and unmet intentions. No matter our challenges or our concerns. Tonight, we celebrate hope. Hope in the future we desire. Hope we will fulfill our heartfelt promises.
Ours is stubborn hope. Shared hope. Personal hope. Purposeful hope. Hope of the ages. To be a part. Sincerely doing for the world what we can. To be set apart. Proudly doing as Jews what we must.
That’s why we pray with conviction and certitude.
Barukh Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melekh haOlam, You bring us here. Barukh Atah Adonai, Holy One of blessing, Eloheinu Melekh haOlam, Your presence fills creation, You keep us here. Shehehiyanu, You keep us alive, v’kiy’manu, sustaining our lives, v’higiyanu laz man hazeh, helping us reach this day.
© 2024 Rabbi Ronald J. Shulman
believe and dance - rosh Hashanah day one
Rosh HaShanah Day One | October 3, 2024
This was never going to be a normal High Holy Day season. This was always going to be a time of consequential reflection, feeling, and unease.
On the eve of this New Year (if not continuing during these holy days) we witness a missile attack from Iran on Israel. In this hour, I feel awkward being here in our relative safety and comfort.
This is an historic and tense moment. It transcends anything else we might want to think a about. When Israel is under attack the Jewish people are under attack. We too must rise in defense of our people, our inherent rights and dignity, the purpose and meanings of our history and heritage. This moment requires our voices and our advocacy.
My intention this morning is to frame the events of October 7th in a way that allows us to honor them, connect to them, and imagine a world beyond them as we greet a New Year.
On the one hand, those ideas seem inappropriate right now. On the other hand, maybe they are our best defense. To go on spiritual offense. To proclaim and pronounce Jewish idealism and hope as we speak in support of our families and friends, the people of Israel, and the State of Israel. May they succeed in defense of our homeland and destiny.
Let me describe for you a scene that haunts me until this day.
The front section of a bright blue car grabs my attention. Its headlights appear to be eyes peering outward. Its grill flashes an eerie sneer. Its tires seemingly hang in mid-air as if wanting to get away. Protruding from the middle of a pile of countless burnt vehicles, this bright blue car stares at me. Sorrowfully, I am left wondering who drove it to the Nova Music Festival on October 7, 2023.
The site of the Nova Music Festival, five kilometers east of Gaza in Israel’s Re'im forest, is a place of sad pilgrimage for those emotionally able to visit. Last April, I and others from our congregation and San Diego Jewish community, traveled there. We walked among the four hundred individual makeshift memorials with pictures and biographies of each victim murdered that fateful day.
One of them drove that bright blue car to the party. I can only imagine. Other victims arrived in the hundreds of other burnt cars piled high. To the side, the terrorists’ destroyed motorcycles and trucks also give testimony.
It is an unnerving place. Reminiscent of Yad Vashem where piles of eyeglasses and shoes are on display. Forty or so people were taken hostage at Nova. Their pictures, along with those who perished, are posted on a large signboard at the entrance to the park.
Recalling that bright blue car, wondering about the driver and his or her personality, I look out at all of you and see a source of comfort. We are a vibrant synagogue community gathered to affirm what is right and good in a world where so much is not.
This is a momentous moment. Israel’s war against Hamas, Hezbollah, and now Iran, and all the turmoil and tension connected to it, impact us. I sincerely hope we sit as a community in unity today. Those of us who look at Israel and the world from the political and social left or right. Those of us centered between those perspectives. Those of us who seek to draw in and narrow the boundaries of discourse. Those of us not sure where we fit or if we belong.
In the next minutes, whether you agree or disagree with me is not important. Some of you will agree. Others of you may not. What matters is our willingness to think together. Critically. Ethically. Spiritually. We must think Jewishly, and we must be respectful.
Our different opinions reflect our personal moral compasses. They express how we each think about what’s happening. Connecting us to what was this past year, and what remains, a transformative and tragic event in Jewish history. Perspectives may change. We are not making decisions about the war’s conduct. We care for those with whom we may disagree. Maintaining our relationships is more important than agreeing or not on what’s out of our control.
The events of October 7, 2023, and their aftermath overwhelm me. Israel is in distress, which means I am, too. As are many of you. I know because we talk about it, commiserate, and support one another. The core emotional focus of my life, other than my family and extended family of friends, is caring about Jews and Judaism, Israel and the Jewish people.
How many of you are from Israel? Have family and friends in Israel? Have lived in or visited Israel? Israel is the fulfillment of Jewish Peoplehood. Israel enables complete consciousness of Jewish being, identity, and purpose. No other land and no other place allow Jews this wholeness. That’s why our bond is so very emotional and compelling. Why many of us feel it so personally.
To speak honestly with you, I must be honest with myself. The horror of Hamas’ brutal, evil October 7th attack, and all that currently takes place, challenge assumptions about hopes for Israeli-Palestinian co-existence I held. They raise fears about Israel’s security I have not previously felt.
Hamas’ attack, Hezbollah and Iran’s missiles are not about creating a free and independent Palestinian state on the West Bank and Gaza. They wage war to destroy Israel, not to build Palestine. That’s why, for me, the usual Israeli-Palestinian debates simply don’t apply right now.
Too many around us and around the world don’t understand this. They perform intellectual gymnastics attempting to justify barbarism. In what world of justice and peace do totalitarian, brutal, bigoted, sexist, and cruel terror regimes garner sympathy for their inability to see Jews as human beings?
We all know what took place on October 7th. 1,200 Israelis brutalized and murdered. More than 250 innocent people of all ages and life stages taken hostage. Those still alive, now held in captivity for 362 days.
These endless days of counting are not only about Israelis and hostages. These days are about all of us, the Jewish people, wherever we may live and however we may identity. Whatever we may think. Ours is a collective history and a shared destiny.
Hamas attacked Israel because it seeks to remove Jews from the Middle East. But there's a deeper reason. In the Middle East, Israel represents western civilization in the 21st century. Israel represents the world and civilization we live in. Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran cannot abide that.
I join with those Israelis who understand that this battle is about something even deeper than who we are as Jews. This is an existential fight for Israel. It is also about who we strive and desire to be as human beings and the way we envision the world.
Following October 7th, we’ve watched the devastatingly difficult and tragic war Israel wages against Hamas in Gaza. And now against Hezbollah in Lebanon, and perhaps Iran, too. War violates the core ideals of a healthy society. War imposes on combatants and civilians alike an unbearable reality. I can’t evaluate or comprehend that failure and pain by the standard of my comfort and distance.
By its nature war is corrosive. Death and destruction weaken our souls and the power of our values. We defend our history and heritage against those who abuse or misconstrue. We defend our people in circumstances, both external to our community and internally between us. Circumstances we cannot control and do not always endorse. War, even when just and in self-defense, unavoidably involves violations on the moral margins.
Which is why we can affirm two things at the same time. Israel is just in its war against terror and too many people suffer. The destruction upsets us while an acceptable resolution eludes us. Israel’s battle against unbounded enemies so enmeshed in what should be the infrastructure of civil societies is unprecedented.
We cry deep and real tears of compassion for all who mourn. For all who hurt. For all who suffer. This includes Israeli civilians of all ages and life stages, soldiers, and innocent Palestinians in Gaza and Lebanese in Lebanon.
We pray for them all. We care about them all. We yearn for peace. We recognize how truly complicated is this strained co-existence between Israelis and Palestinians. Our hearts break. We are deeply hurt. We cherish peace and human dignity above all else.
Our real purpose today is spiritual, not geo-political. We do not pray for war. We pray for peace the war must enable and birth.
Not since World War II have we Jews faced as complicated a challenge as we face today. Living according to the spiritual ideals and sacred teachings of Judaism at a difficult time of war. In this current chaotic and confusing world, we need to derive strength and resolve to be secure in who we are. To be secure in what we believe. To be secure in how we choose to respond and live.
“Tzapita l’yeshua?” “Did you hope for redemption?” This is how we Jews respond to what disturbs us. Our ancient sages, initiating a heritage of hope and resilience, imagine God challenging us when we hurt. Did you dream? Did you imagine? Or did you merely complain? We Jews believe in redemption. Through values taught in God’s name, we
believe we can be redeemed from circumstances that destroy the value of human existence.
War does not define us. Peace and the pursuit of life are what engage us. Though we do recognize. Through military strength Israel seeks deterrence against future hostilities and to return its citizens to their homes. As for us, understanding all of that, we yearn for a future when Israel is secure and at peace with her neighbors.
Everyday Jews everywhere pray. “Sim shalom ba-olam…” “Grant peace to the world, goodness and blessing, grace, love, and compassion…Eternal our God, You have given us a guide to life, the love of kindness, righteousness, blessing, compassion, life, and peace. May it please You to bless Your people Israel at every season and at all times with Your gift of peace.”
Yes, it is a prayerful ideal. It is also our purpose. To live in the world that is as we believe it ought to be. To live every day with hope. To live every day with determination. To redeem the world by the passionate example of our Jewish lives. Passionate, not only proud.
Whatever and whenever the military-political outcome, here’s what we do next. We work to see the world made right. We assist in reviving the spirit and life of Israel's people. We live actively engaged as the Jews we choose to be. We celebrate the joys of being Jewish in our own community. These are the actions we can take to defeat the hatred of terrorists and the antipathy of many in the world.
I have in mind Maimonides’s ageless words passed down through the generations of our people. Ani ma’amin, I believe. Though it seems to be so far off, I believe in a time of messianic peace, our people’s, and our world's redemption. Ideals that can also be casualties of war. Ideals hard to strive for when a harsh reality overwhelms.
Even so, ani ma’amin, I believe. I believe in Zionism and a democratic Jewish State of Israel. I believe there can be nuance in our voices and compassion in our vision. I believe good people will someday live securely in peace in and around the State of Israel. I believe we can discuss and debate. I also believe all ideas are not equal. All creeds are not just. I believe it is okay to reject evil ideologies in support of just causes. I believe the Jewish people need you and me, whoever we are and whatever we think. I believe you and I need to embrace the privilege of our places as members of the Jewish people, too.
I believe in the vision of the Prophet Micah, who declared, “God has told you, human beings, what is good, and what the Eternal God requires of you: Only to do justice and to love goodness and to walk humbly with your God.”
I believe we who live here help redeem the Jewish people from the pain and trauma of October 7th, in Israel and around the world, when, with resolve, we respond to hate with hope. When, with conviction, we respond to this moment in history with visions of our greater Jewish purpose and destiny.
Over the summer, I learned about a new form of redemption. Created by Israelis who were present and survived the Nova Music Festival. As they do regularly, these survivors gather to grieve. To support one another. To try to redeem their lives from the horrors of death suffered by too many others. I sure hope the driver of that bright blue car is among them. I can only imagine.
One other among them, Moran Stella Yanai, snatched from the Nova festival and held hostage for fifty-four days before being released from her captivity in Gaza, spoke to the survivors. She invited them to close their eyes.
“Imagine, imagine that all of the hostages are standing in a line, holding hands, imagine them strong, imagine them smiling, imagine their families standing before them, imagine the happiness that is beginning to well up inside,” Yanai said.
“Raise your hands up to the sky, high and strong,” she told the crowd. “Open your eyes, believe, and dance!”
Am Yisrael Hai!
© 2024 Rabbi Ronald J. Shulman
to do what is right and good - Rosh HaShanah Day two
Rosh HaShanah Day Two 5785 | October 4, 2024
Just before these holy days began, I was reminiscing about all the different places in which I’ve attended or led High Holy Day services through the years. My first memory is from when I was a young boy, I went to services at the La Reina Movie Theater. I assume the congregation rented the facility to accommodate the large attendance.
My favorite part of this memory is that at some point in the middle of the service, because they hadn’t turned off the timer, the curtain hiding the movie screen went up. We all expected the movie to begin. My friends and I thought this was great! I doubt the rabbi was very happy.
I’ve celebrated Rosh HaShanah in a variety of churches, social halls, gymnasiums, hotel ballrooms, and the like. I’ve attended services in synagogue sanctuaries, too, like we do today. Many of you probably have, too.
No matter the setting, the services all had one thing in common. The Mahzor, the High Holy Day prayer book in which we find the grand and great themes of this sacred season. The poetry, reflections, familiar and less well-known prayers of Jewish tradition were always present no matter where I sat.
When a movie theater curtain goes up, we hope to be entertained. When a synagogue ark curtain goes up, when the parokhet is raised, we hope to be inspired. That’s my hope for this morning. That you and I will find meaning in some ideas of Torah we’ll consider.
The core idea of Rosh HaShanah is sovereignty. “Melekh al kol ha-Aretz, m’kadesh Yisrael v’Yom haZikaron. God, Sovereign over all, sanctify the Jewish people and the Day of Remembrance.”
We acknowledge God’s sovereignty to define meaning for our lives. We form our identities in contrast to God. We humbly acknowledge the limits of our power and control as human beings, even where we are strong. This helps us to find meaning. Each conscious choice we make and act we perform is significant and serves a purpose.
The idea we consider, the notion we contemplate is this. If God is sovereign in the world, in God’s presence and living out God’s gift of life each one of us as we may, what do we deem as sovereign? What choices, what values or principles engage us and guide us? What ideas are sovereign in our lives?
We are parents and grandparents who lovingly care for our children. We are professionals and volunteers who focus on careers, skills, and responsibilities. Who care about others, society, and how we might contribute. We are individuals who have earned and achieved our leisure, who fill our time and our lives with personal pursuits, friendships, and family bonds. Good and active citizens of our country and the Jewish people, we are devoted to various causes and concerns, often with the fullness of our hearts, minds, and souls.
Yet, I’m not sure we comfortably or even knowingly can answer this question. What ideas are sovereign in our lives? What insights guide us through the maelstroms and delights of every day?
This year more than most, I urge us to define, hold on to, and live by the ideas of our hearts and minds. To live according to some tenets and ideal visions of Judaism and the wisdom of our people’s historical experience. We need to be passionate about why we live as Jews. Not only that we live proudly as Jews. To help redeem our souls and our world from what’s difficult, we need to demonstrate what’s noble and right.
We learn this imperative from Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel. During the outbreak of Rome’s war against the Jews of Jerusalem in the year 50, Rabban Gamliel served as President of the ancient Sanhedrin, rabbinic court, and leader of the Jewish community. The great-grandson of Rabbi Hillel, Rabban Gamliel lost his life to Roman persecution just before the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem in the year 70.
Given that context, hear the ideas sovereign in his life. Principles Rabban Gamliel honored during tragic times. Ideals of Torah in which he believed and by which he lived.
Pirkei Avot 1:18
רַבָּן שִׁמְעוֹן בֶּן גַּמְלִיאֵל אוֹמֵר, עַל שְׁלשָׁה דְבָרִים הָעוֹלָם עוֹמֵד, עַל הַדִּין וְעַל הָאֱמֶת וְעַל הַשָּׁלוֹם, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (זכריה ח) אֱמֶת וּמִשְׁפַּט שָׁלוֹם שִׁפְטוּ בְּשַׁעֲרֵיכֶם:
Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel used to say: on three things the world stands: On justice, on truth and on peace, as the Biblical prophet Zekhariah (8:6) said: “execute the judgment of truth and peace in your gates.”
Zechariah 8:16
אֵ֥לֶּה הַדְּבָרִ֖ים אֲשֶׁ֣ר תַּֽעֲשׂ֑וּ דַּבְּר֤וּ אֱמֶת֙ אִ֣ישׁ אֶת־רֵעֵ֔הוּ אֱמֶת֙ וּמִשְׁפַּ֣ט שָׁל֔וֹם שִׁפְט֖וּ בְּשַׁעֲרֵיכֶֽם׃
These are the things you are to do: Speak the truth to one another, render true and perfect justice in your gates.
Remarkable! In response to hatred, during a war, living as a Jew amidst ancient circumstances that resonate with our own, this man believed justice, truth, and peace were virtues upon which life depended. Values he stood to defend (perhaps with his life) and ideas he sought to realize.
For me, making no self-comparison to Rabban Gamliel - but asking us to consider the motivating ideas of our lives - a verse of Torah represents the core ideas by which I attempt to live. Concepts, high minded possibly, worthy of my striving. It seems to me, if God’s sovereignty is the central religious idea of Rosh HaShanah, then goodness and integrity are my way of demonstrating what I believe about God. How we carry ourselves and interact with others validates what we claim to believe.
After declaring Shema Yisrael, the ethical monotheism that is Judaism’s moral message, Moses tells the Israelites gathered around him.
Deuteronomy 6:18
וְעָשִׂ֛יתָ הַיָּשָׁ֥ר וְהַטּ֖וֹב בְּעֵינֵ֣י יְהֹוָ֑ה לְמַ֙עַן֙ יִ֣יטַב לָ֔ךְ וּבָ֗אתָ וְיָֽרַשְׁתָּ֙ אֶת־הָאָ֣רֶץ הַטֹּבָ֔ה אֲשֶׁר־נִשְׁבַּ֥ע יְהֹוָ֖ה לַאֲבֹתֶֽיךָ׃
Do what is right and good in the sight of the Eternal God, that it may go well with you and that you may be able to possess the good land that the Eternal your God promised on oath to your fathers.
Twelfth century Spanish Torah scholar Rabbi Moses ben Nahman observes about this verse. God may intend us to observe the mitzvot but, there are life situations for which no specific Torah command is stated.
Nahmanides reads into this more general command Divine hope. That we will choose “to do what is good and right because God loves the good and the right. Now this is a great principle, for it is impossible to mention in the Torah all aspects of a person’s conduct with neighbors and friends, and all various transactions, and the ordinances of all societies and countries.”
Simply stated, strive to be and do good! As Nahmanides comment concludes, “people must seek to refine their behavior in every form of activity, until they are worthy of being called ‘good and upright.’”
When the curtain goes up on our lives, when we get up to greet each new day, a fundamental idea that represents Jewish values and visions, an ideal toward which we raise ourselves up, is goodness. Daily moments of justice, of truth, of peace which is compassion, caring, and connection, and personal integrity.
Not only does it not matter what else is happening in the world around us, but because of everything not good taking place in the world of our private experiences and public concerns, a compelling idea for guiding our lives must be the pursuit of goodness.
This is why the core idea of Rosh HaShanah is sovereignty. “Melekh al kol ha-Aretz, m’kadesh Yisrael v’Yom haZikaron. God, Sovereign over all, sanctify the Jewish people and the Day of Remembrance.”
If God is sovereign in the world, in God’s presence and living out God’s gift of life each one of us as we may, what do we deem as sovereign? What choices, what values or principles engage us and guide us? What ideas are sovereign in our lives? I choose goodness and integrity. How about you?
As we did yesterday, let’s root our answer in the vision of the Prophet Micah, who declared, “God has told you, human beings, what is good, and what the Eternal God requires of you: Only to do justice and to love goodness and to walk humbly with your God.”
A midrash teaches us. “When the Holy One was about to create the human, God saw both the righteous and the wicked who were to issue from him. God said: if I create the human wicked people will issue from him; if I do not create the human, how are the righteous people going to be born?” What did God do? God created people in the Divine Image hoping that the traits of love and compassion, caring and mercy would divert the wicked and guide people to do good in the world.”
As the curtain rises on this New Year, let us each find ways, large and small, to honor God’s command to do what is right and good for the sake of those whom we love, the Jewish people, and all of humanity.
© 2024 Rabbi Ronald J. Shulman
new attitude for a new year - erev rosh hashanah
Erev Rosh HaShanah 5785 | October 2, 2024
Shanah Tovah. Last year on Erev Rosh HaShanah I began by saying, “It’s been quite a year since we were last here.” I should have saved that comment for tonight!
During these sacred days, we’ll certainly think about the larger world and all that weighs on us. Tonight, we do begin a most momentous High Holy Day season. But we cannot approach what’s outside of us if we don’t first reflect upon what’s inside of us. I begin with a simple story.
An older, well-respected rabbi, known for his wisdom through the years, greets a New Year sensing he approaches the end of his days. On Erev Rosh HaShanah at home, frail but content, he sits around the holiday dinner table with his family, friends, and students.
“Y’hi ratzon mi-l’fanekha Adonai Eloheinu v’Eilohei avoteinu she-t’ḥadeish aleinu shanah tovah u-m’tukah. May it be Your will, Eternal our God and God of our ancestors, to grant us a good and sweet new year,” he recites before leading everyone to dip apple slices into honey.
Hoping to glean some words of wisdom for the New Year, one of the students asks, “Rabbi, as you reflect on your life’s work, what do you consider to be your most important accomplishment?”
The rabbi smiles faintly and speaks. “When I was ordained a rabbi, full of energy and knowledge, I wanted to change the world. I was young and confident, thinking that with enough effort and learning, I could fix the injustices and heal the brokenness around me.”
Let me interrupt the story. I totally understand the elder rabbi’s inclination. Listen to words I wrote in 1989, six years into my rabbinate. Asked to write an article explaining what I wanted to achieve as a rabbi. “I want to change people’s lives,” I wrote, and thereby change the world.
Okay, back to the story.
The aging rabbi explains to his loved ones at Rosh HaShanah dinner. “As the years passed, I found the world is vast. Its problems endless. I couldn’t make the impactful changes I hoped for. I shifted my focus to something more manageable. The community in which I live.”
“However,” the rabbi continues, “even that proved more difficult than I imagined. Challenges overwhelmed my efforts. I narrowed my focus again. This time to my family, thinking if I guided and helped them that was enough.”
I interrupt myself again. My thinking in 1989 also evolved. “I no longer view my role as trying to change people’s lives. I seek to touch lives, not change them.” I continue with the story.
Speaking to his audience, the rabbi pauses, his voice softer now. “Finally, toward the end of my life, I realize the greatest task of all was changing myself.”
This evening, I take my cue from that gracious rabbi’s insight, and the maturity of my own rabbinic experience. During these sacred days, we’ll certainly think about the larger world and all that weighs on us. Tonight, we do begin a most momentous High Holy Day season.
But we cannot approach what’s outside of us if we don’t first reflect upon what’s inside of us. How are we feeling about ourselves and this now beginning new phase of our lives?
It's about attitudes as much as actions. Our attitudes toward life. Our attitudes toward others. Our attitudes toward ourselves. Our attitudes shape the world we experience. They influence how we navigate challenges. Celebrate successes. Respond to the unknown.
We can be negative. We can be afraid. We can feel resigned. We can be critical. We can wallow in frustration. We can worry, doubt, or even give up in despair. All fair responses. All natural and understandable perspectives.
Aware of the very same things that weigh on our hearts and minds, alternatively, we can adopt positive attitudes. We can look out at the world we confront with determination and hope, with courage and resolve. (I know, easier said than done!)
Rosh HaShanah is not only a celebration of time and life as we mark a New Year. Rosh HaShanah is a call to transformation. To raise our sights. To lift higher our expectations for how we will live this next moment it is our privilege to reach.
In ancient days, in the 6th century B.C.E. in a far-away land once called Babylonia, a man named Ezekiel found himself deported there from Jerusalem along with eight thousand other exiles. The year was 597 B.C.E. Eleven years before the Babylonian conqueror Nebuchadnezzar II destroyed Jerusalem and our ancient ancestors’ First Temple.
Ezekiel was an ancient Israelite priest and a visionary. He was a colorful and avantgarde man for his time and place. Ezekiel refused to accept what was. Instead, he imagined what needed to be.
Eventually, as a Hebrew prophet, Ezekiel urged his people to change their fate by adjusting their attitudes. He proposed a new plan for a rebuilt Temple in Jerusalem. He envisioned personal and national transformation. His declaration in God’s name can become our goal for this New Year.
“V’natati la’khem lev hadash v’ruah hadashah…I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit into you.” Ezekiel’s message is one of change. Following exile, both a political and spiritual condition, Ezekiel describes our capacity to refocus and renew. To achieve a hopeful spiritual state following a difficult period.
The Torah commentator Rashi explains. The new heart and spirit Ezekiel seeks are ours to choose. Deep within us is the God given gift of resilience. We can raise ourselves up after we fall. We can become whole after feeling broken.
The great 20th century rabbi, Joseph Soloveitchik taught this change of attitude as a core element of teshuvah, the return, repentance, change, and responses to life we strive to achieve during these sacred days.
“Repentance, according to the halakhic view, is an act of creation - self-creation. The severing of one's psychic identity with one's previous "I," and the creation of a new "I," possessor of a new consciousness, a new heart and spirit, different desires, longings, goals.”
Our attitudes toward life, others, and especially ourselves, shape the world we experience. Choose well and create within the attitudes with which you may best navigate challenges. Celebrate successes. Respond to the world outside.
Here’s a wonderful palindrome poem, a poem that reads the same backwards as forwards. Written some years ago by Jonathan Reed. First, I read down the poem’s lines. Then I’ll read again from the bottom up.
Lost Generation
by Jonathan Reed
by Jonathan Reed
I am part of a lost generation
and I refuse to believe that
I can change the world
I realize this may be a shock but
“Happiness comes from within.”
is a lie, and
“Money will make me happy.”
So in 30 years I will tell my children
they are not the most important thing in my life
My employer will know that
I have my priorities straight because
work
is more important than
family
I tell you this
Once upon a time
Families stayed together
but this will not be true in my era
This is a quick fix society
Experts tell me
30 years from now, I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce
I do not concede that
I will live in a country of my own making
In the future
Environmental destruction will be the norm
No longer can it be said that
My peers and I care about this earth
It will be evident that
My generation is apathetic and lethargic
It is foolish to presume that
There is hope.
and I refuse to believe that
I can change the world
I realize this may be a shock but
“Happiness comes from within.”
is a lie, and
“Money will make me happy.”
So in 30 years I will tell my children
they are not the most important thing in my life
My employer will know that
I have my priorities straight because
work
is more important than
family
I tell you this
Once upon a time
Families stayed together
but this will not be true in my era
This is a quick fix society
Experts tell me
30 years from now, I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce
I do not concede that
I will live in a country of my own making
In the future
Environmental destruction will be the norm
No longer can it be said that
My peers and I care about this earth
It will be evident that
My generation is apathetic and lethargic
It is foolish to presume that
There is hope.
I began with a tale of an aging rabbi and the wisdom of his years he sought to impart. Listen now to his last words of advice.
“I spent so long looking outward, trying to fix what was beyond me, that I had forgot the most important work happens within. Only by working on myself did I truly influence those around me."
Everyone listened intently. The rabbi concluded with a gentle sigh. “If I could live my life again, I would start by changing myself first, then my family, then my community, and only then, perhaps, together, we could change the world.”
“Y’hi ratzon mi-l’fanekha Adonai Eloheinu v’Eilohei avoteinu she-t’ḥadeish aleinu shanah tovah u-m’tukah. May it be Your will, Eternal our God and God of our ancestors, to grant us a good and sweet new year.”
© 2024 Rabbi Ronald J. Shulman
Wed, November 27 2024 26 Cheshvan 5785