“Yizkor Completes the Story of our Lives”; Sermon By Rabbi Denise L. Eger
As our Yom Kippur Day draws to a close the unfolding of our life stories would be incomplete without this opportunity for Yizkor. Yizkor is a service of Remembrance. The Yizkor service helps us complete a picture of ourselves by remembering those who have died. Our stories are connected to the stories of so many others who no longer walk this earth with us. Their lives touch ours and we remain forever linked to their spirits, their souls and their legacies. As this hallowed day will soon end we recall and remember the lives of those now dead who shaped us and our narrative and now through the gift of memory continue to sculpt our the texture of our lives.
Our stories are incomplete without them. Even though they now dwell beyond our perception in eternity, our memories at this hour are filled with how they touched us; how they talked to us and laughed with us; cried with us; angered us. Yizkor serves to bring a moment filled with a flood of stories and anecdotes. “Remember the time when…”we say? Remember how her smile filled a room? Remember Uncle Harry who smelled always of cigars? Remember how we danced the night away in 1975? Remember how mom would wait up all night to hear the door unlock and you tiptoe into your room? Remember the Passover Seders at bubbe’s and zaydeh’s house? Remember the year the stove broke on Thanksgiving and we had to send out for Chinese food? Remember the year the brothers weren’t talking? Remember the year we went on summer vacation and the tire blew our in the station wagon on the road and Dad walked several miles to get help? Whatever the story—whatever the memory—it is a part of our life and our story!
Yizkor helps us make time to remember. Yizkor helps us recall that which we in our day to day, hectic lives, we suppress. Yizkor helps us organize the random flood of thoughts and feelings that at times, especially when our days of mourning and grief are still fresh that can overwhelm us. Yizkor helps us bring to the surface even that which deeply saddens and pains us -- because all of it is a part of our story. The good, the difficult, the sad and the joyous—all of it is a part of our story. Those who have died in recent years and weeks and those who died decades ago—they still shape us and mold us and yes, have a claim upon us. Yizkor helps us honor that claim and honor the ways they still mold our lives.
And let no one delude you—even those of you who have not been yet touched by grief or mourning—our dead and their absence from our lives indeed does matter. It definitely impacts how we act, how we live, how we are in the world. Even in their day to day absence, we can still feel their pull upon our souls if we remain open to it.
As author C.S. Lewis writes (Letters to Malcom: Chiefly on Prayer)
The dullest of us knows how memory can transfigure; how often some momentary glimpse of beauty in boyhood is a whisper which memory will warehouse as a shout…. Don’t talk to me of the “illusions” of memory. Why should what we see at the moment be more “real” than what we see from ten years’ distance?
Lewis understood that our memories of people and events no matter how distant in the past still live in us. Yizkor helps us bring those memories alive. Yizkor helps us be open to the growing of our soul and to the reality of seeing beyond the horizon of the present to an eternal reality. Yizkor helps us plug into the world of our beloved dead and recharge our own lives through the memory of each and every one of them.
Reciting the Yizkor prayers is as much for us as for them, our beloved dead. How can we enter this new year—cleansed and renewed, remade on this Yom Kippur Day if our stories are incomplete? This time of Yizkor helps us to complete the circle of our life- birth to death and rebirth again. Just as we remember them and give new life to the memories of those who died in months past, or years past, in turn we give ourselves new life. This is an act of holiness to remember. This is an act of holiness to recall on the holiest days of the year. That is why Yizkor is recited on the holiest days of the Year---Yom Kippur, Simchat Torah at the end of Sukkot, at the end of Pesach and Shavuot. Four times a year on holy days ---we seek out a special place to find ourselves in the grand scheme of life—by remembering those who no longer live because the holiness of memory is powerful and formative, and has the power of life itself!
My colleague Rabbi Debra Orenstein writes,
“Memory is considered far more significant and sacred. An ever lasting, renewable resource, it helps us locate ourselves, one of the central purposes of religion—because it relates the present and future with the past. According to traditional understanding, memory provides us access not just to history but to direct experience…. Memory both transcends time and endows it with meaning. Thus God renews creation each day…Memory… is a medium through which we dialogue with the past. The conversation never ends….”
Yizkor is our next installment in our conversation. So today –right now—remember. Let the flood of memories, the stories of your family take hold of you. Let the stories of past loves, and the memories of good friends, the memories of friends now gone be one in your mind. Close your eyes—see them. Say hi to them. Embrace them in your mind’s eye. Laugh with your father, your grandmother. Take a moment to recall the sparkle in the eye of your mother and your beloved aunt. Hear the voice of your neighbor call out to you again. Reach out to touch the cheek of your spouse. See the beloved teacher, grandfather. Feel the presence of your child who died too young. Remember even a beloved pet.
Each of our loved ones even in death continues to give you life, to uplift your life—to help you find your life—to locate yourself in the grand scheme of the living. Each memory of our dead family and friends enriches the arc of our life’s story and continues to give our story direction, color and depth. Thus today we remember. So that as the Yom Kippur day draws to a close you will be filled with spirit of holiness, filled with the eternal spirit of life and love and we pray for a new year that will help draw out your story –and help you to share your story with others.
Yom Kimpur Morning Sermon; By Rabbi Denise L. Eger
Shana Tovah, Gmar Chatimah Tovah-May you be sealed for a good inscription this day.
First let me say how good it is to see all of you. I am glad you have made it home to our Congregation. Each year at the holidays I am filled with joy because I get to visit and connect with so many of our community. But then you get busy with your lives, your work your family and friends and despite what I know is your best intentions, temple life and Judaism get pushed further down the list of priorities for many of you. But in truth this is your home and your people. Your tribe needs you to be with us not just once or twice a year but throughout the year. . Having a community to be with makes a difference in both good times and difficult ones. Consider this your invitation from me to celebrate and to grow with us during the year.
Of course the stresses of living in this day and time can pile up on each one of us and make it difficult to manage. Bills pile up. Deadlines for work are pressing. The kids or aging parents, sometimes both and family pull at us. There is nary a moment for ourselves. Health issues knock on our door. Terrorism's ugly and evil hand strikes without warning. There is a malaise that has eaten away at our nation and at us.
Even the simple things seem harder. Getting in the car used to be fun. Do you remember a leisurely Sunday drive? The typical Angeleno wastes more than 72 hours a year in traffic! That is the equivalent of a long weekend with Monday off! In our city the traffic is worse than ever and just getting from point A to point B can be a challenge.
So too it is with Yom Kippur. It is a challenge. We Jews create a traffic jam of repentance on Yom Kippur. All year long the doors of the synagogue are open but we clog the heavens on Yom Kippur with our sincere prayers and repentance. We try to get from point A -where we have been in the past year-to point B-a place in the New Year that fills us with contentment and peace; far from the stresses of life. We search and we look. Sometimes we seek out other spiritual paths hoping they will answer our questions and fulfill our dreams. Sometimes we look to self-help groups to help us clarify our beings and fix the general malaise of the world and us. We stray from Judaism. And often times we try to fill up the voids inside with material things. But while interesting for a while-we soon are on to the next idea-a new home, a new car, new clothes. But it rarely makes one content and satisfied. All too often we imagine that if we busily change the outside then our inside will change too.
But this morning we are not concerned with the outside. We are not to be concerned with material things. We are to fast. We are to refrain from shows of wealth. Traditionally we are to wear white so that we are all equal on the outside. Because on this day, we Jews are concerned with the inside. In truth, Judaism focuses on our character and our behavior not just on Yom Kippur but all the time. God gave us a beautiful treasure, a system of mitzvot to follow so that we could grow in beauty from the inside out!
But especially on Yom Kippur our task is clear. We are to focus on improving our character. We are to truly repent our sins, our errors and begin anew. On this Yom Kippur morning we are to fill up the holes in our souls, the holes in our spirit with our connection to our people and our God.
Rabbi Abraham Kook, the first Chief Rabbi of Israel in the days before statehood wrote in this passage in his book OROT HATESHUVA (15:10) (Lights of Teshuvah)
When we forget the makeup of our individual soul, when we lose focus from examining the essence of our internal existence, everything becomes confused and doubtful. The first response, which will illuminate all darkness immediately, is for a person to return to him or her self, to the root of his soul. Then that person will return to God, who is the soul of all souls.
So today we are here in this place to remind our selves of our make-up of our souls; our Jewish Souls. And Yom Kippur has come to point us in the right direction for the New Year. Yom Kippur has come to help us fill up the emptiness inside that has beaten us down and caused us to transgress and miss the mark. Yom Kippur provides us with an opportunity to correct the malaise in us that will change our perspective and ultimately change our world. On this bright Yom Kippur morning we are to make teshuvah, to turn to God and our tradition that will and can bring us forgiveness that can begin to fill the void in you and the empty places in your life. On Yom Kippur we model what we ought to be engaged in during the year being part of a Jewish community that will support the person you wish to become!
We all know this but it bears repeating on Yom Kippur morning. There are three ways in Judaism to help us bring contentment and peace to our souls in the New Year. We sing the prayer with gusto- On Rosh Hashanah it is decided and Yom Kippur it is sealed. Uteshuvah, u'tefillah utzedakah, Repentance, prayer and giving help us avert the severity of the verdict. These three acts together help us change ourselves and in turn change our world during these Days of Awe. These three acts, Uteshuvah, utefilah, utzedakah, help us take back our lives and resurrect our souls for the coming year. Teshuvah, tefillah and tzedakah if really practiced can change our being and if we do this make your world a richer and more meaningful world. These three acts are not mere platitudes, but pious steps to renewal. But let us take a hard look at these three.
Teshuvah we know means repentance. But it means turning as well. Now is the time to turn our lives around. But what does this really mean? According to our great teachers of our tradition teshuvah is more than repentance. Maimonides our great teacher, the Rambam, says teshuvah is about confession of our sins but more importantly teshuvah is about reaching out to those who were harmed by our actions. Rabbi Pinchas Peli explains that teshuvah doesn't mean just remorse but it is a complete break from our old environment and our old self. We have the power to create a whole new personality on this day. We can spiritually become a totally new person. By confessing our shortcomings and making a sincere, deeply heartfelt commitment to raise our expectations of our self to fulfill those commitments, we have the opportunity to overcome our deficits. Teshuvah, repentance helps us make amends to our self, to God and to others. Teshuvah means we can start over again and seek a new way of being in the world. Our sincere Repentance on this Yom Kippur morning can help direct us to the paradise of contentment with our selves and our place in the world. Our sincere repentance can direct us to a new perspective on our world and our lives. But we don't do this alone. We do it together in the context of this sacred community, a kehilla kedosha.
The second part of the formula for creating a renewed soul within you on this Yom Kippur Day comes from Tefilah or prayer. And on Yom Kippur we certainly have prayed together. That is the beauty of being together as a Jewish community. Our prayers, our words support one another. What is the nature of prayer and how does it affect our souls? First and foremost even as we pray to God to hear our prayer and grant us atonement, we need to understand something very profound about Jewish prayer. The word tefilah comes from the Hebrew root p.l.l. l'hitpalel, which means to judge one's self. Our prayers today are not said for God to judge us but for each one of us to articulate our hopes and dreams, fears and problems, errors, sins and transgression. We judge our own words and actions and deeds and aspire to greater purpose and meaning through Jewish prayer and Jewish meditation. This helps to fill up the holes in our soul when we confront honestly that which we have done that eats away at the fabric of our spirit and moral being. Our sincere prayer this Yom Kippur morning can help direct us toward Paradise and help us direct our intentions and perspective on our selves, our people and our world.
Finally the formula for this day calls upon us to engage in tzedakah. Yes I know you think you understand that it simply means opening up your check book and giving. Indeed that is one part of it. But tzedakah is not charity. We don't just give because we are moved to do so. We give because it is our obligation. In fact almost every time the torah mentions the word Tzedek -the root of tzedkah it comes together with the word Mishpat-Justice. Righteousness and Justice. Tzedakah isn't only about giving money but it is creating the environment so that no one will go hungry and no one without a home. Tzedakah is about teaching people the skills they need to survive in the world. Maimonides taught us that there are various degrees of tzedakah and that includes the lowest form -giving money when we are asked to the highest form, giving anonymously to train people to earn their own living.
We give tzedakah on Yom Kippur because we believe not only it is our responsibility but that giving tzedakah actually heals the tears in the fabric of our Universe! Giving tzedakah changes the energy of our spirits and changes the Divine energy flow in the recipient thus it changes the energy of the world by bringing down from Heaven the attributes of Divine Justice and Righteousness. It is as the Prophet Amos taught-let Justice roll down like waters righteousness like a mighty stream. Tzedek u'mishpat, Righteousness and Justice water the earth and water our arid souls.
According to our tradition the power of giving tzedakah is so great that with each gift we can become One with God!
It is written in the book of Psalms (17:15), "I shall see Your face, God, with tzedek, with charity," The Bal Shem Tov taught, "When a person gives a coin to charity she unifies God's name of four letters -Yod, hey, Vav, hey. The money itself is the letter yud. The five fingers of the giver's hand is like the hey, since the numerical value of hey is five. The outstretched arm of the giver is the Vav which has the shape of an arm. When the coin is placed into the five fingers of the poor man's hand this complete the Divine Name. The final hey is the poor person's hand." (Rabbi Yesacher Baer of Zlatchov-MaVaser Tzedek, Re'eh as quoted in "The Light Beyond by Aryeh Kaplan").
On Yom Kippur by giving tzedakah as one of the three paths to the paradise of a new and replenished soul, we are able to unify God's holy name and cleave to the Holy Divine One. This act of righteousness and justice will surely change the direction of our lives and our world and help to fill up the holes in our Soul.
There once was a man who gave up on life. He found no joy in his work, his family his community. His soul had so many holes in it and was so filled with sadness that he prayed to God to let him leave this world. "Show me the way to paradise then I will be content!"
God asked, "Are you sure that is what you want?"
The man replied, "I am sure with all my heart. Because my soul is torn and I have no contentment or peace of mind."
"Very well," replied God and showed him the way to paradise and contentment.
It turns out it wasn't very far. Just a few days' journey from his village. So late one afternoon, he set out on his way. He walked until nightfall, and then decided to rest beneath a green, leafy tree. But just before he fell asleep, it occurred to him that in the morning, he might become confused and forget which the way toward Paradise was. So he left his shoes by the roadside, pointing on the way toward Paradise and contentment. So in the morning, all he had to do was to jump in the shoes and continue.
Sometimes, unexpected things can happen to us in life. Shoes get turned around. Was it an imp? Was it an angel? Was it just a squirrel? Who knows? But the shoes got turned around. In the morning he rose rested from his sleep, ate from the tree and set about to continue his journey. He went to the roadway, stepped into his shoes, and continued his journey unaware that he was in fact returning homeward.
By noon, he saw a village on the next hillside, and his heart leapt, "I've arrived, it's paradise!" And he ran down the valley and up the hill until he arrived at the gates of the town.
"What a beautiful place is Paradise!" he thought. "My town was always so crowded, so noisy. This is different, so filled with life and joy!" He sat and he witnessed the town's life. He heard the song of children at school, and the sounds of adults at work and in the market. He felt the vitality, the energy, the love that filled the village. He felt the sense of community there. And he started to feel the holes in his soul shrink. He sat there, in the square all day. In evening he heard the joyful sounds of families reunited at home, and smelled the meals enjoyed by each family. And he began to feel hungry.
He thought, "Since Paradise looks so much like my town, I wonder if there is a street in Paradise like my street." And so he went to look. Just where he thought it might be there's where he found it.
Then he thought, "I wonder if there is a house in Paradise like my house." And just where he thought it might be, there it was! Just as he was wondering at this marvelous coincidence, a woman came out of the door-a woman who bore a striking resemblance to his wife-called his name and told him to come in for dinner.
His heart jumped, "They know me in Paradise! There is a place set for me here in Paradise!"
I don't know what's in Paradise," the woman responded, "but your soup is getting cold. Come inside!"
He entered the house. This house in Paradise was nothing like his house back in the village. That house was always crowded, congested, filled with commotion. This place, this was cozy and homey and filled with life. He sat and ate the best meal he'd ever eaten. He complimented the woman on the heavenly soup. And afterwards, he went up to the deepest most restful sleep he had ever known.
In the morning, the woman who looked like his wife handed him his tools and sent him to work.
Work? But of course, even in Paradise there are tasks to be done. Bu this work was different than before. Not dull or tedious, this work was filled with a sense of purpose and service. And that night, he returned to that warm and loving home, that kind woman and more wonderful soup. He could feel the changes deep inside him -in his soul, in his spirit. Contentment filled his being and he knew God had heard his prayers.
Do you know that no once could convince that old fool that he hadn't really made it to Paradise. Every one of his days was filled with more wonder, more purpose, more joy, more peace and more life than the day before. And those magical shoes-helped him fill up his soul by guiding him on the path to Paradise and Contentment. All he needed was pointed in the right direction
Now we don't have magical shoes-but we do have on this Yom Kippur day the three fold formula of teshuvah, tefillah and tzedakah that points us in the right direction to contentment and wholeness. Teshuvah, tefillah and tzedekah help us to fill up our lives with meaning and purpose, and change ourselves and the world. Teshuvah, tefillah and tzedkah help us reconnect our Jewish souls to our Jewish way of being and attack with fervor the malaise that has settled over us and the world. Teshuvah, Tefillah and tzedakah can point us to that place of contentment and connection if we actualize them not only on this day but every day. And we have something else. We have community with one another. Here all year long. That is yours for the taking.
So on this bright Yom Kippur morning point yourself to paradise, to contentment. Help yourself fill up the holes in your soul. And return. Return to your temple. Return to your people, your tribe. Return to God and Return to yourself.
Ken Yehi Ratzon. So may it be God's will
Kol Nidre Sermon; WHERE IS YOSSELE? AND WHERE ARE YOU? AYEKA? KOl Nidre come to help us find ourselves…….. By Rabbi Denise L. Eger
Shabbat Shalom. Gut Yuntif.
Recently I heard a wonderful story about a fruit seller in lower East side in New York who complained to a friend that he wasn't doing very much business. The friend said, "Well, look, you know, you're living in a very Jewish area. Do something to bring in the Jewish customers. Put on the shop 'Fresh fruit from Israel'" - which he did and he got a lot of customers. After a week he decided to go one better. 'Fresh fruit from Jerusalem.' Even more people came in. The next week he decided to go one better still and he put on the shop 'Fresh fruit from the kotel, the Western Wall. After a week his friend came in and said, "How did it work?" And he said, "Terrible! They all came in, kissed the fruit and left."
Tonight is Kol Nidre. You are here and I am glad. I hope you are coming here on this Shabbat to a kiss a few friends and then leave. Because for too much of the year I ask AYEKA? Where are You? Because so many of you come and give a hello which is always wonderful but then you leave until the next year. But this question “AYEKA? Where are you?” is not one of mere location. In fact it is the first question of the entire Torah and perhaps the most profound.
Just after Adam and Eve eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Bad in the Garden of Eden, the story in Genesis Chapter 3 tells us that their eyes were opened and they became aware of their nakedness. Soon they heard God moving about the Garden and they hid.
All of a sudden, with their new found awareness they were afraid of God. They were afraid because they ate the fruit from the only tree of Gan Eden, the Garden of Eden, that Adam had been commanded to refrain from eating. They were aware that they had violated the only rule of the Garden. They thought that they would disappoint God and perhaps anger God because of their transgression. And so they hid. They became aware of their own guilt and were ashamed of their own behavior.
At this very time they heard God moving about at the breezy time of day in the Garden. God is in the wind. And God calls out to Adam and Eve. God calls out, “AYEKA? Where are you?”
This question that God asks of Adam and Eve is not about their physical location in the Garden. It is a question of examination and reflection. It is a question that asks them to figure out what happened. Why do they all of a sudden have to hide? Why do they feel they have to hid rather than fess up to their actions? Ayeka is a question that asks them to confront their behavior, their sins. “AYEKA?” God asks, so that Adam and Eve might think deeply about their soul in relationship to God and one another. It is a rhetorical question that allows Adam and Eve the opportunity to confess their transgressions and come clean.
. AYEKA? Where are you? Is a question that can’t merely be answered in a few words. For this question also reflects the rest of the unfolding story of our Bible. The rest of the Torah, the stories of Genesis and Exodus, Leviticus Numbers and Deuteronomy try to help place each one of us in the midst of the story of our People. “Where are you?” asks a deep question of us as individuals and as a community. “AYEKA, Where are you?” asks your soul to consider and become aware of your being in the world. This question of “Where are you” asks you to think about yourself in relationship to the Jewish story. “Where are you” asks you to think about your self in relationship to the world at large and yes, in relationship to God.
This is a question we must ask of ourselves tonight. On this holy night of Kol Nidre I think God asks this of us as well. AYEKA? Where are you? Where have you gone astray? Where did you go wrong in the last year? And what can you do during this Yom Kippur to find your way back to your self, and to God? AYEKA we ask tonight. WHERE ARE YOU? This is a question that allows us to come face to face with our wrong doings and try to find our spirit and renew our soul. And for those of you who don’t participate regularly in the life of the community I add this question, “How can you find yourself back to Kol Ami and the Jewish People so that you don’t lose your connection to your story?”
There is a story of a man who cut himself off from his family the last ten years of his life. He was a self-made man who would never know want. He was desperately afraid that someone would come and take away his fortune. And he suspected his family the most so he didn’t talk to any of them.
As he aged, he paid caretakers to help him out during the day. He wouldn’t let anyone stay overnight. When the stroke came, he kept full consciousness, he just couldn’t speak. He fell on the far side of his bed, almost wedged between it and the wall.
The next day, his caretaker couldn’t find him. “Where are you?” the caring female voice called out. “Here!” he said as loudly as he could, knowing that he was only answering in his mind. Where are you, the voice called again. “Here!” he whispered under his breath.
“Where are you?” she called one last time. He felt himself losing consciousness. At the edge of knowing, he realized where he was: Nowhere. Nowhere at all. Today, on Yom Kippur, some of us are like that old man, unconnected, nowhere in spirit. Tonight you have a chance to connect your soul to the story and melody of the Jewish people.
Kol Nidre and Yom Kippur is ours to get connected. To have our souls connect to the 1000’s of other souls who are seeking a place of solace, forgiveness and hope. AYEKA—this question calls upon us to seek out a way to be part of something bigger than ourselves and to move beyond the errors, the shame and guilt to a new beginning.
In this world full of war and terrorism, fear and trembling we sometimes lose our voice. We lose the ability to speak up. We lose the will to seek out others who share deeply in our values because it is easier to hide and cut ourselves off from that which might do harm. Just like Adam and Eve, or the old man who cut himself off from his family. So we nest with our tivo’ed shows and netflix list of movies abdicating our responsibilities to show up and be counted. Let someone else be in charge I have too much on my own plate. To her we say we say AYEKA—Where are you? To him we say Ayeka? Where are you?
We have become a world a victims, like Adam and Eve who pass the blame to the serpent. As Rabbi Marc Gellman writes, “We have created a culture where it is unbelievably easy to evade responsibility for anything we do. It is not that there are no real victims in this society, it is that there are so many perpetrators claiming to be victims that the real victims are lost in the stampede of moral evasion that is trampling our civic and personal virtue into dust.”
From Sen. Craig of Idaho to Lindsey Lohan to Atlanta Falcon’s former quarterback Michael Vick all have tried to evade their responsibility for their actions. Indeed each claimed they were a victim rather than a perpetrator. Each is an example of how our society as a whole evades the idea of accountability. The question we ask tonight of ourselves—“AYEKA? Where are you?” demands of us responsibility and accountability for actions and errors. This is the point of Yom Kippur.
So what will give you the courage to stand and answer the question AYEKA? Where are you? As Jews our tradition teaches us especially at this season that a life of spiritual strength is created when we can confess our errors and admit our wrongdoings. When we can stand even in our guilt and take responsibility for our actions. This is the message of AYEKA? WHERE ARE YOU?
Imagine if Adam and Eve had admitted their wrongdoing perhaps we would all still be living in the Garden of Eden. But the chaos that came into their lives came because of evasion and lies and hiding from God. It is no different for us. Tonight we have the opportunity, the chance to enter the Garden of Eden of forgiveness and wholeness by facing our wrongdoings and truly turning over a new leaf. And the Kol Nidre melody that we heard helps remind us of our task and our story and our past. This night of Kol Nidre, with it haunting melody that we heard earlier captures us and propels us toward the story of our people and the life of Judaism. On this night of Kol Nidre, it is as if that melody has lifted our spirits, released our sins, and maybe, just maybe, fortifies us to answer “Hinenni” I am here.
Where is Yossele? (shortened from the form in Jewish Digest)
When the Buchenwald concentration camp was liberated, many prisoners left the camp and dispersed. Reb Leizer of Czenstochow (cheN´´stukO´vu) was one of the freed inmates. At the opened gate he paused, Where? Where should I go? He knew everyone else in his family had been murdered. All of them came with him to the camp and he saw their bodies carted to the crematoria for burning.
Only one hope remained. When all of the Jews of his town were being rounded up for shipment to Buchenwald, he had been able to smuggle his little son Yossele out of the ghetto and into the gentile section of the town. “Who knows,” said Reb Leizer to himself. “Perhaps the child is still alive, still alive....”
He would go looking for him. But how - and where?
Reb Leizer went back to Czenstochow, (cheN´´stukO´vu) disguised as a beggar. Lest the gentiles in Czenstochow (cheN´´stukO´vu) recognize him, he put on peasants’ clothing and a cap with a low brim down to his eyes. He wandered about the streets and
the market places, and every time he saw a boy about Yossele’s age, he would
stop and look at him closely. Perhaps this was his son. He began asking, guardedly. “Did anyone know the Leizer family or what happened to it?” People told him the family had left the town in the death trains - everyone except the little boy, whom someone had taken to the monastery.
Which monastery? No one knew.
“The boy is alive,” decided Reb Leizer. “I will save him.”
He went from one monastery to the next, inquiring about his son.
The monks denied ever seeing him. No Jewish child, they claimed, had ever
crossed the threshold of a monastery. Reb Leizer knew they were lying, but
what could he do?
He went and bought a hand organ. Among the tunes he put into it
was the melody of the Kol Nidre. Reb Leizer strapped the organ onto his back
and began making the rounds of the streets and yards. Wherever he saw
children playing he would set the organ down on its legs and begin turning the
handle. Immediately he would be surrounded by children. As the children
stood listening, he would watch their eyes closely - particularly when the
organ ground out the tune of Kol Nidre. Did any child’s face change or
show some emotion - fear, perhaps, or sadness and longing?
One day, as the organ was sounding the Kol Nidre tune, a villager
came close and asked, “This sad melody you’re playing - how did you come
to it? Isn’ it one of the songs of the cursed Jews?”
“This is a tune I brought from Siberia,” replied Reb Leizer. “All the songs there are sad.” This seemed to satisfy the peasant and he went away.
Thus did Reb Leizer wander from village to village, from one monastery to the next.
Whenever he saw a child show some emotion as the Kol Nidre melody was played, he knew that the child was Jewish. As all the other children scattered, he would follow this child, talk to him, tell him that the war was over and he could go back to his own people.
For a full year Reb Leizer and his organ made the rounds of the monasteries. He was able to save scores of Jewish children and restore them to their faith. But Yossele was not among them. In the meantime Reb Leizer aroused suspicions. The monks drove him away and he could no longer come near a monastery. Reb Leizer knew that his journey was at an end. He raised his eyes to the heavens and said, “Ribbono Shel Olam, Master of the world, my wife and children went up to heaven in smoke and I have been wandering among the monasteries to find Yossele, in vain. From now on, O Master of the world, I am allowing You the good deed of caring for Yossele. Keep him in Your sight. Safeguard him, along with all the Jewish children for whom there are none to care.
Reb Leizer took his organ and buried it in the ruins of a destroyed synagogue and he went to Israel.
People from that district in Poland say that at times they hear the tunes of a hand organ coming out of the earth and among the tunes is the melody of Kol Nidre.
Tonight we have heard the sad tune of Kol Nidre—just as Reb Leizer used to play it after the war. For each of us there was a sound of recognition for it goes deep into the soul. It haunts us, and taunts us, and urges us to find a place among our people. Just as Reb Leizer asked of Yossele and the children “Where are you?” And just as the children of the monasteries found their way home with this melody played by Reb Leizer, tonight you can find your way home as well. You can find your way home to the Jewish people and let your soul re-connect. The melody we heard tonight can help you find yourself and can help you answer the question AYEKA-Where are you.? You are here—among family and friends, among your people.
Kol Nidre has outed us from our hiding—our hiding from God, our hiding from our past, our hiding from the Jewish people.
Rabbi Bunam taught, “Our sages say “seek peace in your own place.” You cannot find peace anywhere save in your own self. In the psalm we read “There is no peace in my bones because of my sin.” When a person has made peace with herself, she will be able to make peace in the whole world.” (Buber, Late Masters, p.264).
When we answer the question AYEKA -we are making peace in ourselves because we have found ourselves. Or at least we are on the way toward finding our story within the story of our People. Tonight you have begun to answer the question—Tonight let your being here among your people give you strength to follow through—tonight let the Kol Nidre melody you have heard, and the words and songs we have shared together-give you the courage you need to stand and say like Abraham and Sarah, like Moses and Joshua, like King David, and Queen Esther, I am here—Hinenni.
In this New Year may God keep you in God’s care. My you stand proudly and say I am Here.
Shanah tovah.
God is nowhere. Our world is filled with uncertainty these days, and so many things in our lives pull at our faith strings. Some proclaim, ‘God is nowhere’ and they know The Secret, which must be true if it’s at the top of the New York Times bestseller list. The secret they say is the law of attraction. “Everything that’s coming into your life you are attracting into your life. And it’s attracted to you by virtue of the images you’re holding in your mind. It’s what you’re thinking.” Doesn’t it sound warm and fuzzy? Each of us responsible for our own destiny, going about our lives trapped in our own self-absorbed universe. But then something inexplicable happens—a hurricane, an illness, an earthquake, a dip in the stock market, a death. What happens when there is no one to blame but ourselves, we have no community, we have no relationship with God?
This secret is another attempt to explain the things that happen in our society by justifying and legitimating them. If you do not follow this law of attraction whatever happens is your fault. You must have done something wrong. It is a wonderful way to explain things have they have happened. Hindsight after all is always 20-20.
So let’s live in this moment. For some of us, God is nowhere. We still show up at services, though we’re not necessarily certain why, and we struggle with the metaphoric image of God as Parent and Ruler. Our explanations for things that happen in the world vary. A stroke of bad luck, riding a lucky streak, we still know that we do not need to believe in a God present in our lives to participate in Jewish community. Sometimes it is just about showing up.
Others here find comfort in a directly present God. The image of a man or woman sitting before a Book of Life inscribing our names is deeply personal and deeply meaningful throughout these awesome days. When we pray to the God of our ancestors, the faces of our children and grandchildren, our parents and grandparents all the way back to Abraham and Sarah are present. We add our voice to the cacophony of our tradition that declares faith in One God.
In a few minutes we will read from the Torah about Hagar and Ishmael’s banishment. Our dear matriarch Sarah does not want Ishmael around to interfere with Isaac’s inheritance. So Abraham, every the obedient partner, sends Hagar and Ishmael with bread and a skin of water into the wilderness. Hagar runs out of water and leaves Ishmael under some brush. God hears Ishmael’s parched cry, v’yiftach Elohim et eyneha v’tereh mayim—God opened Hagar’s eyes and she saw a well of water. The well of water was always before her, Hagar just couldn’t see it. In a moment when she felt forgotten to the universe she and her son had a basic need. Hagar’s perspective changed. In a moment, the world once full of futility and suffering wasn’t so bleak and barren. God who was nowhere revealed Godself to Hagar and she and Ishmael had water.
Perspective is the way objects appear to our eyes. A glass can be half empty or half full. I’m suggesting that this either/or doesn’t have to be. We need to model Hagar who looked at the world with different eyes, with spectacles of faith. Hagar saw that the skin was running low but her faith enabled her to see resources in the world capable of refilling her skin, quenching her thirst.
Today we must change our perspective. [Unroll poster]. This world jumble says ‘God is nowhere.” When we go about our world and see things as they are this is our framework. This birth of a baby is a regular, everyday scientific phenomenon; the sunset is simply the earth rotating on her axis. Today is the same as any other day.
It doesn’t have to be this way. I am going to tell you a secret. This sign says something else, ‘God is now here!’ God is now here--in your heart, in the faces of the people near you. God is now here! With glasses focusing us on the potential for Divine around us we look at everything with radical amazement. The birth of a baby is something miraculous, worthy of celebration, filled with potential. Parts of the natural world take our breath away. When we see a rainbow, we recite the blessing—Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha’olam zocheir ha’brit v’neeman bivreto v’kayam b’ma’amaro. Today is no ordinary day, it is Rosh Hashanah, the birthday of the world. A time for celebration, for apples and honey.
Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik was a 20th century philosopher responsible for what is known as modern Orthodoxy today. In his essay, “The Lonely Man of Faith” Soloveitchik attempts to grapple with his isolation as a person that believes in God. Unsure of the cause of his loneliness, he suspects it might be living as a man of faith and a Western man. In order to understand his own situation Soloveitchik defines two types of human being, Adam 1 and Adam 2.
Adam 1 is given the task to subdue nature and transform the world into a domain for his power. Adam 1 is fascinated by the question, “How does the cosmos function?” His quest is, “to harness and dominate the elemental natural forces and put them at his disposal.” His motto, success. He engages in creative work, in imitation Dei, imitating his Maker.
Adam 2 does not subdue the world, he tills and preserves it. He asks questions of the cosmos such as, “Why did the world in its totality come into being?” “Who is God who trails me steadily, uninvited and unwanted, like an everlasting shadow, and vanishes into the recesses of transcendence the very instant I turn around to confront this numinous, awesome, and mysterious One?” Adam 2 doesn’t encounter the world conceptually and mathematically: he stumbles across the universe in all its splendor and grandeur. He never loses his sense of naiveté, awe and admiration. Adam 2 is searching for a covenantal community, one where he can join with other souls where not only hands are joined but experiences, hearts.
Each of us walks the precipice between Adam 1 and Adam 2, between total isolation and membership in a covenantal community. Between the ordered universe and utter chaos. We each define faith for ourselves. No two definitions are the same.
There is a story—a woman received a telegram that a relative died and left her something valuable. She was instructed to go see the local rabbi for further details. She set up her appointment, anxious to know just how much ‘value’ she was to receive. She sat in front of the rabbi and was told her relative was Moses and her valuable property was the Jewish tradition. We too inherit this same multi-vocal tradition and must build our faith in God from it not in lieu of it.
It is for this reason that we fill our liturgy with images and metaphors for God. Today in the liturgy we said God’s 13 attributes, “O Eternal! O Eternal! A God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin…” We atone to Avinu Malkeinu, our Parent our Ruler, beseech the Sovereign who sits upon the high and lofty throne, exalt the God who hears Hannah’s prayer, and find comfort in the Source of Life. God is now here.
Call God the Source, your Higher Power. See God in the face of the people around you. Hear God in the laughter of a child. The heavenly voices of our cantor and choir, the touch of someone you love. The still small voice deep inside, God is now here!
In this New Year may we notice God’s presence in our lives. May our actions and prayers these awesome days strengthen the Godidea of ourselves and our neighbors, and may we train our eyes to see the Godliness in every moment. L’shanah tovah tikateivu—may this New Year be one filled with sweetness, goodness, and may we all be inscribed in the Book of Life.
Ken y’hi ratzon—May this be God’s
