In Today’s Torah portion, we read the
story of how Isaac came to be spared so that the blessings promised to
Abraham’s descendants could be passed on through him. In the past, I have
discussed this story from a number of different perspectives. I have asked
questions and offered some of my own answers to the challenges they pose. The
test itself is problematic. Why would a righteous and benevolent God ask
Abraham to sacrifice his son, even if God knew that the event would be
interrupted by an angel? How can Abraham be considered righteous if he ever
intended to go through with the sacrifice?
Many of you have heard my argument that
in fact the sacrifice was an expectation of the times and that Abraham’s
devotion to Adonai as his God and as the sole divinity of his descendants is
the result of Adonai stopping him from
going through with the task which he assumed to be expected by the divinities
in which people commonly believed at the time. It’s certainly a different
reading of the story, but that explanation makes me feel better about the
character of Abraham and about God’s role in the story.
Often when we read this story, we miss
seeing the forest because of the trees. We miss the fact that the story is
principally about how the blessings of what came to be the Jewish tradition and
the Jewish people were passed on from Abraham to Isaac to Jacob to his children
and then to generation after generation of the people who came to call
themselves Jews because of their historical connection to the land of Judah. But
we’re still not looking at the bigger picture even when we consider that. The
bigger picture of the Torah’s narrative from Abraham through the entry into the
land is about how and why the Jewish people are “chosen”, to use the
traditional language, or why we have chosen a “special,” “different,” “unique,”
or “important” religious path to employ terms that progressive Jews might
choose to use.
The Jewish Tradition essentially argues
that Isaac’s life was preserved so that the Jewish people would eventually come
into existence. We see this idea also in the interaction between Isaac and his
sons, Jacob and Esau, and between Jacob and his sons as well. The Torah tells
us again and again of the difficult circumstances and challenges overcome in
order for those blessings to be passed on to the next generation with the
understanding that we are the beneficiaries of the prior generations. Our
people’s history over the past hundred generations adds greatly to that
narrative of overcoming adversity, challenge, and difficulty. The ongoing
survival of the Jewish people is amazing. Some go so far as to say that it is
“miraculous” that there are still Jews in the world today.
The overriding theme of our tradition at
times seems to be, “They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat!”
While it is certainly true that we do
like to eat and that is a funny joke, all of this history and all of our
experiences as a people, however, including the miraculous narratives in our
ancient texts, do not truly focus on our continuing existence on food.
The questions that we must ask ourselves
today, based upon the Akeidah, are centered on one theme, “Why does it matter
that we survived?” That is certainly something that we here today should
appreciate. That said, three questions, which I will endeavor to answer, are
the ones before us as Jews today.
The
questions
What is so important about Judaism that
it needs to a part of our lives?
Why should we care about future
generations being Jewish? and
What do we want those generations to
hold sacred?
I believe that the order of the
questions that I just asked is how we normally might consider them. We probably
ask them of ourselves slightly differently. We may start off asking, “Why
should I be Jewish or do Jewish?” Then “Why should I care if future generations
are raised as Jews, if I’m not sure of my own Judaism?” Those who can’t answer
the first two questions with at least some satisfaction, probably would not ask
the last question, “What do we want those future generations to hold sacred,”
in the context of Judaism. They would think of it in more general humanistic
terms and I think miss some exceedingly important things only found in the
context of Judaism.
I believe that this order of asking the
questions often leads to a misleading result, to the devaluation or even
rejection of a stripped down version of Judaism devoid of most of its most
important teachings, certainly as Reform Judaism would present them.
So let me start off by answering the
last of these three questions first and then I will address the first two. “What
aspects of Reform Judaism, its beliefs and practices, at least in my
estimation, would I like future generations to hold sacred?”
To answer this question, I think it
makes sense to go back nearly 130 years and see what aspects of Reform Judaism
found in the 1885 Pittsburgh Platform of Reform Judaism we still hold dear
today.
I see the following both as valuable
principles and as remaining true of us today.
Although, we see our own traditions as
the best way for us, we respect other religious traditions. Our concept of
truth as individual Reform Jews is one to which we personally hold dear, but
not as the only valid way and not as the only possible truth.
We believe that science and the Jewish
tradition are not antagonistic. As our understanding of the nature of the world
in which we live changes, our Judaism, Reform Judaism, adapts with that
understanding.
We maintain and promote work with those of
other faiths as we seek to improve our communities and to advance the cause of
righteousness.And to use the words of the 1885 Platform, “In full accordance with the spirit of the Mosaic legislation, which strives to regulate the relations between rich and poor, we deem it our duty to participate in the great task of modern times, to solve, on the basis of justice and righteousness, the problems presented by the contrasts and evils of the present organization of society.”
We care about making our world a better
place.
There is so much more to add to the
words of that platform: both actions representative of who we are and
principles that guide us. Let me share some of these things that I think we
should hold sacred beginning with the start of the 20th Century.
We shouted our condemnation at the
treatment of the workers in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, demanding change,
and we have stood fast against the exploitation of laborers ever since.
We protested for women’s suffrage and have
championed the cause of women’s rights and equality.
We, and now I’m speaking about the
Reform Movement, hosted the drafting of the 1964 Civil Rights Act and the 1965
Voting Rights Act in the conference room of the Religious Action Center in
Washington DC. The Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism continues to be a
leading force advocating for the principles in which we, along with other
progressive religious communities, believe.
Whenever we have heard the cries of the
suffering and oppressed in communities whether across the world or right here
at home, Reform Jews have spoken up and taken action.
We are individuals and groups who have
marched for justice and righteousness in cities across America from Selma,
Alabama and St. Augustine, Florida in the 1960s to Washington DC and Ferguson,
Missouri in recent times, having been inspired by the words of the ancient
prophets of Israel and living modern ones.
When we heard the words spoken by Dr.
Martin Luther King Jr., “I have a dream,” we felt it was our dream too. When we
heard the words, “Free at last,” we remembered that we were once enslaved in
Egypt.
Why? Because we hold Passover Seders
where we remember that we, ourselves, were there and then, journeying from slavery
to freedom. And we’re reminded at every service and even more so during every
festival that we need to be thankful that we’re still not enslaved strangers.
We’re the people who construct Sukkot.
Even if we don’t have one of our own or spend any time in one, we should be
reminded why they exist. It isn’t just so that we have a way to use tree
clippings, to create pretty multi-colored paper chains, or to show off our
beautiful gourds. Our Sukkahs remind us that there are still those who sleep
outside, sometimes in dwellings without four walls, in tents and in boxes,
exposed to the elements, not by choice. Moreover, our Sukkot remind us that we
were once like those people.
We’re also reminded during the Festival
of Sukkot how to treat guests and that sometimes people who are strange to us,
whom we do not know, can bring us blessings because of our care and generosity.
We are the people thankful that a little
flame lasted as long as we needed it to last. Think about that. The miracle of
Chanukah is not that the light blazed forth like the sun. Not that the light
lasted for weeks or months or a thousand years. We’re thankful that a light
which we needed to last for eight nights did so. We are the people of
“Dayeinu.” Thankful for having enough, even when we know full well that what we
have isn’t enough for us, much less for all those in need.
We are the people who believe that
everyone is created B’tselem Elohim, in the image of the divine. For us, people
of all races, no matter their sexual orientation, should be treated not only as
of value in our world and to be respected, but even as holy, as representations
of the divine made incarnate.
We are the people who offer thanks for
our very existence, our creation, during every worship service, while remembering
that when we were created, we were given the job of being stewards of the rest
of creation, charged with keeping our world a fit place for animals and plants
as well as for our descendants. Caring for the environment is not just smart,
it is a holy task for us, sacred work.
We are the people who believe that the
world in which we live is in dire need of repair and that acts of justice,
righteousness, and kindness can help make it the way that it should be, better
than it ever has been before.
We are the people whose holy texts may
be summed up as Hillel did, “Do not do unto others as you would have them not
do unto you. All the rest is commentary. Go and learn it!”
We are the people who believe in the
words of Rabbi Tarfon, that, “While we may be unable to complete the task,
neither can we avoid working to accomplish it.”
We are the people whose holiest days are
spent, not in feasting, but in Cheshbon Nefesh, a time for an accounting of our
souls, during which we consider how we might improve ourselves in the year
ahead. And we engage in teshuvah, a process of turning ourselves away from
paths and actions that do not help ourselves or our world, while directing
ourselves anew toward paths of righteousness.
We are the people who speak from the
experience of centuries of suffering endured so that the current generations
can live in peace, security, and prosperity.
We are the people who know that
individuals can make all the difference in the world. For us, not only is the
life of one worth the life of the whole world, but the actions of one person can
change the whole world.
We are like Nachshon, marching into waters
that have not parted, but believing they will, just as Abraham Joshua Heschel
marched into waters that had not yet parted in Selma, Alabama alongside Dr.
Martin Luther King Jr.
We are the people who generation after
generation in spite of suffering hardships and setbacks that have could have,
perhaps should have, caused our people to abandon the task, stubbornly believe
that we can change this world and turn it into a Garden of Eden.
We are the people who do not just pray
and sing about a better world, we volunteer, give, and build a better world:
from homeless shelters and food pantries, to hospitals, social services, and
schools, from environmental and social action programs to the arts of all
kinds. We don’t just talk about making our world better, we make it happen.
We are the people who risk our lives to
make matzah out of meager rations in concentration camp barracks, because the
mitzvah of remembering and being thankful that our ancestors were sustained in
life empowers us even there and then, in the most horrible places and times.
We are the people who sing songs around
candles lit in the midst of darkness. Not only lit in darkened rooms during the
festival of Chanukah, but lit during humanity’s darkest times and often while
under threat.
We are like the people of the nation of
Israel, often first on the scene with medical help after major disasters and
whose doctors perform life-saving surgeries on children from Gaza even while in
the midst of war against their parents.
We are the people who brought socialist
ideals to deserts and swamps and made them bloom into one of the world’s
leading economies and an agricultural marvel.
We are the people who have survived and
thrived in a tiny nation, surrounded by enemies, on land that takes a bit of
effort to get to flow with milk and honey.
We are a people who know that we and the
nation of Israel have faults, but instead of ignoring them, we discuss and
debate, march and protest; and we speak out for peace and tolerance, justice
and righteousness, even when war and conflict is the easy answer.
While we are the people willing to sit in
the dark and to joke about it.
We are a people whose anthem is
HaTikvah, The Hope, and who strive to spread hope and light wherever there is
despair and darkness.
All of this and so much more about our
tradition, I would like future generations to hold sacred and to preserve for
their children and to improve upon for the sake of humanity. None of this
requires blind faith. None of this requires a belief in a kind of divinity at
all.
This brings me back to the first two
questions? Is this all reason for future generations to be Jewish? For us to be
Jewish ourselves? I think it absolutely is, if we these ideals to be held
sacred. They will not be or will not be to the same extent if they are not
connected to the Reform Jewish tradition or to the Jewish tradition in general.
Preserving them requires participation
in Jewish life, having Jewish experiences and receiving Jewish education. It
means that we have a task, a mission if you will. We must take part in
transmitting these ideals to future generations and to do that, we must be a
part of the Jewish community.
They say, there is no I in “Team.” Well,
there is no “Judaism” without U. The Temple and the Jewish community will be
better if all of us take part in its life and our role in the broader community
will be enhanced, if we are all involved. We would certainly love to have you
add your voice to our congregation during services, but also your smile and
words of joy, congratulations, support, comfort and consolation to our
community members before and after them. Come and be a part of social action
projects, educational programs, and social programs. You will help make our
Reform Judaism better.
I know that there are many members of
our community who are not Jewish. No few are here today with their families.
Many of our loved ones and friends who are not Jewish regularly attend our
services and programs. We appreciate and honor all of them. Our congregation
has long lived by the philosophy that it should be a welcoming spiritual home
for every member of our families.
And so let us take a moment to thank our
family members and friends who support us on our Jewish path and support our
congregation. Thank you for your love and companionship, for your care and
support for us individually, for our families, and for our congregation. You
are an integral part of our lives, our congregation, and our community. Thank
you. Thank you.
On this Rosh Hashanah day, let us renew our
commitment to supporting what we hold sacred, strengthening our congregation
and our own commitment to Reform Judaism. Together, we can change our
congregation, our community, and our world for the better.
L’shanah tovah u’metukah tikateivu!
May you be inscribed in the Book of Life
for a good and sweet year!
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