I May Not Always Like You – Shabbat Yom Kippur 5774

Friendships are fickle.  They come with restrictions, expectations, and fine lines.  Even the closest of friends know that in order to maintain the friendship, there are some things you just don’t do or say. Family relationships are different.  For better or worse, we don’t usually approach family relationships with the same sensitivity that is sometimes needed to walk the friendship tightrope.  Because of that, family will not always get along, but the familial bond is hard to break.  My mom used to tell me, “I may not always like the decisions you make, but I will always love you.”  It was her way of saying nothing would change our relationship or how she felt about me, even when I made mistakes or let situations get the best of me.

The ten days between Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur are called the ten days of repentance, or aseret yemei teshuvah.  In these ten days we are required to take stock of the year and clearly acknowledge what we have done to others that may have hurt them, what we have done that has negatively affected ourselves, and how we have handled our relationship with God.  We are asked to take the necessary steps towards mending these three relationships and to work harder in the coming year to be honest and open in each of them.  But how are we supposed to tackle this lofty task of making 5774 better than 5773?

Maimonides, the Medieval teacher and textual commentator, suggests the following steps:

Maimonides: Mishneh Torah: Hilchot Teshuvah 2:2

ב ומה היא התשובה הוא שיעזוב החוטא חטאו ויסירו ממחשבתו ויגמור בלבו שלא יעשהו עוד שנאמר יעזוב רשע דרכו וגו’, וכן יתנחם על שעבר שנאמר כי אחרי שובי נחמתי, ויעיד עליו יודע תעלומות שלא ישוב לזה החטא לעולם שנאמר ולא נאמר עוד אלהינו למעשה ידינו וגו’, וצריך להתודות בשפתיו ולומר עניינות אלו שגמר בלבו

What constitutes teshuva? That a sinner should abandon his or her sins and remove them from his or her thoughts, resolving in that person’s heart never to commit them again…Similarly, that person must regret the past…That person must verbally confess and state these matters which he or she resolved to his or her heart.

The Rambam approaches this season of repentance with a four-step process for repairing relationships.  First comes removing the evil act or memory from our own thoughts.  Dwelling on the past is never productive in an attempt to move forward.  Second is committing not to repeat the behavior.  Part of maintaining healthy relationships means not developing a bad reputation, and by resolving to never act in this way again, we can move forward with positivity.  Third, Rambam teaches that there must be regret.  Simply saying you’re sorry without regretting the action is hollow and void of meaning.  Instead, we must ask ourselves if we regret our actions, feeling in our core that what we’ve done is wrong.  Finally, we must state these matters both to the person we’ve harmed and to ourselves.

Forgiveness is about ownership.  It means loving yourself enough to admit when you’ve been wrong and loving others enough to know that as human beings we are innately imperfect.  As we enter into these final hours of the season of repentance, the ultimate goal is to examine our flaws not to achieve flawlessness, but to remind ourselves that the love is always stronger than the like.

Another Turning Point – Parshat Ha’azinu/Rosh HaShannah 5774

Rosh HaShannah, the beginning of a new year.  Parts of it sped by, parts seemed to go slowly, but we reach this new year and see the broad expanse of time and possibility spread out before us.  But unlike the beginning of a secular year, this moment in the Jewish calendar is marked by transitional time.  The Jewish calendar is set up for this transition from one year to the next to be not only smooth, but transformative.  From the 17th day of Tammuz, when we enter into a period of 3 weeks of mourning leading to Tisha B’av, to the beginning of this final month of the year, Elul, we are occupied with transitions of the past, present, and future.  It is common Jewish practice to spend Elul in transformation, searching our souls to make changes and make the new year different.  So here we are at the turning point, called Shabbat Shuvah, the Shabbat of return or repentance.

One of the most remarkable aspects of the Hebrew language is the way in which the shoresh, the three letter root of a word, can often have several meanings.  For example, the shoresh Nun, Sin, Aleph, spelling Na’Sah, can mean to lift up, to carry, or to marry.  You could spend an eternity analyzing the meaning in this relationship between the words with the matching root.  It should come as no surprise that the holiday we celebrate this week, Rosh HaShannah, has wordplay of its own.

Rosh means head, but that could be the body part at the top of the neck responsible for thought processes, the person sitting at the special spot at a table, or the first day of anything.  Whatever the meaning, we know there’s some type of beginning involved when we see the word rosh.  The second word, Shannah, typically means year, but there’s a little more to it.  The root of the word is Shin, Nun, Hey.  This special shoresh can mean year, to alter, or to repeat, and the slight variation of Shin Nun Nun, even means to teach.

We’ve reached this time in our yearly cycle where we have the opportunity for a new beginning, but also an opportunity for change, for learning, and the chance to perhaps learn from or repeat our prior mistakes.  The question is how will you view this coming year?  At this Shabbat we read the words of parshat Ha’azinu and the beginning of the end of Moshe’s final instructions to the Israelites.  We are reminded about the changes he led them through, the teaching he’s done, and the years of dedication he gave to the nation.

At this turning point, the rosh, the head of a new year, give yourself the gift of change.  Make sure that it includes learning new things, repeating those things that worked in the past, and making changes for the better, toward what will lead you to your dreams.  That will make the year truly transformative.

Objects in Mirror are Closer Than They Appear – Parshat Nitzavim Vayelech 5773

Change isn’t easy.  It has become cliche, but it’s evident whenever circumstances take a directional turn.  Think about your last move or even your last spring cleaning.  Did you pack up with dispassionate efficiency or did you reminisce as you looked at each piece of paper, book, or memento?  Did you purge the old to make room for the new?  What seemed like a straightforward process has now taken three times as much energy, and what’s worse, it feels as if you’ve taken steps back and not moved forward at all.

This week we read parshiyot Nitzavim and Vayelech, the two parshiyot that often surround the High Holy days.  Parshat Nitzavim reminds us that we always have a choice in life and that the proper path is to repent, to follow the rules, and to generally be good people.  Parshat Vayelech teaches us about Moshe’s process to transfer leadership to Joshua, and the final words he will share as the leader of the Israelite nation.  Wedged within these words is the commandment of teshuvah, repentance.

The text informs us in chapter 30 that repentance is a mitzvah in its own right.  God teaches that if we repent and open our hearts to understanding the wrong we have done and make actual effort to change, then God will bring us comfort, love, and wellbeing.  The Torah presents repentance both as an obligation and as something innately human.  But, it also understands that this act can be difficult.  Chapter 30, verse 11 states, “Surely, this instruction which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach.”  The rabbis of the Talmud understood this verse as referring to the entire Torah.  God is reminding us that while the laws might seem intricate and complicated, they are exactly within our reach.

The great Medieval commentator Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman (RamBaN) narrows the focus of this verse to refer only to the laws of repentance.  He teaches that it is difficult to break a bad habit, to fully repent, and to change one’s way of life.  And yet, every day there are people who prove that it can be done.  In fact, according to RamBaN, repentance is a lot like the give and take of packing.  A midrash also offers us the metaphor of a mirror.  The figure we see in the mirror seems to be twice as far from us as it really is.  But with every step we take toward the mirror, the reflection takes a step toward us.  So it is with repentance.  Our goal seems so far off, but God says to us, “Take one step toward Me, and I will do the same and meet you halfway.”

In this season of repentance, we are reminded that life is a give and take.  In order for this to work in any relationship, you must make the first move, the first step towards giving.  Whether in regard to decluttering a space, mending existing relationships, or even getting through life day by day, meeting each other halfway can make all the difference in the world.

Daily Gratitudes – Parshat Ki Tavo 5773

Did you know ancient Jewish texts thought of sleep as 1/60th of death?  I must confess that while our daily prayer requires us to begin every morning by thanking God for waking up, it can often be difficult to thank God so early in the morning.  At 5:30 when that alarm clock goes off, I usually just want to roll over and go back to sleep.  Nevertheless, somehow I pull myself together and face the day.  Modeh ani l’fanecha (I am thankful before you) are the words we are asked to speak before stepping foot into a new day.  But what does it mean to be grateful for a day that you have yet to discover?

This week we read from parshat Ki Tavo, which is filled with the final narrative of the Israelites getting ready for their entry into the Land of Israel.  We read about the gifts the Israelites are to bring to the Beit HaMikdash as well as the blessings and curses that come to the land and to those who observe Torah and God’s commandments.  The parshah begins and ends with the requirement to recognize and give gratitude for the good that comes to us.

Chapter 26 reads like an instruction manual for those expecting to enter and participate in the Israelite community.  Specifically, verse 3 requires a person giving a gift that blesses God to say “I acknowledge this day before the Lord your God that I have entered the land that the Lord swore to our fathers to assign us.”  While this serves as what we might consider a verbal receipt of gift giving, it actually goes much deeper.  This statement requires the individual to acknowledge and make clear that they see the blessing in both the fruits that they have grown and the ability to give a gift in the first place.  In this case, the gift cannot be given until the person who gives it is able to acknowledge the blessing and meaning of the act.
Think about your morning.  How often do you greet something with a “good morning” and actually mean “I hope you have a good morning”?  How often are these just empty words we speak out of habit?  Gratitude doesn’t often come naturally to most people.  It’s not because we’re heartless or even ungrateful.  It’s because the routine of the act has superseded the meaning of the act.  In a sense, our text this week, not to mention our daily prayers, teaches us to be grateful for being grateful.  May we use that lesson as a reminder to add a little bit of ourselves back into everything we do. Good morning.

Making Memories – Parshat Matot-Ma’asei 5773

The great Torah commentator, Kevin Arnold of The Wonder Years, once said: “Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.” As people, we live through memory. Whether it is the first memory we have, or our last memory of another person, our lives are largely based on our ability to remember the world as we’ve experienced it.  When we get together with a group of friends we haven’t seen for a while, we might reminisce about the old days, about the “easier times” and the fun we used to have.

Our Torah portions this week, Parshat Matot and Masei, contain a brief recap of the Israelites’ journey from Egypt, another warning against worshipping other gods, instructions for the division of the land when they enter Israel, outlines for creating levitical cities of refuge and a piece on inheritance.  Based on this list, it becomes clear that the Torah is attempting to prepare the Israelites for the change of pace as they enter a permanent homestead.

At the forefront of parshat Masei is the recalling of the journey the Israelites took as they left Egypt for the Promised Land.  It begins:  “These were the marches of the Israelites who started out from the land of Egypt, troop by troop, in the charge of Moses and Aaron.  Moses recorded the starting points of their vigorous marches as directed by the Lord.”  And the text goes on to note the places the Israelites hit on their journey.  This list of locations reads like a walk down memory lane.  It’s basically Uncle George’s slideshow of every stop on the family trip, except in this case we don’t have any photos and fancy iMovie transitions to go with it, just the narrator reciting a list of places and stages along the route.  But in a way it’s better without the pictures because our imaginations create a mental photo album of this incredible journey.  And it’s not only a recap of the places visited, but also a reminder of God’s presence throughout their journey.

The capturing of memory, of holding onto the things you love, the things you are and the things you never want to lose, has evolved in recent years.  In the past I have accompanied the 6th graders at Levine Academy on their Texas trip.  About halfway through the trip my first year, I had an epiphany.  I was wondering why we had to allow so much extra time at each stop we visited, until I noticed the students taking in the journey from behind the lenses of their digital cameras.  Every moment from the time we got on the bus on Monday morning until we said goodbye on Thursday night was captured in some way, shape or form on a digital device.  Students took thousands of pictures so they wouldn’t “miss a thing.”

But I wonder how much we miss when we’re trying so hard to save the moment rather than living in it. I thought back to my own childhood, when you had to not only pay for the film, but pay for the developing, thus making excessive picture taking an expensive past time.  And if you wanted video, you had to reserve a certain amount of packing space for blank tapes. The ease with which we can identify and relive a journey now because of these new ways of recording it is wonderful, but what happens to the experience when only viewed from behind the camera lens?  What is the impact on the journey if it isn’t experienced firsthand?

In parshat Masei, the Torah takes us down memory lane, but not with twelve megapixel digital images or a cheesy montage that always, ALWAYS includes the Green Day song “Time of Your Life.”  It’s just words. It’s the narrative of a people finding freedom and finding their identity.  The Midrash imagines this section of text as God telling Moses to write down the journey so that they can look back and see what an amazing journey it actually was.  God doesn’t ask Moses to etch a picture on a stone. Words, written words, is how God asked for the journey to be remembered.

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but how many thousands more are needed to tell you what happened the moment before that picture? And the moment before that? What a picture doesn’t tell you is the back story, the intricate details of how that moment in time came to be.

Everywhere in our lives, we are constantly offered passive ways to help us remember what we’re doing, or where we’ve been.  We can sort through our emails to see how conversations played out, we set reminders on our smart phones and run through our call log to see who we’ve talked to and how our weeks have been.  We go on Facebook and see who we’ve become friends with, what pictures people have posted from a trip together.  But there’s no story to it, nothing that links it all together.

The Torah is that kind of record for us as the Jewish people, and the more we read it over and over again, the more it becomes a part of our lives. Regardless of how much of the Torah you chose to take as fact, Torah is the perfect example of memory in The Wonder Years definition. It symbolizes what we love, what we are, and what we never want to lose. Parshat Masei reminds us that as we begin or end any journey, it is important to take note, to write down what it is we’ve learned, where we’ve been, what we’ve seen and how far we’ve come.