Yom Kippur 5779: "In Praise of the Old - Why Middle Age Doesn't scare me!"

Some friends and I were having a “debate”. The debate - when exactly does middle age begin. One person said 40, another said 45 and a third person said 50 (a very optimistic person to call 50 middle age!). So since I am a rabbi and very interested in Halachic precision, I had to look it up to see if there is a precise age for when middle age begins. It turns out it is a Machloket (talmudic debate) of the great dictionaries. According to the Oxford English Dictionary and the Merriam-Webster, middle age begins at  45.  But according to great rabbi and Posek of psychology Erik Erikson and the Collins English Dictionary middle age beings at 40.  

This debate is very important to me because (at least according to one of the above definitions of Middle Age), I will, G-d Willing, become middle aged in 5779! Or maybe we should say “early middle age”. Or at least let’s say that I am beginning a second stage of my adult life. I am no longer “new” to being an adult.

This “early middle aged”/second stage seems to be a present theme in my life this year! I mentioned on Rosh Hashana that this is my bar mitzvah High Holidays at Beth Sholom. For those of you that are counting, that means that I am beginning my thirteenth year! While I hope to be here for many more years, I can no longer say that being at Beth Sholom is new for me. (I am certainly no longer in the honeymoon period!). I guess I am entering into an “early middle age” stage of my career, or at least a second stage of my career.  

In 5779, Sarah and I will have our Chai (18th) anniversary. Again, please G-d, we will have many, many more years of happiness together but I think that as we get close to our Chai anniversary, we cannot really be called newlyweds. I guess our marriage is early middle age or at least a second stage (maybe 2.5!!)

Finally, ss a dad, my oldest is 12 and just had her bat mitzvah. I am sure that there are still many new “dad” experiences that I will have (especially as my kids become teens) but I am no longer a new dad. I am in a second stage of parenthood.

So I look at my life and wonder what it means to be in a second stage of life where there aren't any new big things going on. While I feel very settled and anchored, part of me asks, where is the new? The fresh? The different?

I think that this question is very important for us no matter what stage of life we are in, even those of us who are currently experiencing something new (marriage, child, job). Because most of life, most of the time, for most people; is actually old and the same. We are in second (or third or fourth stages). And it is really those things (the old, same old, same old) and how we do with them, that determine our success in life.

So how do we deal with this human dilemma? On the one hand, we crave the new, the exciting, the different. On the other hand, most of life is the old and the familiar. How do we live with passion and excitement when most of our life most of the time is old and familiar.

Well there is something amazing that happened today 3300 years ago on Yom Kippur that speaks to this issue. Every holiday has a story. Pesach has the exodus, sukkot has the dwelling in the booths in the desert, shavuot has giving of the torah. Even on Rosh Hashana, the rabbis tells us that Sarah, Rachel, Chana conceived. But what happened on Yom Kippur? What is the story?

The rabbis teach us that Yom Kippur is actually when we received the Torah. But we dont stay up all night studying Torah like shavuot. This isn't the wedding/honeymoon at Har Sinai. No cheesecake or blintzes for us today! Rather this is the second giving of the torah after something terrible happened.

Let me remind you of the chronology.

On the 6th of Sivan, the Jews received Torah/Tablets #1. Thunder, lightning, revelation, direct encounter with G-d. Moshe then goes up for 40 days on the mountain to learn the torah. He comes down late. The jews jump ship. The look for the new shiny Golden Calf. Moshe comes down and smashes the tablets on 17th of Tamuz. G-d then says that he will destroy the people and start again. Start a new relationship and create a new people out of Moshe’s descendents. The theory was “The old wasn’t working anymore. Let's start something new.”

Moshe then pleads with G-d for a second set of 40 days. Finally, G-d forgives on the 29th of Av with the famous 13 attributes of mercy that we say over and over again. the next day, on the 1st of elul, moshe goes up for another 40 days to receive the torah/tablets again. And he comes down today on Yom Kippur.

This about it. The Jews received the covenant the first time on shavuot. It was new and shiny with much excitement. But it was almost lost. And both sides almost gave up. Yom Kippur is the miracle of trying a second time.

Yom Kippur isn't the wedding; it’s the renewal of vows.

It isn't the honeymoon in some exotic place; it's the boring early wednesday morning in your same old house 15 years into the marriage when you and your spouse have an important conversation and appreciate each other just a bit more.

Yom Kippur is not about something new but about appreciating the old. What you already have.

This concept of “appreciating the old” jumped out at me this morning when I walked into shul. This morning, I made a bracha (blessing) that I have never made in my entire life! This is a big deal for someone who grew up religious and is (or almost is!) middle aged!

Rabbanit Fruchter and I were trying to think of what to put on the cold brew coffee table which is usually a nice place for people to say Good shabbos/Yom Tov on a regular shabbat/yom tov. We obviously could not serve cold brew coffee on Yom Kippur. So we came up with the idea of a “Besamim Bar.” You are allowed to smell nice things on Yom Kippur. In fact there is a custom to pass around besamim and etrogim on Yom Kippur so people could make brachot and get up to the requisite 100 Blessings for the day (which are hard to reach because we have blessing on food).

So I walked in this morning and there was an orange at the Besamim bar. The Halacha is that when one picks up an orange to smell (usually I pick it up to eat), you say Blessed are you Hashem, who puts a nice smell in the fruit. הנותן ריח טוב בפירות.

I had never made the bracha before this morning. I picked up the Orange which I usually only appreciate for its taste (when it is actually good and I am not just wolfing it down as I run out of the house!) and, through the help of the bracha, I was able to appreciate this (same old same old) orange in a completely new way through smell. I really appreciated the Bracha. It is one thing for G-d to make an orange. But it didn't have to have a nice smell! It was about appreciating something that I have in my house all the time in a completely new way! This by the way is one of the great things about making blessings!

I am reminded of the value of appreciating the old every time I open the Machzor. True, it is nice to hear a new melody every once in a while. But we really look forward to the what we can call the “Oldies but Goodies”! There is nothing like the whole shul singing together that (same old, same old) Avinu Malkeinu that you sang as a child. Its true that the words and tune are the same. But we infuse it with new meaning every year as we bring our new selves with our new worries and hopes and gratitudes into that Avinu Malkeinu. It is not always about finding the new but finding renewed meaning and meaning in the old.

Now to conclude with a story. You know I love to end with a story! But this year, I was really struggling to find a story. Yom Kippur was getting closer and closer and I still did not have a story. A few hours before Yom Kippur, I remembered that Rabbi Telushkin (one of the greatest speakers and storytellers is coming to Beth Sholom for a shabbaton on December 1 for Lieberman/Silverman Shabbaton (you don’t want to miss it!).

So I decided, to throw a “hail Miriam” (I called it in shul a Hail Mary but people gasped thinking I was talking about the religious persona when really I was thinking football metaphor!). I emailed Rabbi Telushkin and told him my sermon topic (second stage, middle age, in praise of the old) and asked him if he had a story for me. About 1 hour before Yom Kippur, I was in my office and the phone rang. I was about to ignore it but then I saw the caller ID said “Joseph Telushkin”! I quickly picked up the phone, “Hi is this Rabbi Telushkin?” “Yes,” He answered. “I would like to tell you Yom Kippur dvar torah from my father.” I am thinking, “ok.” I asked for a story and he is giving me a dvar torah. So he tells me a beautiful dvar torah (that I hope to share another time) but it was not a story and it had nothing to do with my topic.

But then it hit me. “The Oldies but Goodies”. On erev yom kippur, Rabbi Telushkin likes to tell over (every year) the dvar torah from his father to get a deeper appreciation of his father. This resonated with me as I had just read the intro to his book on the Lubavitcher Rebbe. He describes (this is my own words…) how it first the project was really an old topic. His father had been the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s personal accountant and his grandfather had a deep relationship with the Rebbe. So it was not the same kind of exciting research project as some of his other books. But then, as he got into the project, everytime he would go to Crown Heights, it was as if he was visiting his father and grandfather. He was gaining deeper appreciation and understanding of these “old” relationships through this new research.

We are about to recite Yizkor. During Yizkor, we reflect on those parts of our lives that our the oldest; Family, parents, values and community. We look for new insights and appreciation of those aspects of our lives that have always been there with us.

My Bracha to all of us is that we remember that the most important things in life are those things that we already have. The new is wonderful but our success as people and Jews will come from how we do the “old.” I hope we can reflect on that throughout our prayers and be sealed in the Book of Life.

Rosh Hashana Drasha 5779 - "Jewish Me Time"

Jewish “Me Time”

A number of years ago, I was talking to a woman (I am never good with ages, but I think she was in her mid to late 50’s!!!), who was really struggling with her judaism. She was having a hard time connecting specifically to prayer and more generally with finding the relevance of Judaism in her life.

So I asked her if there were ever moments or times in her life when she felt connected to Judaism. She started telling me about strong Jewish memories with her parents growing up and then she continued to talk about important Jewish experiences that she created for her children when they were growing up. And then all of the sudden the “light bulb” went off in her head. I did not even have to say anything! She said, “I now understand why I am struggling with my Judaism.” She went on to say that two major things happened to her in the last 10 years. First, both of her parents passed away. Second, her children grew up and moved out of the house. And now she realized that almost all of her Judaism was about her parents and her children and when she was without them, there was not much Judaism inside herself. When her children were growing up, she never took “Jewish Me Time” and now she realized that she did not have a strong personal connection to Judaism.

I often find when I ask congregants about what they appreciate about their judaism, they talk about family and community. I often hear about the family sitting at the Pesach Seder. I hear about the power of community especially during shiva. I hear about how wonderful it was to have family and community to celebrate a Jewish lifecycle. I don’t usually hear about what Judasim does for you. As an individual.

As you are sitting here, imagine charting out your connection to Judaism on a bar graph. One bar represents your personal connection to judaism as it fulfills your own spiritual needs and the other bar, as it represents your connection filtered through family and community. I would guess that for many people, the family/community bar would be very high and the bar about the individual would be much lower.

So today on Rosh Hahsana, I would like to challenge us. Family and Community are really important. But in order for our judaism to be strong and sustainable, it needs to be personal. We need to have our own Judaism.

This theme is extremely important on Rosh Hashana. In the famous Unetaneh Tofef prayer, we say that “All inhabitants of the world, pass before G-d like ‘bnei maron.’ What does bnei maron mean? According to Unetaneh Tokef (based on first interpretation of the Talmud), it means that we pass before G-d like sheep. This is certainly one important religious metaphor. Sometimes, we recognize that we are completely not in control. We feel our vulnerabilities and we turn to G-d, the Shepard, to help us through. But there is another interpretation that I would actually like to focus on. The Talmud tells us that Maron also refers to a city on top of a mountain. There was no nicely paved road to get there. So Rashi explains, the path was very narrow and it was impossible for two people to walk side by side. So on Rosh hashana, we are hiking up this very narrow path. Alone.

It reminds me of a hike I took this summer with the family. We got to a certain point and it was very narrow and only one person can go through at a time. Amollia, my 9 year old, runs ahead and she is literally alone for about 30 feet and its narrow and difficult and challenging. I run around to meet her on the other end and my wife was cheering her from the other side. But she had to walk those thirty feet completely alone.

Family and community are so important. They cheer us on. Hopefully they greet us at the other end. But we must climb those thirty feet by ourselves. Almost every “make it or break it” Jewish and Human moment happen when we are alone. But we need to give ourselves the “jewish me time” (or maybe the “Jewish Me Workout Time”) to have the strength to make it up those thirty steps.

There is also an important Biblical persona that relates to this message. The Talmud tells us that on Rosh Hashana, Yosef went out of the Egyptian Jail. What do we know about Yosef? What makes him different from the forefathers and foremothers that precede him? The answer is Yosef is very much alone, in two ways. First, Hashem does not talk to him. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob all have conversations with G-d. Joseph is very G-d focused. He always attributes his success to G-d but you will never find a verse that says, “And G-d spoke to Joseph, saying.” His second sense of aloneness is that every “make it or break it” moment in his life (whether its his encounter with the wife of Potiphar or his dealings with the butler and baker in the Egyptian Dungeon etc) all happen when he is away from his Jewish family and community. He needs to muster the inner strength. Sure, he has the inspiration from his father but he needs to climb those thirty steps alone.

So what is the path forward? What steps can we take so that we have the Jewish Muscle and Strength to climb those thirty steps in situations when family and community will not help? I think we all need to commit to one more hour a week of “Jewish Me Time”. This Jewish Me Time is not the time that we spend creating Jewish experiences for our children or community. The Me Time is dedicated time for your individual Jewish and spiritual growth. It could be through davening, Torah study, or acts of chesed. It could take place at shul, in your home, or out in nature. Whatever and wherever it is is less important. Just make it happen. One extra hour a week (or even a half hour - I know I am negotiating against myself!).

While Jewish Me Time is important for everyone, I think that it is particularly important for people with young children. Even if you are actively engaged in your Jewish life, much of it probably revolves around your children. This is so important. But if you don’t find the “jewish me time”, in 20 years, you will realize that you might not have a Judaism of your own.

I will conclude with a story. I am not sure how relevant it is, but I really like the story so I will try to make it fit!

About 15 years ago, I went to a small shul for Rosh Hashana to be the rabbi. The shul did not have its own rabbi. The davening was very nice, however the Shofar blower was not the strongest. Let us just say, that we made it through the 100 blasts but nothing like our amazing shofar blowers here at Beth Sholom!

On Rosh Hashana afternoon, I decided to go back to the shul to prepare my lectures and sermons. As I am about to walk in to the shul, I hear this amazing Tekiah (shofar blast). I continue to listen to shevarim and teruah and the whole order of blasts concluding with a Tekiah Gedolah like a I never heard before! Loud, resonate, confident and beautiful!

I knew one thing for sure. This was not the same person who blew that morning.

So I walk in the shul and sure enough, I see another guy putting away the shofar. I tell him how wonderful the blasts were and I ask him why was he not the shofer blower for the shul. I see a tear in his eye and he begins speaking in a way that I immediately understand that he is deaf (or at least severely hearing impaired). He points to his hearing aids. He tells me that he used to be the shofer blower. But then someone in the shul heard that someone who is deaf may not blow the shofar. The shul did not have its own rabbi to decide so they asked a very well known rabbi/posek. The rabbi rules that this fellow should no longer blow the shofar for the shul.

I never saw someone who had once done a mitzvah now in so much pain for not being able to do the mitzvah.

(Parenthetically, the question is not so open and closed. There is room in halacha to allow the person who is hearing impaired to blow the shofar if he can hear at all which I believe was the case with this individual. I think that if the community had had their own rabbi, the answer might have been different).

I think about that hearing impaired man every year on Rosh Hashana. In a certain way, the story (especially the pain I saw on his face) motivates a lot of what I do as a rabbi. But there is one aspect of the story that I never understood until now when I prepared this Sermon. Why was this hearing impaired shofar blower in the shul in the middle of the afternoon blowing by himself? Now I know. He was told that he could not blow the shofar for his family and community. But he was there blowing for himself. I imagine that as he blew the shofar, he was feeling the pain and struggle of being a Jew with a disability. But I am sure he was also feeling his connection to G-d and Torah through the shofar and other mitzvot. I am sure his family and community were as supportive and loving as possible, but he was there by himself in the middle of the afternoon climbing those thirty steps that he needed to climb alone.

So as we hear the shofar this Rosh Hashana, I pray that we are all blessed with the amazing gifts of jewish family and community. They are so important. But I also pray that we make the commitment to strengthen our Jewish selves. That we have the strength to climb those thirty steps which will make all the difference.

Shana Tova!