“The Strength of Vulnerability” – Yom Kippur 5780

A few weeks ago, I was listening to an interview of the great documentary film maker, Ken Burns (most famous for his full length PBS documentaries on the Civil War, Vietnam War, Baseball, Jazz, National Parks system and most recently, County Music). The interviewer asked Burns why did he go into movie making? Burns said that when he was just 12 years old, his mother died from cancer. That was of course very tragic, but not why he decided to make movies. A few months after the funeral, he was up late one night with his father watching a movie. There was an emotional scene. And his father started crying. Burns recalls being so startled because it was the first time he saw his father cry. Now remember, his mother just died a few months before that and his father didn’t cry. He didn’t cry at the funeral. But Burns realized that there was something about the moving image that gave his father a safe haven to feel vulnerable and express emotions that he could not feel and express in any other place in life. Burns referred to that moment as a kind of “Opening Heart Surgery”. And in that moment, even though Burns was only 12, he knew he wanted to make films for the rest of his life.

There was something about that interview that made me go back and listen many times over the past few weeks. I keep thinking (and hoping) that maybe Yom Kippur (and teshuva and deep prayer) can have the same effect as film. Maybe Yom Kippur can be a safe haven for us to feel vulnerable and feel emotions that we cannot feel in other settings. 

So I would like to spend a few minutes talking about Vulnerability and its deep connection to Yom Kippur.

In recent year, “vulnerability”, as a topic of research has become very popular. There is a researcher/story teller (as she likes to be called!) named Brene Brown. Her TED talk, “The Power of Vulnerability” has been watched more than 43 million times!

With all due respect to Brene Brown (and I have a lot of respect for her. After all, I don’t think any Rabbi’s sermon has been watched 43 million times!), she is not really saying anything new. The idea that allowing ourselves to be vulnerable (with family, friends and G-d) can make us stronger, goes way back to the Torah. It is in almost every chapter of Tehillim (Psalms where David expresses his complete vulnerability before G-d) and it is on almost every page of the Siddur and Machzor (prayer books). In fact, I would claim that Jewish Prayer is nothing if it is not the promise that if we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, it will make us stronger.

The problem is that everything in our society tells us that we should never allow ourselves to be vulnerable. I decided to find synonyms for “vulnerable” in the thesaurus. Here is what I found: defenseless, endangered, feeble frail, helpless, powerless, weak, at risk, passive, uprotected, ungaurded. 

Its no wonder that people dont want to be vulnerable!

In our society, we value power, strength, self-sufficiency, independence, and “pulling yourself up by the boot straps”. When people become vulnerable and need help, we talk about how they are getting “handouts”. At most, we ask, “give me a fair shake, don’t do me any favors.” As if there is something wrong with one person in need of getting help from someone else. We are taught that we must be tough and do it on our own.

But this self-sufficiency and feeling like we have to have a façade of strength is actually corrosive. We end up hardening our hearts, sealing our souls, and at the end of the day; this self sufficiency and strength actually makes us weaker because we do not have others and G-d to support us. 

This whole question of feeling vulnerable and asking for help (from G-d and others) versus self-sufficiency, actually plays itself out in a major debate on the biggest theme of today, Teshuva.

The debate is between Rambam (Maimonides – 12^th century) and Rabbeinu Yona (Jonah of Gerona – 13^th century, author of “Gates of Repentance”). There might be a bit of interesting historical background to the debate. The Rambam was a philosopher and R’ Yona was a pietist. Some historians believe that it was R’ Yona’s fierce opposition to Rambam’s philosophical approach that led some of R’ Yona’s followers to instigate the public burning of the Rambam’s books in the streets of Paris. When just a few months later, 24 cartloads of the Talmud were publicly burned on the same spot, R’ Yona felt like he was guilty and it was in an attempt to do Teshuva for this sin, that he composed “Gates of Repentance”.

Anyways, back to the debate on the nature of Teshuva. For the Rambam, Teshuva is a real “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” endeavor. There are 4 difficult stages that one uses to make real change. It is completely self-generated. G-d’s only role is to be the “All Knower” (יודע תעלומות) to testify that real change has occurred. The Rambam goes so far as to say that real Teshuva must happen when the sinner is just as strong as when the sin was originally committed and does Teshuva from a place of strength and discipline and not weakness or fear. Imagine, an elderly person, looking back with deep remorse and pain over actions done when they were younger. This person cries out to Hashem in agony and begs Hashem to help him make amends. According to Rambam, this is not real teshuva (תשובה גמורה). This is weakness.

Contrast this with the Teshuva of R’ Yona. He opens his book on Teshuva by saying that Teshuva is one of the greatest gifts that G-d has given us. Teshuva is a gift. It is divine grace. He says that Teshuva even works if generated from the most painful place and that it is impossible without Hashem helping us. We cannot do it by ourselves. When I think about R’ Yona’s Teshuva, I think about the very moving line which we only say during Neilah – אתה נותן יד לפושעים – “G-d, you stretch out your hand to the sinners.” It is, as if, we are stuck in our sin. We cannot pull ourselves up by our bootstraps. We need G-d to stretch out G-d’s hand and help us get up. For R’ Yona, feeling (and expressing) our vulnerability before G-d enables us to repent and become much stronger.

So who is correct? Rambam or R’ Yona?

When I was in High School and college, I was a real Maimonidean! The moral strength and discipline of Rambam’s Ba’al Teshuva (Penitent) impressed me. As for R’ Yona, I thought it was for weak people who didn’t have the requisite moral strength.

But now 20 years later (and especially being a rabbi for 13 years sitting with so many of you through difficult times as you expressed your own vulnerabilities, guilt, longings, and pain), I no longer think the same. Now, I don’t think that R’ Yona is for weak people. I think it is just for people. People who are struggling with life’s challenges and many times feel like “I cannot do this on my own.” And now I understand that feeling that vulnerability and turning to others (relatives, friends, and G-d), makes us so much stronger.

One more example. We open every Amidah (silent prayer) with the same 6 words. ד' שפתי תפתח ופי יגיד תהלתך – My Lord, open my lips, so that my mouth may declare Your praise.

I think I have said that line at least 30,000 times, yet I never looked up its original source. It turns out that it comes from the 51^st Psalm which begins with the words, A Psalm for David when Nathan the prophet came to him after Bat Sheva. We know about David’s moral failing. Bat Sheva was married to Uriah. After the sin, David tried to cover it up and eventually sent Uriah to the front lines to basically make sure he wouldn’t survive. Bat Sheva gets pregnant and has a baby who dies in childhood. And David is sitting with all of this stuff when Nathan the prophet comes to him. Nathan says, “David, I have a question for you.” He presents a case of a rich man and a poor man who are neighbors. The rich man has tons of livestock and the poor man has one beloved lamb. The rich man has a guest and instead of feeding the guest from his abundant livestock, he steals the lamb from the poor person, slaughters it and feeds it to his guest.  When King David hears this case from Nathan the Prophet, he is so angry (ויחר אף דוד) and he says that “that man is deserving of death (בן מות האיש העשה זאת). And then Nathan looks David in the eyes and says the two scariest words in the entire bible – אתה האיש (You are that man).

And when David hears that, he is so broken that he composes Psalm 51. He starts by saying, חנני אלקים כחסדך, Hashem treat me with grace. I cannot do this by myself. חטאתי לנגדי תמיד – I cannot stop thinking about and feeling my sin. אל תשליכני מלפניך – don’t abandon me. I need you so much right now. I have a רוח נשברה, לב נשבר – a broken (cracked) spirit and heart. David is basically telling G-d that I cannot do this myself. I cannot pull myself up by my own bootstraps. I need your help. And then he says ד' שפתי תפתח ופי יגיד תהלתיך. Please open my mouth. I don’t even know what to say. Please help me.

I hope that every time, we say those 6 words before the Amidah, we feel David’s vulnerability. David’s vulnerability came from his mistakes and from tragic setbacks that he had in life and I think all of that went into his ד' שפתי תפתח – G-d please help me. Open my lips. Let’s let ourselves feel it too. It’s the key to prayer. It is no wonder that we start every prayer with those words.

When we are vulnerable, we feel the cracks in our hearts. This is so important. There is a beautiful stanza from Leonard Cohen’s song “Anthem.”

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in.

On Yom Kippur, it is ok to feel the cracks in our heart. We don’t have to pretend. We can express our vulnerabilities to others and to Hashem. It will make us stronger.

We are about to say Yizkor. A few months ago, I was at an unveiling and I heard a granddaughter say about her grandfather that she now realizes that relationships don’t end at death. Her relationship with her grandfather was getting deeper as she was understanding more about him and feeling his presence in her life in even deeper ways. Let us use this Yizkor to be vulnerable with our deceased loved ones. Tell them what you want to work on, your struggles and your fears. Let them hold you and love you with all of your vulnerabilities.

I would like to close with a tefilah. The beautiful words of Yehei Rava that we say when we take out the Torah (I was listening to the Eitan Katz version of this song over and over on erev Yom Kippur). Yehei rava kadamach - May it be Your will Hashem. That you open our hearts with the Torah (and not only through cracks from pain but also opening of the heart from new insights). And then with our open hearts, תשלין משאלין דלבאי – you fulfill the deepest wishes of our hearts. לטב ולחיים ולשלם for good, for life and for peace. 

May Hashem bless us all with a G’mar Chasimah Tova.

Rosh Hashana 5780 - "Shofar: A sound of Eternity"

In the summer of 2016, I went to Israel on a rabbinic Mission (with AIPAC). But the trip was not a typical Israel trip where you visit all the ancient holy sites. Instead, we spent much of our time learning about Israeli innovation and technology. We learned from IDF generals all about the newest military technology of Iron Dome and David Sling. We met with CEO’s of startup companies and high tech and learned about amazing Israeli inventions including about tiny chips that were in cell phones all across the world. We learned from Directors of Hospitals about Israeli medical technology that was used all around the world to improve quality of life for individuals with disabilities. It was truly amazing and inspiring to think about what our tiny little country is innovating for itself and for the whole world. 

But I started getting worried towards the end of the trip that I wouldn’t have a chance to go the Kotel. So I woke up very early to daven vatikin (pray at sunrise) at the kotel (which that day was about 5:40!). At about 5 am, I leave my beautiful modern sleek hotel. I pass Jerusalem’s shiny new light rail system (started 2011). And with a week of learning about Israeli innovation in my mind, I cross through Jaffa Gate (year 1538) and things get old really fast. I am sure many of you have walked this route many times, so please join me in your mind. I pass by Migdal Dovid (parts of which go back 2800 years!). I then make a right and walk toward the Armenian Quarter. I make a left onto the cobblestones of St James street (hundreds of years old), enter into the Jewish Quarter. I pass the Hurva Synagogue (300 years old), the Cardo (1900 years old), take the steps down and arrive at the Kotel (just a few hundred feet from where Abraham almost sacrificed Isaac about 3800 ago). I then put on my tefilin which had words that are 3300 years old. I start to daven. There is a cacophony of sounds. There are ashkenazi and sephardi and chassidic minyanim. Jews from Yemen, South Africa, US, Mexico, Europe and of course Israel are all praying. Each group praying their own way and almost competing to be louder! There are even a number of secular soldiers chatting away as they protect us. The noise level is incredible for 5:30 in the morning! And then at exactly 5:40 all of the minyanim start the Amidah. And there is complete silence. It was in that moment that I had one of those life transforming experiences. In that silence, I not only felt the קבוץ גליות (ingathering of exiles) as I was praying with jews from all over the world. I also felt a קבוץ הזמן (ingathering of time). As I was experiencing the oldest of the old just kilometers from the newest of the new. The Oldest of the Old together with the Newest of the New. Past Present and Future all folding into that one moment of silence. 

This is why I think so many of us feel so alive when we visit Israel. It is because we are experiencing a melting together of Past, Present and Future when we are there. 

In the summer of 1967, Rabbi Dr. Abraham Joshua Heschel visited Israel just months after the 6 Day War. Heschel tells us that when he arrived at the Kotel for the first time, he understood that the Bible was still Alive. That its chapters were still being written! And then he said a phrase which I want you to remember. He said that “Jerusalem is our Past meeting our Present to encounter our Future.” Let me say that again! “Jerusalem is our Past meeting our Present to encounter our Future.”

It is no coincidence that in 1902, when Theodor Herzl wrote his novel about a future Jewish State, he called it Altneuland (The Old New Land). He understood that the Jewish State’s success would come from bringing the Old and New together. 20 years later, when the book was translated to Hebrew it was called “Tel Aviv” (the city is named after the book, not the other way around!). ‘Tel’ is an archaeological mound which preserves layer of ancient history. ‘Aviv’ means spring or renewal. So ‘Tel Aviv’ is a poetic way of saying Old-New. (Thank you Rabbi Zach Truboff for this connection). It is a place where Past meets Present to Encounter our Future. 

But this is true not only about Jerusalem, Tel Aviv and Israel. Everytime we “do Judaism”, we are bringing together the oldest of the old and the newest of the old. We take a Mitzvah which is thousands of years old, we enable the very old mitzvah to meet our present, to help us encounter our future, to create a better future for ourselves, family and community. 

The shofar is also about the Past meeting the Present to encounter our Future. The shofar begins with the Past. The first shofar in the Torah was blasted at Mount Sinai when the Torah was given and we became a people. But we can rewind a few hundred years to the shofar of the Ram caught in the thicket during sacrifice of Isaac. But we can even go back hundreds of years earlier to the beginning of creation of Adam and Eve. Before they were created G-d was not King for G-d had no subjects (אין מלך בלא עם). So with the birth of Adam and Eve, G-d becomes King and according to one Tradition, the shofar was sounded to coronate G-d! So this is the Shofar of the past! It goes all the way back to the beginning of history. 

But this is not enough. The shofar must meet the Present. The Rambam tells us that the shofar is to wake us from our slumber. To remember the scale. We should see ourselves as in the balance - half guilty and half innocent. Whatever action we do right now (the past or future doesnt matter) makes all the difference and determines our fate. It cannot be more about the Now and the present. This reminds me of a great story with the Kotzker Rebbe (thank you Rabbi Shai Held!). One day, the Kotzker rebbe’s students ask him, “what is the definition of good jew.” The Kotzker says “that is easy. Anyone who wants to be a good jew, is a good jew.” The students don't like the answer! They say, “according to that definition, everyone is a good jew as everyone ‘wants’ to be a good jew.” The Kotzer responds, “No. You are only a good jew if you want to be a good jew. Not if you think you already are a good jew!”

The Kotzer is saying that it is about right now. What are you trying to do right now to be a good jew. We cannot rely on what we have done in the past. The shofar is certainly all about the past meeting the present.  

But it is not just about the Past meeting the Present. The shofar is the Past meeting the Present to encounter the Future. 

In the Musaf davening we ask G-d to blow the shofar of our redemption (תקע בשופר גדול לחרותינו). The prophet Isaiah tells us that “on that day, the great shofar will be sounded” and the ingathering of Exiles will take place. This is the shofar of the Future. Rabbi Yitz Greenberg teaches us that “Judaism, more than being a religion of Faith is a religion of Hope.” Of hope with a better future for our family, community, the Jewish People and all of Humanity. So when we blow the shofar, we allow our Past to meet our Present to help us encounter our Future. 

I have been reading this amazing book (If All the Seas Were Ink: A Memoir by Ilana Kurshan). The book records 7.5 years of her life as lived through studying the Daf Yomi (daily page of Talmud Study). In intimate detail, Kurshan talks about her struggles and joys (divorce, relationships, eating disorder, emotional turmoil, marriage, birth of twins) through the prism of the daily daf. The book is an example of what powerful torah study is. She took the Past (ancient texts) allowed it to meet her Present to enable her to encounter her future. On January 4, we will be starting a new cycle of Daf Yomi. Our shul has about 15 people who are finishing the entire cycle. I hope many of you will consider starting with us for this coming cycle. It will transform your life. 

We are going to hear the shofar in just a few moments. I would like to encourage everyone here to pick one mitzvah for this year that you want to make your special mitzvah for the year. It could be an aspect of Kashrut, Shabbat, Family Purity, Brachot, Birkhat Hamazon, the bedtime shema, Tefillin or any mitzvah you choose. (Just don’t pick something like sukkah because as soon as sukkot is over, you are done with your mitzvah for the year!). Now apply the past, present, future model. Study the ancient laws, understand their meaning. Now let the Past meet your present as you incorporate it into your life in order to create a better future for you and your family. You pick the mitzvah but please commit to one before you leave today. 

I would like to conclude with a story. Many of you know Elise Berliner. She comes to shul every shabbat but she also comes every morning to study daf yomi. Back in February, Elise finished the entire Talmud (Bavli)!

At the siyum, she spoke beautifully about how studying Talmud has enhanced and strengthened her love and appreciation of Torah and Mitzvot. During the 7 1/2 year process, Elise only missed three days (the days when her mother died, when one son had a bar mitzvah and when the other son graduated). In preparation for the Siyum, Elise went back and studied those three pages. Elise recounted with great emotion how when she went back to look at the daf from the day of her mother’s death (a loss for which she was still in so much pain), she was shocked to see that the Daf talked directly to the topic of comforting the mourners. The Daf on the other two days also directly spoke to those joyous experiences of Bar Mitzvah and Graduation. Elise was using her Talmud study to have her Past meet her Present to help shape a better and richer judaism for her future. Where was Elise this morning on the day after the siyum? Back in her seat, starting the cycle again!

I bless all of us on this Rosh Hashana with a year of Good Health and Happiness. A year in which or deepest prayers are answered and a year in which we allow our Past to meet our Present to encounter our Future! Shana Tova!

New Zealand Massacre and reflections on our visit to a Mosque.

We woke up yesterday (Friday) to the devastating news that a White Nationalist Terrorist went into two Mosques in New Zealand and shot 50 Muslims while they were in the middle of praying. As soon as we heard, Rabbanit Fruchter and I knew that we had to do something to reach out to our local Mosque. We remembered how touched we were by so many people of other faiths attending our Friday Night Tefilah (service) on the shabbat after Pittsburgh so we really wanted to reciprocate. We contacted the Imam and president of a Mosque a few miles from our synagogue (both of whom we have relationships with) and expressed our condolences. We were warmly invited to attend their Friday Jummah prayer service.

A number of Beth Sholom members (and other clergy) joined our group. When we arrived, we saw a police car at the entrance. Unfortunately, this made us “feel at home” as now, unfortunately, this is a common sight at most shuls. We entered the Mosque and were struck by how warm and welcoming they were. And also how visibly moved they were by our presence.

After introductory prayers, there Imam got up and began his very powerful sermon. One part of the sermon brought tears to my eyes. He talked about the horrific nature of the shooter killing people in the middle of prayer. He encouraged people to imagine what it would be like if the shooter came in to their Mosque in Potomac, right then while they were praying. When the Imam said this I looked around and saw the very real fear of being Muslim in our country.

The reason this impacted me so much is that I vividly remember saying almost the same exact words to our synagogue on the shabbat after Pittsburgh and I remember the fear in the eyes of my own congregants. This was all the more complicated (and at the same time clarifying) by the fact that if an anti-Muslim shooter would have come to that Mosque in Potomac (instead of New Zealand) this past Friday, then among the victims, might have been members of my synagogue who were there in solidarity.

These thoughts of course were on my mind as we read Parshat Zachor (the commandment to remember Amalek and the terrible acts that they did to us). There is an obvious question. Why Amalek? It is true that Amalek attacked us but many other nations harmed us much more. The Egyptians enslaved us for hundreds of years and killed our babies. The Babylonians and Romans destroyed our temples and sent us into Exile. What did Amalek do that is so terrible that the Torah says that G-d is in an eternal battle with them?

If we read the verses carefully, the answer jumps out. The text says that when Amalek attacked - ויזנב בך. This comes from hebrew word Zanav (or tail). This would literally be translated as, “They (the Amalekites) tailed us.” Ibn Ezra tells us that this means that they attacked from the tail or rear and went after “the weak who did not have strength” and fell behind. Other commentaries point out that the victims were people who (for whatever reason) fell out of the Clouds of Glory that were the safety net of the Jewish People. So Amalek attacks the weak, the vulnerable those who for whatever reason don’t have social safety net.

When a racist shooter goes into an unprotected church in Charleston and kills nine African Americans who are at Bible Study, this is Amalek.

When an anti-semitic shooter goes into a synagogue in Pittsburgh and attacks the mostly elderly (and some disabled) congregants who were in the back of the shul, this is Amalek.

And when someone goes filming on Facebook Live on a shooting rampage in two Mosques in New Zealand, this is Amalek.

We don’t know the identities of the victims yet, but I have heard that many were immigrants, some were refugees from Syria. People who are running from conflict. Tired and vulnerable. This is Amalek.

So what do we do to fight Amalek? (This is not a political/security question. I will leave at up to the experts and security professionals.) I am asking a spiritual/ethical question. What should we do?

I grew up with the idea that when we see sin in others, we have to look inward and ask where have we fallen short. When we see other jews who are not keeping shabbat or Kashrut, we must ask what is missing in our observance that other jews are not wanting to take this on. Etc etc.

So when we see Amalek in others, (in addition to demanding that our society does everything to defend the defenseless), we must ask if there is any Amalek within us. This is the path of Mussar.

I think about this with a סור מרע, ועשה טוב (turn away from evil and then do good).

First the “turn away from evil.” I read some excerpts of the shooter’s manifesto. This is my reaction to his Manifesto. It is definitely true that nobody who know would ever contemplate going into a Mosque and killing people. However, I definitely know people who have said similar things (and in similar ways) to what was said in the Manifesto. Let me be clear. Policy arguments about immigration and borders and security are completely appropriate. But if you find yourself saying things about immigrants and Muslims in similar ways that appear in the Manifesto, you have to ask yourself about the Amalek within you. Words (and the way we say things) really matter and can have tragic results.

(As an aside, I think the same thing about those who are very critical of Israel. I am 100% in favor of policy debates and arguments about various actions that Israel has taken. But when language of “peaceful” critics sounds very similar to the language of terrorists (“zionist enemy” etc) then the peaceful activists have to ask themselves hard questions about Amalek within themselves.)

So that is the סור מרע (turning from evil). We must do everything to remove any trace of Amalek from our hearts.

Here is the עשה טוב (doing the good). I know it is a cliche but sometimes cliches are right on. “We must fight hate with love.” How do we respond to hateful shooting in a Mosque? By going to a Mosque and standing in solidarity with our Muslim brothers and sisters. We felt this so deeply both when we visited the Mosque yesterday and when our shul was full of people of other faiths on the shabbat after Pittsburgh. I was so moved to see rabbis and shuls from across the country visiting Mosques yesterday. I pray that our love, solidarity and support will overpower the hate.

I want to conclude with a prayer the kind of which I have never done before in a sermon. There is a story behind this prayer. I was looking over my email history with the Imam from the Mosque. Unfortunately, almost every email is a condolence email. In 2017 I reached out to him to express my condolences and offer support after a shooting at a Mosque in Quebec City. In 2018, he wrote me a very similar email after Pittsburgh. Then, yesterday, I once again wrote him an email after New Zealand. I told him that we have to stop sending condolence emails to each other. We have to write each other (and get together) for good things.

Well I did end up finding one email that was not about a bad thing. Two years ago, his Mosque was doing renovations and they were renting the social hall of the church next door. The Imam emailed before Eid (their biggest holiday of the year) and asked if they could use our parking lot for their expected very large crowd. We were able to accomodate and everything went well. Well just yesterday, I discovered an email that he sent me after Eid. Here it is

Dear Rabbi Nissan,

I wanted to sincerely thank you for accommodating us last week. I wanted you to know that in my sermon, I closed with a special prayer for you, your family, and your congregation. I hope you will pass this sentiment on to your community.

Best wishes for the rest of the summer and hoping we can meet again soon.

Best,

Tarek

First I am sorry that I did not see it and pass it on to the shul (I guess I am doing it now!).

Second, I was so moved by the fact that the Imam offered a prayer for our community in the middle of what is probably the most important sermon of the year.

The least I can do is reciprocate right now.

I would like to offer a prayer for Imam Tarek, his family and his community. We saw first hand their fear. We know that fear. We pray for you. We pray for all Mosques, Churches and Synagogues, people of all faiths. We pray that G-d prevents any form of Amalek from causing harm and we pray that G-d help us remove any trace of Amalek from our hearts and souls. We commit to love, support and solidarity. May G-d’s light and love shine on all of us and protect us.