“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.