Thanks to everyone who organized, participated, led, sang, showed up for our Rosh HaShanah services and helped us start 5786 with spirit. Several people have asked to read and watch the sermons.
Here is Living on the Seams - 1st Day Rosh HaShanah on youtube and the text is below.
Hope to see many of you on Yom Kippur.
Gmar hatimah tovah
Rabbi Marc
Living on the Seams - Rosh HaShanah 5786
A young rabbi was about to enter her first round of High Holidays in a congregation and the president of the board, who had been the chair of her search committee, asked her “What are you going to speak about ?” The rabbi said “I thought I'd speak about Shabbos, the beauty and importance of observing Shabbat.” “Too controversial,” came the reply. “Nobody here keeps shabbos.” “Then maybe I'll speak about kashrut,” said the rabbi, “the spiritual meaning of keeping a kosher home.” “No no, rabbi . That's even worse. Hardly anyone here has a kosher home.” “What then should I speak about?” asked the rabbi. “Well, you know, speak about Judaism.” Later on, the young rabbi said “perhaps I should speak about antisemitism or the moral complexity and pain of the Middle East conflict?” “No, no, rabbi, that’s way too controversial…Speak about Judaism. Maybe talk about Shabbat.”
Rabbis, young and old and across the denominations, have been agonizing over what messages to give on these Yamim Noraim after such a deeply painful year that has left us heartbroken, afraid, divided and filled with anguish for our future here, in Israel and throughout the world. Amidst the very real grief in the wake of the horrific antisemitic attack here in Boulder and the devastating loss of our beloved Karen Diamond and those in our community with long journeys of healing from the physical and emotional scars; amidst the grim reality of increased global antisemitism, including here in Boulder, downtown and in our city council chambers; our safety as Jews here and everywhere called into question; amidst the horror that there are still 48 hostages, dead and alive in tunnels in Gaza after 2 years, and the horror that this bloody, catastrophic war is still continuing with too many suffering and dying. I so hoped that by Rosh HaShanah, they would all be freed and there would be some kind of peace, or at least a ceasefire; amidst continuing gun violence in our schools, including just two weeks ago in Evergreen, Colorado and the fatal political shooting of Charlie Kirk and the crackdown on anyone who criticized him (I mean cancelling Jimmy Kimmel???); amidst terrifying changes to immigration policy and US foreign aid...amidst all of this intense heartbreak, some of which is definitely too controversial to talk about for young and old rabbis, amidst it all, there is so much shouting, so many truths competing to be heard. How can we hear it all?
There is a rabbinic Midrash that I learned earlier this year from Rabbi Micha’el Rozenberg of Hadar that discusses the ways in which humans are so different to God.
Mekhilta Massekhta de-Shirah 8:9-10Humans are not like the Divine:
Humans cannot say two things at once, but the One Who spoke the world into being spoke the Ten Commandments in one utterance, as it is stated, “God spoke all these words, saying.”
Humans cannot hear two people screaming at them at once, but the One Who spoke the world into being is not thus. Rather, even if all of Creation come and cry out before God, God hears their cries, as it is stated, “The One who hears prayers, all flesh will come before you” (Tehillim 65:3).There has been so much crying out from so many different directions, sometimes multiple voices shouting over each other in a way that it is impossible to hear and to discern what is true amidst all the noise. The Midrash is about what we heard at the revelation at Mount Sinai with God’s voice speaking all ten of the ten commandments at once, and the challenge of being able to distinguish any of it with clarity. If our limitations as humans prevent us from hearing these heavenly messages and instructions, how much more difficult is it to discern truth from the multiplicity of human voices trying to get our attention?
There is another rabbinic story that I bring here not for the first time, nor will it be the last:
When God set out to create the first human being, there was dissension in heaven. The angels got together and fiercely debated whether it was a good idea or not. The angel of Hesed – compassion or loving kindness, partnered with the angel of Emet – the angel of truth. Hesed said, “yes, let's create the human being, Adam, for they will bring great acts of loving kindness to the world. “No, no,” said Emet, Truth, “the human being will bring lies and deception to the world.” Meanwhile, in another corner of heaven, the angel of Tzedek, justice or righteousness, got together with the angel of Shalom, peace. “Oh yes,” said Tzedek , “what a great idea. Humanity will bring so much justice to the world!” “No,” said Shalom, “don't do it. People will just create war, bloodshed and disagreement.” God took the angel Emet, truth, and threw her to the ground and, while the other angels continued their arguing, God said, “why are you still debating? It is too late. Adam, the first human being, has already been created.
There is so much in this charming story and its underlying hope that lovingkindness, truth, justice and peace will or should be implanted in humanity, yet the most intriguing part is God’s act of throwing EMET, truth, to the ground. The Hassidic master Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, known as the Kotzker Rebbe, asks:
“What is the advantage of casting aside "truth " while "peace" remains, when both argued against creating the human? The Kotzker answers; “When we cast aside truth, peace will prevail. The root of argument is that everyone fights for his/her own "truth". But when we push "truth" aside, there is no longer something about which to disagree. Thus there is no argument, and "peace" has no claim to make.
Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, quoted in Itturei Torah
Is this teaching a naive fantasy or a strategic possibility? If we are willing to let go, even partially, of our insistence that our narrative is the only true one, can that bring peace? Interpersonally and even globally? Not only are we incapable of hearing with clarity anything from all the noise, we have also lost the ability to listen and to speak to those whose views are opposed to our own.
In his book The Dignity of Difference, Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks says:
“Truth on earth is not, nor can be, the whole truth. In heaven there is truth; on earth there are truths.”
Some of you know that I will be playing Tevye at the end of January in Fiddler on the Roof. There’s a beautiful scene early on in the play where there is a dispute and Tevye has affirmed both sides to which Avram the baker says; “Wait. He’s right and he’s right. They can’t both be right.” “You know, you’re also right!” says Tevye.
Before I go too far on this tack and make some of you very uncomfortable, I will acknowledge that there are limits and mine might be different to some of yours. The Hamas attack on October 7th was unspeakably evil and Hamas continues to seek the destruction of Israel and Jews everywhere. The State of Israel has a right to exist and I am a Zionist rabbi in a Zionist congregation within a Zionist movement. There has been tremendous suffering, devastation and loss of life among Palestinian civilians, including many children, some of it avoidable. The violence perpetrated by extremist Jewish settlers and sanctioned by parts of the Israeli government is terrorism. These, for me, are truths, and may not be for all of you, yet within these parameters there are multiple narratives that can and must coexist. If not, we will simply stop being in any relationship with those with whom disagree, and push out and cancel opposition in ways that are contrary to both democratic and rabbinic values.
In a blog post earlier this month in The Times of Israel, Yossi Klein HaLevi, says:
“Those of us who love Israel must not forfeit the moral conversation to Jews who have despaired of Israel or who openly side with our enemies. He continues: “I fear those Jews without ambivalence who, no matter how wrenching the dilemma, always offer a simple narrative that resolves our inner conflicts. Especially now, as we face some of the most morally complicated dilemmas in our history, those one-dimensional voices must not be allowed to determine Jewish discourse.”
Yossi Klein HaLevi, Times of Israel blog September 7th
In talking about “Jews without ambivalence,” Yossi Klein HaLevi, whose voice has been really important throughout this awful war, he is warning of the dangers of not seeing nuance; we desperately need a non-binary approach and the point of not allowing “one-dimensional voices to determine Jewish discourse” is so important and fundamentally Jewish.
It can be excruciatingly hard to hold a middle position amidst the screaming on the edges. So many Jewish communities, including ours, across the world have experienced some version of this divisiveness that has ripped people apart and ended relationships. My good friend in London, Jon Boyd, Executive Director of Institute for Jewish Policy Research, has talked about Masorti/Conservative Judaism as living on the seams, like a seam of a garment, which is the most vulnerable part and yet it’s what holds it all together. He speaks of Masorti Judaism, which is what the Conservative movement is called in Israel, the UK and Europe. He says:
“Masorti Jews tend to sit on the seam between modern orthodoxy and more progressive forms of Judaism. Modern Orthodox Jews tend to see supporting Israel as a more important component of their Jewishness than a broader sense of supporting social justice causes as a whole; progressive Jews often tend to be the opposite. So Masorti Jews comprise both of these, meaning that tensions between some people’s fundamental, gut, collective support for Israel and others’ fundamental, gut, collective support for Palestinian rights are particularly likely to play themselves out in Masorti circles. Or, put another way, any tensions between the more particularist and more universalist elements of Judaism are especially likely to be exposed in Masorti circles. In that sense, we live on the seam. And seams are both the weakest point in a garment - ie the part that is most likely to split when under tension - and the part that holds the whole garment together. That’s the role Masorti Jews play in the Jewish People - we are particularly likely to experience these types of tensions in our midst, but if we can figure out how to hold ourselves together, we are potentially figuring out how to hold the Jewish People as a whole.”
I have definitely felt like that vulnerable seam recently in this community, stretched to the point of ripping as the two opposite sides scream their narratives. If we want the garment to be whole, we do need it all. Obviously there is no seam without the materials on either of its sides. I would add to my friend Jon’s metaphor that when a garment is ripped along a seam, it is much easier to repair than when the fabric itself is torn.
The real challenge, and it is an enormous challenge, is, within defined limits, to hold opposite narratives both as truths. Elie Wiesel is often attributed with the quote, “trust those who seek the truth, distrust those who have found it.” What would the world be like if we all saw ourselves as seekers of truth, having the humility and curiosity, to be on that path of inquiry, rather than claiming to have and to know with certainty the Truth. That upper case T truth is a fallen angel down here on earth for us to wrestle with. There are plenty of horrible, distorted lies and propaganda out there posing as truth that we can and should dismiss. In a Medieval Midrash (P’sikta Rabbati) R.Shmuel ben Nachmani says, "
matzinu sh'hacol bara hakadosh baruch b'olamo, chotz mi'midat sheker u'midat shav; we have found that the Holy One created everything in the world; except lies and exaggeration, which were not God's doing, as people devised those on their own.” Without knowing what is really true so much of the time, it is ok, sometimes, to have doubt rather than certainty.
The night before that horrific hate crime on the Run for their Lives walk on Pearl Street that took Karen’s life, the Jerusalem Youth Chorus performed a concert in Boulder. Young Israelis and Palestinians, Jews, Muslims and Christians, connected through beautiful music, shared their painful stories between the songs and showed their commitment to hearing each other’s narratives, however different it was to their own. In spite of the deep pain and division in the world, this was a tremendously hopeful evening and a tiny taste of what might be possible. It is so desperately sad that the bubble burst for many of us the very next day in the deadly flames of that attack. I have so much rage for what Hamas did on October 7th and what they continue to do today in fanning the flames of hatred. I am also angry that they have stolen the hope and the compassion of many Israelis and Jews, unable fully to grasp or hold the human tragedy in Gaza; those who claim that there are no innocent Palestinians.
Ittay Flesher, an Israeli Australian, Zionist peace activist, wrote a book earlier this year called The Holy and the Broken - A Cry for Israeli-Palestinian peace from a land that must be shared. It is a hard book to read, but its essence is to share the very different narratives of two people since the conflict began. Ittay is the education director of Kids4Peace Jerusalem, an interfaith youth movement for Israelis and Palestinians. The book is both comforting and troubling and challenges its readers to embrace moments of both holiness and brokenness. He shares a meme that was going round in some circles post October 7th that reads “Its Ok to be heartbroken for more than one group of people at the same time.” Is it OK? Is it even possible? I hope so. Even now. It is definitely not easy, and it certainly does not mean that we create moral equivalence where there is none, nor that we compromise the values that are most important to us, but sometimes, we do need to cast our angel of truth aside for the possibility of a greater peace. For all humanity. Governments and leaders perpetually disappoint us and lie to us and, in spite of the horrors, there are grass roots initiatives, like Roots/Shorahsim/Judur in the West Bank, Jerusalem Youth Chorus, Kids4Peace, the Arava Institute and SIPP, Sustainable Israel Palestine Projects, founded here in Boulder by the Orensteins, that give us hope beyond the binary narratives that pull us and in spite of how far away we seem to be from really understanding one another.
Those other angels, hesed, tzedek and shalom - lovingkindness, compassion, righteousness and peace, they hope that these qualities can be within each of us. I had the opportunity to meet with Karen Diamond just a few days before she died of her horrific burns and somehow she was still able to embody so much love and compassion and was able to tell her family that the way to respond to the horrors of June 1st was not with more hate, but with love and compassion. As Rev Martin Luther King Junior put it, “darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that; hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” I hope that Karen will always be remembered for how she lived and not how she died and that she will be an inspiration for us all. Let’s make her memory a blessing by our own commitment to live the promise of those angels.
As we look forward to a future in a new spiritual home, how can we imagine ourselves as a kehillah kedosha, a sacred community, where we can hold the best intentions towards each other, regardless of whether we agree or disagree on fundamental issues, and can listen compassionately with deep respect for each other across our differences, recognizing that, within agreed limits, there are multiple truths? We are a people on the seam, which is both a powerful and fragile place to be.
Rosh HaShanah, hayom harat olam, a day pregnant with possibility, with eternity, is a celebration of the creation of the human being and humanity is really hurting right now! As the rabbinic midrash quoted earlier says, unlike the holy one, most of us do not have the capacity to hear all the cries and screams at once, but perhaps the primal, non-verbal sounds of the shofar, which weeps and wails along with us, can do something that words cannot: penetrate our hearts and attune us to the world’s cries and be heard in the tunnels of Gaza and everywhere where people suffer and pierce the heavens to turn all the harsh decrees into sweet blessings of healing and wholeness.
