My Dear Friends,
Gut Yuntif –
L’Shanah Tovah!
Were we sitting together in our
Sanctuary tonight, I would begin my remarks asking you to raise your hands if
you have worn a Mask at some point in the past week?
My guess is that most of your hands
would be up. I hope we all understand that the wearing of masks can help us to
fulfill the Mitzvah of pekuach Nefesh- preserving life.
No matter how we feel about masks –
and no one really likes them - they are an integral and inescapable part
of the landscape of our daily lives in this pandemic-inspired period of social
distancing and self-isolation. They pose all kinds of problems that no one
anticipated.
For example - It's very frustrating
when I try to use my iPhone, but I can’t because face recognition doesn’t work
when I’m wearing a mask….
How many of us, in the grocery
store produce section find it impossible to open up the plastic bags because we
can’t lick out fingers?
And let’s not even talk about
glasses fogging up…..
At our second day Rosh Hashanah
“drive through” shofar sounding, it was wonderful to see some of you in person
at Temple. But since everyone was masked and we maintained social distancing,
it was difficult at first to recognize everyone - I couldn’t see your faces
from far away. It was only when I got close enough (within the
appropriate 6 feet) that I could see who who had come.
Masks have become part and parcel
of our lives - whether we like it or not.
Tonight, I want to talk about masks
– and faces.
This sacred day has many
names. One of those names is Yom Kippurim. We just heard
Cantor Sacks’ hauntingly beautiful rendition of Kol Nidre in which she
sang: “Mi Yom Kippurim zeh, ad Yom Kippurim ha ba aleynu l’tovah –
from this Yom Kippurim to the next – May it be it good for us…”
In previous years, I’ve shared with
you how our rabbinic tradition takes the name, “Yom Kippurim” – which we
translate as the “Day of Atonement” – and makes a pun: Yom K’purim
– “a day that is like Purim.”
How are Yom Kippurim
and Purim connected? One answer is that on Purim, we put on our
masks – on Yom Kippur, we take them off. Another refers to the book of Esther.
“Esther” is not a traditional Hebrew name. Some scholars believe that it
is linked to the Babylonian goddess of fertility, Ishtar (which is also
the name of a terrible movie…) – while Mordechai refers to the
Babylonian god of war, Marduk.
But the name Esther is also
connected to the Hebrew word, Hester, which means hidden.” The concept
of Hester Panim refers to God’s hidden face. Esther is the only book in
the Bible in which God’s name is never directly mentioned. God is hidden in the
Purim story. While Esther does not wear a mask, she was hiding something
– as her name suggests.
·
She
hid her identity as a Jew.
·
She
hid her dignity while dealing with the boorish King Achashverosh.
But eventually, she needed to show
her true self – for her own sake and that of her people – and reveal who she really
was. This became the heroic act that allowed justice to prevail and the Jews to
defeat Haman.
During the next 24 hours – we, like
Esther, will be removing our masks, standing before God and pleading our case
for the New Year. We will show our true faces.
The Hebrew word for face is panim.
In Yiddish, it’s punim – same thing. An interesting thing about the
word, “panim,” is that it is one of the few Hebrew words that is
singular but written and pronounced in the plural. There are a few others – but
not many.
·
Mayim – water
·
Chayim – life.
But if you think about it – the
plurality of panim makes sense. Our faces are constantly changing. And
the truth is, we have many faces - Some we show. Some we mask.
In English – as well as in Hebrew,
“face” is both a noun and a verb. We can see a face, but we also
face:
- our
fears
- the
unknown
- the future
- the truth
We face one another, but we also
face ourselves – and we don’t always like what we see. Sometimes we go
through all kinds of efforts to fit a preconceived notion of who we think we
are or want to be:
A story is told of a man who was to
be married in three months. He wanted to make sure that he would look his
best at his upcoming wedding, so he went to a tailor and ordered a custom-made,
bespoke suit. The Tailor took his measurements, showed him the options
for fabrics and told him to return in two months for a final fitting. Two
months later the man returned to the tailor shop - expecting to find his new
suit. He was greeted by a very apologetic tailor who told him that he was
so busy, the suit wasn't finished yet, but if he come back in two weeks, his
suit would be ready. The groom had no choice and, two weeks later he
returned. Again, the tailor apologized and said that the suit was not
ready - but it would be in a week. A week later he came back and - you
guessed it - no suit. The groom was panicking. His wedding was a
few days away. “Don't worry,” said the tailor – “come to my store on the
morning of the wedding and I absolutely guarantee the suit will be
ready.”
The day of the wedding came.
The groom walked into the tailor shop and the tailor, with a broad smile on his
face presented him with his new suit. The groom was in such a hurry that
he didn't even stop to try it on. He got to the synagogue, put on his
brand-new suit and to his dismay he discovered that it didn't fit at all!
One sleeve was too long, the other too short. One leg was shorter than
the other. It was a mess! There was no time to fix it - the wedding
was scheduled to begin in just a few moments. His best man looked at the
groom and at the suit and said: "You know, if you twist your
shoulder, and bend one of your legs when you're walking down the aisle, the
suit looks like it just might fit." And so, as the music began for
the processional, the poor groom walked down the aisle with his shoulder high
in the air and one leg bent. And as he passed the guests who were seated
on the aisle, he could hear them whispering to one another: "That
poor man! Look at him - all bent out of shape like that – but look at that
suit…what a great tailor!!!”
How often do we twist and turn
ourselves in order to fit some preconceived notion of who we wish we were, but
deep down, we know we never will achieve?
On this Yom Kippurim, we stand,
unfiltered before God and ourselves. All pretense gone. All masks discarded.
Tomorrow, we will read Moses’
stirring words:
“Atem
Nitzavim Hayom Kulchem Lifnei Adonai Eloheychem.
You
stand -ALL of you – this day – facing Adonai Your God.”
Moses is both a troubled and, often
and troubling figure in the Torah. In the last verses of the last chapter of
Deuteronomy we find the words:
“And there has not risen another prophet like Moses who knew God Panim el Panim – face to face.”
The intimacy between God and Moses
is remarkable. When Moses returned from Mt. Sinai with the second set of
Tablets his face was radiant, and the people could not look at him. Every
subsequent time Moses encountered God in the Tent of Meeting, before speaking
to the people he would cover his face with a Mask so that he could communicate
with them. Some commentators posit that Moses always wore a mask when
speaking to the Israelites. Think about that for a moment. Moses could
speak to God Panim el Panim – face to face – but he could not face his
own people without a mask. Like so many of us, he hid his true self.
On this Kol Nidre night – we come
together – but we are hidden from each other. This year we are separated by our
computer screens.
There is a passage in the Zohar,
the 11th century Kabbalistic text, that teaches that in the
beginning of the Hebrew month of Elul each of us stands Achor el Achor –
back to back. But, as Elul ends and we reach Rosh Hashanah, we begin to turn,
and on Yom Kippur we stand Panim El Panim – face to face:
With God // and with one another. That is the power of these days
of awe. These words take on a significant and powerful meaning -
especially during this time of isolation.
We need to stand Panim
El Panim. We need to face God, ourselves and one
another. That, I firmly believe, is one of the most important and central
aspects of belonging to a congregation. These past 7 months have been so
difficult, and yet so filled with creativity and a new comprehension of
community. We have prayed together online. We have studied, celebrated simchas
and found comfort in times of sorrow. One of the main questions that Jewish
professionals and prognosticators are asking today revolves around the future
of the Synagogue. Will our success in providing a virtual platform ultimately
harm us? After all, as we said on Erev Rosh HaShanah: it’s nice attending
services in your living room… You don’t have to get dressed up. You don’t need
to rush to get a seat or a parking space. You can chat with those around you or
online. I’m actually quite fascinated with the discussions that take
place on Facebook when our services are simulcast. The greetings, comments and
heartfelt prayers that many of you post are quite beautiful. But not everybody
agrees with me. Some of my colleagues don’t like them at all. They
feel that they are a distraction from the service and are inappropriate. Not
me. Comment away! (Right now…write a comment!!!! I’ll wait)
There’s a saying attributed to the
20th century Jewish humorist, Sam Levinson who was once asked why he
went to synagogue since he wasn’t religious. Levinson responded: “There are
many reasons one would go to the synagogue,” “Take Ginsburg. He goes to talk to
God. Me? I go to talk to Ginsburg.”
So, in this age of virtual
community, what will happen to the Synagogue? There are two
answers:
The first
is that those congregations that cannot or will not adapt to live streaming
technology will suffer. I don’t mean just turning on a camera in the
sanctuary and broadcasting the service. That will not be enough. We have
learned a great deal over the past 7 months. A key lesson is that meaningful
worship can and does take place online. But – it needs to be carefully crafted
in such a way as to open a doorway of welcome and spirituality to all those
participating. It can’t be a show – but it also should not be inaccessible. It
must be a moving experience for all – designed to include those who are present
and those who are unable to attend in person. We at Temple Emanuel are
committed to providing engaging and powerful online worship: now and in the
future. We are particularly grateful to the Reynolds Family Foundation for a
grant that has enabled us to purchase and soon to install new, state of the art
broadcasting technology in our sanctuary, chapel, social hall and throughout
our building that will enable us – when we can return safely - to stream
classes, worship services, meetings and life-cycle events anywhere around
the world.
The second answer
to the future of the synagogue in a post-COVID-19 world lies in the concept of Panim
El Panim – face to face. As important as virtual worship
has become, it will never replace the power of real-time, face to face
connection. It is here in the synagogue where we foster and create sacred
community - that we can take off our masks and find meaning. It is in the
ancient rituals and their modern interpretations that God’s presence can be
found with others. It is in moments of awe and spiritual awakening - in the
laughter we share and the tears we shed. It is in the power of Torah and
the excitement of learning; it is in the beauty of the simchas and the depths
of sorrows that take place within our walls.
When we stand Panim El Panim
– face to face – with ourselves, our God and one another, we create a Kehilla
Kedosha – a sacred community that no pandemic can possibly destroy.
And this brings me to one more
aspect or community - the need to heal and ask one another for forgiveness: the
process of teshuvah – of repentance that this night – that the next 24
hours - is all about. When we remove our masks, sometimes, we see painful
things. We acknowledge how we have hurt one another. We know that we are not
perfect and that we make mistakes. We see the path we need to take to make
amends. This is our sacred task.
And so, once again on this holiest night of the year - as I do every year - I challenge you
- Tell the people you love that you love them – whether you can do it in person, by phone or zoom.
- Reach out to those who need you.
- Ask for help from those who want nothing more than to be there for you.
·
If
you can – and sometimes we cannot - make amends with those who have hurt you –
and to those whom you have hurt as well.
My dear friends, on this Yom
K’purim- this day that we remove our masks - we are fragile and fearful,
but we are also renewed and reinvigorated. May our striving for holiness
allow us to face our fears and the future. May we be strong and May God’s
choicest blessing be on us all.
G’mar Chatimah
Tovah
– may we all be sealed for a blessing in the book of life. Amen
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