Tuesday, September 27, 2022

Planting Seeds for the Future: Rosh HaShanah Morning 5783

Dear Friends,

A few years ago, my wife, Sue and I did some remodeling on our house. When we first moved in 2009, half of our basement was finished, and the other half was a large, unfinished storage area into which we piled dozens of boxes filled with all kinds of stuff: from Vinyl records to obsolete electronics, baby clothes, yellowed letters, and kids’ artwork. There were containers with old college notes and textbooks, knickknacks, and faded photographs of relatives we didn’t recognize – with no markings on the back to tell us who they were.  There were even sealed moving boxes with trash cans that had not been emptied – from when the professional packers we had hired from one of our moves 27 year ago did their thing – and we shlepped them with us for each subsequent move – from Minneapolis to Albuquerque and finally, to Denver.

It was time for us to create a space where we could properly store our stuff and, when the time was right, go through it and discard anything we didn’t need, while properly caring for those items and heirlooms that we wanted to ensure would be passed on to our children.

One of the main reasons we felt compelled to go through the process of sorting and decluttering was directly related to our personal experience. After our parents died, we found ourselves overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff that had accumulated over the years. The task of combing through their overflowing piles of records and mementoes was monumental, to say the least. We have vowed that our children will have an easier time when they go through our stuff.

Sue has become the family historian. Over the past few years, she has painstakingly gone through these boxes, collated, documented, and curated materials. She has researched family history and published several beautiful books filled with photographs of ancestors and family stories that will become precious heirlooms for future generations.

 

During the High Holy Days, we engage in a process of spiritual de-cluttering. Our tradition teaches that the month of Elul that precedes Rosh Hashanah is a time of Cheshbon Hanefesh – literally, taking an “inventory of our souls.” We focus on the past and take a hard look at ourselves. We engage in the process of Teshuva – of repentance and return - and strive to make amends with those whom we have wronged over the course of the year – and those who have hurt us as well. We sift through the relationships, choices, missteps and other flotsam and jetsam of our lives and determine what we want to keep, what needs to be repaired, and what should be discarded as we move into a New Year. But in the process of looking back at the past, we also are tasked with looking ahead to the future. We ask ourselves:

      Who do we want to become in the New Year?

And

      What is the legacy that we are bequeathing to those who will come after us?

I recently read a book by Roman Krznaric, [Kriz -Nar-Ick] entitled The Good Ancestor. He posits that our essential task for today is ensuring that we will be able to bequeath a sustainable future to the next generation. He also sounds the alarm about how our current behaviors are in direct opposition with where we need to be.

He writes:

We live in an age of pathological short-termism. Politicians can barely see beyond the next election or the latest opinion poll or tweet. Businesses are slaves to the next quarterly report and the constant demand to ratchet up shareholder value. Markets spike then crash in speculative bubbles driven by millisecond– speed algorithms. Nations bicker around international conference tables, focused on their near-term interests, while the planet burns, and species disappear. Our culture of instant gratification makes us overdose on fast food, rapid-fire texting, and the “Buy Now” button.[i]

Krznaric [Kriz -Nar-Ick] writes about how we are imperiled by what he calls the “Tyranny of the Now.” Our obsession with exploiting every moment, every resource, and every opportunity to get ahead – all too often at the expense of those around us – and those who will come after us – could very well result in destroying the very foundations that sustain a healthy society. Unless and until we change our bad habits, we run the risk of hurting future generations and their ability to live meaningful lives. He posits that our most important task today is to learn how to become good ancestors that will enable us to bequeath a healthy future – l’dor vador – from generation to generation.

This morning I want to talk about what it means to be good Ancestors as we shift our focus from the “Tyranny of the Now” to a template for tomorrow.

For many of you here this morning, these High Holy Days will be the first time that you have been in our sanctuary in over two years. For others – this may be the first contact you have had with Temple Emanuel.

Welcome!  Welcome Home!

As Rabbi Hyatt spoke about so beautifully last night, during the past two and half years, many of us have become isolated from one another. Holding the heaviness of separation is a lot. As we gradually move back into a new post-pandemic paradigm, it is important for us to acknowledge both what we have lost and what we have gained. We have witnessed both bountiful beauty and unsettling ugliness. We saw how we could support one another in difficult times. We learned to master new technology. We reached out to the most vulnerable among us. We cheered on the first responders and front-line workers who risked their own lives and safety to ensure that society could function in a time of trauma.

But we also witnessed intense loneliness, fear-mongering, and self-absorption:  In the beginning of our isolation, we saw people hoarding everything from flour and yeast to toilet paper. We people refusing to wear masks, get vaccinated or follow basic guidelines for social distancing; disparaging medical personnel and researchers by spreading lies and actively rejecting scientific advances – listening instead to rumor-mongers, conspiracy theorists, propagandists, and hucksters who hawked fake cures and profited from the ignorance of those who refused to trust science. We saw respected researchers and scholars denigrated and threatened with bodily harm. We saw truth usurped by opinion and conjecture.

The pandemic showed us both the best and worst of who we were and who we could become. In addition, the firestorm of willful ignorance that has been loosed on society has impacted other aspects of our lives – not directly related to the pandemic. For many, the vision of a future that was built on hope and the promise of an informed and enlightened nation has taken a sharp turn towards the unknown. Uncertainty breeds demagoguery. As we have seen time and time again throughout history, anti-Semitism, racism, misogyny, and other forms of intolerance thrive in chaos and fear. Instead of addressing the many problems that face us, too many are looking to find scapegoats that distract and deflect our attention from finding meaningful solutions. Watching the ascent of politicians who utilize the rhetoric of anti-immigrant isolationism, Christian Nationalism, and manipulation is especially alarming when coupled with the deafening silence of those leaders who, through inaction and a lust for power, should know better, but do nothing to stop this potential slide into authoritarianism. History has shown that willful ignorance almost always leads to catastrophic consequences.

Kryznarik writes about legacy. He makes a differentiation between those who focus on personal legacy by taking advantage of the fears of today and using them to manipulate the masses or passing inherited wealth exclusively to family members and loved ones - and those who understand the importance of bequeathing their legacy to society as a whole: insuring that our future descendants will be able to benefit from the good fortunes of the present.

He quotes Jonas Salk, who discovered the polio vaccine and refused to patent or profit from his formula – ensuring that it would be available for free to every nation around the globe and forsaking the riches that such an important scientific breakthrough might have given him and his family.  Salk wrote:

“Will future generations speak of the wisdom of their ancestors as we are inclined to speak of ours?  If we are to be good ancestors, we should show future generations how we coped with an age of great change and great crises[ii].”

The Torah portion that we heard chanted so hauntingly beautifully just a few moments ago - the Akedah¬ or binding of Isaac - in many ways, echoes these themes of uncertainty and the desire to bequeath a healthy legacy to our descendants. In our text, Abraham is confronted with an existential dilemma. The same God who told him that his children would be as numerous as the “…stars in the sky and the sands of the sea[iii]…” has now commanded him to sacrifice his heir- his beloved son, Isaac, thereby negating his promised hope for the future. There are two ways the story can play out. In either case, the outcome is tragic: Either God was lying about his future descendants, or God’s command to sacrifice his son, Isaac was a cruel joke. Despite the many attempts by the commentators of old to rationalize God’s behavior and show how Abraham was a righteous believer, in the end, I think that Abraham failed his test by not challenging God- just as he did when God told him about the plan to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham could have stood up to God and said, “NO! I will not abide by this insanity.  This is wrong.”  But he did not. His silence made him complicit in the tragic story that unfolded on top of Mt. Moriah. His willingness to sacrifice his son meant that he was also willing to sacrifice his legacy – his ability to bequeath his values and vision to future generations.

Perhaps the Akedah is a cautionary tale. Maybe it is trying to teach us that when we are faced with an uncertain future, the most important thing that we can do is not to emulate the Abraham of Mt. Moriah who capitulated to madness, but rather to stand up for what we believe in and never forget the basic values that strengthen ourselves, our souls, and our society. In this way, we can become the stewards of both our history and our future. Then, and only then, can we become the ancestors our descendants can emulate.

So what does it mean to be a good ancestor? How do we avoid the pitfalls of Abraham? How do we strengthen our society- especially in times of uncertainty and change?

I think we need to begin by defining exactly what a healthy society should look like.

Margaret Mead once said that the first sign of civilization in an ancient culture was archaeological evidence of femur - or thigh bone - that had been broken and then healed. Mead explained that in the animal kingdom, if you break your leg, you die. You cannot run from danger, get to the river for a drink, or hunt for food. A broken femur that has healed is evidence that someone has taken time to stay with the one who fell, has set the fracture, has carried their wounded comrade to safety, and has tended to the person through recovery. A healed femur indicates that someone has helped a fellow human, rather than abandoning them to save their own life. A heathy society begins with compassion and caring – with empathy and vision for the future. It is strengthened by institutions and social norms that are designed to enhance common values and provide opportunities to come together in solidarity and service.

The Talmud relates a story out a man named Honi the circle-maker. One day Honi was journeying on the road, and he saw a man planting a carob tree. He asked, "How long does it take [for this tree] to bear fruit?" The man replied: "Seventy years." Honi then further asked him: "Are you certain that you will live another seventy years?" The man replied: "I found [already grown] carob trees in the world; as my forefathers planted those for me so I too plant these for my children[iv]."

One of my favorite aspects of serving as your Rabbi is the opportunity it affords me to witness the magic and beauty that takes place at our Rabbi Steven Foster Early Learning Center. I love spending time singing, playing, and interacting with the youngest members of our community. In particular, I love the beautiful gardens that serve as outdoor classrooms where students learn about the beauty of nature. A couple of weeks ago, as I was walking past one of our gardens, a group of excited 3-year-olds came running up to me and cried out: “Rabbi Black! Look what we found!”  Each of them had fistfuls of tiny seeds that they had harvested from the plants in the garden. They were so proud of what they had gathered!

 


What a powerful symbol of what we, as a congregation stand for! Our children are gathering seeds that they will plant for the future. In the same way, we, as a congregation, need to plant seeds to ensure our growth and continued vibrancy.

Danny Foster has already spoken about the fact that next Rosh Hashanah, Temple Emanuel will kick-off a year-long commemoration of our 150th anniversary. We will be celebrating  our legacy, our ancestors, and our future. In the next several months, you will be hearing more and more about special events, programs, and a major fundraising campaign geared towards building a significant endowment that will help to ensure that our kehilla kedoshah – our sacred community - will live on and thrive for the next 150 years.  But it is not enough to simply “live on.” We also must focus on strengthening our values, adapting to change, and committing to teaching ourselves and our children how to improve the world that we have inherited.

I believe with all my heart that a sacred community built on a foundation of shared vision and spiritual seeking is an essential gift that we can and must give to ourselves and those who will come after us. While Temple Emanuel is, for the most part, strong and thriving, in many ways, we are an outlier. Our strength is also tenuous. The synagogue has been the central institution of Jewish life for almost 2,000 years. But it is increasingly endangered. Many congregations are suffering. There are also many, non-synagogue options available for those looking for alternative, custom designed experiences for individuals and households.

But these fee-for-service, “one off” experiences come with a price: the fraying of connection, community, continuity, and legacy. 

You see, when we commit to being part of an ongoing, dynamic sacred community; when we acknowledge the power of sharing our lives: celebrating joy, comforting one another in times of loss, working to repair our world, joining forces to educate the next generation – we are performing a Mitzvah that not only makes our lives more fulfilling, but also is the best bulwark I know in a rapidly changing world to ensure continuity and connection for those who will come after us.

I also know that synagogues are not perfect. Sometimes institutions and the individuals who lead them - lay and professional alike- make mistakes. Sometimes we get locked into old paradigms that reflect more upon what was, and not where we need to be today and tomorrow.  Sometimes we miss the mark. But I also know that, despite our flaws, we have the power to raise our consciousness and, through the synergy created by long-term commitment - not one-off experience, we are better as individuals, and as a people.

I believe strongly in the power of sacred community to inspire us , enhance our lives, and uphold our values.  My friends, our task, as we enter a New Year, is to learn from our trials and tribulations and vow to become better ancestors. Now is the time to focus on the legacy that we will pass on to those who come after us – individually and communally.

And so I ask you:  Make an effort this year to get involved in one aspect of congregational life that you haven’t yet experienced. Come to Shabbat services or Torah study. Join a small group. Get involved in Sisterhood or brotherhood. Work with us on a cause that you are passionate about – it doesn’t matter how- but find a way to support and be supported by our community. Give generously to our endowment campaign when asked.

On this first day of a new year, we ask ourselves: how will our stories, values and actions impact our children and the next generation? We must continue to strive to build a strong community based on faith, caring and commit to thrive and leave a lasting legacy that the next generations will cherish, celebrate and honor. Together, we will plant seeds of caring, concern and hope that will grow and  blossom well into the future.

L'Shanah Tovah!

 

 

________________________________________

[i] Krznaric, Roman. The Good Ancestor: A Radical Prescription for Long-Term Thinking -p.4. 

 My thanks to Rabbi Asher Knight for sharing his Yom Kippur sermon on “Good Ancestors” with me and exposing me to the work of Roman Krznaric.

[ii] Krznarik, p 57

[iii] Genesis 22:17

[iv] Talmud Ta’anit 23a