YK Morning 5775 - Our Legacy

This past December, a friend and I traveled to Austin, Texas.  Neither of us had ever been to Texas before, and so we decided to take a trip to see a part of the country we had never before had the chance to see.  And so, we went down to Texas, explored the area, tasted of the local delicacies, met up with a colleague, and had a chance to see the important sites, including a brief sojourn to San Antonio in order to see The Alamo.  Among our first stops upon our arrival in Austin was the LBJ library and museum on the campus of the University of Texas at Austin.  The building is quite imposing and its place on the University campus unmistakable.  A behemoth of a white rectangular building, up on a slight hill, surrounded by paved courtyards with the giant football stadium in the background, the Presidential Library and Museum walks a visitor through the life and career of LBJ.  From his humble beginnings in rural Texas teaching immigrant children, to the Oval Office, I learned much about LBJ and his legacy.

And that is what a museum is all about isn’t it, legacy?  What is it that a person did which is worthy of keeping forever?  What is it that a person made or painted or sculpted that society has decided is worthy of preservation?  In the case of LBJ, his legacy is clear, at least according to the museum.  The museum makes the case that were it not for the historic legislation that LBJ caused to be passed, President Obama would never have been elected.  Now, the museum doesn’t go so far as to say that, but the video clips and the thrust of the permanent exhibit make it clear that the curators and preservers of LBJ’s legacy believe, and want us to believe, that a distinct line of this nation’s progress as relates to race can be drawn from LBJ to Barack Obama.

And what a legacy that is.  Our nation has seen itself torn in two, again and again, over the issue of race.  Today, the museum tells us, things are better.  Today, the museum tells us, thanks to LBJ, the race issues which plagued our nation are more a thing of the past than the present.  LBJ was, after all, responsible for the passing of the Civil Rights act, the Voting Rights Act and the Great Society Legislation, which gave aid to education, Medicare, Medicaid, and fought against poverty.  The LBJ Museum wants us to know that it’s thanks to LBJ that we have many of the laws and rights we take for granted.

And his legacy endures, in some ways.  This year was the 50^th anniversary of the signing of the Civil Rights Act.  The desk on which LBJ signed the legislation into law is on display at the Museum, as is the pen he used.  50 years ago, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 outlawed discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin.  It removed obstacles to voting and removed segregation in schools, places of business and public institutions.  50 years ago, the Civil Rights Act changed this nation and moved us toward a more perfect union, toward a better society.  And, in truth, LBJ’s legacy endures in these landmark pieces of legislation that continue to form the backbone of racial equality in this nation.

With 50 years working toward racial equality in this nation under our belts, one would think that this nation would be more evolved when it comes to race.  The Library and museum seem to tell us we should be.  And yet, in the last months, and most prominently this summer, our nation’s old wound was opened again.  Michael Brown, an African American young man, was shot fatally by a police officer in Ferguson, Missouri, just outside of St. Louis.  If only this were a solitary incident.  Closer to home, on Staten Island, Eric Garner died in police custody after a choke-hold was used to subdue him during an arrest.  Last month, in South Carolina, at a seemingly routine traffic stop, Levar Jones, an unarmed black man was shot multiple times by a police officer after he went back into his car to retrieve his license, as instructed by the police officer. 

This is not an indictment on the police.  The overwhelming majority of police officers work hard and put their lives in danger and in harm’s way each and every day to keep their communities safe.  They are family men and women, who show kindness, compassion, bravery and care on a day to day basis, as they face more complicated threats and more and more lenient gun legislation.  There are some questions about the particular police officers involved in these incidents and the amount of force and firepower that is becoming commonplace among police departments, but more striking, and more important for our nation to grapple with, is the fact that in each of these incidents, and the many others over the last many years, the victim was unarmed and was black.

It has been 50 years since LBJ signed the civil rights act into law, and we, as a nation, still have some soul searching to do about what we value and what we believe civil rights and equality really mean.  It has been 50 years since the Civil Rights Act became law, and there is still a wide gap between what it means to be white in this nation and what it means to be something else.

As modern Jews in 21^st century America, we have been subsumed into white culture.  Or maybe, we pushed ourselves in and demanded a place.  Yes, Jews are still distinct, but the fact of the matter is, we are a minority primarily living and working as a part of the majority.  But it wasn’t so long ago that signs reminded us of who we weren’t.  No Dogs or Jews allowed, the signs told us.  As a minority, the rights of other minorities ought to be as important to us as our own.  And, we have a legacy of being a part of the solution to societal inequality that we ought not forget.

“The Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 were drafted in the conference room of Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism [in Washington DC], under the aegis of the [Southern Christian] Leadership Conference, which for decades was located in the RAC's building.  During the Civil Rights Movement, Jewish activists represented a disproportionate number of whites involved in the struggle. Jews made up half of the young people who participated in the Mississippi Freedom Summer in 1964.”[1] Among those Jews were Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner, of blessed memory, who gave their lives, alongside James Charney, in the fight for freedom and equality in what has come to be known as the Mississippi Burning.

“Leaders of the Reform Movement were arrested with Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in St. Augustine, Florida, in 1964 after a challenge to racial segregation in public accommodations. Most famously, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel marched arm-in-arm with Dr. King in his 1965 March on Selma.”^[2]  As Jews, and as Reform Jews in particular, we have a legacy of working toward equality in this country and doing whatever we can in order to further the causes of life, liberty and happiness for all.  Of late, however, our voices have been too quiet.  Of late, we have not spoken out enough about the issues of race that continue to plague our nation. 

These United States, from the outside, seemed to be doing better than ever in terms of race.  After all, the first family is African American.  Doesn’t that mean we are post-racial, even if the election of the president brought out the worst among some of our countrymen?  No.  It doesn’t.  It means we’ve made progress, but there is much more to do.  This summer’s protests in Ferguson in reaction to the shooting death of Michael Brown and the other young black men in this country show us exactly how far we are from being post-racial, how far we are from having race be a thing of the past.  They show us that the mask of tolerance and acceptance under which we go about our daily lives is only just that, a mask, hiding the reality of inequality based on race that continues to this day.  An inequality that is systematized into the penal code and played out in incarceration rates and policies like Stop and Frisk.  An inequality that tells the authorities that they can, and indeed should, be listening in on calls and communications just because someone happens to be Muslim.  An inequality that plays out in employment rates, graduation rates and access to loans and mortgages.  An inequality that continues to try to disenfranchise voters.  An inequality that persists even as the Supreme Court rules that voting rights and discrimination are no longer at issue, as they gut the preclearance elements of that same Voting Rights Act that LBJ signed into law.

Fifty years after the Civil Rights Act and 49 years after the Voting Rights Act, the inequality in our land cries out to us, and it demands that we work to create a new legacy for the next generation.  A legacy of equality and justice for all.  A legacy which puts into action the motto of this great nation: out of many, one.

But this summer, as the mask of a post-racial America was torn off another mask was torn off as well.  How can we focus on race in this country, while throughout this nation and in other nations, the ugly face of anti-Semitism was front and center again.  We focus on it because the Anti-Semitism whose resurgence we witnessed with shock and dismay, and which infiltrates quickly due to the New Media is related to the racism which we see continuing in this nation.  They are related because this summer we have had the opportunity to witness that we as a species are not as evolved as we had hoped to be by 2014.  We are not as open to others and differences as we would have thought in the aftermath of the disastrous conflicts of the 20^th century.  We haven’t learned our lesson yet, as humans on this earth, and we seem to forget too easily that we are more alike than we are different.  That we are all created in the same image.

In response to the war between Israel and Gaza many protests against Israel included, in commonplace incidents, placards, posters, and chants the likes of which we have not seen in many years.  Throughout Europe’s capitals, those bastions of tolerance and culture, riots and protests against Jews continued, putting Jewish communities in danger and on high alert.  But the posters and the slogans weren’t the extent of the violence.  Jews in Europe and even here in America, faced violent attacks.  Antiemetic incidents were so prevalent that a Twitter and a Tumblr feed were started called “Everyday Anti-Semitism” which tried to catalogue the numerous attacks in print, at protests, and which people reported. 

But the war in Gaza was simply pretense.  In Brussels, in May, well before the war began, four tourists were shot at the Jewish Museum in that city.  This is the kind of incident with which we have become all too familiar.  Whether it was the Chabad in India or the attack on the JCC in Argentina, we are used to a certain number of lone wolf attacks, and perhaps we will never rid our world of this danger. 

But this summer, we saw more than just an isolated incident.  Jewish-owned stores and a pharmacy in Paris were firebombed and destroyed.  Synagogues in Germany have been firebombed, Jews in Sweden attacked and bludgeoned, a Synagogue in Paris besieged and its members forced to defend their place of worship from violent anti-Semitic protests posing as anti-Israel protests.  In London, shouts of “Death to the Jews,” or “Hitler was right” among other chants, were heard as a part of the more than 100 reported anti-Semitic attacks in England in July.  Posters depicting Israel as equal to the Nazis were commonplace.  And even on New York’s Upper East Side, a Jewish couple was harassed and attacked.  More recently, a rabbi in Mississippi was asked to leave a restaurant because he was Jewish and took offense to the waiter’s description of a “Jewish salad,” though that incident is disputed by the restaurant's owner.

There are, of course, differences between what is happening now and what happened in the Europe of the 1930's.  The Anti-Semitism today is not state-sponsored as it had been for many centuries.  In fact, many leaders of Europe, notably France, Germany and Italy, have publicly and loudly condemned the attacks and have done their best to try and stop them.  In Germany, a country for which firebombing of a synagogue dredges up memories of a hate-filled past that nation has worked hard to overcome, a rally against hate and against anti-Semitism drew thousands of people and was headlined by the Chancellor and Prime Minister.

None of this is meant to be alarmist nor to scare us into staying at home or force us all to decide to move to Israel.  But it is important that we are aware of what is happening in the world.  According to an Anti-Defamation League poll[3] completed over the last year, fully 26% of adults worldwide harbor anti-Semitic attitudes.  That number jumps to 34% in Eastern Europe and 74% in the Middle East.  The numbers are much lower closer to home.  Only 9% of Americans and 19% of people in the Americas harbored negative views of Jews.  None of this is surprising.  Anti-Semitism has existed for as long as there have been Jews.  It existed before the conflict in Gaza, and sadly, it will exist even after a true and enduring peace is established, may it happen in our days.

I have been studying Sefer HaYashar with some colleagues over the last few months.  Sefer HaYashar is a midrashic collection, which means that it takes the stories of the Bible and elaborates on them to fill in the gaps and answer some of the questions that come up when reading the Bible.  For example, what was Abraham’s childhood like?  This question is raised because the Torah introduces Abraham as an adult with no description of his youth.  Sefer HaYashar answers some of these questions.  And, since this collection most likely dates from a post-crusader time frame, the stories take on a slightly different cultural resonance.

Sefer HaYashar talks at length about Abraham and why he left his land to go to Canaan.  The Torah tells us that it is because God told him to go with the famous words “Lech Lecha”.  But that’s only part of the story, according to this Midrash.  Sefer HaYashar posits the young Abram as a believer in the one God, as opposed to the rest of the population, especially Nimrod, the King of Ur.  The King makes multiple attempts to kill Abram including by throwing him in a furnace and by shunning him.  None of these work, and Abram hides from the king for many years, taking refuge in Noah’s home, and continuing to learn the ways of God. 

At a certain point in time, the king has a dream which is interpreted to mean that Abram will cause the king’s death and destruction to the kingdom.  Abram hears of this and says the following: “Let us arise and go to Canaan, out of the reach of injury from [the king], and serve the Eternal…and cast away all the vain things.” (Sefer HaYashar, ch. 12)

It is Abraham who makes the decision to flee Ur, making it as far as Haran.  And he flees because the powers that be don’t like the religion he practices.  By putting Abraham in the same position which the Jews of the Middle Ages found themselves, namely forced to flee on account of their belief, this Midrash makes a point to say that as Jews we have always had to deal with this.  Since Abraham, we have had to contend with people who dislike us merely because of who we are and what we believe.

From this story, we see that in the Middle Ages, Jews projected the animosity they felt back in time, believing it to be something we have no choice but to contend with.  The ADL survey makes the same point.  Anti-Semitism exists and we need to be aware of it, and work to combat it in every way we can.  Just because it exists, though, doesn’t mean that Jewry is necessarily in danger.  One of the many legacies that has been passed down to us is a resilience of the Jewish people: a legacy of endurance even in the face of difficulty, even in the face of hatred.

Anti-Semitism persists, just as racism persists.  And this summer we witnessed a shattering of our complacency and the breaking of a sense of security we may have felt, as we recognized that the Gaza protesters weren’t talking about Israel, or just about Israel, but they were talking about Jews, all Jews.  They were talking about us.  They were talking about you.  And they were talking about me.

And so what can we do?  How do we combat these pernicious elements of our world that seem to never be abated?  There are a number of actions we can take. 

First, let us recognize what we are already doing.  By being a part of a congregation, and bringing your family here with you, you help to foster a strong Jewish identity in yourself and your family.  Don’t underestimate this.  Recognize the gift that you are giving your family: the gift of Jewish community.  The gift of Jewish community is a gift of finding pride in who we are.  And regardless of what others think, we can counter that with our pride and our sense of self.  Studies show that once Jews are no longer an abstract to people, meaning that after someone meets and befriends a Jewish person, their opinion of Jews in general tends to be more positive.  How much more so will this be the case if we exhibit a tremendous and unabashed pride in who we are.

Next, we can support worldwide Jewry by making our voices heard as a part of the upcoming Zionist Congress, though our votes and our donations.  The Zionist Congress distributes billions of dollars annually to fund Jewish education and shape the Jewish nature of Israel and communities worldwide.  Every Jewish adult is eligible to vote.  By voting, we make known that we care about what happens to Jews all over the world, and that we will not abide living in a world where Jews are under attack and threat.  By voting we put into action the axiom “kol Yisrael arevim zeh l’zeh,” that all Jews are responsible to one another. 

Next, we must look inside ourselves.  We ought to take care with the words we use and work to combat any latent prejudices we might harbor.  It is not easy to look inward, but if this day, this Yom Kippur, can teach us anything, it is that we have the ability to look inside ourselves, find those parts of us we wish to make better and then resolve to make those parts better.  In our public confessional, we comment on the ways we have harmed others, whether by baseless hatred or xenophobia.  Let us work every day against these most base parts of who we are.  Let us also speak out against hate speech.  Hate speech is destructive and if left unchecked easily adopted as normative.  And it is not just hate speech against Jews we ought to concern ourselves with.  We can follow and continue the legacy of the previous generations of Jews who fought and died to make this nation better and more tolerant for everyone, regardless of race, religion, national origin, gender, or sexuality.

We can hold our officials to task.  If we believe in Voting Rights, we need to tell our representatives.  If we believe in non-discrimination policies, we need to make our voices heard.  We may not have the ability or time to put our lives on hold and get on a bus to go make change, but we can all pick up the phone or send an email to our congressperson or senator, both state and national.  By speaking up for what we believe, we work toward what we thought we had all along.  We work toward a nation and a planet neither of which will be putting on airs of tolerance and acceptance, but rather will be veering toward justice. 

Perhaps we thought everything was taken care of because laws have been passed and changed to make this nation more equal, and to provide equal rights for all.  But we forgot what is required alongside legislation like the Civil Rights Act.  When he signed the bill into law, LBJ said the following:

This Civil Rights Act is a challenge to all of us to go to work in our communities and our States, in our homes and in our hearts, to eliminate the last vestiges of injustice in our beloved country…So tonight I urge every public official, every religious leader, every business and professional man, every workingman, every housewife—I urge every American—to join in this effort to bring justice and hope to all our people—and to bring peace to our land.”[4]

Let us continue to join in the efforts to bring justice and hope to all people.  Let us work to ensure a bright future free from hatred and division for the Jewish community worldwide, and for our nation. 

Let that be our legacy.

G’mar Chatimah Tovah

---

[1] http://rac.org/Articles/index.cfm?id=21347

[2] Ibid

[3] http://global100.adl.org/

[4] -Remarks upon Signing the Civil Rights Bill (July 2, 1964)http://www.lbjlibrary.org/exhibits/civil-rights#sthash.w7KFMazC.dpuf

Kol Nidre 5775 - Leadership in the Bible and at Temple Emanu-El

“When the word reached the king of Nineveh, he rose from his throne, took off his robe, put on sackcloth and sat in ashes.  And he had the word cried through Nineveh: ‘By decree of the king and his nobles: every man and beast – of flock or herd – shall not taste anything!  They shall not graze and they shall not drink water!  Let them be covered with sackcloth – man and beast – and call mightily to God.  Let every person turn back from his evil ways and from the injustice which is in his hand.  Who knows, God may turn and repent, and turn back from His wrath, so that we do not perish.’”[1]  These words end chapter 3 of the book of Jonah, the afternoon Haftarah for Yom Kippur.  In this short section, we learn a lot about this king of Nineveh.  But how did we get here?

Jonah is sent by God to warn the people of Nineveh of their impending doom if they do not repent from their ways.  At first, Jonah doesn’t want to go, and he runs in the other direction.  Well, as we all know, you can’t hide from God and so God causes Jonah to be swallowed by a large fish, sometimes translated as whale, and spit out at Nineveh.  Jonah walks into the city and begins to tell the people of God’s judgment against them.  

And then our story picks up.  The people immediately begin to repent after hearing Jonah’s prophesy.  And then word reaches the King.  The King doesn’t ever meet Jonah.  Jonah never makes it to the palace.  But the king begins to repent anyway.  He has seen his people do it. He knows that he and his city have angered God and invoked God’s wrath.  And so, the King does what any good leader would do, and he leads by example.  Not only does he insist that he and the nobles repent and fast, but he insists that everyone in the city do it, too, including the beasts!

Typically, when we talk about The Book of Jonah, we focus our attention on the prophet Jonah and the themes of repentance and listening to God.  But let us, for a moment, focus on this king of Nineveh. What is it about this king that makes him a good leader?  We don’t know that much about him.  He allowed his city to get out of control.  Otherwise, what would Jonah be doing there?  But, we do know that he pays attention to and takes seriously the threats that are leveled against his city.  Then, he works to ensure that his city is safe and secure, by whatever means necessary.  He shows a true sense of leadership, if a little late in the game.  He protects his people, and takes part in the work that needs to be done.  He doesn’t wait for the proclamation from Jonah to come to him.  He hears of it, takes it seriously, and acts.

The King of Nineveh presents one kind of leader.  If you had to think of what it means to be, or what it takes to be, a leader, what would you include on your list of qualifications?  If you had to picture the ideal leader, what would he look like?  How would she act?  What is it about them that makes them a leader? 

***

God calls to Moses from the Burning Bush.  Moses’ first reaction, often interpreted as a sign of modesty, is to say: “ מִי אָנֹכִי, כִּי אֵלֵךְ אֶל-פַּרְעֹה  Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and that I should bring the people out of Egypt?”[2]  Who am I?  He questions his fitness to lead.  But it’s also more introspective.  “Who am I?  Mi Anochi?”  What do I bring with me that will allow me to lead?  What are the parts of me that allow me to help the people out of their difficult situation?

The first step to leadership is to know and understand who we are.  Each of us must come to know what it is that drives us.  Who are we to be leaders?  Who are we to take up these tasks? 

Just before Moses asks this question, God reminds him that he is an Israelite.  God ensures that Moses knows why this upcoming mission is important to him.  Who are you?  God answers: You are an Israelite, and you will be a leader of the Israelites.

Moses continues his inquiries.  “Behold, when I come to the children of Israel, and say to them: The God of your fathers has sent me to you; and they shall say to me: “What is His name?” what shall I say to them?”[3]  Moses immediately begins to process what it will take to free the people.  He knows that the most difficult part of the process won’t be dealing with the Pharaoh; it will be dealing with the people.  Moses recognizes the challenges ahead and works to overcome them.  When Moses asks God what to tell the people, he understands that they will need convincing, perhaps as much as the pharaoh.

Ultimately, God will ensure the people know the answer.  The plagues that God sends via Moses and Aaron are not just for the Egyptians to suffer, they are also to convince the Israelites about God and God’s power.  Moses gets this immediately. His first concern is how to ensure that his constituency will follow his lead.  He intrinsically understands the complications that can arise from being a leader.

Know who you are. Ask the right questions. Discover and address the potential pitfalls.

***

The people are at the Sea of Reeds.  They see the water before them.  The desert behind them, with Egypt not so far beyond that.  The chariots of the Pharaoh’s army approach and the people cry out: “Is it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? Why did you do this to us, bring us forth out of Egypt?”[4]  Their fear and frustration, just a handful of days into their journey is about to boil over.  They are ready to go back to Egypt.  They are ready to surrender.  Even as Moses stretches his hand out over the waters as instructed by God.  Even as God promises to redeem the people and allow them to cross on dry land.  Even as they have witnessed the plagues and the pillar of fire and the pillar of cloud, the people are nervous.  They are scared.  They are entering the unknown, the wilderness.  Nothing is happening.  Moses waits, trusting in God.  The people’s restlessness is palpable. 

Just then, one man, Nachshon ben Aminadav, takes a first step into the waters.  They are cool on his feet, and the sand gives way beneath his weight.  He trusts in God, and in Moses.  He takes another step.  The people behind him point and deride his foolishness.  “He’ll drown!”  They call out.  The cries of the children and the shouts of the men and women don’t faze him, though.  He is determined.  He takes another step in.  The water up to his knees.  His tunic weighted down as he moves forward into the surf.  Another step.  Another step. 

The water is at his chest now, and the screams of the people behind him comingle with the waves and the water sloshing about his body.  He is cold.  He is wet.  He does not doubt.  Moses, above, arms outstretched, awaiting God’s action. The people, on the shore, crying out in distress.  And Nachshon, taking one more step, until the waters reach up to his nostrils.  “God will save us,” he thinks to himself.  He takes one more step.  A step that will submerge him completely into the salty waters.  His toe hits the sand beneath. He begins to lose his balance, the weight of the water pushing him around.  Just then, as he prepares to breathe his last, the waters part and his foot falls on dry sand beneath.

God has saved the people, but God needed someone to take the plunge.  Someone to trust completely in the project at hand, put aside the doubts and the difficulties, and take a step into the unknown. 

***

The people have entered the land.  Joshua has led them valiantly and they have conquered cities and countryside alike.  The tribes settle into their allotted lands.  But there are dangers about, surrounding the people on all sides, other tribes, other nations.  Wars of conquest continue throughout the time of the Judges.  One of the judges, overseeing the region of Ephraim, Deborah is known for her wisdom and candor.  She is a prophet as well as a judge. She sets up her court under a palm tree, flourishing in righteousness, resting in its shade.  The people come from far and wide to seek her counsel.  They bring their questions and their disputes to her.  She judges fairly and recognizes the threats on the horizon.

She calls her general, Barack ben Abinoam to battle on Mt. Tabor, against the Canaanite enemy, which seeks the Israelites’ destruction.  Go to the mountain, engage Sisera the Canaanite captain, and defeat him.  But Barack is nervous.  He knows what he’s up against.  He doesn’t want to go alone.  “Come with me.”  He says to Deborah. “If you go, I will go.  But if you do not, I will not go fight.”[5]

"Ok, “she says. But this is not her task.  This is not what she is commanded to do. She is to be a judge and a prophet, and relay God’s message.  She is no general.  She is no military woman.  “Ok,” she says.  “But know that if I come with you, you will receive no glory, for the enemy will not be delivered into your hand, but into the hand of a woman.”[6]

And so they went together, to battle.  Deborah, Barack and 10,000 men to defeat the Canaanites.  Deborah was not afraid to go.  Though it was not her assigned duty, to lead the army, to go off to battle… Though it took her out from under her palm tree, her known place… Though she was not a strategist of battle… Still, Deborah went.  She led her people to battle.  She stepped out of her comfort zone, out of what she thought she would be able to do, out of the role to which she had become accustomed.  She led her people by being willing to do something different, because it had to be done.

***

The Temple is built in Jerusalem.  The people come from all over Israel three times a year to offer sacrifices to God.  But this day is different.  This day, The Day, Ha-Yom, Yom haKippurim, the ceremony is unique for the year.  This day all the people of Israel, from the chieftains and the priests to the woodchoppers and waterdrawers look to one man, the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest, to absolve them of their wrongdoing by casting their sins out on a goat which is sent off a cliff, into the wilderness, to carry away the wrongdoings of the people and render them clean.

To accomplish this ritual, the High Priest first must prepare.  The ritual begins at dawn.  He is clothed in white linen from head to toe.  Before he can go into the Holy of Holies, the innermost sanctum of the Temple on Mt. Moriah to pronounce the unpronounceable name of God, the secret eternal word that only he utters and only on this day, the word that purifies and cleanses the people, the word that destroys should it be misused… Before he can utter that word, he prepares.  He atones and is purified.  But, as with all his actions, there is an order, a seder, to the work, the Avodah, he is about to perform.  There is a crescendo of purification, showing his place among the people and the People’s place before God.

He first atones for his sins.[7]  He presents a bull to the Eternal, its pleasant odor, its reach nichoach, reaching up to the heavens in pillars of smoke.  He cleanses his soul of its sins.  

He then proceeds to consider his family. He atones for his family.  He makes expiation for the entire house of Levi, the Kohanim and the Levi’im, for the wrongs they have committed, for the errors of judgment or errors of procedure over the last year.  They are purified and cleansed of sin.

He considers the people Israel.  All they have done that they should not.  All they have not done that they should.  He looks out at them and atones for their sins by sacrificing a goat to the Eternal.  By this goat, the people have atoned.  By this goat, the people are ready to be fully cleansed and renewed in their covenant with the Eternal for another year.  

He has atoned.  He has atoned for his family and his tribe.  He has atoned for the entire people.  He enters the Kodesh HaKodeshim, he places incense on the fire, so the room is filled with smoke and he pronounces the name of the Eternal, praying for himself, his family and the people, he trusts that God will not strike him down.  When he emerges, the people respond:  Baruch Shem Kavod Malchuto L’Olam Va’ed!  Praised be his glorious name, whose kingdom lasts forever!”  The people are cleansed.

The High Priest moves from personal concerns, to familial concerns to communal concerns.  His sins, his family’s sins, the people’s sins.  He addresses all of them, understanding his place in the community, how he and his family relate to the entire population and how much they have in common.  Truthfully, he knows that he is just like them.  He knows that he is mortal, that he has foibles and problems.  He understands who he is, but he also sees the bigger picture.  He can see himself in his entire family and in his entire population.

***

The Temple is destroyed.  The people are sent away.  They are in exile in Babylonia, weeping by the rivers, praying for return to their land, praying that they do not forget Jerusalem, their holy city.  They remember who they are, but they are crushed.  They recall the glory of their Temple, now a memory, distant, fading.  They are called to by a prophet of the Eternal, Isaiah.  Now, he reaches out to them with words of comfort.

They knew him from before the destruction, before the exile.  They didn’t listen to him, then, but they hear his messages now, in hindsight.  They didn’t pay heed to his words and his reminders.  God will punish you, he told them.  You are not acting properly, he admonished.  But the people didn’t listen.  His voice drowned out by the hustle and bustle of day to day business.  The wails and cries of the orphans and the widows drowned out by the too secular business of the Holy City.

Now, though, Isaiah doesn't continue to decry their wrongs and their misdeeds.  He offers words of comfort.  Words of consolation.  Comfort, Comfort, my people.[8]  Comfort, says the Eternal.  Isaiah knows there is a time and a place for warning and a time and a place for comfort.  There is a time to hold a mirror up to the people, to show them their wrongs.  Now is not that time. Now is a time to welcome the people with open arms and show them how to get back into God’s grace and God’s favor.  God wants the people to be comforted, even in their exile, but God also wants them to change. 

Isaiah knows when to be stern and when to be calm.  He understands what the people need and he doesn’t want to turn them away by reminding them that he foresaw this calamity and warned them.  No, now he sees the people in distress and he comforts them.

***

Over the next number of months, this congregation will be embarking on an initiative to refocus our leadership.  What is it that our leaders should be doing?  What is it that we expect of our leaders?  Who are our future leaders?  All of these questions will be answered, but more organically, by listening, by fostering relationships.  A group of congregants have already agreed to facilitate these conversations.  They are all being trained to help us reach the next part of who we are.  They will soon be reaching out to you and to our entire congregation to join in on these conversations. 

As a congregation, we need all kinds of leaders.  We need leaders like Moses who know what it takes to start the process.  We need leaders like Nachshon who are willing to take the first steps.  We need leaders like Deborah, not afraid to step out of what they are used to doing.  We need leaders like the High Priest who can see the personal as well as the communal.  And we need leaders like Isaiah who know when to comfort and when to challenge.  We also need leaders like the King of Nineveh, who knew when to heed the call, and make a change.  We need everyone to participate, because we all have the capability to be leaders, and the only way we will ensure that our congregation continues to support each of us and all of us is by all of us and each of us working to further our goals together.

Where is this congregation going?  Who will lead it on?  All of us and each of us.  Our sacred history shows us there is more than one way to lead.  Let us write the next chapters of this congregation’s sacred history together. 

G’mar Chatimah Tovah – May you be inscribed well in the book of life.

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[1] Jonah 3:6-9

[2] Ex. 3:11

[3] Ex. 3:13

[4] Ex. 14:11

[5] Judges 4:8

[6] Judges 4:9

[7] After Lev. 16

[8] Isaiah 40:1