A version of this sermon was delivered Yom Kippur Morning 5778 at Temple Emanu-El of East Meadow
On Monday, September 19, 1796, George Washington published
what would come to be known as his farewell address in a newspaper in
Philadelphia, Claypoole’s American Daily Advertiser, one of the
few non-partisan newspapers in the city, and among the first successful dailies
in America. He chose this paper to ensure that his words
would not be tainted with partisanship and that they would be accessible to all. By the time the paper of that afternoon was
delivered around the city, Washington was already on his way to Mt. Vernon,
having said his goodbye to the nation.
It would take up to six weeks for the outposts on the
western frontier to hear the news, as city by city, town by town, paper after
paper, published his words of goodbye.
Washington’s farewell address was for a long time considered the shining
example of patriotism and public service, above personal political gain and
ambition. In publishing his address in
the newspaper, it was disseminated in the most democratic of ways, through the
free press. By doing this, Washington,
to paraphrase the words of the hit Broadway show Hamilton, taught the
nation how to say goodbye. He taught
citizens of a new country, under a new political system, what it means to let
go of the only President they’ve ever known.
Washington’s farewell address is filled with reminiscences,
warnings, and advice to the new nation, based on his 45-year-long tenure in
leadership, which had begun long before the Revolutionary War. His words resonate in our ears, even
today. He begins by thanking the people
for their trust in his leadership. He advises
against partisan bickering and the formation of political parties, preaching
moderation. He warns against undue
foreign influence. He warns against
relying too much on alliances with other nations. He preaches morals and virtue. He advises that there be good education
available to prepare the next generation.
He advises that the nation can achieve peace, but must be strong enough
to do so. For 1796, and the first modern
democracy on earth, this was ground-breaking political theory. Much of his advice fell on deaf ears, even
immediately, as the election for his successor split the nation into a two
party system we are familiar with today.
Aside from all the political advice, Washington ends his
farewell with two important ideas.
First, he says: “I am unconscious of intentional error, [but am]
nevertheless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that I may
have committed many errors…I fervently beseech the Almighty to avert or
mitigate the evils to which they may tend.”
He ends by apologizing to the citizens, while
recognizing he tried to do the best at all times. He asks the citizens for indulgence for his
faults. He wants the people to know that
even if they may have disagreed with him and his decisions, he was always doing
so with the best interests of the country at heart.
He closes his farewell with what amounts to a
benediction. “I anticipate, with
pleasing expectation…the sweet enjoyment of partaking, in the midst of my
fellow citizens, the benign influence of good laws under a free government, the
ever favorite object of my heart, and the happy reward, as I trust, of our
mutual cares, labors, and dangers.”
Washington wants the future to be
bright. He wants to revel in what he has
helped to build. He knows that this
goodbye, like all goodbyes, is the start of a new chapter, and he wants to
leave the nation in the best place that he can.
He wants to leave the people and the government ready to move on to
whatever comes next, but ready to handle it thanks to the work he has
done. Washington becomes the model for
how it is a President says goodbye, and makes space for the next generation.
In crafting a goodbye to the nation, Washington emulates
Moses in the final chapters of Deuteronomy, the end of the Torah. Moses, who has led the people through the
wilderness, out of their bondage in Egypt, through battles and plagues, and new
government and religious institutions, and who has had the closest possible
relationship with God, has come to the end of his life and his journey, and he
takes his opportunity to make his farewell address. Both Moses and Washington understood that for
any transition to happen, for any change to take place, there must be a moment
of goodbye.
Moses’s goodbye to the Israelites comes in two forms: first
a farewell poem, then a blessing. Each
serves a different purpose, and in each Moses teaches important elements of
what it means to say goodbye.
The goodbye poem, takes the role of warning, and the Torah
makes a point to tell us Moses recited every last word, in front of the entire
congregation. He begins:
Give ear, O heavens, let me speak; Let the earth hear the
words I utter! May my discourse come
down as the rain, My speech distill as the dew, Like showers on young growth,
Like droplets on the grass. For the name
of the Eternal I proclaim; Give glory to our God! The Rock!—God’s deeds are perfect, Yea, all God’s
ways are just; A faithful God, never false, True and upright is God.
Moses calls out to the heavens, invoking God’s presence and beginning a distinction between God and the people. God is perfect and just, but we humans are not always. God, allow my final words to be heard by all, and allow them to nourish the people.
Even though Moses is about to go
through a list of the people’s faults, he knows that these words of gentle
rebuke are meant to nourish like the rains, not punish like a flood. He challenges the new generation to grow in
ways they might not have thought possible.
In this moment of goodbye, Moses forces the Israelites to confront their
past, telling them: “Remember the days of old, consider the years of ages past;
Ask your father, he will inform you, Your elders, they will tell you!”
Look back. Ask about
the past. Look back. Bring with you what
you have been, what you have done, and where you have traveled. Do not forget the past just because another
chapter is about to begin. Do not forget
those who came before you, and let them share with you all that they learned,
so that you may grow from it as well. In
looking to the past, we prepare ourselves to face the future, uncertain though
it may feel. There will be new
leadership once we cross the Jordan.
There will be new rules, new people to meet, new disputes, new friends,
new difficulties, and new triumphs.
Don’t allow the past to be forgotten, Moses urges, let it guide us
toward the new horizon.
After Moses’s poem, he shifts to words of blessing. But first, Moses gives the people this
instruction:
"Take to heart all the words with which I have warned you
this day. Enjoin them upon your children, that they may observe
faithfully all the terms of this Torah.
For this is not a trifling thing for you: it is your very life; through it you shall long endure on the land
that you are to possess upon crossing the Jordan."
By
remembering the words he shared, the people will be able to thrive. By recalling the past, and teaching it to
their children, the people will be made secure.
By looking to the past, and not cutting ourselves off from it, we will
be strong, no matter where we may end up.
To say goodbye properly, we make a commitment to bring the past with us
as we move forward.
Moses then moves on to blessing the people for his final
words. Rabbi Samson Hirsch notes that
unlike the poem and the rest of the Torah which were dictated to Moses by God,
the blessing comprises Moses’s own words.
He doesn’t need God’s help on this last one. When Moses finally finds his own words for
the people, at the very last moments of his life, as his goodbye, he teaches
that each person has to find his or her own words to say goodbye. Each person has to find a way to transform
the difficult task of bidding farewell into a blessing.
The message of the
blessing follows this theme, but Moses does it in a special way that helps to
make his point about remembering the past.
Moses goes through each of the tribes by name, in the same way Jacob
does on his death bed, calling each of his sons, and blessing each of
them. When Moses does this, he calls to
mind Jacob, and the end of the generation of the patriarchs as a way to
practice what he preaches about looking to the past and looking to a new
chapter. He is able to make it so that
each tribe gets its due, their special mention.
Each tribe, while being a part of the Israelites, has had its own
journey. Each tribe has had its own
struggles and celebrations. And each
tribe’s story is as important as the story of the whole.
When we say goodbye to our synagogue,
of course it’s important to look at the big picture, but it’s also important to
look at the individual stories, the small moments each of us has had here at
Temple Emanu-El.
Todd W shared with me the
story of his first time coming to Temple Emanu-El. He didn’t want to at first. He thought he’d be more comfortable at another
congregation. But he gave us a
shot. “While we were getting the tour,
Michael and Shari Salomon had their girls look after Alex and Evan doing arts
& crafts while we were given the tour by the most welcoming person, Nadine
Salzman. When we left after an enjoyable afternoon I said to Robyn, "You
win. They sold you." We joined.”
Todd’s story of a place where his family felt comfortable is his story
and our story, and we bring it with us as a blessing, though we have to say
goodbye at the same time.
Rona K shared with me many
stories, many moments in her family’s life here at Temple Emanu-El. Among them, she recalls:
Jeff Kraut's "off-shore excursion" to the Judaica
case during Temple's Cruise Night event was probably the funniest experience ever. Jody [Ratner] playing viola at Kol Nidre,
Henry [Damashek] blowing shofar, our shofar "chorus" surrounding us
during the Holidays. Not sure what the
best words are to describe this but they are [or] were moments of beauty and
great importance to me.
Rona’s
recollections of the powerful ritual moments we’ve shared here are important
touchstones in her story, her family’s story, and our story. These moments won’t happen again, at least
not in exactly the same way. Through our
dedication to remembering our stories, we bring these moments with us as
blessings, even when we say goodbye.
Jason N, in addition to
rightfully kvelling over the memory of his son Brady’s Bar Mitzvah,
shared memories of last year’s Men’s Club dinner in the Sukkah. “What stands out most to me, despite the
excellent food and tasty drink selection, is the camaraderie that always exists
with the guys. They are a wonderful and inviting group, especially to me, a
younger member without many peers my age.”
Jason’s story of finding a place here at Temple Emanu-El is his story,
his family’s story, and our story, and we bring it with us to bless us though
we say goodbye.
Janet G shared a memory of
Simchat Torah, and the Torah unrolled in our Sanctuary with the students in the
middle. “
The black and white sacred
Torah being held by our trusted adults against the backdrop of our beautiful
colored hexagon windows. The look of awe on my daughters’ faces moved me as I
realized the magnitude of the moment. They were surrounded by our rich history,
they were surrounded by their present, they were surrounded by their future,
they were surrounded by our lessons of life...When I looked up at my fellow
congregants, many of them young parents also, I realized I wasn’t alone in this
dream turned reality for my family and my children.
Janet’s
beautiful memory of feeling the pull of our tradition and the connection to
something bigger is her story, her family’s story, and our story. It blesses us, as we say goodbye.
Roz W shared beautiful
memories of our sanctuary and the life her family lived in this congregation.
The sanctuary of our beloved congregation holds a special
place in my heart. The first time I
entered that holy place, the sunshine was streaming in through the beautiful
panels of stained glass windows, a myriad of bright colors bouncing off the
wooden pews. That was 40 years ago…The
sanctuary was the place that I was called to the Torah as an adult bat mitzvah
in 1978…My three children as well as four nieces and nephews became bar and bat
mitzvah in our beautiful sanctuary. This
was also the site of our son’s aufruf, my granddaughter’s baby naming, and
grandson’s bris. It is also where
memorial plaques were dedicated in my parents’ names after their passings.
Roz’s
words remind us that entire lives have been lived here, celebrated here,
sanctified here. Roz’s story is the
story of family and faith, ritual and divine awe. It is our story, and we will bring it with
us, to bless the next generation to experience these moments in their lives.
Each of these stories, while unique
and special, could have been written by any of us with only minor changes to
names and dates. We have all found our
place or a place for our family here. We
have all felt the presence of the divine here.
We have all had occasion to kvell here.
We have all been moved to grow in our relationships with each other and
with God. Each of us and each of our
families are important to the story of Temple Emanu-El and now, though we say
goodbye, we make these stories into blessings through the act of memory, and
through a dedication to bringing them with us.
If only it were that simple and
joyful to say goodbye. We know that for
all the joy we remember, and all the blessings we feel, we are also sad,
disappointed, and probably, for at least some of us, wishing things could have
come to a different conclusion. You’re
not wrong to feel this way. You’re not
alone.
At the end of his life, according to
the Midrash, Moses pleads with God, as he grieves his impending death.
“After all my labor!” Moses shouts at God, you tell me I’m going
to die!? No. He says, quoting the Psalms: “I will not die,
but live.” God gently responds with the
words of Ecclesiastes: “You cannot prevail in this matter, for this is the
destiny of all men.” Moses, you are
special, but only a man. This is what
happens. Stories end. New chapters begin.
Moses goes on to angrily joke about
his death, and stubbornly refuse to listen to God. God enlists the ministering angels to reason
with Moses. And Moses bargains with God:
“Master of the Universe, if You will not bring me into Eretz Yisrael,
leave me in this world, so that I may live and not die!” God responds, telling Moses that if he does
not die, he cannot come to have a place in the world to come, where he belongs. Everything must come to an end. Even Moses.
Even a synagogue.
After more protestations, Moses is finally told by God that
he is out of arguments, and Moses seems to relent. Then God sends the angels to bring Moses’s
soul. But none of them feel they are
strong enough to do so. Even Sammael,
the angel of evil is stopped in his tracks when he sees Moses writing the final
words of the Torah. It is ultimately
only God who can will Moses’s soul to leave his body. The Midrash teaches us:
Moses’s soul replied: Master of the Universe, I know that
You are the God of all spirits and all souls, the souls of the dead and the
living are in Your keeping and You have created and formed me and placed me
within the body of Moses for a hundred and twenty years. And now, is there a body in the world purer
than the body of Moses? I love him and I
do not desire to leave him.
Moses’s
soul does not want to leave his body, even imploring God a second time, “Let me
remain!” God will not and cannot allow
it. The time has come. It is time to say goodbye.
We may not want to leave. We may feel so connected to this place that
we cannot even fathom leaving. Even
though we know that it’s not the bricks or the address that matter. Even though we understand that a community
and a synagogue are more than the physical space. This place is special in our hearts and our
souls. This place is special in our
memories and in our family circle. This
place is important and has been filled with our souls for 68 years.
And it always will be so, even when we are no longer here, because we
will bring it with us.
When God finally takes Moses’s soul
with a kiss, the Midrash teaches that God wept.
God is saddened by the death of his servant Moses. God weeps for what has been, and what is no
longer. God weeps, the heavens weep, the
earth weeps, Joshua weeps. It is a sad
time. An era has come to an end. A journey has reached its conclusion. “Never again did there arise in Israel a
prophet like Moses.”
Tradition says that it was Moses’s
tears which filled in the last letters of the Torah, in the moments before his
death. The tears make up the final words
of the story. The tears make the
ending. The tears mean it’s time to say goodbye.
Until the last moment, Moses was strong and in complete
command. Let us learn from Moses’s final
moments, that even through his sadness, anger, denial, and bargaining, he never
let up and never faltered. He never
weakened. In describing Moses’s final
moments, the Torah says: “his eyes were undimmed and his vigor unabated. As we make our way through this final year,
let us commit to do our work with purpose until the very last moment. With clear eyes and unabated vigor, in the
model of Moses.
Let us close this chapter with strength, purpose, and
blessing, even while mourning our loss, and accepting our grief. Let us also remember that we never read the
final words of the Torah in isolation. We
never close one chapter without opening another. At Simchat Torah, when we complete the words,
we immediately continue with the beginning, to remind us that even though a
story has ended, it’s time to start anew.
It’s time to create from the beginning.
It’s time to make the trek once more.
Never again will there arise in East
Meadow a congregation like Temple Emanu-El, where people came together, broke
bread, blessed each other, and were blessed by the divine. A place where families found a home, mourners
found comfort, and brides, grooms, children, parents and grandparents
celebrated their joys. A place where
each of us and our families found a home, a community. A place where we spoke with God, and God
dwelled among us. Never again will there
arise in East Meadow a Temple like Emanu-El.
We have reached an ending.
It’s now time to start a new chapter.
Shanah Tovah.
