A version of this sermon was delivered at Temple B'nai Torah - A Reform Congregation on Rosh HaShanah Morning 5781.
The first action new American citizens take, after their oaths, is registering to vote. I know this because in 2006, when I became a citizen of this great nation, as soon as the swearing in ceremony was concluded, after the VHS-taped speech by the President and the music video of “Proud to Be an American,” all the new citizens, from all over the world, were taken across the hall in a line and one by one we were each handed voter registration cards to fill out on the spot.
It is a moving sight, to see folks of all backgrounds and skin tones, with accents from all over the world, new Americans, standing in line to accept the most valued, cherished responsibility and right of citizenship: the vote. It was not always thus. The founders of this nation only considered white, male landowners eligible for the vote. It took a civil war, a women’s suffrage movement, and the civil rights movement to expand that right to make it as close to universal as possible. And yet we know that there are still obstacles to voting in this nation. From gerrymandering, to closing polling places, to purging rolls, to tampering with the mail, to gutting the Voting Rights Act, which Justice Ginsberg, in dissent, described as throwing out your umbrella when it's raining because you're not getting wet, some will stop at nothing to prevent their fellow citizens the right to vote, and to work to maintain power through disenfranchisement rather than earn it through ideas.
The Reform Movement is once again promoting a civic engagement campaign which strives for 100% participation in this year’s general election from all Reform congregations. Our Social Action/Social Justice committee has already been hard at work on this and after the holidays, we’ll be sending out even more information about that and how to be an engaged citizen. There is no question that voting this year is critical. As we learn every four years, this year is the most important election ever. This year, it certainly seems like that’s true. We have a stark and important choice before us, friends. Like the choices we make over these Days of Awe, which inform the year we will have ahead, the vote we cast exemplifies the future we hope for.
Civil laws for not-for-profit organizations like synagogues and churches preclude me from telling you who to vote for or who to vote against, even though we know that many flout this law. Nonetheless, my faith, your faith, and our understanding of what it is God asks of us in our time on this earth all have a role in helping each of us to make that decision. As Jews we benefit from and value deeply the separation of church and state. It is among the reasons we have had such success here in America. The government cannot tell us how to practice our religion, or whether we can. But the separation does not go both ways, and it shouldn’t. We are allowed to use our religion to help us decide on the government we want for ourselves and this nation we love. But what part of our traditions, what elements of our faith and our sacred obligations do we bring with us into the voting booth? How do we have faith in the voting booth?
To answer that, we look to the morning liturgy and the role of blessing.
Eilu devarim… These are the things…
These are the things that are limitless, of which a person enjoys the fruit of the world, while the principle remains in the world to come. They are: honoring one’s father and mother; engaging in deeds of compassion; arriving early for study, morning and evening; welcoming the stranger; visiting the sick; providing for the wedding couple; accompanying the dead for burial; being devoted in prayer; and making peace among people. But the study of Torah is equal to them all, because it leads to them all.[1]
We chant these words daily, after we bless the study of Torah during our morning service. We use these words, compiled from the Mishnah and the Talmud, so that the blessing we say each day, la’asok bedivrei Torah, about busying ourselves with words of Torah, is not said in vain. Every blessing requires its action be fulfilled. Like the blessing of citizenship demands the action of voting.
To ensure the blessing’s completion, every day, as the action of busying ourselves with Torah, we recite eilu devarim, these are the things: morality, right action, following the ultimate commandment of v’ahavta l’reachah kamocha, love your neighbor as yourself, in all its variations. Eilu devarim! These are the things!
We read this every day, not just because we need a text to study. There are libraries full of texts that could be included. This text is a reminder of what it is we value, what it is we hold most important in the way we live our lives, and the way we interact with each other and with God. When we choose our government, ought we not demand the same from our leaders? In just 45 days’ time, or sooner if you will vote early or by mail, when we have a decision to make about the future, our future and our nation’s, when we ask ourselves what things are important to us, let these things, eilu devarim, be on our mind.
Hachnasat Orchim, Welcoming Strangers.
God calls us to create and live in a society which welcomes the stranger and which treats them kindly. “There is to be one law for you and the stranger alike,”[2] God tells the people as they make their way out of Egypt, before sinai, before the parted sea, almost before any other commandment. We know what it means to be treated as strangers. We understand what it means to be treated as less than, treated as a threatening horde, ready to usurp power, to take jobs away. The Pharaoh enslaved our ancestors because of his fear of the strangers in his midst. Fair treatment of the stranger is mentioned no fewer than 36 times in the Torah. It is a value of our people and ought to be a value of every society we are a part of. And if and when it is not, we ought to fight for it and demand it.
This past February, which I know seems like 18 years ago, before the virus, I took the opportunity over some of the Presidents’ week vacation to witness firsthand how this nation is treating its strangers. Not well, I learned when I went down to the border with Mexico at Brownsville with a small group of volunteers. Friends, what I saw there was not the America that any of us want. Technically, it’s not happening in America because America had closed its borders.
Even before COVID, America instituted a program in January 2019 known as MPP, the Migrant Protection Program, also known as the “Remain in Mexico” program. This law means that anyone attempting to enter the USA can be detained here or sent back to Mexico to await adjudication of their case in an immigration court. That seems reasonable on paper. It seems reasonable until you see the actual human toll, until you see the families living in tents, stuck in legal limbo. While there are certainly some nefarious folks trying to gain access, and every nation has a right to police and protect its borders, the majority who have been affected by this law are asylum seekers from Central America. That means that they fled their homeland due to danger and violence, making their way to our border in order to find a safe haven. The myth of America still looms large, even if the reality doesn’t match.
America turns them away. In violation of international law, America has de facto closed its borders to asylum seekers. At the literal border, at the midway point on the bridge over the Rio Grande, there are immigration agents posted because international law states that once you set foot on American soil, you can claim asylum. The agents are there to prevent anyone from crossing over. Canada has since altered its own laws since they no longer consider the U.S. a safe place for asylum seekers.[3]
Our small group spent just a few days in Brownsville, cooking for and carrying meals to the migrant camp in Matamoros, Mexico, where more than 1500 people are waiting to know what their next step might be. We served them food, thanks to World Central Kitchen, the NGO whose mission it is to feed people in disaster zones. We saw planes deporting people to a third nation, under the cover of darkness. We saw footage of the effect of the child separation policy, hundreds of children imprisoned for the sin of seeking the American dream. We spent part of Sunday morning teaching school to kids of all ages, sprawled on tarps laid out over the dirt. The kids’ passion for learning and normalcy was palpable. Their smiles were infectious and broad. But that was the only day of school they get. We saw the human toll that anti-stranger policies exact.
Eilu devarim, these things I will not forget, that in those people’s faces, I saw our own history of being unwelcome to America at our time of need. At the same time, I will not forget the humanity I saw and their capacity to find joy in the midst of difficulty. None of us should forget the importance of welcoming the stranger as we look up our polling place.
Bikkur Cholim, Visiting the Sick.
According to tradition, there are certain rules for this mitzvah. Among them: Don’t go visit too soon. Don’t tax the patient with too many visits. The rabbis of old were practical and also a touch superstitious. But the Midrash elaborates that there is real power in this mitzvah. Each visit is said to take away 1/60th of the illness. When Joseph visits Jacob on his deathbed, the sight of the son he favored most, who was taken from him for decades, whose face gleamed with the beauty of his beloved Rachel, the sight of Joseph, gives Jacob the strength to sit up in his old age.[4] Visiting the sick is akin to healing the sick, even in just a small way. We are commanded to be healers of the sick, easers of suffering.
There are ways to stop the spread of this virus. We know it because we’ve done it here, in New York, on Long Island. After the hell that was our spring, we have made it to the other side. We know that social distancing, mitigating risk, and wearing masks are all ways that stop the spread. We know this because science tells us so and the data tell us so. Imagine what we could have done had we known, like the President that the virus was airborne on February 7.
The Rabbis of old didn’t have science, but they did have sense. They had the sense to remind us that we are only supposed to alleviate suffering, not exacerbate it. In their injunctions against visiting too soon, the commentators say that it’s to prevent the patient from thinking they are sicker than they are, but there was perhaps also a recognition that in the case of illness that is not understood, you should keep your distance for a few days. They might not have understood that a disease can be airborne, but they didn’t even need that knowledge to advise social distancing
Eilu devarim, these numbers ought to be on our mind: 200,000 Americans dead and nearing 7 million infected, hitting the worst-case scenarios presented all those months ago. Loved ones dying alone in hospitals. Frontline workers underequipped. Families losing the opportunity to mourn in the ways they expected. Our community’s losses. Our members who lost loved ones. The line of hearses awaiting burial at the cemetery. Families whose worlds have been crushed.
Eilu devarim, these things must be on our mind: how much of this might have been preventable if our leaders had chosen to alleviate suffering? Our votes should bring healing, not more suffering and pain, and we should remember that as we make our plan to vote.
Hava’at Shalom Ben Adam Lechavero, Making Peace Among People:
One of the most important roles for a leader is to comfort people through difficult times. The prophet Isaiah loved to tell the people what they were doing wrong. But when the people were at their worst, when the people had lost everything, he chose to comfort them, with words of consolation from God. As our ancestors wept by the rivers of Babylon, Isaiah reminded them of their promise and their ideals and that though things were tough, a brighter future was possible, if only they stuck to the values of Torah.
There is no question that this nation feels more divided than ever before. E pluribus unum seems farther away than ever. As a Jewish community, we value peace and pray to God over and over to cause peace to descend upon us. We also know that as much as we count on God to heed our prayers, prayer without our action is incomplete.
This summer, our nation witnessed the largest social protest movement in American history[5] as millions marched for racial justice and against police brutality in the aftermath of George Floyd’s death at the knee of a police officer. One more violent interaction caught on smartphone video. Eilu devarim, these are the things we should remember… 2/3 of Americans believed in at least part of the goals of the protest movement.[6] 93% of protests were peaceful. Of the 7% where there was violence, we could say it was just a few bad apples, but recent reports also indicate that much of that violence was stoked by white supremacists seeking to blame the racial justice protestors and sow discord.[7] Though the violence was by no means widespread, it is always wrong. The images of cities aflame, factions of this nation confronting each other in the streets, shattered us all.
Eizeh devarim!? What words of peace did we hear from our leaders?! Eizeh devarim!? What words of consolation from our Commander in Chief, for a nation beaten down, seemingly tearing itself apart?! What words of shalom, of wholeness of bringing people together? The lack of words, the lack of a thrust toward peace, the lack of a comforting presence in our nation’s time of greatest need. That ought to be on our minds as we fill in the bubble.
Talmud Torah Keneged Kulam. The Study of Torah is Equal to Them All Because It Leads to Them All.
The rabbis of the Talmud debate whether study or action is greater. They answer, and here the Talmud explains that it’s all the rabbis, almost as if they shout in unison: “Studying the Torah is greater because studying leads to action.”[8] What does it mean to study Torah, to busy ourselves with sacred words? It means for the purpose of living them. Values have no meaning if they stay in our books. Our liturgy teaches us that Torah is an expression of our deepest held values. We are commanded to study eilu devarim, these things, because in studying them, we find ourselves living them. In making space in our minds and souls for these values, in considering them day after day, there can be no end except to find our hands, feet, and minds living out our values through our actions and our choices.
We are called to live a life dedicated to and comprised of eilu devarim, these things that are without measure, that we cannot do enough of. We are called to make our decisions based on eilu devarim, these values. We are also Americans, called to elect our leaders. The votes which are our inalienable right allow us the opportunity to put our faith, our values, eilu devarim, into action. \
This nation has a choice before it this November. We each have a choice before us. What values will we bring with us into the voting booth? What Torah will guide our future? What kind of society do we seek to build? What values will we demand our leaders not only speak but act? These values: eilu devarim:
אֵֽלּוּ דְבָרִים
שֶׁאֵין לָהֶם שִׁעוּר שֶׁאָדָם אוֹכֵל פֵּרוֹתֵיהֶם בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה וְהַקֶּֽרֶן
קַיֶּֽמֶת לָעוֹלָם הַבָּא, וְאֵֽלּוּ הֵן כִּבּוּד אָב וָאֵם וּגְמִילוּת
חֲסָדִים וְהַשְׁכָּמַת בֵּית הַמִּדְרָשׁ שַׁחֲרִית וְעַרְבִית וְהַכְנָסַת
אוֹרְ֒חִים וּבִקּוּר חוֹלִים וְהַכְנָסַת כַּלָּה וּלְוָיַת הַמֵּת וְעִיּוּן
תְּפִלָּה וַהֲבָאַת שָׁלוֹם בֵּין אָדָם לַחֲבֵרוֹֹ וְתַלְמוּד תּוֹרָה כְּנֶֽגֶד
כֻּלָּם:
Amen.
[1]
Translation in Mishkan Tefillah with a touch of Gates of Prayer
[2]
Ex. 12:49
[3]
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-53494561
[4]
Genesis 48
[5]
https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/07/03/us/george-floyd-protests-crowd-size.html
[6]
https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2020/07/polling-trumps-protest-response-could-cost-him-2020
[7]
https://www.wsls.com/news/virginia/2020/07/27/police-richmond-riots-instigated-by-white-supremacists-disguised-as-black-lives-matter/
[8]
Kiddushin 40b
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