Kol Nidre 5781: A Strongly Worded Letter to God

 A version of this sermon was delivered at Temple B'nai Torah - A Reform Congregation in Wantagh, NY on Kol Nidre 5781, September 27, 2020.

God, we need to have a talk.

The Torah tells us that this is a day to afflict our souls.  The Torah tells us that this day is supposed to make atonement for us, for our sins, before You, God.  This day is supposed to render us clean, as individuals and as a nation.  We are to deny our bodies and offer ourselves to You.  We cleanse our bodies to cleanse our souls.  But this year, God, I’m not so sure I’m going to feel cleansed, or renewed, or atoned.  Because after this day, this Sabbath of Sabbaths, life continues as it did yesterday, and I gotta tell You, God, life is hard right now, and I know that I’m one of the lucky ones. 

But, when times are tough, where do I turn if not to You?  To whom do we come if not to You? 

I know that we’re supposed to be cautious of how we speak to You,[1] and that even great men and women should be careful about rendering harsh words toward the heavens, but I think You can handle it.  In fact, I know You can.  Abraham argued with You at Sodom, the covenant held.  Jacob wrestled with You in the wilderness, the covenant held.  Jonah petulantly refused to do Your will, the covenant held.

In their footsteps, Eternal our God and God of our Ancestors, I ask: how do You expect us to afflict our souls when they are already so wounded?  How do You expect that we practice self-denial when what we can do is already so limited? 

You want a listing of our sins?  Fine.  We have sinned, over and over again, we’ve got one for every letter of the alphabet!  But when do we call You to account?!  We need some tikkun, God, some healing and repair for our souls which ache with distress, for our spirits, which cry out to be comforted.  We don’t need another day of affliction!

So let’s make a deal: tonight, In the presence of the heavenly court and the earthly court, we’ll forgive You and You forgive us. 

What for?  I’m glad You asked.

Life is hard, and my people and I are tired.  So tired.  Not like in other years.  I know what it takes to make High Holy Days happen.  I know what it means to stay up nights and agonize over words, to craft a meaningful prayer moment, in the hope that they will make a difference.  I have done that before.  This year, there was so much new.  New technology to learn, new interpersonal skills to learn, new habits to learn, new worries keeping me up.  I’m a lifelong learner, God, but hadn’t I already learned how to live my life?

So fine, I learned how to do my job virtually.  But I don’t like it.  It’s not the best way to do this work, God.  The work of teaching Your Torah.  I know You only spoke to Moses face to face, but I’m used to doing it all the time!  I miss seeing people’s faces in front of me.  I miss seeing students in person.  I miss shaking a mourner’s hand and high fiving a bat mitzvah.  I miss handing out lollipops on Shabbat!  I miss blessing people in person!  I miss so much of what was before.  We’ve lost so much of what we knew, and there is no end in sight.  And we don’t know what will come after.

On top of that is all the worry.  And it’s exhausting, too.  Every day, every decision, based on worry for our safety, for that of our families.  Who will be there and where have they been?  How many people will be there?  What’s the viral count in the county right now?  What about the state?  Do I have a mask or sanitizer with me?  Every day, all those questions, over and over.  I know You’re a fan of intentionality, but is this what You had in mind?

And then, God, there’s all the death.  I didn’t open with that because it’s all still so hard to talk about.  So many have died.  So many who did not have to.  Across this country, and across this planet.  I know how busy You’ve been ushering people under Your sheltering wings.  Who shall live and who shall die!?  Who by plague?!  These used to be rhetorical questions, God, remnants of our ancestors and the lives of uncertainty that they lived.  A quaint throwback to a simpler time, before science, before vaccines, when we believed all of it was Your doing. 

So many are grieving their loved ones, their friends, their neighbors because of this virus, because of the violence, because of hunger, because of fires and hurricanes.  So many families in our nation, crushed in mourning.  My people and I are living in a constant state of mourning.  Is that what You hoped for?!  You are supposed to turn our mourning into dancing.  Any time You feel like it!

There’s so much we can’t plan for.  We’re all so anxious because we don’t know what tomorrow will bring.  All we have are questions.  What will we be allowed to do?  How can we plan for things?  What is school going to look like?  Will I have a job?  Every plan needs a contingency.  Every idea needs a backup.  It’s twice the work and twice the worry for every moment of our lives, God.  And it’s exhausting.  It leads to twice the anxiety for a nation that already doesn’t handle mental health well, that thinks there’s something wrong with asking for help.

It feels like there’s twice the potential to make a mistake every moment of every day, and yet, it also feels like we only get half the reward for twice the effort.  Our simchas are joyous but not what we had been looking forward to: weddings without parents, namings without grandparents, b’nai mitzvah without friends.  Our grieving is more pained and without the comfort of community.  Our day to day is so hectic and distracted and uncertain that we don’t know what to feel most of the time.  This cannot be the world You want for us.

Forgive me and my people if we’re just a little tired of bad news.  5779 was difficult, with rising antisemitism, mass shootings, police violence, rising oceans, and a nation more chaotic.  But 5780, You outdid Yourself!  On top of all of that, you took so many from us, and so many who stood for so much that we care about.  You took Kobe and his daughter.  You took John Lewis.  You took Ruth Bader Ginsberg.  You took Rabbi Steinsaltz. You took Carl Reiner.  You took Regis!  My mother still hasn’t gotten over that.

Is there supposed to be some lesson in this, in all this?  My soul aches already, and now I’m supposed to afflict it?  Well, You’ll forgive me if I just don’t have it in me to afflict myself anymore today.  The affliction we’ve been feeling feels like enough to make up for whatever we might have done to deserve it!  But You know what God, tonight, in the spirit of Yom Kippur, we’ll forgive You and You forgive us!

Forgive us if we can’t be fully in it tonight.  Forgive us if the distance between us all is getting to us and if we fail to feel Your presence in the deepest way from our living rooms or our computer rooms.  Forgive us if as nice as this is and as hard as we’ve worked to make it work, if it just doesn’t feel the same for us.  Forgive us.  Pardon us!  Grant us atonement!  We’re doing the best that we can, and this year, 5781, that’s going to have to do!

You know, I’m not the first to come to You in prayer on behalf of my people.  I’m not comparing myself to them, but if their merit may have persuaded You, then perhaps, their merits can count for me and my people.  The rabbis of old who came to You with pleas for help and demands for justice in the world were imperfect like me.  They worked hard to make sense of Your Torah in their times, like we do.  They looked out for their communities in times of trouble like we do.  You listened to them.  Listen to me now with the added benefit of their merit.

What story can we tell You, God, to avert danger away from us?  What prayer from our people’s past can we share so that Your grace and mercy might shine down upon us?  Maybe the Rabbis who invented prayer have the answer!

Some years after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem by the Romans, there was a drought.[2]  To implore You to send rains, Rabbi Eliezer came before the Holy Ark and proclaimed 24 blessings, yet You did not answer his pleas.  No rains came.

Then came Rabbi Akiva who intoned but two lines of prayer: “אבינו מלכנו אין לנו מלך אלא אתה Avinu Malkeinu, we have no ruler but You!  אבינו מלכנו למענך רחם עלינו Avinu Malkeinu, for Your sake, have mercy on us!”  And then the rains fell.  The drought was abated. 

So, fine.  I’ll give it a shot! Avinu Malkeinu, have mercy on us!  Have mercy on us for the pain that we feel, the distance that we feel, the hurt and the mourning that we feel.  Have mercy on us for the anxiety that keeps us up at night, the stress of what this is doing to us and to our children and parents.  Have mercy on us for the sadness and the division and the violence in our midst!  Avinu Malkeinu, we have no other God but You!  Where should we turn if not toward the East?!

What was it about Rabbi Akiva’s prayer that moved You so?  You told us in a voice from the heavens that it was because Rabbi Akiva was forgiving but Rabbi Eliezer was not.  So it has nothing to do with the prayer at all!?  It has to do with the person’s commitment to forgiveness?!  Are we supposed to forgive so that the rains will come, so that these difficulties will end, so that healing will come to wash away all the affliction?  Who are we supposed to forgive?  Are we supposed to forgive each other?  Are we supposed to forgive ourselves? 

Fine, I forgive myself for the numerous times that I did not live in Your image.  I forgive myself for the times that I did not pay attention to Your will.  I forgive myself for the moments when I did not embody Your spirit of compassion and Justice, Your spirit of consolation and grace.  I forgive myself for the times that I did not love in the way You have commanded us to love, that I did not live in the way You have commanded us to live.  I atone for these and I forgive myself and I forgive my community and my family and my friends, and I commit on this night, this Sabbath of Sabbaths, that I will strive to turn away from those moments of smallness toward moments of goodness and intentionality.  Avinu Malkeinu, I don’t know any other God but You, and I don’t know anything else to say.  Tonight, it’s going to have to be enough!

Maybe it’s not ourselves we’re supposed to forgive, down here in the earthly court.  Maybe we’re supposed to forgive You, up in the heavenly court?  Rabbi Akiva taught us that the greatest commandment is to love our neighbors as ourselves.  Loving our neighbors means forgiving them as we would want them to forgive us.  Does loving You demand the same thing of us?  Ok, fine, God, I forgive You!  Now You forgive us. 

Inscribe us and seal us in the book of Life for good and for blessing.  Forgive us and make this a good year for us.  Forgive us for not acting to spread Your light as we are commanded.  For as much as we are angry at You, we know that it is on us to do Your works here on Earth, to heal the sick, to comfort the bereaved, to teach the next generation, to help the needy, to spread words of peace, to not be daunted by the work ahead of us.  We know it’s on us, God.  But, this year, would it kill You to maybe throw us a little extra help? 

Our souls are afflicted.  We’ve met the requirement.  We’ll forgive you.  Now please, forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.

Amen.

G’mar Chatimah Tovah.

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[1][1] Cf. Rabbi Elazar Taanit 25a

[2] Based on story in TB Taanit 25b

Rosh HaShanah Morning 5781: Faith in the Voting Booth

 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 1/60^th 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.

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[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

Erev Rosh HaShanah 5781: Fail in the Most Beautiful Way

 A version of this sermon was delivered at Temple B'nai Torah - A Reform Congregation, on Erev Rosh HaShanah 5781, Friday, September 18, 2020.

In the world of international soccer, there is no more beloved team than Barcelona.  They are record breaking in terms of their achievements, holding more records than I have time to list this evening.  They are the fourth most valuable sports team in the world, and my nephew Myles can often be seen sporting their kit, though that is more my brother’s influence.  Apparently, Myles is more of an Arsenal fan.  Barcelona’s success is known worldwide, and other football clubs know what it means to come up against them.

Last year, Barça as they are known, met with Liverpool in the Champions’ League semi-final.  These games are played on aggregate scores, which means that two games are played, one at each home stadium, and at the end, the team with the most goals wins.  Well the first leg of the semi-final saw Liverpool lose 0-3 at Barcelona.  And then Liverpool lost its two star players to injury before the second match in Liverpool.  In response to these difficult odds…  In recognition of the longshot his team had been at the outset, and the even longer shot they had become, Liverpool head coach Jurgen Klopp had some words of wisdom for his team, who would need to score 4 goals in 90 minutes.  He told his team his plan: “Just try.  And, if we can do it, wonderful.  And if not, then fail in the most beautiful way.”

Fail in the most beautiful way.  A powerful statement and a difficult concept.  With these words, Klopp gave his players permission to not achieve success.  He gave them the opportunity to take all the pressure off the result and instead focus on the method.  Try hard, he told the team.  Try as hard as you can.  If you fail, let it at least be an effort worthy of a defeat playing the beautiful game.

The notion of failure, of not achieving our goals, has been on our minds so much these last months.  So many of us have faced disappointment after disappointment.  Many of us feel like we can’t seem to succeed at everything that was put on our plates.  Some of us feel like we haven’t succeeded at anything.  Many of us have had to juggle so much out of the ordinary, and then when things don’t go perfectly, or even well, or even mediocre, we judge ourselves for the failure. 

Failure is a part of success.  And so in this new year, as unknown challenges and pressures will mount around us, let us all take a cue from Coach Klopp: try, and if it cannot be, let us fail in the most beautiful way.  Let us put our efforts into our goals, but if and when they don’t pan out, let us all at least be able to say we tried beautifully and failed beautifully.  Because at the core, that’s what Coach Klopp was telling his team, that if the effort is beautiful, then the failure ought to be seen as something beautiful as well.

Our tradition has something to say about failure, and it starts at the very top!  Today as we celebrate Rosh HaShanah, we rejoice with blasts of the horn the anniversary of God’s creation.  Hayom Harat Olam, we intone at our Shofar service.  “This is the day of the world’s birth!”  Yet we know that while we celebrate today, 5781 years ago, things didn’t go so smoothly.

Adam and Eve can’t be trusted not to eat of the fruit.  The Evil Inclination goads the snake into causing trouble and mischief.  The first humans break the rules, and Eden, the paradise created for humanity’s every need, is lost forever.  Generation after generation of humanity show God that this grand project of creation, this crowning achievement of existence for which God contracted in order to make space, has only come to evil.  There is too much wickedness on the earth for God to abide.

“The Eternal saw how great was man’s wickedness on earth, and how every plan devised by his mind was nothing but evil all the time.  And the Eternal regretted that They had made man on earth, and God’s heart was saddened. The Eternal said, “I will blot out from the earth the men whom I created—men together with beasts, creeping things, and birds of the sky; for I regret that I made them.”[1]

God’s heart was saddened and filled with regret.  What powerful emotions from God.  The sadness of the failure, the regret over the outcome.  All leading to a rash decision.

We know what God does next.  God sends the flood, to wipe clean the earth of its wickedness.  “For in seven days’ time I will make it rain upon the earth, forty days and forty nights, and I will blot out from the earth all existence that I created.”[2]  God throws in the divine towel.  God decides that the project is too far gone, not even worth reforming, and that it’s time to start over.  God doesn’t give up on creation, God starts again.  Sometimes, it just doesn’t work.  Better to cut your losses and move on, right?  Sometimes, sure.

Nothing is impossible for God, and yet God still accepts that the first go around at creation was a failure.  God tried all that God could and still came up a little short. 

So, if God fails, what hope do we have?  Well, that’s not quite the point.  If God fails, why on earth should any of us believe that we’re not also going to make mistakes, that we’re not also going to put all our effort into something and come up short!?  But, when that happens, we have to remember that God failed beautifully.  When God describes the creation, over and over again, God says it was good, even very good!  But even things that start out good, don’t always end the same way. 

How many of us created pandemic and quarantine goals, like color-coded schedules for our kids, and gardens of vegetables to tend?  How many of us put together a list of all we wanted to accomplish now that we had some additional time around the house?  How many of us made it past a few weeks?  Probably some, and that’s great.  But a lot of us, and I include myself in this, especially if you were to see the state of my garden, just couldn’t keep it up.  Screen time went up for everyone.  Pants became optional.  The weight of everything we have been dealing with got to us.  The unexpected stresses of being home all the time and changing all our routines was too much to allow for our creations to flourish.  The weight of the reality around us was for some of us too much to hold onto while also aiming for these goals.  But we tried.  If we failed, we did so beautifully because we tried and aimed for success.

Now, we know that a reboot is how God responds to failure, but is that the best way?  To wipe clean and start over from scratch, eliminating all good with all bad?  Even God recognizes that this is not the ideal turn of events.  Once God starts over, God reminds us that never again will God destroy the earth.  One of the first things Noah does once out of the Ark is build an altar to God.  Then we read, “The Eternal smelled the pleasing odor [of Noah’s sacrifice], and the Eternal said to Themself: “Never again will I doom the earth because of man, since the devisings of man’s mind are evil from his youth; nor will I ever again destroy every living being, as I have done.”[3]  An interesting turn of phrase here in the Hebrew, which, when describing God’s inner monologue says:  Vayomer Adonai el libo: God spoke to God’s heart.  After reading of God’s sad heart before the flood, we now read that God speaks to God’s heart, to comfort it, to make a promise.  God speaks to the heart of things and decides that even if things get bad again, God won’t seek to destroy and start over.

So, if the first example of responding to failure, shaking the etch-a-sketch clean, is less than ideal, what then?

To find another answer, we need to look closer to our own metaphysical realm as humans and think about Moses.  His story is marked with a series of difficulties and setbacks, and yes, failures in a beautiful way, though we don’t often consider them that way when we look at the totality of his life and achievements.

But let’s take Moses’s most famous accomplishment, freeing the people from Egypt.  Did he succeed?  Sure, just check the haggadah!  But before he succeeded, he failed.  Fully 11 times God sends Moses to Pharaoh in order to demand the people’s release.  Once with the staff and snakes and then 10 more times, once before each plague.  11 times.  Plague after plague, with the power of God behind him, and each time, he comes home to Tziporah and his neighbors with nothing to show for it. 

“Are we free yet, Moses?” 

“No, not yet.  But God’s cooking up something great for tomorrow!” 

“Whatever you say, Moses…How ‘bout now?” 

“Well, actually, now we have to make bricks without straw.” 

“Oh, well, thanks so much, Moses!  Some redeemer you turned out to be!”

Each time, Moses does what he is asked and sends a wave of destruction against Egypt.  Frogs, fleas, locusts, darkness, flaming hail, over and over, each time the answer ultimately, no.  Finally, after the 10^th plague, Pharaoh relents.  Moses has achieved success!  And then, just as they are about to taste freedom, Pharaoh’s mind and heart change, and he pursues the Israelites to the Sea of Reeds.  11 times Moses sought freedom for the people.  11 times he failed.  11 times Moses came before the Pharaoh.  11 times the people are disappointed.

Moses shows us the power of failing beautifully.  He does all he can with each attempt, and when it doesn’t work, he tries again.  Each time, he learns more and more about the power of failure.  And each time he comes back stronger.  Remember he didn’t even want to talk to Pharaoh to begin with!

“Was it for want of graves in Egypt that you brought us to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us, taking us out of Egypt?  Is this not the very thing we told you in Egypt, saying, ‘Let us be, and we will serve the Egyptians, for it is better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness?”[4]  God may have hardened Pharaoh’s heart; the people blame Moses for the failure.

But Moses doesn’t give up.  He tries again.  As we read in Proverbs, “Seven times the righteous falls, and yet gets up.”[5]  He trusts in God, and he knows that if he has failed, he has done so beautifully, and he is willing to do so again.  It would take a miracle for the people to survive this!  Moses, bolstered by his previous attempts knows that God will come back again, tells the people not to fear, even before God tells Moses to part the waters.  And finally, Moses succeeds in freeing the people from Pharaoh’s grip.  Only took him 12 tries!

Moses not only learns as he goes, he learns about the importance of failure and learning from mistakes.  Only a few months later, as the Israelites are at the foot of Mt. Sinai, and Moses is up above talking to God, Moses and God experience a failure together as the people revolt against God, Moses, and Aaron, building the Golden Calf. 

God recognizes what’s going on.  “They have been quick to turn aside from the way that I enjoined upon them. They have made themselves a molten calf and bowed low to it and sacrificed to it, saying: ‘This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt!’”[6]

God sees this as a failure.  The people have turned aside from me, God says.  They have acted basely, God tells Moses.  True to form, God has a suggestion about what to do next.  “Now, let Me be, that My anger may blaze forth against them and that I may destroy them, and make of you a great nation.”

Moses, however, has learned what it means to pick up and try again.  It is only in trying again that the failure can truly be beautiful.  “But Moses implored the Eternal his God, saying, “Let not Your anger, O Eternal One, blaze forth against Your people, whom You delivered from the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand.  Let not the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that He delivered them, only to kill them off in the mountains and annihilate them from the face of the earth.’ Turn from Your blazing anger, and renounce the plan to punish Your people… And the Eternal renounced the punishment God had planned to bring upon God’s people.”[7]

In response, Moses heads down the mountain with the tablets of the Ten Commandments, and upon seeing the ruckus down below, in anger and frustration after having defended the people, he smashes the tablets and punishes the people.  Moses has failed again, this time in bringing the word of God to the Israelites. 

Ultimately, Moses will need to go back up to reinscribe a new set of tablets.  But when the time comes to place the tablets in the Golden Ark, whose cherub’s wings serve as the shelter of God’s presence amidst the people, both the broken set and the whole set are placed alongside each other for the journey ahead.  We learn from our failures when we bring them with us.  We learn from our failures when we build on what was and try again.  And when we do all of that, we fail beautifully because we did not give up and we did not give in.

It took a lot of miracles for the Israelites to escape to freedom.  It also would have taken something akin to a miracle for Liverpool to score four goals in 90 minutes in order to beat the powerful Barcelona.  And yet, that’s exactly what happened.  Barcelona was defeated.  Because Liverpool was given the freedom to fail, but to do so with integrity of effort and gumption, they succeeded.  Because they allowed themselves the freedom to not achieve everything ahead of them, they in fact accomplished more than anyone thought they could.  Liverpool didn’t cower and run away.  They didn’t lose faith.  Instead, they accepted that it might not go their way and continued to play hard.

We have to imagine that Moses, somewhere around the 6^th plague, had a sense that each time he went to Pharaoh, he was going to be rejected.  And yet, he did not flee from potential failure.  He did not lose faith.  Instead he faced it head on and ultimately succeeded.

This year 5781 begins as there is so much uncertainty around us.  Can I tell you something that is certain?  We will all fail at something in the year ahead.  We will all have plans that go sideways and opportunities that we miss, and goals we won’t score.  But, if we make a commitment to ourselves tonight, that each challenge we face will be with the understanding that if we must fail, we ought to do it beautifully, well then, maybe we just cut ourselves a little slack.  And maybe the failures of the year ahead may lead us not to despondency for what we did not achieve, but to pride in how we did not achieve it, pride in our beautiful failures.  And then to the realization that we can try again.

Here’s to a year of beautiful failures!

Shanah Tovah!

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[1] Genesis 6:5-7

[2] Genesis 7:4

[3] Genesis 8:21

[4] Exodus 14:11-12

[5] Prov. 24:16

[6] Exodus 32:8

[7] Ex. 32:11-12, 14