SERMON
YOM KIPPUR MORNING
“INDIFFERENCE”
From
the time I wrote the first word for my erev Rosh Hashanah sermon this year, I
have been struggling with how to get you to this point without alienating you
altogether or without boring you to death with my sermons. I don’t know that
I have been successful and that worries me. At the same time, for those of you
who have been worshiping here throughout the High Holy Days this year, many of
you have noticed out loud that the experience has felt different this year,
even though we have used exactly the same prayer book. The words in the machzor
are exactly the same, yet the way they have touched us seems deeper, more
intense and, if I may use the term, more spiritual. Much of the music of the
service is the same as in past years, but many of you have said how much it
has touched you this year in ways that it hasn’t in the past. I suggest that
one reason for this change is that you who have been uttering those words this
year and have been uplifted by the inspirational music that our choir has
brought to the services have also invested much more of yourselves into the
process than you have ever done before. It is an example of the axiom that you
find spirituality to the extent that you bring something to the process
yourself. I would say at this point that you have brought a great deal this
year, and you have noticed the difference yourselves.
One
other thing has been drawing me, tugging at me, irresistibly pulling me toward
it all throughout this time has been the choice of scriptural readings for
today. I’m sure it’s no accident that the readings that appear in our machzors are the ones they are, because they really bring home the
themes of the High Holy Days that we repeat continuously during these ten
days, themes of self-searching, personal evaluation, repentance, atonement,
and commitment to efforts to do better in the future. Not only are they on
point; they even take into account and list out the excuses we use to try to
get off the hook from taking personal responsibility for our actions or
inactions.
Even
though we just read these passages a few minutes ago, I know that a lot of us
don’t really follow along for content when we do these readings because we
are just trying to follow the text. And because there are a couple of points
that both the Torah and Haftarah texts make that are relevant to what I am
trying to communicate, I want to repeat them so that you know to what I am
referring.
First,
the Torah reading reminds us that every single one of us has entered into an
eternal holy agreement with God, even those who weren’t standing at Sinai
when the original covenant was made. What I realized and what made me chuckle
was the comparison to the modern warning that we get in our very litigious
society that we need to read the fine print, that we need to be familiar with
the terms of the contract because, if we are a party to the contract, even if
we don’t read the fine print, if we have signed on to it, then we are bound
by its terms.
Second,
the Torah seems to poke fun at the folks who come up with any number of
excuses for not being able to fulfill the terms of the contract, when it says,
“this commandment that I command you this day is not too hard for you, nor
too remote. It is not in heaven, that you should say: ‘Who will go up for us
to heaven and bring it down to us, that we may do it?’ Nor is it beyond the
sea, that you should say: “Who will cross the sea for us and bring it over
to us, that we may do it?’ No, it is very near to you, in your mouth and in
your heart, and you can do it.”[1]
The passage is unequivocal. The job of fulfilling the terms of the agreement
falls to each and every one of us. We can’t shove it off onto anyone else.
These terms, called in Hebrew mitzvot,
to the extent that we have any ability to do them, are binding on all of us.
No one is exempt. Maybe the best example of that was the ancient dictum that
even one who receives alms is required to give tzedakah.
No one is off the hook.
We
are supposed to spend these ten days going through the grueling process of
doing certain things that will, in the end, enable us to approach God to seek
forgiveness and reconciliation. On this day, Yom Kippur, we perform certain
actions, we recite certain prayers, we refrain from eating, drinking, wearing
make-up, making love, and several other things, all so that we can focus our
attention on the task at hand. And we’ve been going through this process for
a really long time, not just this year, but even as far back as the time of
the prophet Isaiah, whose chastisements comprise the Haftarah portion that we
just heard.
1.
God says (to Isaiah): Cry with a full throat, do not hold back, let your voice
resound like a shofar: declare to My people their transgression, and to the
house of Jacob their sins.
2.
Yes, they seek me daily, as though to learn My ways, as if they were a people
that does what is right, and has not forsaken the way of its God; They ask of
Me the right way as though delighting in the nearness of God.
3.
[But]“When we fast”, you say [to
God], “why do You pay no heed? Why,
when we have we afflicted ourselves, do You take no notice?” Because, on
your fast day fast you pursue your own affairs, while you oppress all your
workers!
4.
Because, your fasting leads only to strife and discord, while you strike with
cruel fist! Such a way of fasting on this day will not help you to be heard on
high.
5.
Is this the fast that I have chosen? A day of self-affliction? Bowing
your head like a reed, and covering yourself with sackcloth and ashes? Is this
what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the Eternal?
6.
Is not this the fast that I have
chosen: to unlock the shackles of injustice, to loosen the ropes of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free, and to tear every yoke apart?
7.
Surely it is to share your bread with the hungry, and to bring the homeless
poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them; never withdrawing
yourself from your own kin?
8.
Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall
quickly blossom; your Righteous
One will walk before you; the glory of the Eternal One shall be your
rearguard.
9.
Then, when you call, the Eternal One will answer; when you cry, God will say, Here
I am. If you remove lawlessness from your midst, the pointing finger, the
malicious word;
10.
if you give yourself to the hungry, and satisfy the needs of the afflicted
soul; then shall your light shine in darkness, and your night become bright as
11.
And the Eternal One will guide you always, filling your throat in parched
lands, and renewing your body’s strength; you shall be like a garden
overflowing with water, like a spring that never fails.
12.
Some of you shall rebuild the ancient ruins; rebuilding the foundations of
ages past. You shall be called, Repairer of the breach, Restorer of streets to
dwell in.[2]
These
words, both from Deuteronomy and Isaiah, are our marching orders. I didn’t
make them up, although I am glad to be the messenger. What concerns me the
most, and what I believe this period of the Days of Awe is meant to bring us
back to, is that the problems of the world, as great as they are, are not, and
cannot be, the excuses for not holding up our part of the bargain. Our
personal problems, as overwhelming and paralyzing as they may be, are not
permission slips for us to try to hand over responsibility for our own stuff
to someone or something else. What terrifies me the most is that our society
has come to a place where we seem to be indifferent to the sufferings and
injustices that surround us. I say “seem” because I know that we really
aren’t indifferent. But our seeming inability to become activists, not for
every cause, but for any cause, makes me fearful for what we are
demonstrating to those who look to us for moral leadership. Perhaps if I gave
you a couple of concrete examples, you would understand my point a little
better.
Robert
Maynard Hutchins was an educational philosopher, and president of the
I
get solicitations all the time from the Southern Poverty Law Center,
especially asking for support for their program called “Teaching
Tolerance.” The only thing worse than tolerance, as far as I’m concerned,
is indifference. I don’t want to be tolerated. If someone is going to hate
me, I’d like to know about it so that I can figure out whether or how to
deal with it. But to be tolerated means that they can pretend to accept me to
my face, but hate me behind my back. That’s not acceptable. But what is even
worse is indifference. To know that there is intolerance rampant all over the
world and to behave as though we don’t care is beyond unacceptable. It is
both intolerable and unforgivable. And to tell me that you don’t have time
to get involved in everything is not news. But to use the fact that there are
too many things to choose between so you choose not to be involved in any is
just plain wrong. To be paralyzed by the huge number of things in which one
might become involved is the poorest excuse of all.
George
Bernard Shaw was a world-renowned Irish author. “The worst sin towards our
fellow creatures in not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them; that’s
the essence of inhumanity.”[4]
If
it were your daughter who needed an abortion but you couldn’t afford to pay
for one or you couldn’t get her to a safe place to undergo the procedure and
get appropriate counseling, you would be grateful beyond words to know that
organizations like Planned Parenthood and the Religious Coalition for
Reproductive Choice were out there trying to make a positive difference on
your child’s behalf. But would you ever volunteer for either of them,
knowing that someone else’s daughter was in exactly that position?
If
you are retired and still mobile, would you consider volunteering to tutor
elementary or middle school children between the time they get out of school
in the afternoon one or two days a
week and the time their parents get home from work? Would it be worth it to
you to know that you would be contributing to helping save public education in
this country from even worse problems? Or would you prefer simply to shake
your head and complain about how little support our schools get from the
government these days? There is a difference between caring and caring enough
to do something about it.
Amantine
Aurore Lucile Dupin, Baronne Dudevant, best known by her pseudonym George
Sand, was a French novelist and feminist. She said: “I would rather believe
that God did not exist than believe that He was indifferent.”[5] From the most
practical theological point of view that there is we may ask, “If we are
indifferent to God’s creation, why should God not be indifferent to us?”
In other words, what chutzpah on our
part to pray for all these good things when we have not necessarily done as
much as we could have or should done have to earn them! That is precisely what
Isaiah was saying in his ancient rant. And it remains every bit as true today.
I
could go on and on. And over time I probably will. Suffice it to say that I
remain a committed social activist because I see that role as the best way for
me to live out my Jewish values. It is through my activism that I constantly
renew my spirituality because it constantly brings me into contact with
God’s varying creatures and creations, each of whom reminds me of the beauty
and diversity of the world God created as well as the ugliness and horror of
the things we do to spoil and ruin that creation. It is that activism that
keeps me from ever becoming indifferent, because I am forced to witness our
inhumanity as it plays out among the rest of humanity, and because then I am
motived to try to be the mensch
“I
watch the news, God. I observe it all from a comfortable distance. I see
people suffering, and I don’t lift a finger to help them. I condemn
injustice, but I do nothing to fight against it.
I am pained by the faces of starving innocent children, but I am not
moved enough to try to save them. I step over homeless people in the street, I
walk past outstretched hands, I avert my eyes, I close my heart.
Forgive
me, God, for remaining aloof while others are in need of my assistance.
Wake
me up, God; ignite my passion, fill me with outrage. Remind me that I am
responsible for Your world. Don’t allow me to stand idly by. Inspire me to
act. Teach me to believe that I can repair some corner of this world.
When I despair, fill me with hope. When I doubt my strength, fill me with faith. When I am weary, renew my spirit. When I lose direction, show me the way back to meaning, back to compassion, back to You. Amen.”[6]