Rosh HaShannah I — 5771
I would hope that by now, at least most of you would have heard the word “t’shuvah”, and that many of you would have a basic idea of the concept as it relates to the High Holiday period. But as I sat with our older Religious School students the other day, it was clear to me that Jews have over complicated the concept embraced by the word, t’shuvah, and in doing so, have missed the point of what that word literally means and how it is understood in relationship to this holiday and the days which follow.
We generally think of t’shuvah as “repentance” and, indeed, repentance is an objective to be sought during this period of the year. But repentance refers only to cleansing ourselves of sins which we have committed by failing to adhere to God’s commandments. For sins committed against another human being, we must seek forgiveness and pay compensation.
The basic outline of the process was described a thousand years ago by Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, of whom you have probably heard by the name Maimonides, or by the Hebrew acronym, Rambam, in his classic code of Jewish law, the Mishneh Torah. And it is there that the confusion of which I am speaking was born.
Maimonides tells us: “kol mitzvot she’batorah – bein asei, bein lo ta’aseh – im avar adam ahat meihem – bein zadon, bein bishgagah . . . .” “If any person transgresses even one of all the commandments in the Torah – whether a positive [commandment], or a negative [commandment] – and whether it was deliberate, or accidental . . . .” The Mishneh Torah then continues: “k’she’ya’aseh t’shuvah v’yashuv meiheto . . . .” “When he repents and returns from his sin . . . .”
Notice the two words in the middle — t’shuvah and v’yashuv. They both stem from the same Hebrew root — Shin - Vav - Bet. Yet one word is translated as “repentance” and the other is translated as “return”. Now, it is true that in the Hebrew, one of those two words — t’shuva — is a noun and the other is a verb. But that should not account for the difference in translation.
The concept of making amends for our sins originates in the Torah. The word t’shuvah neither appears in that scroll, nor does it appear in the prophetic or other writings which make up the Hebrew Bible. Variations of the root Shin - Vav - Bet appear in numerous places in Torah as well as in those other biblical writings. And each of those words carries with it the translation “return” or “turn back” or ‘to turn from”.
The Merriam-Webster dictionary lists two separate meanings for “repent”. One is: “[t]o cause to feel regret or contrition [or] [t]o feel sorrow regret or contrition for.” Many of us, I am sure, believe that this is what is meant by t’shuvah. However, the other is “[t]o turn from sin and dedicate oneself to the amendment of one’s life.” Notice the first three words of this latter definition: “to turn from”.
Thus, let me suggest to you that the concept of repentance is more than a feeling or regret or contrition. The concept embodies a dual meaning — both a turning away from the sinful act and a return, or turning back, to God. T’shuvah is an active action which encompasses a tangible 180 degree change of direction — from a sinful act to compliance with whichever of God’s commandments has been transgressed.
I assume that it appears obvious why I would speak about t’shuvah on Rosh HaShannah. Perhaps it is less obvious why I have spent most of the time so far focusing on the precise meaning of the Hebrew word. The answer is that I believe that the concept of t’shuvah applies to Jewish organizations, as well as to individual Jews, and, therefore, that it is time for Temple B’nai Abraham to turn away from those values and actions which have become entrenched over the past several years, and turn back to those core values and actions which are the hallmark of a vibrant congregation now beginning its 122nd year.
What do I mean? Two years ago I remarked that “a synagogue is really three institutions — a Beit Kenesset, a House of Assembly, where we meet and interact socially and in other important ways with our fellow Jews; a Beit Tefillah, a House of Prayer, as we are experiencing this morning; and a Beit Midrash, a House of Study.” Let’s look at each of those three legs of the stool for a moment. Over the past two years this congregation has held perhaps a half dozen purely social activities — maybe a few more if those occasions were tied to another function. How many of the hundreds of you sitting here today attended at least one of those? The synagogue social calendar is pretty bare. Jews, at least in this community — and we are not alone in this by any means — no longer see their synagogue as a place to get together with other Jews.
Over the past two years we have held a number of adult education programs, studying about Jewish life cycles and Jewish views on biomedical issues, such as abortion, organ transplants, end of life decision making, tattoos, artificial means of conception and surrogacy. We have held classes on chanting Torah and Haftarah, on the synagogue service, on the weekly parashah, on kashrut, and on learning to read Hebrew. We held two special “Lunch and Learn” programs. How many of you have attended any of these classes? One of the hallmarks of Judaism over the millennia has been its emphasis on lifetime learning. But today, unfortunately, too many Jews think that Jewish education has become complete with their Bar Mitzvah or Bat Mitzvah.
Over the past two years, excluding Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur, how many of you have attended a synagogue service when you did not have “Jewry Duty”? And, sadly, there are some congregants with access to transportation, who no longer attend even then. Now, I realize that coming to services is not the reason many people join a synagogue, or remain as members. And I also realize that regular synagogue attendance by a significant proportion of the membership, while much to be desired by any rabbi, simply is not in line with reality. However, there are many places where Jews can gather to socialize and many places where they can go and learn. But the synagogue primarily exists so Jews can come and pray.
This state of affairs did not happen over night. And the underlying causes for this situation are not due only to disinterested congregants. Our lives have become much busier and more complicated. In many families, both spouses are employed outside the home and in many such households, both spouses travel for work. There are children to raise and many of our older children attend schools out of state; and, following their education, many find employment out of state as well. Our children do not come back to town, or to the synagogue, as they once did. And both they, and their parents, have a significantly wider array of choices for their leisure-time activities than existed several decades ago.
The membership in our congregation, like many others, is aging. Many of our members no longer have their own automobiles and many of those who still do, can no longer drive at night. And, then there are those whose physical condition makes it difficult, if not impossible, to travel any distance away from their residence.
As we all know, we are in a time of significant economic stress. Unemployment, under-employment and positions not related to one’s training and experience have become the norm. Family budgets are strained, gasoline is expensive, and each trip to the synagogue costs money. And many of you no longer live as close to the synagogue as our members once did.
And, of course, there is the synagogue, itself. Are the programs we are running attractive to our membership — as relates to their content, location, time and cost. Have our prayer services become stale and repetitive, devoid of any spiritual meaning? Has the increasing lack of Hebrew literacy among Jews played a role?
Before I continue, I want to be very clear on one thing. Even with all these difficulties, Temple B’nai Abraham is still a wonderful place for Jews to come to pray, to eat, to learn and to enjoy the company of our fellow Jews. When I was interviewed, I responded to the question of why I wanted to be the Rabbi of this particular congregation with the statement that “I wouldn’t want to be the Rabbi of any congregation in which I would not be happy to be a dues-paying member.” And after two years, I still feel this way. I would be happy to sit where you are sitting and take advantage of every opportunity — social, religious and educational — that this congregation has to offer. After all, what makes a synagogue great is not the building, or its furnishings, or even its history, but the ruah — spirit — that the people inside exude. And that ruah is what gives any synagogue its neshamah — its soul.
And so, regardless of the reason, or reasons, it is time for Temple B’nai Abraham to recapture, or rebuild, that congregational ruah. It is time that we examine the neshamah of this wonderful congregation, to turn away from those things which impede its ruah and return to those qualities — and here, I am not speaking of those exact forms of worship or programming — but those qualities — both tangible and intangible — which made this congregation one that attracted hundreds of Jews to join and become active participants in its life.
In that wonderful collection of ethical treatises — Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of our Ancestors — Rabbi Ya’akov states: “This world is like the anteroom of the world to come. Prepare yourself in the anteroom so that you may enter the main hall.” That is to say that ‘This World” is where growth, self-improvement, and making changes in one’s behavior takes place. And that is accomplished by t’shuvah — turning away from that which transgresses and returning to that which is holy. In the Book of Ecclesiastes it is written that “A thing that is twisted, cannot be made straight; and that which is missing, cannot be replaced.” Yet, its author was unclear; for the Midrash reminds us that “In ‘This World,’ what is crooked can be made straight, and what is missing, can be replaced . . . .”
Maimonides, in his Mishneh Torah tells us that the first step in t’shuvah is recognizing the wrong and confessing it out loud. That we have done here today. He also writes that among the paths to take included performing charity — which can include giving time as well as money — up to one’s potential and changing one’s behavior to the good. Here’s how I suggest we do that here.
I am issuing a challenge to each person sitting in the sanctuary this morning to join with us in restoring our neshamah. There are six parts to the challenge. As 5771 is a leap year, there are 13 months between today and Rosh HaShannah 5772 next year — that’s one part every two months with one month to spare. Each part will take you less than four hours. First part: come to one Shabbat service, either Friday night or Saturday morning, when you have no other reason to attend — such as a simhah or an obligation to say Kaddish.
Part two: come to one weekday minyan, either Thursday morning or Sunday morning when you don’t have Jewry Duty or an obligation to say Kaddish. Part three: come to one adult education program. If you don’t like what we have planned after reading the brochure, let me know and we will plan something for you. Part four: come to one social function or dinner that you weren’t planning to attend. And part five: volunteer for one specific task to help one of our programs, succeed. It can be something a simple as making a few phone calls, stuffing envelopes, helping to set up before, or clean up after, a function.
Oh, and there’s one more thing — part six, for extra credit if you will — send me a note, by phone, email or otherwise, and tell me what you liked about the service, or the program and, just as important, what you didn’t like. And if you have one or more suggestions for improving that which you attended, they would be most welcome.
Now, by issuing this challenge I do not intend to discouraging anyone who wishes to exceed the minimum. Our synagogue committees always need individuals who are willing to led their wisdom and talents. All of our committees are important, but I particularly want to mention one such committee. For over a century, this congregation has been one of the very few in this country with its own Hevrah Kadishah — or Holy Society. The sacred work performed by this group, with which I am honored to have participated, needs some new volunteers, especially on the men’s side, where two of the members are in their mid to late 80s and cannot perform the physical labor of their youth.
This past summer, as I was officiating at a funeral of a long-time member, I heard her daughter say at the graveside how, as a young woman, her mother had taken her along in the evening when she had been called to perform the sacred task of preparing someone for burial and how important she realized that those trips had meant to her as she stood there at her mother’s grave. Please come and speak to me after the holidays. Don’t let this wonderful and most necessary tradition disappear.
I made a similar plea on this day one year ago. We at Temple B’nai Abraham are a family. Members of a family support one another. If everyone takes the attitude that someone else will do, it simply won’t get done. T’shuvah is about turning back, not turning our backs. If you will do your part, we will do ours.
When God called on Abraham to take Isaac up on the mountain, Abraham responded: Hin’ni — “Here I am”. When God called on Moses at the burning bush, Moses responded: Hin’ni — “Here I am”. In just a few minutes our Hazzan, Cantor Rabinowitz will begin the Musaf service with the beautiful prayer, “Hin’ni”. Won’t you all answer my challenge with that same response: “Hin’ni” — “Here I am; you can count on me”?
In the midrash on Shir HaShirim — the Song of Songs — we read that “Rabbi Yesa said, ‘The Holy One, Blessed be He said to Israel, “My sons, Open the door of Repentance as [little as] the ‘eye of a needle,’ and I will open it for you so that wagons and carriages can pass through.”’” “Doing Teshuvah is not easy. But, like many other worthwhile processes, a person need only start the job. Once that is done, ‘somehow’ [God] gets involved and helps . . . so that [one] is able to surmount the difficulty.” I am sure that if we are up to the challenge, God will help us too and by this time next year, the neshamah of Temple B’nai Abraham will not just be restored, but thriving as well.
May this new year — 5771 — be one of health, happiness and peace for us all.
L’Shanah Tova u’Metukah.
