SECOND DAY ROSH HASHANAH

Rabbi Ronald L. Androphy

East Meadow Jewish Center

September 20, 2009

          This has not been an easy year for many members of our congregation and people throughout this community and country.  Between nine and-a-half and ten percent of the workforce in United States is currently unemployed.  Members of this congregation or their children have lost jobs or been downsized, and their prospects for finding employment in this hostile environment are not bright at the moment.  The value of our homes has decreased, as has the worth of whatever investments or retirement accounts we might own.  Several of our members have confronted life-threatening illnesses this past year, and, as our congregation ages, more of our congregants face serious medical issues.  Cancer has laid its ugly hand upon too many of our members, particularly women.  It is no wonder that, as my colleagues and I can attest, psychological depression has become much more prevalent.

          It has not been a trouble-free year for the Jewish people either.  In addition to the financial scandals I spoke about yesterday, we Jews face two related concerns, both pertaining to Israel.  The Obama administration certainly does not appear to be as pro-Israel as past administrations have been.  Pressure on Israel to stop settlement growth is certainly heavier than ever.  President Obama’s speech this past June in Cairo in which he virtually equated the Holocaust with Israel’s so-called occupation of the Palestinians was an affront.  The American rapprochement with Syria is a matter of concern.  And the specter of a nuclear-armed Iran is a nightmare of epic proportions, as the world does little to prevent that horror from becoming a reality.

          It seems to me that it is precisely at moments of challenge such as these that we Jews should embark upon a quest in which our ancestors used to engage whenever they faced dire threats in their lives –a pursuit which we moderns have lost the ability, or rather the sensitivity, to assume.  At moments of challenge – be they personal, ethnic, national, or international – we must undertake a search.  And for whom or what should we search? – We must search for God.  We must search for meaning.  We must search for hope.  And the three are not unrelated.

         

          So where are we going to find God?  Can we find God?  I maintain that we can find God in many different places, but today I will mention only three, three sites where I myself glimpse the divine.

          The first place I find God is in Jewish texts.  I find God in the Torah, in the other sections of the Bible, in the Talmud, in the various Midrashic works, in the Siddur, even in Jewish law codes.  Now before you tune me out, I must make two points:  first, when I say that I find God in these classical Jewish texts, I am not saying that God literally wrote all of them.  I am not a Jewish fundamentalist. Maybe God wrote the Torah, but the other books of the Bible and certainly all post-Biblical Jewish works were written by humans, many of them inspired by God, but all of them having struggled with, or having encountered, God in some way.  What I mean is that I find God by studying Jewish texts.  By studying Jewish texts, by grappling with them, by trying to delve into their depths, I encounter God.  I see how the reality of God influenced our ancestors; I see how our ancestors’ wrestling with God brought them to greater spiritual awareness despite the personal and national tragedies they might have experienced.  By studying Jewish texts I open myself up to the eternality of Judaism by engaging in an activity that has been at the core of the Jewish religious experience for almost three millennia.  I sense the yearnings of our ancestors as they sought to find God in a frequently harsh and hostile world. By studying Jewish texts I become part of the multi-generational Jewish experience of God, and I feel the power of that reality.  Our sacred literature talks to me.  Perhaps the late chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary, Rabbi Dr. Louis Finkelstein, expressed it best when he said, “When I pray, I talk to God; but when I study, God talks to me.”  From my own experience, I can attest to the truth of Professor Finkelstein’s words: God can be found in our Jewish texts.  God can be found by engaging in the spiritually uplifting act of studying our Jewish texts.  God’s voice can be heard through the study of Jewish books.

          The second point I must emphasize is that studying Jewish texts is not a Rabbis-only activity.  The beauty of Judaism is that it is a democratic religion; there is no Jewish text that is the purview of rabbis alone.  All of our religious books are open to, and study-able by, any and all Jews.  Sure, all of us comprehend our religious works differently.  Believe me, there are plenty of Jewish books that I barely understand, particularly Kabalistic texts.  But the fact is: Judaism is, pardon the pun, an open book.  It is readily available to all.  And in this day and age we are blessed that so much of Jewish religious and spiritual literature has been translated into, and is available in, English, frequently with helpful commentary.  The Torah, the rest of the Bible, the Talmud, many Midrashic collections, Hasidic literature, even the Zohar and other Jewish mystical works can be obtained in excellent English renditions.  So go ahead and try it.  Find yourself a Jewish work and study it.  I can almost guarantee that you will find and encounter God in it. 

          Do you want a suggestion as to where to begin?  I recommend the Biblical Book of Psalms as an excellent starting point.  Many of the Psalms can speak to us today and touch our hearts because their authors faced the same challenges we do:  the ravages of illness, economic difficulties, psychological depression, the feeling of abandonment by their friends, the feeling of being abandoned by God, a sense that their enemies -- either human or situational -- were about to overwhelm them, a feeling of hopelessness.  As we read and study these psalms we discover how our ancestors were able to find and encounter God and regain the hope and faith to persevere.  By studying the Book of Psalms, found in any copy of the Bible you might have at home, we can find and encounter God. 

         

          Where else can we find God?  Let me suggest the following:

          Over the past several months, over twenty East Meadow Jewish Center families were blessed with the birth of grandchildren.  Some of us became first-time grandparents, others had already been members of the “Bubbie and Zaydie Club.”  Trust me, it is a wonderful club of which to be a member. 

Whether you are a grandparent or not, you know from your own experience as a child that grandparents and grandchildren relate so marvelously together.  After all, grandparents can spoil their grandchildren with impunity.  They can do fun things with their grandchildren, and, when the grandchildren begin to act up or get grouchy, hand them back to their parents.  Or, as my late father-in-law used to say, the reason why grandparents and grandchildren get along so well is that they have a common enemy.

          I think I share the sentiments of all grandparents -- and great-grandparents as well -- when I say that we undoubtedly felt blessed by God when our grandchildren arrived.  When our granddaughter, Sara Eliana, was born and we saw her just a few hours later, we truly felt blessed.  As I looked at her for the first time, I was reminded of a passage that appears in the Talmud, a proto-scientific, yet theological, comment about the miracle of the birth of children, a passage that I always recalled when our own children were born.  According to the Talmud, there are three partners in the creation of a human life: the mother, the father, and God.  According to our Sages, the mother contributes the red material – the blood and the organs; the father contributes the white matter – the bones and the skin.  But the child is still incomplete and is just a bunch of matter, until God contributes His part:  God endows the child with the senses: the ability to see, hear, feel, taste, and smell, and infuses in the child the breath of life.  Isn’t that a beautiful statement?

          Aren’t children a miracle?  Aren’t grandchildren and great-grandchildren a miracle? 

          And maybe that’s also where we can find God: in children.   Isn’t it miraculous that we can create life?  Isn’t the human reproductive system a wonder?  Isn’t the complexity of the human body a miracle?  To watch a child grow is to witness God at work.  No, I am not saying that God controls human actions.  Even the Talmud makes it clear that we humans are free agents, possessing free will to act as we see fit; God does not make us do anything.   I am saying that God endowed us humans with the power and ability to grow and develop, and that we do so is, to me, one of the places where I find God.

          One of the actions in which we Jews engage whenever we encounter God is saying a blessing thanking God for a particular event.  Did you know that this is the case even with the human body?  Our ancestors possessed such awe at the workings of the human body that they actually created a blessing which some of us recite every morning.  This blessing, which traditionally is said when emerging from the bathroom after relieving oneself upon awakening, thanks God for creating our bodies in such a way that the various ducts, apertures, and valves in our bodies open and close at the proper times.  Our ancestors found God in the marvel which is the human body, and so should we.

          The same is true of the human mind.  What a miracle the human brain is!  I find God every time I open the newspaper and read of some new medical discovery or advancement, a technological innovation, the entire computer and internet phenomenon, a new approach in history or literature.  I take seriously the statement at the very beginning of the Torah, in the very first chapter of the book of Genesis, that God created man in His image.  For me, one of the meanings of that most important verse is that we can see God in all manner of human accomplishments.  I know I do.  And may I suggest that all of us take the same approach.  We should try to see the spark of divinity, the divine involvement, the presence of God in the human body and the human mind, and in the accomplishments of both.  Trust me, it is a positive and hopeful attitude to reflect.

 

          The third place I find God is in the beauty that exists in this world, and I mean that in two forms.  First, I see God in the natural beauty of this world.  Sure, I know that the world can be an ugly place at times.  Tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, disease, pollution, and other natural or man-made disasters can wreak untold havoc and unbearable pain.  But by and large, I must say that the Bible is correct: the physical world that God created is, indeed, a good one.

          I find God in the natural beauty of this world.  This past summer, for example, Nancy and I took our second Alaska cruise, thanks to an incredibly inexpensive fare which I found on the internet.  The awe-inspiring scenery of Alaska is incredible!  Majestic mountains, verdant valleys, mountain streams, glaciers, forests as far as the eye can see, the wildlife – bears, moose, whales, sea lions, eagles, and more – all drew me closer to God.  As I told you a few minutes ago, we Jews recite a blessing in most situations when we encounter God, and our Alaska trip was no exception.  We Jews have created blessings whenever we see magnificent natural phenomena, and I found myself uttering these blessings every single day of our trip.

          But one does not have to travel across the continent to discover God in the natural world.  There are so many wondrous sites nearby where we can encounter God, if we would only open our eyes.  A glorious sunrise, a colorful sunset, a beautiful beach – all can be moments in which we discover God.

          But I see God also in the creativity of the human mind.  I am inspired to think in divine terms whenever I encounter beautiful art or architecture or glorious music.  No, I am not saying that God directed the artist’s hand or the architect’s pencil or the composer’s pen.  But I do believe that God created the human mind, and that He endowed some of us (certainly not me) with incredible creativity.  I see in great works of art and music divinely inspired inspiration, imagination, and ingenuity.  Yes, I do find God in an art museum, a sculpture garden, in the architectural canyons of Manhattan or the skyline of Chicago, in the music hall, the opera house, and the theatre.  I perceive God in man- and woman-made works of art.

          Parenthetically, I must mention that it never ceases to amaze me that there are some people who, for religious reasons, shut themselves out from encountering or witnessing this aspect of divinity.  You may know that some religious Jews will not walk into a church.  While I understand their reasons, let me tell you that if a Jew goes, say, to Rome, he or she would be committing a bigger sin, in my opinion, by not entering, for example, St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican.  How could one deprive oneself of seeing Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling and Last Judgment altarpiece, or his Pieta?  If one goes to Paris, how can one deny oneself the divinely inspiring thrill of the Notre Dame Cathedral?  It seems to me that any Jew who refuses to see an artistic treasure just because it rests in a church violates a decree proclaimed by the great Talmudic rabbi by the name of Rav.  Rav said that God will hold us to account for every legitimate pleasure in this world that we could have enjoyed, but did not. What Rav is saying is that in moments of beauty we should sensitize ourselves to see God.  And I believe that Rav is absolutely correct:  God can be found in the beauty – both natural and man-made – in this world.        

          These are just three of the places where and how I myself find God: in, and by studying, Jewish texts; in, and by appreciating, the human body and mind, and their growth and accomplishments; and in, and by being sensitive to, the physical and man-made beauty in this amazing world in which we live.

 

          And where can we find meaning?   In exactly the same places.  I find meaning in the study of Jewish texts.  By seeking to understand the classics of our tradition, I discover meaning and direction in life, and you can, too.

          By watching children grow and develop, we can stand in awe of God.  By appreciating the wonder of the human body, we can discern how we should treat our own bodies.   By appreciating the wonder of the mind with which God endowed us, we can motivate ourselves to use our own minds to the best of our abilities, thus giving meaning and direction to our actions and our lives.

          But there are two other places in which we can find meaning.  The first is in the community.  Judaism has always called upon us to share our resources and energy with other members of the Jewish and/or secular communities in which we live.  In Hebrew it is called “Tikkun Olam”; in English we call it “Social Action.”  By helping others less fortunate than we, we add significance to our lives.  I would hope that during the coming year you will find an opportunity to participate in Tikkun Olam – Social Action. 

          Allow me to make a suggestion that can impact all of us.  Several years ago, thanks to the insight of several of our members, we initiated our Yad BiYad program in which we asked members who could do so to volunteer to undertake such activities as driving a member to a doctor’s appointment, offering a member a ride if he/she needed transportation, cooking a meal for a congregant who perhaps had just returned home from the hospital, taking care of someone’s children for a few hours while she had to run out to take care of an elderly parent, etc.  And many of you did sign up.  But quite frankly, at that time, there was little demand for services, thank God, and so we rarely had to call upon those who had volunteered.  But, my friends, today the situation is different:  we have more elderly members who can use assistance from time to time; we have congregants who have been stricken with cancer or other illnesses or maladies and need a helping hand; we have young families who are sandwiched between caring for their children and responding to their elderly parents.  In other words, as I see it, we have a greater need for Yad biYad services today than we did ten or so years ago when the program began. 

          We will soon mail to all our members a form on which you can indicate which services you might be able to offer as part of our Yad biYad program.  Please look for it in a Center mailing in a few weeks.  Remember, by extending our hands to others at their times of need, we give added meaning to our own lives as well.  Also, if you need assistance from our Yad biYad volunteers, you will be able to indicate that on the form, too.  

          Since I am discussing how a Jewish community like a synagogue responds to those in need, I want to mention another area of importance.  I think all of us can be deservedly proud of the way that the Jewish community has responded to the current economic crisis.   I want to single out the UJA-Federation of New York and its affiliated agencies for special praise.  When the extent of the crisis was realized, the New York UJA-Federation mobilized its resources.  One of the steps it took was to call a meeting with rabbis here on Long Island and to seek our input.  Coincidentally, at the same time, UJA was strengthening its assistance to synagogues in the form of an ongoing program called “SYNERGY”.  Among the topics that we were then exploring were synagogue finances, alternative methods of affiliation, and how synagogues can use the social networking media to publicize their activities.  When the economic crisis hit, I was asked to chair the immediately-created SYNERGY sub-committee on how the UJA and its affiliates could respond to the crisis.  Partly as a result of our committee’s work, and mostly through the incredible creativity, expertise, and compassion of its staff of professionals, the UJA created and implemented a massive program called “Connect-to-Care” that provides an extensive array of services to those who have lost jobs and/or are suffering through the consequences of the financial world’s meltdown, offering everything from career counseling, to a jobs network, to the practical skills of applying for a job, to financial counseling, foreclosure counseling, and, in extreme cases, emergency financial assistance.  And let me emphasize that if anyone here needs or wishes to connect to the UJA Connect-to-Care program, by all means call me at the office or email me so that I can direct you to the extensive services that are available.

This Connect-to-Care program is an example of the Jewish community at its responsive best.  This is how Jews have reacted to crises throughout our history: by coming together to help each other.  This is one of the aspects of Jewish life that has provided meaning to our people throughout the ages: the knowledge that they are part of a people that will always be there for each other on good occasions and in times of challenge and crisis.  Being part of a Jewish community adds meaning to our lives. 

I hope that all of us who are members of the East Meadow Jewish Center feel that sense of community.  Let’s face it: life is sometimes cruel.  People get sick, they experience pain and illness, they suffer grievous and tragic losses such as the death of a loved one.  But as Harold Kushner has articulated in almost all of his books, beginning with his now-classic When Bad Things Happen to Good People, God does not cause those tragedies.  Rather, God can be found in the response of the community to those tragedies.  And I truly believe, and have worked for the past twenty-six years to ensure, that the East Meadow Jewish Center is and will always be a caring community for all of our members

          Finally, I firmly maintain that we can find meaning in our Jewish religion.  I believe that virtually every aspect of our Jewish way of life can add significance to our lives, in at least two ways.  First, our Jewish traditions ground us in something larger than we are, by connecting us not only to God, but also to our Jewish past.  As we observe the practices of our Jewish faith we ally ourselves to the generations of Jews who have come before us.  Now for me those are not empty words: I feel that connection to our ancestors when I observe and when I pray.  I’ll give you an example:  Every Jew knows at least one prayer by heart, and that is the Shma: שמע ישראל ה' אלהינו ה' אחד – Hear/Listen, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone.  This most famous line is actually not a prayer; it is a statement of faith.  Have you ever wondered or asked yourself: Who is the “Israel” being commanded to “Hear” or “Listen”?  The contextual meaning of the word “Israel” is the Israelites, the Jewish people.  Moses is addressing the Israelites just prior to his death urging them to maintain their faith in God.  But there is a beautiful Midrash, which I find tremendously powerful, that suggests that the “Israel” being addressed is not the entire Jewish people, but one person in particular, a personage who lived over 3,500 years ago, the person named “Israel,” namely, our patriarch Jacob, who was also given the name “Israel.”  When we recite the Shma Yisrael, we are, in effect, turning to our long-deceased patriarch, Jacob, the father of the twelve tribes, and declaring, “Yes, Jacob, we still believe that the Lord is our God, the Lord alone!”  We connect ourselves with the long line of Jewish tradition whenever we pray or observe Jewish traditions.

          But that is hardly enough to provide us skeptical moderns with meaning were it not for the fact that the traditions we Jews maintain are meaningful in and of themselves, and have definitely brought enlightenment to the rest of the world.  Whether it is keeping kosher, which instills in us reverence for all life; whether it is observing Shabbat, which teaches us the value of human work and rest, and emphasizes the importance of family; whether it is celebrating Passover, with its message of freedom and human dignity; whether it is observing Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, with their message of the possibility for individuals to change for the better; whether it is the mitzvah of giving tzedakah, which inculcates within us so many noble qualities like sharing, respecting all human beings, and kindness  --  practically every one of our Jewish observances adds meaning and significance  to our lives.  I cannot begin to tell you how many times over the years non-Jews have approached me after attending services here at the East Meadow Jewish Center, or at a wedding at which I officiated, or at a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, or at a funeral, or at a shiva house, or at an East Meadow community event, to tell me how meaningful they find our Jewish rituals and traditions.  I often wonder: if so many non-Jews can perceive the beauty and value in Judaism, why don’t more of our own people?

          So I encourage you: if you want to add value, significance, and meaning to your lives as all of us face the challenges of life – by all means come closer to Jewish observance.  Don’t know how or want to learn?  Simply give me a call or shoot me an email, and I’ll be glad to help.  If for some reason you feel intimidated by me, I will connect you with a fellow congregant or our rabbinic intern who can serve as your guide or mentor.

          My friends, there is a beautiful poem that is included in Likrat Shabbat, the siddur we use at our Late Friday Night services.  It was written by Rabindranath Tagore, the Indian-Bengali poet and author who received the 1913 Nobel Prize in Literature, the first Asian to become a Nobel laureate.

           A Hasidic rabbi said it even more succinctly:  “Where is God?” he asked.  “Wherever we let Him in.”

          This year, may we all let God into our lives so we can enrich our souls, ennoble our lives, and greet the future with hope.

          Shana Tova!