Rosh Hashana Day 2 - 2023-5784
Chesed
Almost every year I use this morning’s Torah reading as a source for the message I share with you. The story of Abraham and Isaac on Mt Moriah is a pivotal one not only in our tradition but also in the Christian and Muslim traditions. It is a story of faith. It is a story of God’s harsh demands but also of God’s saving powers. It is a story of morality. In just 19 sentences, the Torah packs in all these foundational messages of our tradition and so it is no wonder that it was chosen to be read on one of the holiest days of the year.
Because the story is in our machzor we have to confront it honestly and intelligently. We have to not only appreciate the words we recite today but the liturgy has to feel relevant to us. The story has to respond to our personal lives and has to move us.
And yet, rather than be moved or inspired, I always end up, if not scratching my head, then deeply saddened by the Torah's portrayal of God’s relationship with humanity. The questions I always ask are based on traditional understandings of the text. First, why would God demand such a horrific act of Abraham? Why would God ask Abraham to sacrifice his son? This question assumes that the story as written is an accurate description of the events. It assumes that the story is a literal and true account.
But who is the anonymous narrator? Whose voice is it that tells us that God spoke to Abraham and tells us what Abraham said in response? Was it someone there watching? The rabbis assume that God wrote the Torah and handed that written copy to Moses on Mt Sinai. Was it God who wrote about God’s self in the 3rd person?
And the most difficult question of all - if the text is a literal and accurate account of events - why would God be so harsh and brutal? God would certainly know how Abraham would positively respond to the demand - because God is all knowing - so why would God put Abraham and Isaac through this ordeal which ends up severing their relationship? (As the Torah describes it in subsequent chapters, Abraham and Isaac never see each other again and God doesn’t talk to Abraham again.)
Given these theologically and religiously challenging issues, what are our options? If we want to maintain a traditional approach to the Torah then we have no option but to read the story as is and try to be inspired by Abraham and Isaac’s undying faith. Just as Isaac was spared at the last second and saved by Abraham’s righteousness so too, the rabbis teach us, we can be saved by our righteous acts. Our sincere prayers and our wholehearted efforts toward repentance will cause God to write us in the book of life.
But as a modern Jew I can’t accept that. As a modern Jew I have had years of education in both Jewish tradition and western civilization. I have spent years studying our Jewish texts with two lenses - the traditional Jewish lens and the western academic lens. Often those two lenses create a distorted picture. One lens offers one view but the other often offers a conflicting view that then creates a blurry and fuzzy view of the world. The western academic side of me causes me to ask the questions I did - about the authorship of the Torah and the nature of God - and therefore I’m left with two choices. Ignore the academic approach because Jewish tradition is primary. Or find a way to incorporate the western values to form a clearer Jewish picture.
I believe that the goal of religion is to provide us a system of values and ritual practices that guide and enhance our lives. Our lives on earth are intended to be meaningful. I choose to find that meaning through the lessons taught by the rabbis as they interpreted the Torah. Our Jewish tradition guides my life and the rituals I practice every day and the values that I incorporate into my life help make each day be filled with blessing and meaning.
I also believe that God has created our world and serves to be a constant source of love and compassion. I cannot accept a God that is portrayed as vengeful, harsh or angry. I cannot accept a God that causes hurricanes to form and volcanoes to erupt. I cannot believe in a God that demands extreme behavior. Instead I firmly believe that God is a source of compassion. It is our task to seek God and attempt to find God in the beauty of the world around us and in the good we do. Instead of seeing God directing our lives, I see us looking for God in the way we act and the choices we make. As a religious modern Jew, I practice Judaism in an attempt to feel closer to God. I feel commanded to do these mitzvot and I seek God in the acts of charity I perform. My theology then is directed by me toward God as opposed to how our story portrays it - God speaking to Abraham and to us.
With these ideas then - that God is the source of compassion and that it’s our task to seek God - I reread our story of Abraham, Isaac and God. Our story begins by telling us that God tested Abraham; God called out to Abraham and Abraham responded “here I am”. I think that means that Abraham felt that God called to him. He felt as if he needed to be tested by God and that he needed to prove to God that he would follow God no matter what. Remember that the last thing Abraham did was banish Hagar and Ishmael from his home - as we read yesterday. Perhaps Abraham was feeling remorse and felt that he wasn’t living up to God’s standards. He felt that he needed to prove that he firmly believed in God and that he needed to act righteously. He needed to offer God a gift, a valuable gift, that would express his gratitude for God in his life. A gift that would show God that Abraham is God’s loyal servant.
But then reason overtakes Abraham. He sees that he has built an altar, laid out the wood, bound his son in ropes, and placed his son on the altar. He is about to slay him when Abraham has another vision - another feeling about God. Here the Torah tells us in verse 11 that “an angel from heaven called out ‘Abraham, Abraham’ and Abraham replies, ‘here I am.’” At this crucial point in the story, when Abraham could have killed his son because of his original idea of God, Abraham instead realizes that God really is a God of love and compassion. Abraham knew that if he wanted to express loyalty to a demanding God, then that would ultimately lead to a horrific end. If Abraham continued to follow God blindly and believe that God is a demanding, harsh and unforgiving God, then that belief could lead him to sacrifice his son. The lesson for us is that blind faith, a literal reading of text, a black and white understanding of God and religion, can lead to horrific consequences.
Instead Abraham understands that he needs to believe in a forgiving, loving and compassionate God. He “sees” - the text tells us that Abraham called that place “Adonay yireh, whence the present saying, ‘on the mount of Adonay there is vision.’” In other words Abraham “saw” or understood God differently. He understood that God is a source of love and compassion. We should never believe that God would demand harsh and evil acts, but rather God wants us to love our children, love our families, love all humanity. That new vision is what Abraham saw and what we are supposed to learn.
With this understanding of the story - that God is compassionate - we now have two stories on Rosh Hasahnah that teach us very valuable lessons. The story we read yesterday, as I explained, is one of loneliness and despair. By having us read the story of Abraham’s banishment of Hagar and Ishmael to the harsh solitude of the wilderness, we learn that the worst feeling to have is loneliness. As David Brooks and Dr. Murthy taught, feelings of loneliness and sadness are all pervasive in the world today.
What is the antidote for loneliness? Our Torah reading this morning teaches that it is compassion. If we believe that God is the source of love and compassion, then we have no choice but to exhibit our belief by being loving and compassionate. When we opened the ark earlier this morning we sang, “Adonay, Adonay, El rachum ve-chanun - Adonay, Adonay is a merciful and gracious God, patient, abounding in compassion and faithfulness.” The rabbis teach us that just as God is compassionate so too we need to be compassionate.
Yesterday when I said that Dr. Murthy’s plan to combat loneliness is essentially what synagogues do, I wasn’t being flippant. I firmly believe that our synagogue’s mission is not only to be a place to live, learn and grow Jewishly, but to be a place that is a source of compassion. Love and compassion is at the core of everything we do and I think that our Chesed committee is the core around which everything else in our shul revolves. Sure we need a finance committee to ensure our viability and sure we need a board of directors to guide us wisely, but we need the Chesed committee to take care of the needs of everyone in our community. If people feel alone how can they even imagine that they can reach out to us? Our Chesed volunteers reach out to those who are housebound and remind them lovingly that they still belong, that they aren’t alone. When someone in our community comes home from the hospital feeling weak and vulnerable, our volunteers provide meals to boost their spirits both physically and emotionally. When our members feel overwhelmed by doctors appointments, not knowing how they could possibly get there, our volunteers provide a ride.
It is no accident that these volunteers are called the Chesed - compassion - committee. It is purposeful to remind us of our mission in life to be compassionate because God is compassionate. Being aware of the needs of other people, understanding that there are people in pain and people who are alone, is at the core of everything we do. We aren’t meant to be arrogant, private, narcissistic people. No - a religious community - a community of meaning - is one that lifts up the spirit of everyone.
Steven Covey, the author of Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, tells this personal story. “I remember a mini-paradigm shift I experienced one Sunday morning on a subway in New York. People were sitting quietly – some reading newspapers, some lost in thought, some resting with their eyes closed. It was a calm, peaceful scene. Then suddenly, a man and his children entered the subway car. The children were so loud and rambunctious that instantly the whole climate changed.
“The man sat down next to me and closed his eyes, apparently oblivious to the situation. The children were yelling back and forth, throwing things, even grabbing people’s papers. It was very disturbing. And yet, the man sitting next to me did nothing. It was difficult not to feel irritated. I could not believe that he could be so insensitive as to let his children run wild like that and do nothing about it, taking no responsibility at all. It was easy to see that everyone else on the subway felt irritated, too. So finally, with what I felt like was unusual patience and restraint, I turned to him and said, ‘Sir, your children are really disturbing a lot of people. I wonder if you couldn’t control them a little more?’
“The man lifted his gaze as if to come to a consciousness of the situation for the first time and said softly, ‘Oh, you’re right. I guess I should do something about it. We just came from the hospital where their mother died about an hour ago. I don’t know what to think, and I guess they don’t know how to handle it either.’
“Can you imagine what I felt at that moment? My paradigm shifted. Suddenly I saw things differently, and because I saw differently, I thought differently, I felt differently, I behaved differently. My irritation vanished. I didn’t have to worry about controlling my attitude or my behavior; my heart was filled with the man’s pain. Feelings of sympathy and compassion flowed freely. ‘Your wife just died? Oh I’m so sorry! Can you tell me about it? What can I do to help?’ Everything changed in an instant.”
Covey’s story isn’t unusual. We often are judgmental of others and imagine that we know exactly what is going on in someone else’s life. We see situations like Covey described in the subway, and we assume the worst about people.
But if we agree that we are supposed to be compassionate, if we also agree that our belief in God impels us to be compassionate, then we too need to shift our assumptions. Rather than think the worst about people, let’s be compassionate and give people the benefit of the doubt. Let’s reach out to our friends and neighbors and offer our love and compassion.
We need to be guided by Abraham’s example. He transformed himself from the evil person who banished Hagar and Ishmael, who caused loneliness and despair, into someone who was the source of compassion. It took time and the process nearly cost his son’s life - but in the end he recognized the true meaning of God and life itself. Abraham recognized that our relationship with God must be based on love and compassion.
Abraham also sensed compassion through the voice of an angel. His new understanding of the power of compassion was reinforced through the loving actions of that angel. Abraham felt that the angel was from God and that his own sense of compassion was right.
Our goal today then is to look inward. We need to recognize the kind of person we are and the kind of life we lead. Perhaps we can be inspired by Abraham and we can be motivated by our understanding of God to become better people. As we read through the prayers today let us find the message of love and compassion. Let us allow that feeling to wash over us and enter our lives. Let us both feel the power of compassion and act compassionately to others. Let us become the source of compassion that we were meant to be. If we can, then this will be a “shana tovah u-metookah” - a year of sweetness and goodness. Amen.
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