Gambling For Security * Rosh Hashanah 5778

      Who Shall Live and Who Shall Die—Mi Yihye U-Mi Ya-mut:  When it comes to security, that is the ultimate question.  Here we are a week after the 16^h anniversary of 9/11. We didn’t need Unetaneh Tokef to fill us with fear and trembling.  But the impact of that prayer penetrated to the very core of our beings.  Mi Yihye U-Mi Yamut.  

          Mi BaHerev-  Who  by sword:  will there be a war with North Korea?  And what about Israel, where we still see terrorists kill, as they attacked the Solomon family on a Friday night as they were together to welcome a new baby boy to the family?

          Nor has the economy been a source of comfort.  The stock market goes up and then down, then up.  Mi Yeani U-Mi Yeasheyr—who shall become poor and who shall wax rich?  It’s a rhetorical question; you don’t have to answer.  

          Since last Rosh Hashana we’ve instituted new security here.  Today - tickets, decals, police, private plainclothes professionals all over the building.  I almost didn’t get in today.  I don’t get a ticket and I don’t carry my wallet on Yontif—no ID.    That’s the type of year it has been.

          Even nature seems out of sorts - The US Forest Service says 2017 is a worse than average year for forest fires, and then there’s - Hurricanes Harvey & Irma, Jose and Maria. Mi BaEysh U-Mi Bamayim—Who by fire and who by water?  It’s all over the world!  Mi BaRa’ash - who by earthquake - just in the last week in LA, Mexico?  You know.

          Mi Yanua, U-Mi Yanuah—Who shall tremble and who shall rest at ease?  In Hebrew that question is a play on words.  The difference between Yanua, to tremble, and Yanuah, to be at rest, is one letter.  It underscores our vulnerability and fragility.  This year, liturgy speaks to life in a language that is visceral.  We feel it.

          So where do we turn to restore our sense of security?  U-tshuvah, U-T’fillah, U-tzedakah—That’s the Mahzor’s response:  Repentance, Prayer and Righteousness.  But somehow that sounds too philosophical…and instead, the Torah reading for Rosh Hashanah finds its answer in family.  Not that there aren’t crises in the story of Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Hagar and Ishmael.  It’s not all peace and tranquility.  Far from it.  Arguments, confrontations, fragmentation all coming to its conclusion in a terrible test in which a parent and child are called upon to face the ultimate sacrifice.   Abraham and Isaac both know where they are going, both know what may happen.  How can they cope with what seems to be coming…the answer is formulated in one recurring phrase.  Listen:

And it came to pass that God put Abraham to the test…and Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it upon Isaac his son; and he took in his hand the fire and the knife, Vayeylkhu Shneyhem Yahdav—and they went both of them together.  And Isaac spoke unto Abraham, his father and said: “Father.”  And Abraham said “Here I am my son.”  And Isaac said:  “Here are the fire and the wood but where is the lamb for a burnt offering.”  And Abraham said:  “God will provide my son.”  Vayeylkhu Shneyhem Yahdav—And they both went on together.

God willing we will never face such a test.  But do you know how many times parents have called the synagogue to ask how they can help their children feel more secure?  On Tuesday we ran emergency drills with our preschool and religious school students, the situations of which I never practiced for when I was a kid.

Security was even the topic Rabbi Rank and I discussed with our colleagues of the Interfaith Clergy Council in our meeting with Syosset School Superintendent Tom Rogers, Board President Dr. Michael Cohen and our own member and VP of the Board, Tracy Frankel following the discovery of the anti-Semitic hate crime at the Syosset high school last month.  How are we to feel safe in an unsafe world?  What do we do when our children ask the very questions posed by our prayer book?   When they are vulnerable, scared, and unsure for what these events mean for their safety and direction of the country.

What do you say when your 9 year old asks the very questions we are asking ourselves:  Mi Yihye U-mi Yamut?  Who knows?  That’s the very heart of insecurity—not knowing what will be.  And maybe the answer comes not from the head but from the heart—Vayeylkhu Shneyhem Yahdav—And they both went on together.  That’s the only line of the entire Torah portion, today and tomorrow that is repeated twice.  We and our children can get through any test together as a family.  No fancy psychological analysis necessary for a sense of security.   A hug.  Together.

One of the questions I’m hearing these days is “what do I do with the anger I’m feeling right now?”  For many parents, the struggle is “how do I deal with my anger so I don’t let it affect my children?”  How do I teach my 9 year old what the word Nazi means because she heard it on the news, how do I help her to live the life that a 9 year old should live and yet be aware of the world.    Part of my response is that we need to project acceptance for one another, preach love, celebrating what we have in common - regardless of race or ethnicity or religion or certainly sexual orientation.   If we inundate our community with love, there will be no room for hate.

          Vayelkhu Shneyhem Yahdav—actually goes beyond family.  It’s a lesson learned from life as well as Torah.

          This summer Leora and I saw the Broadway musical Come From Away which tells the story of 38 airplanes that were forced to land in Newfoundland on 9/11.  The locals and the ‘plane people’ - they drew together.  Their response to that ultimate question of security Mi Yihye U-Mi Yamut—Who shall live and who shall die--that was no miracle.  They drew together.

How many of you have stayed closer to home this year?  Traveled less or when you have been away called home more often?  How many of you have appreciated the holiday gatherings even more this past year.  In Israel, when a terrorist draws a knife or a plows a car into a crowd cell phones begin to ring all over the country.  People call home; the family draws together any way that it can.  

          Vayelkhu Yahdav

Do you remember what happened in this country in the days after 9/11?  Americans drew together in ways I don’t think I have ever experienced.  

          Right here, right now, we need to remember what binds us to one another.  Last month in Charlottesville, Neo-Nazi’s and white supremacists marched directly in front of Congregation Beth Israel as Shabbat services were going on.  It was all described in a post after the march by the president of the synagogue.  No police officers were visible as 3 people dressed in military fatigues stood outside the synagogue, carrying automatic weapons, which lead the Jews inside the sanctuary to draw together, remove the Torah scrolls and exit via the rear doors.  Following which, we remembered the words of Elie Wiesel:  “We must always take sides.  Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.  Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”

When our security is threatened we draw together…because we need to remember that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.

          Now look around this room.  There are people standing because we don’t have enough seats.  Despite all the insecurities that have marked this past year and are still very much with us, despite the need for police and plains-clothes men, and decals, and tickets and ID, despite all the inconvenience and discomfort, despite concern about crowds and gatherings, here we are.  In all my conversations about the High Holidays, out of this entire congregation, only one person told me she would not be at services for fear of safety.  We gather on the High Holidays, like no other time, because when we begin a New Year and face all the uncertainties of the season, we need to feel that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.  

          And that goes beyond congregation.  We are part of an ancient tradition, a people that has persevered through all sorts of tests and trials over centuries and millennia.  Abraham and Isaac walked together 3700 years ago.  Some of the prayers in this Mahzor are 2000 years old.  Unetane Tokef—with all its penetrating questions about security—comes to us from the Middle Ages.    We are here today to tie ourselves to each other and to our tradition.   We are here today to reaffirm the covenant of Judaism…we are here today…to reaffirm our faith in God.

          Let me share with you a message that Rabbi Harold Kushner, author of When Bad Things Happen to Good People, sent to the members of the Rabbinical Assembly for this season.  It’s titled “Beyond John Wayne.”

We once had this fantasy that we could take care of everything with American intelligence, American know-how, American resources. Since then, we’ve learned something about our vulnerability. My aphorism is: Our awareness of God starts where self-sufficiency ends. We pray for health and peace, family and justice, because we cannot achieve them on our own. We find strength when we acknowledge our interdependence. I hope that our culture will finally outgrow the John Wayne ideal of the hero who goes it alone.

God’s promise was never that life would be fair. God’s promise was that we won’t have to confront the pain and unfairness alone. The 23rd psalm doesn’t say, “In the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil because there is no evil in the world.” It doesn’t say, “I will fear no evil because people get what they deserve and I’m a good person.” It says, “I will fear no evil because Thou art with me.” Accepting our vulnerability is the beginning of wisdom.

Folks, John Wayne is dead.  What about faith?

          The secret of faith and security is a paradox:  Both require risk.

          Let me remind you of a cute story that I’ve shared once before—it was told by Rabbi Sydney Greenberg:  

                    

The man sitting on the park bench facing the synagogue was a picture of dejection.     His shabby clothes looked as if he had slept in them, and his tired face was covered by a heavy growth.  Overcome by pity for the derelict, the rabbi pressed a five-dollar bill into his hand, whispered “Godspeed,” and was gone.  Several hours later the stranger burst into the rabbi’s study and with obvious delight, threw a fistful of bills on the rabbi’s desk.  “Rabbi,” he exclaimed, “Godspeed paid fourteen to one!”

          A suggestive truth leaps at us from this humorous anecdote.  Like the charitable rabbi, we are all gamblers—whether we realize it or not.  Even those of us who have a strong moral objection to gambling with money, take risks all the time with much more precious stakes.

          Every relationship comes with a risk.   When we fall in love we gamble.  When I asked Leora to marry me, it went like this:  “I love you, will you marry me?”  And after she said yes, she asked how did I know that it would be different for me this time -- my second time.  And I said, I know it’s a risk, but I know what I know, and what I’ve learned, and I’m willing to take the risk. When we decide to have a child, we gamble.   This day itself challenges us to take a risk and give birth to new beginnings.

One of the main themes of Rosh Hashana is “HaYom Harat Olam” - today is the birthday of the world!  Today the world is born!   The phrase originally comes from the book of Jeremiah.  When he is burnt out and having a breakdown. ‘If only my mother had remained pregnant forever’ - that is what HaYom Harat Olam means - words that Jews recite with such joy on Rosh Hashana.  The true translation is “today is pregnant forever” - and that is not a happy phrase, but more like a curse.  So what does “today is pregnant forever” mean for us?  

Let me tell you - Leora has had 4 pregnancies, we have 3 beautiful kids - for both of us -- being pregnant forever, not a good thing.  That is not a healthy state of mind. Rabbi Naomi Levy, author of a new book called Einstein and the Rabbi explains that it’s a state of unliving, of life being held back.   

She explains “pregnant forever” this way:  

“I think Jews pray this phrase every year because it comes as a warning.  Every single one of us, somewhere in our lives, we are pregnant forever.  There is something we have already conceived that is pleading:  ‘Let me be born.’  Maybe it’s a creative endeavor:  a book, a painting, a poem, a script, song, a story, a business idea, a career shift -- you’ve been privately exploring it, but doing nothing about it.  Maybe it's the words:  ‘I love you.’  Or the words:  ‘I forgive you.’  They are fully formed inside your mouth but you haven’t gotten the courage to actually speak them.  Pregnant forever is not a blessing.  Many of us suffer from this affliction. Maybe it's a departure you’re holding on to, a break-up:  you know it’s time to go.  You know it's time to stop pretending that everything is fine when nothing is fine.  Maybe you’ve already created something, but you’re just too scared to let it be seen.”  

But our faith in God, and God’s faith in us, gives us the security to gamble, and take a risk.  According to legend, even God gambles.  Midrash Rabba says that when God was about to create human beings on the first Rosh Hashanah, 5778 years ago, the angels objected.  “Adam will be full of lies,” they said, “and his descendants will make war.”  But God gambled that his creation would have the capacity to make peace, practice justice, and achieve love.  God bet on us.  There is a dream that wants to be realized by you.    Remember:  God’s candle is the human soul.  We’ve been put here to light up the world - all of us.  

          As we walk together into this new year, we’re mindful of the ultimate insecurity, the recognition that life is fragile and fleeting, that we are merely dust and ashes, and that challenges us to use each precious moment wisely, and play our hands carefully.  It is our faith in God and the realization that God has faith in us…that God created the world for us… that gives us the security to take the risks required to live most fully.   

Let’s take a risk. Let’s take a risk and learn, let’s take a risk and lead, let’s take a risk and give.  Let’s take a risk and love and love and love and love and love and let’s take a risk and live as fully as we can in this New Year.