Rosh Hashanah 2000 First Day   Deep Impact of the High Holidays This has been a great year for religious movies with Jewish holiday themes. I am sure that many of you saw some or all of these films, although I am concerned that sitting in the comfort of a movie theater, or relaxing at home with a video, you may have missed their compelling messages. So I will include several movie reviews during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. They are not the kind you would likely find in the newspapers, but perhaps they will give you a reason to take a look, or second look, at these memorable epics of the silver screen. Two of this summer’s blockbusters were Deep Impact and Armageddon. In Armageddon, Bruce Willis, one of my favorite movie heroes since he handled so many nasty villains in the Die Hard movies, saves the whole earth by sacrificing his life to blow up a giant asteroid, “the size of Texas,” that is threatening to annihilate our existence. Armageddon may sound like just another, formula disaster movie, as it was pretty much dismissed by Janet Maslin in her review in The New York Times, but if you take a look at the haftarah for the intermediate Shabbat of Sukkot, from the prophet Ezekiel, you will see that the concept of Armageddon is very much a part of our tradition. Building on Ezekiel’s reference to Gog and Magog, the ancient rabbis wrote that “the ‘war of Gog and Magog’ is the great Armageddon which will immediately precede the Messianic age.” The movie Armageddon apparently is an artistic disaster larger than a giant asteroid; but the concept of utter destruction followed by blissful utopia is a religious progression of some enduring interest. Deep Impact strikes an even more religious tone for a movie with a similar theme to Armageddon, even though it was released first. A murderously large meteor is hurtling toward earth and it is detected a year before impact. This movie explores “the salutary effects of imminent doom. “Lovers bond, family ties bind and old wounds heal as the planet prepares for its final hours.” Fortunately, the crisis proves not to be as dire as predicted and here we still are. But the premise of this epic really is one of the major themes of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur without the special effects. If we thought our world, or especially our individual lives, were coming to an end in a short time, what would we do? I remember the Cuban Missile Crisis; thinking about the end of the world, at least as we knew it, was no piece of celluloid fiction in those dark, few days of 1962. I was in junior high school and I was not sure if I would make it to graduation. Despite a real sense of dread, I was not able to resolve the conflicts in my life. The fear of nuclear destruction has greatly diminished in the last couple of decades and that is a blessing. Unfortunately, it may be replaced by the fear of terrorism, a far more real disaster in the offing than any meteor. What would we do, what would we say and to whom, if we thought “the end” was near? Would we, like the fictional characters in Deep Impact “heal old wounds and bind family ties?” Certainly, that is one of the issues raised by the Torah readings on Rosh Hashanah. Professor of Midrash, Burton Visotzky’s book, The Genesis of Ethics, is subtitled: “How the Tormented Family of Genesis Leads Us to Moral Development.” In his introduction, Rabbi Visotzky notes (pg. 9): “Read simply,…Genesis is an ugly little soap opera about a dysfunctional family. Four generations of that family dynasty are charted, their foibles exposed and all the dirty laundry, as it were, hung out in public for millions to see.” But Rabbi Visotzky also reminds us a few pages further on: “In the study of the family narratives of Genesis moral education occurs.” In the Rosh Hashanah Torah readings alone, we see that Abraham must drive out Hagar and his son Ishmael into the desert and sacrifice his other, beloved son, Isaac on an altar. Sarah initiates the dismissal of Hagar and Ishmael and then is excluded from the developments with Isaac, whom she had tried so desperately to protect. Here is a prototype for the dysfunctional family of the nineties. And family ties continue to unravel right through the book of Genesis, until Joseph is sold into slavery because of the intense sibling rivalry with his brothers. What words would we put into Abraham’s mouth as he stood with knife in hand over the bound Isaac on the altar? What would Abraham have said thinking that these were his last words to his son? “You may not appreciate this right now Isaac, but I am really doing this for your own good.”? Or perhaps, “Forgive me my beloved son, but I have no choice.”? Or maybe, “My dear Isaac, you will no longer suffer in this world and God will be with you in the next.”? Unfortunately, the Torah does not tell us, but fortunately, Abraham does not have to slaughter Isaac and so the dialogue is moot. But such dialogue is not moot for many of us; so many of us that Ann Landers, that sage of popular wisdom and culture, declared a few months ago that we should have a national Day of Reconciliation. For those of us in the Jewish community, we already have an annual period of reconciliation, the time from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur. While there is always a need to contemplate our relationship with God, there should be no doubt that this period is to be used to repair and rebuild our relationships with other human beings. And lest any of you be naïve or underinformed, I am saddened by the knowledge that I have about parents and children, siblings and former friends from this congregation who are in desperate need of reconciliation. We do not know when the asteroid of death will cast its shadow on our individual lives, through disease, or terrorism, or even old age; and none of us can expect a permanent rescue, so these ten days urge us to act, before it is too late. Reconciliation is no doubt one of the pivotal, moral developments that Rabbi Visotzky refers to in the book of Genesis. When Abraham dies, we read in chapter 25 of Genesis (v. 9): “And Isaac and Ishmael his sons buried him in the cave of Macpelah, …” In the Talmud, tractate Baba Batra (16b) it explains that “Ishmael repented in the lifetime of his father….What we have to say is that the fact of the text placing Isaac first [in the verse] shows that Ishmael made way for him, and from the fact that he made way for him, we infer that he repented in Abraham’s lifetime [and reconciled with Isaac.]” Reconciliation also takes place between Jacob and Esau. Initially, they reconcile at the beginning of parshat Vayishlakh when they meet for the first time since Jacob had to flee from Esau’s murderous wrath. And near the end of the parsha, in chapter 35 (29) we read: “And Isaac expired, and died, … and Esau and Jacob his sons buried him.” And when Joseph finally reveals himself to his astonished and frightened brothers in chapter 45 of Genesis, he immediately reassures them that all is forgiven. (v.5) “And now be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither; for God did send me before you to preserve life.” Joseph does more here than just forgive his brothers and re-establish family ties. He actually absolves them of responsibility, knowing full well that their intentions were hostile, even if they fit into a divine plan. But Joseph wants to impress on his brothers that he really wants to get past the event or events which triggered the distance in their relationship; he reinterprets the past to forge a better future. And yet, after their father Jacob dies, the brothers still fear Joseph’s revenge. Once again, Joseph reassures them, and according to the Midrash, utters these words (II, 168): “You are the trunk and I am the head – of what use the head without the trunk? It is to my own good that I should treat you with fraternal affection.” What a positive role model Joseph is for all of us. Cast into a pit and sold into slavery by his brothers, he is wise enough to reconcile in later life and recognize that a family is like a tree, it needs all its parts to be strong. And if both sides can reconcile, then whoever is most forgiving, most forthcoming, even to the point of positively reinterpreting past events, will benefit as much as the other person involved. Like in the movie Armageddon, the blissful utopia of reconciliation can only follow after the utter destruction of a painful disagreement or argument; oft times so petty that any stranger would marvel at the issues involved. The following sad tale is recorded in the Talmud, in tractate Baba Metzia (84a). “ Rabbi Yochanan said: I am the only one remaining of Jerusalem’s men of outstanding beauty. [Someone who wants an approximation of Rabbi Yochanan’s beauty] should take a silver goblet as it emerges from the crucible [while it is still glowing with heat], fill it with the seeds of red pomegranate, encircle the brim with a wreath of red roses, and set it between the sun and the shade. The lustrous glow [from such a work of art would be] akin to Rabbi Yochanan’s beauty. Shimon ben Lakish, also known as Resh Lakish, through unfortunate circumstances had been reduced to being a circus attendant. The tools of his profession were the sword and knife, the dagger and spear, the hand-saw and scythe. Resh Lakish must have been a man of great physical strength whose tasks were both tedious and dangerous. One day, while Rabbi Yochanan was bathing in the Jordan, Resh Lakish happened to see him and dive into the Jordan as well. Looking over at this ancient Arnold Schwartzennger type, Rabbi Yochanan said: ‘Your strength should be [used for, devoted to, the study of] the Torah.’ Resh Lakish wittily replied: ‘Your beauty should be for women.’ [Rabbi Yochanan recognized something special in Resh Lakish and offered:] ‘If you will repent, I will give you my sister [in marriage and] she is more beautiful than I.’… Subsequently, Rabbi Yochanan taught Resh Lakish Bible and Mishnah and helped him become a great man. [They often disputed matters of Jewish law in the Bet Midrash, in the House of Study.] Now, one day there was a dispute in the house of study over the following issue. A sword, knife, dagger, spear, hand-saw and scythe – at what stage of their manufacture can they become [ritually] impure? Everyone agreed that it was when the manufacture of the tools was finished. BUT when is their manufacture finished? Rabbi Yochanan ruled: When they are tempered in a furnace. Resh Lakish maintained: When they have been polished by cool water. [Rabbi Yochanan responded sarcastically:] ‘A robber understands his trade.’ [The tools Resh Lakish had used in the circus were also a robber’s tools. Even ancient rabbis apparently had sharp tongues.] [Resh Lakish was devastated. Using the same wit he had shown at the Jordan he responded to his teacher, brother-in-law and friend:] ‘How have you benefited me? There [in the circus] I was called Master and here [in the House of Study] I am called Master; [the title is the same.] Rabbi Yochanan retorted: ‘I brought you under the wings of the Shechinah, the Divine presence!’ Rabbi Yochanan felt deeply hurt by the remark of Resh Lakish that he had not benefited him [so Rabbi Yochanan abandoned his friend and subsequently] Resh Lakish fell ill. Rabbi Yochanan’s sister, the wife of Resh Lakish, came to her brother and wept before him: ‘Forgive Resh Lakish for the sake of my son,’ she pleaded. But [Rabbi Yochanan, still angry] replied with the beginning of a verse from [the prophet] Jeremiah (49:11): “Leave thy fatherless children, I will rear them.” [But his sister persisted] [‘Forgive him] for the sake of my widowhood then!’ And Rabbi Yochanan finished the verse from Jeremiah: “And let thy widows trust in me.” [In his pain and anger, Rabbi Yochanan was pretty tough.] Resh Lakish died, and Rabbi Yochanan was plunged into deep grief. Said the Rabbis, [his colleagues], ‘Who shall go to ease his mind [and console him]? [They decided] to let Rabbi Eleazar ben Pedat go, because he was a subtle thinker and a gentle person. So he went and sat before Rabbi Yochanan and on every dictum uttered by Rabbi Yochanan, Rabbi Eleazar ben Pedat observed: ‘There is a Baraitha, another Talmudic source, which supports you.’ Rabbi Yochanan complained: ‘Are you as the son of Lakish?’ and before Rabbi Eleazar could respond, Rabbi Yochanan continued: ‘when I stated a law, the son of Lakish used to raise twenty-four objections, to which I gave twenty-four answers, which consequently led to a fuller comprehension of the law; while you [only] say, ‘I know another source which supports you.’ Do I not know myself that my pronouncements are right?’ Thus Rabbi Yochanan went on rending his garments and weeping, “Where are you, O son of Lakish, where are you, O son of Lakish;’ and he cried thus until he went out of his mind. [Too late repentant,] Rabbi Yochanan also died. Judaism teaches that no one knows the day of his or her death. I have keenly felt that lesson myself in adulthood with the deaths of my maternal grandparents and father. My grandfather, Adolph Feder, died peacefully in his own bed on a Sunday afternoon in January of 1975 at the age of 81. Only a few weeks before, he sat, in an admittedly weakened condition, at the family celebration for Toby and I becoming engaged. Perhaps I should have realized how weak he was, but I was focused on how we would bring him to my ordination that May. His wife, my grandmother, Bertha Feder, died in July of 1976 from stomach cancer. She was here in Bethlehem for the celebration of my installation as rabbi of Brith Sholom. She was a very strong and determined woman, and I did not realize how weak she had become during my first year here. Perhaps I should have gone to Fall River to see her in the hospital, but I was focused on my work, and thought that I would see her soon during vacation. My father, Erwin Juda, died suddenly, unexpectedly, on a Friday morning in November of 1992 at the age of 73. I have told the story of how I did not speak with him the night before, because he was asleep in the hospital and my mother said I should not disturb him and wait for the next day. And I was focused on getting out of the house to go to a meeting, one of thousands that I’ll go to in my life, and I didn’t press the matter. Too often, we are focused on the wrong things in life; pushing aside the truly meaningful for the urgently trivial. I was not angry with any of these loved ones when they died. I had no specific need to reconcile with them. But I still feel cheated that I was not able to tell them one last time that I loved them, and would always remember them. If we had ended our relationships with an argument, or by not having spoken for a long time, I know that their deaths, and the years since, would have been much more difficult for me. The absence of arguing, the lack of contact is not reconciliation. Learn from the examples of Rabbi Yochanan and Joseph. Who do you think died in greater peace and contentment; Rabbi Yochanan, who could not get past feeling hurt and insulted by Resh Lakish’s words or Joseph, who was able to dismiss his brothers’ behavior as part of a divine plan? Ann Landers and I both know that reconciliation does not always work. No matter how generous of spirit we may be, there are always those who remain suspicious and incredulous about words and acts of reconciliation. Reconciliation is an effort which can fail as well as succeed. But if you reach out sincerely, that is all you can do. Don’t be content to reach out once and claim failure. Try a few times; be as persistent as your ego allows. And don’t just focus on the events of this past year; think back over the years. If an asteroid were to strike us tomorrow, with whom would you want to speak today? Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur annually remind us of the finite limit of our years on earth; not to depress us, but to inspire us to make good use of that time. There is pain and suffering in this world which we cannot control or eliminate. But there is pain and suffering in human relationships, which we can manage and heal. If we allow them, these holy days are a time of real DEEP IMPACT; a time when we can try to bring to a blissful conclusion a past disaster. It probably won’t win an Academy Award, but what would you do, what would you say, if this really were the last Rosh Hashanah you get to celebrate? May God give each of you many more years of life and good health, and the wisdom to use them. AMEN     << Back to Rabbi Juda's Sermons