Friday, October 21, 2011

Atem Nitzavim: Why Bother! Delivered Erev Yom Kippur 5772

Atem Nitzavim ha-yom kul’chem! “Today, you stand here – all of you”, our Yom Kippur morning Torah portion reminds us, to accept the covenant given by God. It is an ancient scene, yet one which our Rabbinic sages understood to be eternal. The Covenant made there that day between God and the people on the border of Canaan was made not only with those who stood there in that moment, our sages teach, but with all of their descendents, and the descendents of their descendents, and the descendants of their descendents – indeed, to every generation yet to follow. This agreement, this brit, was, accordingly, made for us as well.

According to traditional exegesis, the commentary, on this text, we are to abide by Torah’s commandments because of this very deal made generations ago; and the kicker, it ain’t optional. In the simplest sense, our observance is payback. As the Spanish Medieval commentator Abravanel describes, we are obligated to re-pay a debt that was owed by our ancestors for the act of redemption, namely the Exodus from Egypt, that God enacted on their behalf. It is, in his view, no different than making good on an outstanding financial obligation, except in this case, the principle is never entirely fulfilled. God brought the Israelites out of Egypt and into Canaan, and now we, in each subsequent generation, must pay God back by abiding by God’s law, Torah. So much for the personal autonomy that I discussed a few years ago.

We are constantly reminded of God’s enacting redemption, and by extension this debt. The first words at Sinai aren’t “I am God who created heaven and earth.” No. God introduces Godself and the laws that follow by reminding us, “I am [the One] who brought you out of Egypt!” Our liturgy, too, repeatedly reminds us of this outstanding obligation. Morning and night, we sing, Mi Chamocha, an excerpt from the very song apparently sung by the Israelites upon their first taste of freedom. We refer to this act of redemption when we bless the wine on the eve of the Sabbath and festivals. Redemption is considered a cornerstone of Jewish history and theology. Without it, our story would have ended in Egypt.

Talk about one hefty and enduring obligation. No wonder so many of us are compelled to opt out. The guilt that arises with not fulfilling the expectations of this inherited covenant can often feel like it is simply too big a burden to bear. Isn’t religion supposed to be a construct that enriches and helps us navigate our lives, as opposed to a burden to shoulder?

I’d argue that the traditional understanding of אתם נצבים היום כלכם as an imposed, eternally binding and non-negotiable covenant may no longer be useful in our modern American culture. I stand by my words of a few years back: personally autonomy is a must. And, I’ll say it again, we all must be Jews-by-choice in order to make the most of our engagement with Jewish life and the world. At the same time, reconnecting to that sense of obligation may not be entirely such a bad idea.

Horace Kallen, in a 1915 study of American Nationalism, wrote, “Men may change their clothes, their politics, their wives, their religions, their philosophies, to a greater or lesser extent; they cannot change their grandfathers….” Now, Kallen was discussing the challenges of assimilation at a time when large waves of immigrants were coming to join the melting pot of American life as it was understood at the turn of the twentieth century; but, his observation can be instructive for those of us striving to identify fully as Jews in the modern world. What was understood as a challenge at a time when assimilation was a priority can, and perhaps should, be understood as a goal at a time when assimilation has been so fully achieved that too many of us have forgotten, or consciously set aside, the values of our grandparents. When we may have achieved exactly what the Jews of Kaifeng, China, about whom I spoke on the Eve of Rosh Hashanah, achieved. We are so well acculturated as Americans that our Jewish identity is barely recognizable.

In past generations, part of what made it so difficult to ‘forget our grandparents’ was, frankly, anti-Semitism. Yes, for all of its horrors, the upshot of anti-Semitism was that it worked to prevent Jews from shaking off the inherited obligations of Torah, of being a Jew. Our distinctiveness was imposed on us by others. The covenant, the responsibility associated with being a Jew, however, is no longer imposed upon us by State or society. Thank God for that. However, one of the ramifications of our full acceptance into society is that it is left up to us to decide. We have to make a conscious decision as to whether we are going to bother opting into the covenant or not.

The successes of assimilation and acceptance into American culture have made it fairly easy for any of us to slip on and off the cloak of our Jewish identity. One Shabbat on, one Shabbat off. Synagogue affiliation for a few years, unaffiliated for too many others. Jewish education a priority until age 13, everything else a priority after. Commitment to Jewish causes, well only if nothing else is more compelling. Brisket and latkes on Chanukah, ham on Christmas. Be clear, Jewish identity isn’t a sweater. It may seem easy to slip in and out of our Jewishness, but that doesn’t mean we should.

So why bother at all? I left the question unanswered a week ago: Is the model offered by the ancient Jews of Kaifeng a success or failure? Is complete assimilation to the point of disappearance a failure worth lamenting? It isn’t an easy question to answer, for any of us including me; and, ultimately while I can stand here and tell you why I think you should bother with Jewish life and observance, the answer for each individual must come from within oneself. The motivation must ultimately come from you, not me. But, since my sermon would be far too short for such an occasion as Erev Yom Kippur if I end here, and since I promised I would ten days ago, I’ll go ahead and preach anyway. Here’s why I think we all should bother!

1) It’s relevent. Despite its ancient history, Judaism remains relevant. Yes, our primary text, the Torah, is old – very old, and one can argue (as so many have) that its language and context are dated – they are; but, contemporary lessons can continually be drawn from it. There is a timeless aspect to Torah and all of Jewish literature. However, that being said, it won’t remain relevant without us. It is up to us to make it timeless. The text requires our engagement. Rituals require our engagement. If we stop studying and interacting with our history, then indeed, Judaism becomes static and archaic, as do all of the traditions that come out of it. But, if we continue to interact with our unique history, then the traditions and rituals can remain beautiful, compelling, and relevant to contemporary life. They can serve to elevate our lives and give our lives meaning.

2) We have a responsibility to Torah. It is our responsibility to keep the text vibrant. As liberal Jews, we have an extra mandate. We must continue to engage with Torah in order to keep it from becoming monopolized by the Orthodox. Torah is ours as much as it is theirs. From the earliest public readings of Torah, the text was open to translation, commentary, and interpretation. Certain opinions, in the form of commentaries and pointings, endured more than others, but there was, and still is, room for a diversity of opinion. This diversity is, however, dependent on us bothering. Once we give it up, it fails to reflect diversity. Torah becomes a monolithic and closed document. Judaism becomes rigid and inflexible.

3) We have a responsibility to God. We may view the obligation of אתם נצבים הוים כלכם as a burdensome obligation, but according to the French Medieval commentator, Rashi, it was no picnic for God either. The Covenant is a contractual agreement between two parties. The redemption of our ancestors from bondage may have put us in a position of eternal debt, but this everlasting burden of the Covenant is placed equally on God. It really isn’t all about us! According to Rashi, the implication of the verse, והוא יהיה לך לאלהים כאשר דבר לך , “that God will be a God to you, as promised,” included just before the extension of the covenant to all forthcoming generations, is that God cannot abandon or disassociate Godself from any of us. Arguably God’s very existence is dependent upon our bothering.

4) We have a responsibility to our world. Simply put, Jewish living makes the world a better place. The mandate of living our lives with an eye towards doing mitzvot and treating our neighbor with derech eretz makes all of our lives sweeter. שמצוה גוררת מצוה.. הוי רץ למצוה , Run to do a Mitzvah, Ben Azzai is recorded as saying in the Mishnah, for one mitzvah leads to another. We often translate mitzvah too simply as “a good deed.” The Hebrew root of the world mitzvah,צוה , is much stronger; it is a command. Doing mitzvot, are not be left to whim or chance. Mitzvot, the righteous deeds that are the cornerstone of Jewish tradition, are mandated and are the responsibility of every Jew. If we don’t bother, mitzvot don’t get done.

In 1492, when the only world this generation of Spanish Jews knew literally kicked them out of their homes, the community developed a theology that mandates all of us to fix the world and make it better. This Lurianic concept of tikkun olam, of fixing the world, that developed in the Northern Israeli town of Sefad in the decades following the 15th century expulsion from Spain compels us to bother - to focus at least part of our energy on working to making the world a better place for us and all peoples.

5) We have a responsibility to each other. Judaism has the remarkable potential for enriching our relationships with each other. Jews worship within the context of a minyan, a community. Jews study in chevruta, in partnership and friendly debate with others. Jews work together and with others in order to do gemilut chasadim, acts of love and kindness. Simply put, Judaism requires community to thrive. Even our most personal confessions, recited together as part of worship on Yom Kippur, are done within the protective embrace of the community. Historically, during periods of persecution, Jews looked out for other Jews. Today, thankfully, there is less need for such hands on protection from outside forces – but the help and support is still present in many forms. Many of the organizations that were set up to step in to help when others turned away still remain and still serve our community. We are a community that takes care of itself and others – that is, if we decide to bother.

6) We do have a responsibility to our ancestors. We may not like Abravanel’s metaphor of eternal debt, but anyone who was in this building on the second session of Sunday school when our students were making their ushpizin/ancestor strips for our “Most Beautiful Sukkah in the World” witnessed first-hand the power of history and the remarkable sense of legacy that comes from remembering those who came before us.

Our history is vital. Atem Nitzvaim hayom kulchem. Our ancestors stood at the foot of Canaan and made a decision to enter into an agreement that would impact us immensely. Of course we have a choice as to whether to accept the mantle of this agreement or not. Our Yom Kippur morning Torah portion makes the choice clear, choose life or curse. We’ve learned that despite the fears of the Deuteronomic writer, complete assimilation is no curse. However, it is no blessing either. To quote my dear friend and local journalist, Dr. Neil Rubin, “Jews have always brought goodness into the world. Jews will continue to do so. We will continue to succeed at doing so without you; but, we need you and want you involved.” I, frankly, am not as confident as Dr. Rubin. There is no question that Jews have brought goodness into the world and can continue to do so, but I don’t believe that we can continue to do it without you. We need you to bother!

The mandate of atem nitzavim, of accepting and forwarding Torah meaningfully in the world in a manner with which all of ancestors would be proud, from which we will be nourished and engaged, and from which our children can learn is vital to our modern expression of Judaism. Atem Nitzavim ha-yom kulchem -- I hope you will all choose to stand with me, as an actively engaged Jew, today and everyday in the year to come.

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