Why are we here? Rosh Hashanah Morning 5772

September 28, 2011

Wed, September 28, 2011

“Why are we here? Why Father? Why did a walk for just the two of us end here? Why have you taken the wood from my back and made an altar upon which to sacrifice me, your son, who you supposedly love?”

We didn’t read Isaac’s pleas in this morning’s Torah reading, but I can hear him asking Abraham: “Why? Why are we here?”I have read Genesis 22 hundreds of times in my life, but this Rosh Hashanah, all I can hear are Isaac’s unanswered questions.

According to the Torah, Rosh Hashanah is supposed to be one day. But, because our ancestors were unsure of the calendar, they made Rosh Hashanah two days. The story of Hagar, Sarah’s handmaiden given to Abraham to father a child, was the story the tradition chose for the first day. It was a story of life and birth and beginnings… and betrayal. Because of Sarah’s jealousy, Hagar was sent away with her infant son, Ishmael. Abandoned, alone, and on the verge of death, mother and child survive. That is the reading traditional Jews are hearing today, for they still have two days. And we must grapple with the fact that Genesis 21 is just another occasion when Abraham, our father, makes a mistake, fails to fulfill his parental responsibility, and in many of our minds fails to be the man he should be. Historically, it was then logical to read Genesis 22 on the second day. The second day portion is the Binding of Isaac, which became our reading for Rosh Hashanah, when Reform Judaism returned to the Torah’s command that holiday be one day. We traded one story of betrayal and survival for another.

Why are we here? Because, sometimes we are Hagar and Ishmael, outsiders, cast out, abandoned, alone, struggling to protect our child, or loved by a parent who cares so deeply to keep us safe. We are here, because sometimes we are Isaac, afraid, compliant, sacrificed on the altar of parental abuse, relieved, scarred, or haunted when it is over. We are here, because sometimes, we are Abraham, faithful but flawed, reactive, responsible, and yes, … even irresponsible. We are here, because today is the Jewish New Year and that matters to us. We are here because being in temple is what Jews do to take stock of the past and prepare for the future.

We are here for so many reasons. Some are here to atone, to repent, and to seek forgiveness from God. Perhaps someone has disappointed you, shocked you, rocked your being to its core…or some life experience has made your mortality very real, reminded you that your body is fragile, and life is precious. We are here, because like it or not, we are often helpless to help those we love, and too often helpless in the hands of those who claim to love us. We are here, because of loved ones, recently or long gone, who would want us to be here, who would be proud that we are keeping the tradition alive, and who we want to remember on this most sacred of days.

We are here to celebrate great joys and moments of meaning, to thank God for a year miracles and blessings. We are here to thank God for new life, healing, hope, or happiness. We are here to celebrate a New Year with all of its possibilities and lay to rest an old year, whether it was filled with joys or sorrows, or both. We are here to share this new beginning with a special someone right beside us.

Why are we here? We ask this question as human beings and caretakers of our planet and our world throughout our lives. What is our purpose? Why have we been put on this earth? What part of tikkun olam, repairing the world, are we personally responsible for? We are here to make a difference in someone’s life, or for some greater purpose for all humanity. We are here to ask God, “Why am I here?” and once we feel we have the answer to ask for time and life to fulfill our sacred purpose.

We are here, because we each live in our own little world filled with success and failure, highs and lows, happiness, hardship, and hurt. We are here, because the unexpected happens, and when it does we want to face life and the future with our values and our faith, ever hopeful that we can be resilient and responsible.

We are here, because we have seen, up close and personal, hurricanes and earthquakes, floods and fires and tornados… all right here in Virginia, in the past year; nature reminding us that we are not in control, as much as we might pretend that we are. So much of life is out of our control. (I know that is particularly difficult for the control freaks among us!) Some believe that God is in control. Some do not. I honestly can’t tell you.

We read the Unetaneh Tokef prayer this morning, on page 178. It is a problematic prayer for so many people. It implies that there is a Book of Life and God decides by our actions, our atonement, our sincerity what the future will hold for us. But, after living through an earthquake and all the other natural disasters that hit the Commonwealth this year, I see the prayer in a different light. I get it now. I had one of those AHA! moments, as the food fell off the shelves in Giant, the building shook, and it sounded like a bomb had gone off.

“Who shall live and who shall die, who shall perish by fire and who by water, who by earthquake and who by plague?” The prayer is there to affirm for us, once and for all that life is random, and sometimes unfair, and often unpredictable, — and NOT IN OUR CONTROL. This prayer is included to teach us that we can’t program our lives like we program our DVR, controlling when and how we will watch life unfold. And just like the DVR fails to record, at the most inconvenient of times, we realize that the tides of Time, much like the tides of our planet, control us much more than we control them.

I know first hand, and second hand, that you can get hit by a car, because a reckless driver isn’t paying attention…and how that can ruin your life, or at the very least handicap you, or change what you can remember. But, in the wilderness of life’s uncertainties we cope, we struggle, we problem solve, we get therapy, we seek answers and healing, we survive… sometimes thanks to the loving care of family or friends, and other times because of some inner strength we didn’t even know we had. And tragically, we are here because sometimes those we love did not survive and the earth still shakes beneath our grieving feet.

We are here, because of all of those times in the past year that we asked, “Why me? Why us? Why now? Why this?”

We are here, because as complex human beings we grapple with the complexity of daily life with its unexpected twists and turns, and we need a day, in a safe place, to be vulnerable, to admit that we are not in control of Life, as much as we want our lives to have a plan. Life can be filled with the unexpected. As Isaac, we can be victims of the selfishness and singlemindedness of others. In Isaac’s case, the love of God trumping the love of a son. We are here to ask forgiveness for hurts we inflicted on others. We are here to seek a path out of the heartache and pain, the suffering inflicted on us by the thoughtlessness of others, or the random acts that change the course of our lives, for better or worse.

Our humanity brings us here. And the inhumanity. We are not all good or all bad and rarely is any one of us evil, though we recognize that it can exist from the shows that grace our screens to the stories in the media that remind us of the sheer horrors some people are capable of perpetrating.

Why are we here? You are each here for your own personal reasons – some as simple as “It’s Rosh Hashanah, Rabbi, where else would I be?” to reasons that are complex, and perhaps hard to explain, but equally important and very real. You are here, because you are vulnerable, mortal, human, and finite.

You are here because, like it or not, you are not in control of Life with a capital “L” and that can shake the foundation and confidence right out of each one of us. You are here, because mortality embodies the fragility of being human and vulnerable to death, diagnosis, disease, and disaster, and a host of other circumstances beyond our control. We are here, because of the loves, losses, lies, liabilities, and lessons life places before us in the course of one year. We are here, because we want nothing more than to live our lives, to love and be loved, to have faith and to believe that our actions please God.

You are here, because this Jewish New Year ritual matters to you, sometimes more than you realize. And some of you are here, because you love a Jew so much that you want to please and support, and we are so thankful that YOU are here.

We are here, because our lives are filled with questions, many of which have no answers. We are here, because perceptions are not always reality, and the truth is so often a pill most people refuse to swallow. We are here, because we are not only vulnerable to life’s unfairness and uncertainty, but to a host of things beyond our control that wreak havoc with our lives –the cycles of our economy, the tides of history, bigotry, hatred or war, and the random ravages of nature. We are here, because we are vulnerable, mortal, human, and flawed.

In the Broadway play, Wicked, the Wizard of Oz story is turned upside down and the Wicked Witch isn’t really wicked at all. She is a victim of the poor choices of others, hurt by the rumors and innuendo of people who don’t know her truth, and don’t care to know it. Her theme song throughout the production shows us how her view of herself and life changes due to circumstances, most of which are beyond her control. She stands center stage ready to defy gravity singing “Unlimited,” like the young person with a bright future ahead. But, at the end of the show, with her friend beside her, she sings, “I’m limited. Just look at me, I’m limited.”

We are here, because our lives are filled with moments of unlimited potential, but so often plagued with limited possibility. We are not wicked, no matter what others might think or say. But, we are limited and vulnerable and fragile. And we come here today, to stand before a God of unlimited love and forgiveness. To thank God for those who see our limits and frailties, and love us anyway.

We are here, because the hopeful part of us has come to pray to God for our future to be as unlimited as our faith, our love, and our potential.

The shofar reminds us that we are here to remember that moment of Sinai, before our God, in community, with the thunder and the lightening reverberating in the desert. We are here to be reminded of the fact that at that moment, we were not alone. I imagine that we were so frightened that we held hands as Mount Sinai shook. Moses ascended and we waited, just as we wait for test results, for a loved one in surgery, for a college acceptance, or to hear about a new job, as we wait for the trials and troubles of today to pass, ever hopeful, but often fearful of what the future may bring.

We are here to hear, because the sound of the shofar does more than waken us from our slumber or take us back to Sinai, it is the sound of comfort and continuity in a world filled with uncertainty. It is the call to a New Year – L’chaim! To life, to love, to dream, to hope, to be. “Though the earth itself should shake and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea”*, and the coastline or the basement flood, and the trees or our hearts break … each year, the shofar is a constant, calling us to be here, together, beckoning us to have faith in the promise and possibilities of tomorrow, as unlimited or limited as they might be. That is why we are here.

by Rabbi Amy R. Perlin, D.D.
Temple B’nai Shalom

* Gates of Prayer, p. 86