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I'm home, croaking but happy, ruminating on our Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur together. So many sounds: the yelps and cries of the shofar going right through our skin and Roberta's harp interpretations opening us up to hear them, our youngest and oldest Torah readers collaborating to leyn an aliyah, Jonathan playing his extended meditation on Kol Nidre, bracketed with Sam's pure and heartfelt voice, Sandy carrying us out to the stars after yizkor with that incredible song by Kurt Weill, and of course all our voices rising in the dark in front of the open ark at neilah -- the moment I wait for all year long…
Then there were the sounds conveyed in speech: three wildly-different, inspired teachings on Rosh Hashana afternoon, Jonah's bumbling but (and?) hope-filled appearance on Yom Kippur afternoon, channeled by Hyla, so many people saying their Jewish names aloud (sometimes with a little bit of unintentional Spanish thrown in for good measure…) and hearing them called back by our gabbai-im, and of course prayers prayers prayers, loud and soft, English and Hebrew, "these words or the words in your hearts," sometimes even in silence (for a few seconds, anyhow, as we were affectionately teased about by our Mettika…)
I have the bliss of standing in front of all of you for many hours over the High Holy Days, gazing at you. I usually pray with my eyes closed, I realize -- it's often just too intense to look into your faces at such a sweet and open-hearted time. But I still get to drink in the beautiful aura of our little Jewish community gathered at an auspicious time of year, and my heart is full and grateful.
I hadn't really meant to do any political polling during the Days, but an interesting straw-vote came up over Yom Kippur. Yom Kippur recalls the High Priest entering the Holy of Holies to atone for himself, his tribe and the Jewish people. This year at the morning Torah reading, I invited people to come up to the Torah according to the area which most burdens their own conscience -- the aspect of life for which they feel most called to atone and repair. There were six aliyot, and I distributed them as follows: the personal sphere (selves, households, families, intimate relationships); neighborhood and local community; our local Jewish community; the United States; the Jewish people and Israel; and the world, nations and ecosystem.
A mob of people came up for the first aliyah, for the personal sphere. A nice handful came up for the second one, for the local community. Then came aliyah #3, for our Jewish community. And no one stood up at all. I had a moment of, well, not quite panic. But if there were ever a time when it was clearly my moment to stand up, that was such a time. I chanted the blessings alone. Lots and lots of people came up for the next aliyah, for the United States. Two people came up for "the Jewish people and Israel." And a whole bunch of people came up for the last one, the global-consciousness aliyah.
Very, very interesting data… Pundits could well claim that prayer, the Jewish community and the Jewish people come in at the bottom of our people's concerns -- even on Yom Kippur! Oy oy oy… One might be tempted to throw up one's hands and say, "What the hell are we doing here, anyhow???" But that's not how I spin these stats.
We had the world's quickest press conference, right at the conclusion of the Torah reading. I asked all of you there, "Why do you think that so few people came up for the Jewish community/Jewish people aliyot?" And Mike Shapiro called out (with, I think, a happy lilt in his voice) "With all the things going wrong in our world right now, these are going well! We don't need to worry about them as much…" (That's not, of course, a direct quote.)
Halevai! So may it be… And I think that there is another message in this "poll" as well, one that takes a longer perspective than even this troubled political moment. For some Jews the Jewish community, the Jewish people and Jewish life are the most important thing in the world, sometimes the only thing that matters at all. And I suppose perhaps we should be glad for such people. But for me -- and I think I may share this with many of you -- Judaism is not an end in itself. Jewish life and practice exists for the larger purpose of adding a bit of meaning, beauty and goodness to life and world. Judaism is hopefully a source of nurture for our personal and family lives and for the ways we contribute to our communities, country and global reality.
So by these lights I should be -- and am -- delighted and moved by the way those aliyot lined up. I think it's wonderful that so many of you bring your personal, communal and global passions to the shul, and hopefully bring the consciousness we try to cultivate there back out to the world. I hope that for those of you who celebrated Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur -- whether for a few minutes or for the whole marathon, whether with us in Caspar or in another community -- you left feeling like you have something nourishing to bring back with you to your household, neighborhood, nation and world.
Every year at Yom Kippur I read a little midrash, retold by Aryeh Kaplan in his book on mikveh. Kaplan says that all rivers really flow from the Garden of Eden and are, as such, really one river. Adam, after he was booted out of Eden, couldn't return to the Garden itself. So he used to go sit in the river to connect with that primal source. And in doing so, he was cleansed.
I like to think that one of the rivers that flows from the Garden of Eden is the river of Judaism and the Jewish people, and one of its tributaries is our little Jewish community here on the Coast. A few people need to make the health of the river itself their top priority, and sometimes there is a slide or a spill, and more work is needed But for the most part the river flows generously from its source, and all of us can dip in when we need to, for renewal and inspiration, for a drink of cool water.
I am moved by all the ways that people in our Jewish community (and yes, in the larger Jewish community as well) extend yourselves to nurture community, world and earth. I am happy and honored to be one of the river keepers, and I know well that you will show up to plant and shovel when needed, and more often to swim and play and dive in this lovely water.
I hope that life brings a reduction in stress on our own souls, our families, our community, country and earth. But whatever happens in the big poll this month, I am grateful for our time together in the river, and I wish you peace and satisfaction in 5769.
- Rabbi Margaret Holub
© 2008 Rabbi Margaret Holub
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Updated 10/31/2008 (rge)