Author Archives: Rabbi Evan
I show the way Jewish wisdom make our lives richer and happier. In particular, I help Jews appreciate their heritage and Christians uncover the Jewish roots of their faith. Get my FREE Jewish holidays cheat sheet by clicking here.
Last week I conducted a funeral service for the matriarch of a large family. Meeting with her children and grandchildren, I learned about the immense acts of kindness she did for so many. They spoke about the hundreds of calls they had been receiving, from her former hairdresser to long-forgotten work colleagues.
The family members said to me, “Isn’t it sad that she didn’t get to live to hear all these wonderful memories? Isn’t it too bad that she did not know what an impact she had on others? Continue reading
It’s been a hectic few weeks for me and my family. Sometimes in the midst of these days, I dream of a quiet peaceful place, where sounds are calming and life is unhurried. We all dream of such places.
But would such a life be meaningful? A poem I came across recently poses this question. I find its answer deeply meaningful. The poem is by Mary Oliver:
There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees
A quiet house, some green and modest acres
A little way from every troubling town,
A little way from factories, schools, laments.
I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,
With only streams and birds for company,
To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.
And then it came to me, that so was death,
A little way away from everywhere…
I would that it were not so, but so it is.
Who ever made music of a mild day?
An old Jewish saying tells us that “Life is with people.” It is with people–in the rough and tumble of life–that beautiful music is made and true meaning is found.
In Jewish synagogues this weekend, the Biblical reading is the story of Noah’s ark. I came across this insightful and amusing list that can enrich those of any and all faiths.
Everything I need to know about life, I learned from Noah’s Ark…
1. Don’t miss the boat.
2. Remember that we are all in the same boat.
3. Plan ahead. It wasn’t raining when Noah built the Ark.
4. Stay fit. When you’re 600 years old, someone may ask you to do something really big.
5. Don’t listen to critics; just get on with the job that needs to be done.
6. Build your future on high ground.
7. For safety’s sake, travel in pairs.
8. Speed isn’t always an advantage. The snails were on board with the cheetahs.
9. When you’re stressed, float a while.
10. Remember, the Ark was built by amateurs; the Titanic by professionals.
11. No matter the storm, when you are with God, there’s always a rainbow waiting.
–Author Unknown
The Jewish holiday of Sukkot (Tabernacles) just ended. The biblical reading for the holiday contains the famous scene where Moses shatters the tablets containing the Ten Commandments. This act emanated from his anger at his people’s worshipping of the golden calf.
In trying to make sense of this text, the Jewish sages asked a poignant question. What happened to the shattered tablets? Did they just remain on the edge of Mount Sinai? Of course not! They contained the handwriting of God. They could not simply be left behind.
The sages offered a profound answer. When Moses returned to the top of Mount Sinai to receive the second set of tablets, he picked up the shattered remains of the first. He placed both the new and shattered also tablets in the Ark of the Covenant, which the Israelites carried with them in the wilderness.
Why It Matters
The shattered tablets symbolized where the Israelites had been. The new set represented where they were going. They carried both sets with them on their journey.
I also see the two tablets as a metaphor for our lives. The broken and the whole live together. They both shape who we are. No life is perfect. We have our highs and lows, our moments of shattered pieces and of divine inspiration.
Together they make us a human being, created in the image of God. Together they make us holy.
What follows is the sermon I gave on the holiest night of Jewish Year, Yom Kippur. It is what I believe about God.
Last year I began with a poem by Robert Frost. It was one of his more famous ones, “Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening.” Tonight let us begin with one of his more obscure poems. It calls out our task for this evening. It is entitled “Revelation.”
We make ourselves a place apart Behind light words that tease and flout But oh, the agitated heart Till someone find us really out. Tis pity if the case require (Or so we say) that in the end We speak the literal to inspire The understanding of a friend But so with all from babes that play At hide-and-seek to God afar, So all who hide too well away Must speak and tell us where they are.
An Endless Game of Hide and Seek
Often, in our daily lives, we hide behind what Frost calls “light words that tease and flout.” We ignore our “agitated heart.” Tonight is when we speak out. We stop hiding. We put aside our fears, our anxieties, our complacency, and find out where we are.
Tonight we stop playing hide and seek with God, because God is with us every second of our lives. Some of us do not believe this truth. I would estimate that at least 50 percent of those of us here would say, “Rabbi, I like Judaism and the community and the values. But God isn’t a big part of it. I can’t really get my hands around it. The prayers are nice, but I don’t really believe everything they say. I’d be fine if we really didn’t discuss God too much.” Continue reading
A nineteenth-century Hasidic rabbi once pointed out that a finger held up to the eye can block the sun. For us, a misspoken word or a seeming slight from a colleague can block everything else. It can permanently mar or even destroy a relationship. It has happened to all of us.
For Jews, last week marked the beginning of the New Year. The New Year commemorates, according to the Jewish tradition, the anniversary of the creation of the world. Perhaps we can begin a new chapter in our relationships. Perhaps we can turn the page on what happened yesterday for the sake of what can happen tomorrow.
Can a child teach us to forgive?
A fellow rabbi once sought to urge his congregation to try this. He decided to do an experiment. He cited the standard biblical texts. And then he brought his one-year-old daughter up onto the pulpit. He kept going on with the sermon, as she played with his tie and kissed his cheeks.
Everyone chuckled and wondered what was going on. Finally he stopped and said, “Now is there anything she can do that we would not forgive her for.” Most of the congregation nodded in recognition. Smiling, the rabbi waited for silence and then asked, “And when does that stop? When does it get so hard to forgive? At three? At seven? At fourteen? At thirty five? How old does someone have to be before we refuse to forgive?” (Also Recounted in Naomi Remen’s My Grandfather’s Blessing)
Today each of us can ask ourselves what we are doing to forgive? Are giving people the benefit of the doubt? Are we holding a grudge because it allows us to avoid doing something difficult. The prayerbook asks us those questions. Only we can answer them.
Isador Rabi was a Jewish scientist who won the Noble Prize for Physics in 1944. In his autobiography, he tells the story of the key question that shaped him.
“Every day when I came home from school,” he said, “my mother would not ask me how I did. She would not ask what happened in school today. She would simply say, ‘Izzy, did you ask a good question today. Hearing that question repeatedly,” he said, “made me a great scientist.”
Not just for great scientists, but for each of us: Asking the right question can make all the difference.
Consider the biblical story of Abraham and Isaac. God asks Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, his treasured son. How does Abraham respond? He asks no questions. He does not ask God why he has been commanded to murder his son. He does not wonder about his responsibility as a parent and conscience as a human being. He does not even ask Isaac how he feels after everything has happened.
This Abraham contrasts sharply with the Abraham who pled on behalf of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah earlier in Genesis. That Abraham questions relentlessly. That Abraham pushes God to the brink. That Abraham pleads for justice and righteousness. That is the Abraham we admire. That is the Abraham is the one who teaches us the power of asking the right questions.
For this evidence of this truth, recall the way President Kennedy phrased that famous line from his first inaugural address: “Ask not,” he said, “what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.” He was urging us to change our question. If we change our questions, we can change the world.
The Next Four Blog Posts Will Present Four Questions We Must Ask Ourselves. Stay Tuned…
I recently came across a report from a professor at the Harvard Business School. She had been hired to improve the accuracy of the numbers customers give on their auto insurance forms.
We know how it goes—the forms ask us how many we miles we drive each year. We fill them in, and sign a declaration that the numbers we reported are accurate.
Well this professor had a suspicion that these numbers were not always accurate. The reason? Sometimes it could be blatant dishonesty, but other times it could be simply rounding downward since people thought fewer miles would lead to lower rates. Continue reading
This Wednesday evening Jews around the world will gather in synagogue to begin the Jewish High Holy Days. The first is the New Year celebration. Known as Rosh Hashanah (meaning “Head of the Year), this holiday centers around prayer, study and a festive meal.
It also begins the year 5774 on the Jewish calendar, reflecting the chronology of the Old Testament, where the calendar begins with the creation of the world.
The theme of Rosh Hashanah is best captured in a ritual item known as a shofar. A shofar is a ram’s horn sounded throughout the worship service on the day of Rosh Hashanah.
It calls us to look inside ourselves to see where we can grow and change. Rabbi Harold Kushner compared it to a wake-up call whose message is a challenge. Don’t just plead with me for a year of life. I’m giving you life; what are you doing with it.
In other words, the shofar pierces through our routines and habits. It awakens us from the slumber of everyday living. It challenges us to think, to question, to wake up!
What are we doing with the challenges and opportunities life puts before us? What meanings are we making out of the experiences we face? That is the question we grapple with during the Jewish New Year.
Can We Forgive?
Ten days after Rosh Hashanah is the beginning of the Jewish High Holy Day known as Yom Kippur. The phrase Yom Kippur means “Day of Atonement.”
Its central theme is making amends with God and with fellow human beings. An array of prayers reminds us to apologize and to forgive. Without doing so, we become trapped in the past. Yom Kippur helps us shape the future by coming to terms with our past.
A Rabbi and His Baby
A favorite story reminds me of this imperative to forgive. A fellow rabbi was giving a sermon on forgiveness. He mentioned the standard biblical passages And then he brought his one-year-old daughter up onto the pulpit. He kept going on with the sermon, as she played with his tie and kissed his cheeks.
Everyone chuckled and wondered what was going on. Finally he stopped and said, “Now is there anything she can do that we would not forgive her for.”
Most of the congregation nodded in recognition. Smiling, the rabbi waited for silence and then asked, “And when does that stop? When does it get so hard to forgive? At three? At seven? At fourteen? At thirty five? How old does someone have to be before we refuse to forgive?” (Also Recounted in Naomi Remen’s My Grandfather’s Blessing)
On Yom Kippur we ask ourselves what we are doing to forgive? Are we giving people the benefit of the doubt? Are we holding a grudge because it allows us to avoid doing something difficult? The prayers challenge us with these questions. We pray for God’s wisdom and our own strength to answer them.