Posted on November 14, 2024
I was talking to my friend, colleague, and mentor Rabbi Irwin Zeplowitz on Wednesday. He shared with me the following: What’s the difference between a Jewish pessimist and a Jewish optimist? The Jewish pessimist says, “Things can’t possibly get any worse.” The Jewish optimist says: “Sure they can!”
As we gather together in this community, I don’t know exactly how anyone else is feeling at this moment. I have a sense and I could take a guess. But I do not know. I imagine that there are those who are feeling optimistic and those who are feeling pessimistic. I imagine that many of you are feeling a sense of fear about what comes next, as we reflect on the election results and prepare for the transition of power. I imagine that there are concerns for various minorities and groups who have been the targets of campaign pledges and policy proposals. And I imagine that we have all experienced a range of emotions and feelings as we reflect on how divided our country is and wonder about what will happen next.
As I said at the beginning of our service, we aren’t going to be able to fix it, whatever the “it” is, and we certainly aren’t going to be able to fix it in the hour that we have together. One of the lessons of pastoral care that we clergy have to learn, is the knowledge that while our words can bring comfort and support, in many, and even most, situations we simply cannot fix it. For some of us, as clergy, this is a hard lesson to grapple with. We want to fix it, and sometimes we have to accept that we simply cannot.
So what can we do?
I have been thinking a lot about the Hebrew Prophets over the past few days. We often focus on the Prophets and the rebuke they brought to the ruling authorities. They were the voice who stood steadfastly by their Jewish values, ensuring that they were remembered and articulated, even when it seemed like the contemporary society was forgetting. They spoke out for the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the oppressed – those who could not speak up or speak out for themselves. And they made sure that the Jewish community were reminded of the values that should guide them: justice, mercy, and compassion. We have several books covering multiple Hebrew Prophets because they continued to speak out under various Kings and rulers – regardless of who was in charge, to remind the people of the values they should be pursuing and the Jewish vision for how we might build a better world.
But I have also been thinking about the Hebrew Prophets because they knew that there was also a time when the people needed to be comforted rather than condemned. “For much of his prophetic book, Isaiah is among the most forthright of the Prophets in speaking truth to power and in rebuking the Israelites for abandoning their values. But he also knew that there was a time when he needed to offer comfort as well. There were moments when the people needed to be held by his words: “nachamu, nachamu ami yomar Elohichem” – comfort, oh comfort My people, says your God, speak tenderly to Jerusalem.[1] These are the words that we read on the Shabbat after Tisha B’Av; the Prophet is there with words of consolation and comfort – not to fix the problem (in many ways it his words of rebuke that are meant to fix things), instead there is a recognition that sometimes we just need to be held and comforted.
For many in our community, I imagine that today is one of those days. And as we lean into that, I am thinking about the words of Rabbi David Wolpe, leading into the election, he wrote: “Resilience is the quality required when the world does not go as you wish and graciousness the quality required when it does. Praying for both, and praying for America.”
Today, regardless of election results and changes in this country, we still have our community and we still have our Jewish values to guide us.
I think that there is something very timely about this Shabbat being both our choir Shabbat and the Shabbat of Veterans Day weekend. The amazing thing about a choir is that we take a disparate group of people, who might not have anything else in common, except for the fact that they enjoy singing and want to sing. Everyone brings their voice, we have the different sections each of them singing at a different pitch and range along the scale. We don’t know what each person is thinking as the words leave their lips; and while beyond the music I am sure that there are many things upon which they agree, I am sure that there are also differences and divisions within the group. But, together, they raise their voices in song, and they create something that is so much more beautiful than the sum of its parts. A choir takes individual singers and turns them into a community, united in their desire to sing together.
There is a similar sense with the marking of Veterans Day Weekend. Our service men and women come together to defend this country and all of her citizens. They defend the people with whom they agree and with whom they disagree. They fight alongside people regardless of their differences in terms of race, religion, or beliefs, and in that fight they protect each other. They are united in something greater than themselves and they pursue it despite differences and division.
There is strength in community, because in a community we can lift each other up when we are knocked down, because we can raise our voices together to amplify and elevate, because we can be there to defend and protect each other. We don’t have to always agree about everything, but we do have to be there to support each other in good times and bad times.
And as a community we have our Jewish values.
This is also the Shabbat of Lech Lecha when Abraham and Sarah receive their original call from God. The beginning of the Jewish journey contained very few details about the actual covenant – we get that a few chapters later. All we know is that Abraham and Sarah are going to embark on a journey together, with the promise from God: v’e’secha legoi gadol, va’avarechecha va’agadla shemecha veheyeh bracha … venivr’chu vecha kol mishp’chot ha’adamah – I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and I will make your name great, and you shall be a blessing … and through you all the families of the earth will be blessed.[2]
The original call that we received, the call that is at the heart of all our Jewish values is to be a blessing and to bring blessing into the world. That’s it. No more details, it’s that simple or it’s that complicated – depending on how you view the call to be a blessing. We have done this since the very beginning, and we continue to do it despite the challenges or the difficulties of any given moment. We spread blessings by maintaining our commitment and our focus on following the Jewish values that guide our lives; the values of justice and mercy, peace and kindness, grace and compassion. The task of Tikkun Olam – of repairing the world, of being an Or L’Goyim – a light unto the nations, of Heyeh bracha – being a blessing — none of these change because of an election result. The task remains the same as it has always been, because these values, this commitment to making our world a better place, is a never-ending journey that we have been on since Abraham and Sarah received the call.
In the context of this week’s election following our Jewish values has meant that we have begun reaching out to partner organizations and central agencies who work with some of the groups who are feeling most vulnerable at this moment. We cannot fix it, but we can remind them that we stand by the same Jewish values that have always guided us and remember for ourselves that we know that heart of the stranger because we were strangers in the land of Egypt.[3]
When reflecting on the call that Abraham and Sarah received, the most striking feature is actually the absence of detail. We know what they are leaving behind, their land, their nation, and their father’s house,[4] but we do not know where they are going. God simply instructs them to journey to the land that God will show them – they do not know where they are going or what it will be like when they arrive. Judaism begins by taking a step into uncertainty. Abraham and Sarah did not know what the future would hold or where their journey would take them, but with courage they embraced the uncertainty.
We might resonate with that experience. It feels like there are a lot more unknowns than knowns at this precise moment. And living with uncertainty is unsettling, disconcerting, and potentially upsetting. But perhaps that is what a life of faith calls us to accept – to accept that this world is filled with uncertainty and we can never know what the future holds. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l wrote: “Faith is not certainty; it is the courage to live with uncertainty. Faith does not mean seeing the world as you would like it to be; it means seeing the world exactly as it is, yet never giving up the hope that we can make it better by the way we live – by acts of chein and chessed, graciousness and kindness, and by forgiveness and generosity of spirit.”[5]
I know that a lot of us are feeling a lot of emotions at this moment. But I also know that we have a community that is ready to stand shoulder to shoulder in solidarity and support. I know that we always have our Jewish values and vision to guide us as we face the challenges of this world. And I know that together we will continue to be a blessing as we accept the uncertainty on our journey to the Promised Land.
[1] Isaiah 40:1-2
[2] Genesis 12:2-3
[3] Exodus 23:9
[4] Genesis 12:1
[5] https://rabbisacks.org/quotes/the-courage-to-live-with-uncertainty/