Can We Talk? - Yizkor 2nd Day Shavuot 5769

Yizkor teaches us that the relationship with our loved ones does not end with their departure from this world.  There is always an opportunity for another conversation.

For the first three years of rabbinical school I felt like a fraud.  I was a good student, got good grades, and took all the required classes, but I didn’t feel like I was becoming a rabbi.  I could pars the grammar of a verb in Biblical Hebrew.  I could explain a section of Talmud as well as any of my classmates.  I even took a pastoral counseling class.  But who would ever trust me to be their rabbi.  I was convinced that my future congregants would see right through the façade.  

And then that changed.  The summer after my 3^rd year, I participated in an interfaith chaplaincy internship at UCLA Medical Center.  It was an eleven-week full-time program – 40 hours a week plus 4 overnight on-call shifts a month.  Everything I had learned in the previous three years was put to the test every time I stood at someone’s bedside.  And I learned more that summer about being a rabbi than any class could ever teach me (ironic, since most of my patients weren’t Jewish).  And UCLA is no regular hospital.  People come from around the country and the world for specialized care not available at most other hospitals.  By and large, the patients there are very sick.  So, working as a chaplain at UCLA meant confronting death on a daily basis.  

Over those eleven weeks, I visited dozens of dying patients and their families and I learned a tremendous amount. I learned that as a rabbi, I can’t fix death.  I can’t take away the pain.  I can’t put the shatters pieces of people’s lives together.  But I can be a companion on the journey.  I can be what we used to call “a non-anxious presence” in the midst of chaos and anguish.  And there is often so much chaos and confusion around death.  In those moments, we don’t know what to do with ourselves.  So often I would get that page and walk to a patient’s room to find a family huddled around a bed or pacing the hallways; and the look on their face was utter confusion.  “What do we do now?” they would often ask.  I learned that every situation calls for a different answer to that question, but often what I would find were family members and friends who desperately wanted to say something to their dying loved one, but they couldn’t get the words out.  Sometimes all they needed was a little time and space.  So in those situations I would ask everyone to leave the room.  We would all walk out to the hallway and then I would tell them, “I want to give each of you an opportunity to spend a few moments with your loved one.  I encourage you to speak to them… to have one last conversation.”  And it was a very powerful experience for most of them.  There is a power in saying the words out loud, even if you aren’t sure if they are being heard.  

When the summer was over and I went back to school I told one of my mentors about my experience.  When I told her about what I would do with some of the families of dying patients she was impressed but she corrected me.  She said: Shlomo, the only thing you got wrong there is that it isn’t the last conversation.  You see, my mentor, Reb Mimi Feigelson is a Hassid.  She was a protégé of the late Reb Shlomo Carlebach.  Reb Mimi – being a Hassid – believes very much in a personal God.  And, when someone dies, Reb Mimi says “they left this world,” implying that there is another world.   I’ve always had a hard time with that one.  You see, I’m not a Hassid… I’ve always seen myself as a rationalist.  But, Reb Mimi is more in line with the Jewish tradition than I am.  The truth is our tradition is full of beliefs about an afterlife.  The Talmud has countless stories of people communing with those who have – in Reb Mimi’s words – “left this world.”  

Contemporary Jews and their rabbis are reluctant to talk about it, but it is absolutely central to our religion.  The 11^th chapter of Tractate Sanhedrin famously declares: “kol Yisrael yesh lahem helek la’olam ha-bah” – “Every Jew has a portion in the world to come.”  What a relief!  I was worried there for a second!  There you have it, we’re all going to heaven!  Oh, but wait a second.  The next line in the Mishna goes on to explain the exceptions to the rule.  Not quite every Jew has a place in the world to come.  You have to be righteous; and, the number one thing that can get you locked out of Olam Habah, is not believing in Olam Habah.  That’s the catch.  You have a place in the world to come, so long as you believe in a world to come.  And the truth is this idea is all over the place.  We say it several times in different ways in our tefillot.  Every time you say the Amidah, you are affirming the belief in the resurrection of the dead.  So central is this idea that Moses Maimonides codified it in his 13 principles of faith, which we sing on Friday nights as “Yigdal.”  

So, if belief in an afterlife is so central to Jewish theology, why do many of us balk at the idea?  Perhaps words like “resurrection” and “a world to come” rub against the grain of our modern rational sensibilities.  Perhaps generations of proselytizing has made these words seem - what my grandfather called - “goyishe.”  

Yet, despite all that, many of us continue to yearn for a relationship with our loved ones who have passed on.  That yearning I witnessed at the bedside of so many patients doesn’t go away.  Now as a congregational rabbi I see another side of it.  I see that yearning in the eyes of so many of you when you are sitting shiva, or marking a yahrzeit… I see it in the eyes of many of you today, as we prepare to davven Yizkor.  I think I’m beginning to understand Reb Mimi’s point of view.  I’m still not so sure about what happens to us when we die, but I have come to believe that the relationship with our loved ones does not end with their departure from this world.  There is always an opportunity for another conversation.   And just as it was in the hospital, I think it’s a powerful exercise whether you believe someone is “listening.”  

In a few moments we will begin Yizkor.  And just as I used to do with families in the hospital, I’m going to invite you to have a conversation with the loved ones you have come here to honor.  If you’re willing, I invite you to close your eyes, sit comfortably in your seat, and take a few deep breaths… see yourself opening a door and walking into a familiar room.  You feel safe, secure, at peace.  As you look around the room, you find an open chair and take a seat.  Sitting in the chair across from you is your loved one.  Look into their eyes; see the details of their face that were once so familiar to you.  What do you want to say that you didn’t say when they were alive?  Perhaps there is a question you never got a chance to ask.  Maybe you want to tell them about something important that has happened in your life this year.  Or perhaps you simply want to say thank you or I’m sorry or I miss you.  

And I invite you to take a moment to wait for a response.  Listen carefully.  While we davven Yizkor, I invite you to linger with your loved one; and, as Yizkor comes to a close, see yourself safely exiting the room.  You return to this sanctuary knowing that by taking the time to remember and reconnect you have transformed an ordinary moment into a sacred encounter.  This is the gift and the power of Yizkor. 

New features on my blog

I have updated my blog with every sermon I've given since I interviewed at HEA. Check out "featured sermons," including my Rosh Hashanah sermon and the sermon I gave at my interview. You might also like the sermons for which I caught the most flack (Miketz and Va'yechi)! I've also added a link to book lists I created for my conversion candidates and bar/bat mitzvah students.

"Proclaim Liberty Throughout the Land" - Behar-Behukotai 5769

Parashat Behar-Behukotai 5769 – May 16, 2009

“Proclaim Liberty throughout the Land”

The Jubilee year of which our Torah speaks teaches us that human dignity and the rule of law must take precedents over property rights.

“Proclaim LIBERTY throughout all the Land unto all the Inhabitants thereof” Lev. XXV X

This quote, found on the Liberty Bell, comes from today’s Torah portion.

I wonder, though, why the leaders of colonial Pennsylvania chose this of all Biblical quotes. I wonder if they understood the context from which this quote arises. I wonder about this because the context of this quote is one of the most radical ideas in the Torah. The full verse reads: “You shall sanctify the fiftieth year. You shall proclaim liberty throughout the land for all its inhabitants. It shall be a Jubilee for you: each of you shall return to his holding and each of you shall return to his family.” (Lev. 25:10)

The Torah here is talking about the laws of Smittah and Yovel – the Sabbatical year and the Jubilee. Every seventh year was a sabbatical year. Just as every 7^th day is a day of rest, in the sabbatical year the land and its inhabitants reverted to a state of nature - the land was not to be cultivated and only that which grew on its own may be eaten. Every fifty years all land holdings would revert to those tribal families that had owned it when the Children of Israel first occupied the land at the time of Joshua. According to the Book of Joshua, the land of Israel was originally apportioned by lottery – every family receiving a holding. In addition, in the 50^th year (as in each sabbatical) debts were remitted and all slaves (even those that had chosen to remain with their masters) had to be released.

Perhaps to our modern minds, the Yovel is a bizarre idea… as social policy, it meant that no one could accumulate excessive wealth (at least not for very long); it also meant that no one could be held in perpetual debt or permanent servitude.

We don’t know exactly how Shmitta and Yovel were implemented. Perhaps the Torah is setting out an ideal toward which to strive. But I think it is important for us to consider the theological underpinnings and predicates of the law. That is to say, what is the justification for these policies? Why should we follow them? Why should we return land to its or original owners every 50 years? Why should slaves go free and debtors be released from their contractual obligations? One could even say these policies are an outrage! --An offense against our “natural right” to property. But the Torah does not conceive of a natural or unfettered right to property. The laws of property in Parashat Behar and elsewhere are contingent and based on three predicates:

The first principle is one that we find throughout the Tanakh: In justifying Yovel, God says in our Torah portion: “for the land is Mine; you are but strangers and mere residents with Me.” (Lev. 25:23). A basic principle of the Torah is that God is sole proprietor of the universe. God created the world and God is the ultimate sovereign. This fact has many profound implications. It means that we are but stewards of this earth. It means that there is really no such thing as ownership. It means that in some fundamental way, no human being has a greater claim to God’s bounty than any other. Bear in mind, however, that Judaism does not oppose the idea of property. A person my legally obtain land and property, but what we think of as ownership is really a kind of lease. We can have rights to land, but our rights our limited. The same holds true to some extent in modern American law as well – hence we have zoning laws, limits on what you can do on your own property and even the state’s power of eminent domain. In other words, we are guests here and we should act as guests.

The second principle is that human dignity and freedom outweigh property rights. The Torah forbids abusive and exploitative business practices and usury. “Do not wrong one another [in property sales], but fear your God; for I the Lord am your God.” (Lev. 25:18). Again, the predicate is that God is the ultimate owner. No person may be held in perpetual slavery or destroyed by insurmountable debt. Even servants, who in regular sabbatical years may chose to stay with their masters, must be released in the Yovel. God’s ultimate ownership even extends to us! According to Jewish law, we don’t even own our own bodies! That’s why we can’t mutilate our bodies or deliberately harm ourselves, and it is why we don’t have the right to sell ourselves into permanent slavery. God says [speaking about us], (Lev. 25:42) “For they are My servants, whom I freed from the land of Egypt; they may not give themselves up to servitude. You shall not rule over them ruthlessly; you shall fear your God.” What a radical concept! It means that even people forced into servitude through debt are entitled to dignity and freedom.

And finally, the third principle of our Torah portion is the rule of law. God says, (Lev. 25:18) “You shall observe My laws and faithfully keep My rules, that you may live upon the land in security.” Our privilege to live upon this land is predicated on the rule of law. Without law and sensible regulation of the marketplace, society descends into chaos. Lawlessness leads to exploitation and the denigration of human dignity. And this is a state of affairs that God, who endows us each with some measure of His essence, cannot tolerate. We are His creatures. Each and every one of us is created in God’s image and each of us is of immeasurable worth and deserving of protection and care.

It is impossible for me to read today’s Torah portion and not think about current events. It is impossible for me to not to think about the countless people suffering right now because we as a society did not uphold the principles of which our Torah speaks. It is impossible for me not to think about people sitting in this room right now, our friends and neighbors, who are suffering … who are losing their homes, their businesses, and everything they worked hard for because we as a society failed to protect them and are still failing to protect them. We failed because we valued property rights over human dignity.

I did some research into the Liberty Bell and I think I now understand why the leaders of Pennsylvania chose the quote from Parashat Behar. The bell was originally commissioned in 1751 by the Pennsylvania Assembly for the capitol (now known as Independence Hall). It was ordered, with the Biblical inscription, in honor of the 50^th anniversary of William Penn’s Charter of Privileges, which served as Pennsylvania’s Constitutions until the American Revolution. William Penn was a wealthy Quaker who had petitioned the King of England in the late 1600s to grant him a charter in the Colonies where Quakers and others could find shelter from religious persecution. William Penn at one time literally owned much of what is today Pennsylvania, Delaware and South Jersey. In fact, William Penn was at one time the world’s largest private landholder! He was the sole proprietor and governor of the territory with nearly absolute power over it. He could have done anything he wanted with his royal charter. He could have subjugated the inhabitants of his vast land. He could have imposed his religion on them. Instead, out of his enlightened thinking and his religious belief in equality, he declared a kind of Yovel – a Jubilee. He wrote a charter that outlined individual rights, freedom of religion, and representative government. And he based these in his religious convictions. Referring to God he said, “I would not abuse His love, nor act unworthy of His providence, and so defile what came to me clean.” Penn understood that he owed his great fortune to none other than God. He essentially relinquished much of his property rights and handed power to the people of Pennsylvania. Penn was no saint, but he was ahead of his time, influencing Thomas Jefferson and the framers of our own Constitution. And in the 50^th year (the Yovel) of his great experiment, the people of Pennsylvania honored him with the Bell and its apt inscription.

We are a nation founded on enlightened principles. This is the country I love and believe in – a nation governed by the ideals of human freedom and dignity above all else. Ribono Shel Ha-Olam, Sovereign of the entire universe, May this Land continue to live up to the ideals of our Founders and the values we learn from Your Torah. And may freedom ring from every bell tower.

Shabbat Shalom