Social Action

Yom Kippur Sermon, 5768

by Rabbi Aaron Goldstein

Have you heard the one about Lenny Kravitz?

Not the black rock idol, singer and multi-insturmentalist, model, who just happens to be paternally Jewish and a great supporter of Israel.

But this is the line that is the introduction to Rabbi Leonard S Kravitz. “Have you heard the one about Lenny Kravitz?”

Rabbi Lenny Kravitz was one of my teachers when I studied in NYC. He taught me in a variety of topics in Philosophy (not my favourite subject) and Midrash (definitely my favourite subject) but I have to admit that after working him out it was more for the boobameisers that I returned to his classes. Think Woody Allen, in 30 years time but on a c-list stage. Amongst the 100 mile an hour chatter that came out in a lecture, one just needed to hold onto the one gold nugget that would be there, just like the one line in your favourite film that you can always recite even after twenty years.

The one nugget that will always remain with me, is when Rabbi Lenny Kravitz suddenly and unusually became quite, leant forward on his elbows and said, “now listen to me. If I teach you no Maimonides, Pirkei Avot or Midrash that is any use to you when you hit the pulpit, remember this one thing: there’s no ‘o’ and ‘d’ in shul – there is no ‘should’ in ‘shul.’”

If we rolled out of bed this morning and said to ourselves, “I ought or I should go to Shul,” the Sefat Emet, the late nineteenth century Gerer Rebbe would suggest that we were doing so out of a ‘fear of God.’ I liken this to a conversation I had with my friend, Julian Millet when I met up with him once in Israel. Describing how the frummers who blocked the path to the loo on every El Al flight drove me crazy he said: “I love them. Just in case I am wrong and they are right, they’re my insurance policy in this tin can!”

But back to the Sefat Emet. On the verse: “Return us to you, O God, then we shall return.” (Lam 5:21), the Sefat Emet comments:

This refers to the two kinds of teshuvah: that of fear and that of love. When a person is defiled by sin, it is impossible to return form love. Only the return due to fear is possible, and this requires the help of heaven. Thus the ancients have told us that God helps the one who returns. This is the meaning of “return us.”

But those who return out of love do so on their own, because of the love of God that burns within. This requires no help. Thus the midrash recounts that Noah needed help to “walk with God,” while Abraham needed no help to “walk before Me.” One acted out of fear, the other from love.

Now the two sorts of teshuvah also divide according to the verse, “Turn from evil and do good” (Ps 34:15). Returning from fear is turning from evil; the penitent seeks to be cleansed of the defilement of sins. But teshuvah out of love is “doing good;” this penitent realises that sins keep one from attachment to God. Therefore, this one seeks teshuvah, in order to return to doing good.

Whether our motive for being here falls into the category of teshuvah, returning to Shul for the ‘fear of God’ or ‘love of God,’ my motive for introducing these concepts now is to encourage us not to be so consumed by or overawed by our guilt that we can . It was not the intention of our ancestors that “piety be used to increase people’s burdens, wringing out guilt from people whose worst sin was to be human…How do we learn to accept that we cannot do it all, that we will never be quite perfect? How do we learn to forgive ourselves for being mere flawed mortals? (Art Green in Ehyeh)” This is the Yom Kippur test. Can we get beyond navel-gazing to a teshuvah out of the love of God, that is “doing good.”

For this is truly the purpose of this day of Yom Kippur as I see it. Having thought about ourselves during the month of Elul, Rosh Hashanah, and the last ten days, the prophets urge us on Yom Kippur to look outward and do good.

“Is this the fast I look for? A day of self-affliction? Bowing your head like a reed, and covering yourself with sackcloth and ashes? Is this what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the Eternal One? Is not this the fast I look for: to release the shackles of injustice, to undo the fetters of bondage, to let the oppressed go free and to break every cruel chain? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and to bring the homeless poor into your house? When you see the naked, to clothe them, and never to hided yourself from your own kin?” (Isa 58: 5-7)

What a great Liberal Jewish anthem this is. It is not the way that we apply the minutae of ritual life but the way we apply the essence of our ethical tradition, that is primary to us. Indeed, this is a universal message as we find reinforced this afternoon.

The Book of Jonah was known to be recited on Yom Kippur Afternoon by the fifth century CE and the reason for its inclusion given in bMeg. 31a because of the theme of repentance. But according to the Mishnah (Ta’anit 2:1), it is not the Jew, Jonah with whom we are meant to identify, but with the Ninevites and the completeness and truthfulness of their repentance:

“Brethren, it is not said of the people of Nineveh, ‘And God saw their sackcloth and their fasting,’ but “And God saw their works, that they turned from their evil way.”

How much the more so can we do by acting not out of ‘fear of God’ and therefore turning from ‘evil ways’, but to act out of ‘love of God’ and therefore simply to ‘do good.’

I know there are times when I have given tzdakah grudgingly, because I knew I should do or because I felt from social pressure that I ought to. I admit that I moaned and groaned as I did my bit for recycling. I know that there were times when I resented going out of my way to give someone a lift. I admit that I have performed gemillut chasadim – acts of lovingkindness – with no loving kindness in my manner whatsoever. I admit that there were times that I lied or made up excuses so that I did not respond to a call for help when asked. I know that I did not volunteer but had to be asked to use my God-given skills. Did any of those occasions make me feel good about myself. Did any of those occasions make me feel better about fellow human beings, or the planet that I share, or about God for making me feel guilty even though in the end I might have done the right thing. Nope. Not one jot. This was my insurance policy. This was my acting out of ‘fear of God.’

But I know that there were times when I researched tzedakah projects so I could support causes that I felt passionately about and that the money I gave really did have something to do with tzedek – justice. I know that I gave people lifts, put out the recycling bins and paid more for green electricity without thinking about it because doing good felt good. I know that when I responded to a cry for help or acted before being asked, it felt good to me and to the recipient. When Shaya and Liora went on their first bit of social activism last weekend, a march to support our friend Mustafa Hassaballa and his fellow Darfuri asylum seekers and their people they felt good about it, so did we. Our children are asking Mustafa how he felt about having so much support from the Jewish community this morning as I speak. And you can engage with him this afternoon in our session for thinking and learning together.

And so back to Lenny Kravitz, Rabbi Lenny Kravitz that is. He taught me that striving for better behaviour through a series of oughts and shoulds does not provide enough strength to even give a hope of lasting a year. On the contrary, it elicits anger and resistance. I feel like I'm back in school assemblies listening to teachings I don't identify with. And what if all this belittling ourselves is a delusion: that actually our life is rather good. Rather, how much more affective if we use this time for quiet contemplation, for gaining greater wisdom to understand that by behaving ethically, kindly, and even, in our own ways, piously, it leads to more joy and more happiness - not because we should do but because doing good is at the core of our being.

May we use the time that we have on this most solemn of days for discernment and wisdom, for being with oneself and with our family and friends around us, for love of God; and let us leave here to do God.

Adonai oz l’amo yiteyn. Adonai y’varekh et amo vashalom

Rebbe Nachman of Brezlov once said: Steer clear of sophistication and cleverness; they add nothing to coming closer to God. All you need is simplicity, sincerity, and faith. Recently, I heard Danny Siegel the wonderful poet - and now I have found out - social action guru give me a tip when I was splurging out ideas left right and centre in my enthusiasm. He said, "KISS: Keep it simple Shimon!"

Rabbi Aaron Goldstein

Northwood and Pinner Liberal Synagogue

Erev Rosh Ha-Shanah 5768 – 12th September 2007