RESPONDING WITH COMPASSION
Rosh HaShanah - Day 1 (daytime drash)
Shana Tova; good morning. Last night I spoke about how many people experience and feel closer to the Divine through and in nature. From the world of Assiyah, physicality, I want to now explore the Kabbalistic realm of Yetzirah, emotional connection. When I ask people where and when they have felt closer to God or themselves or their own souls, there are certain answers that are common to so many different people: outdoors in nature, when a child is born or a loved one passes away, or through the study of sacred texts. Others have said they feel this sense of meaning when they are in this sanctuary. While there is something powerful about being in a room that was literally built and designed for the purpose of spirituality, for me what makes these moments powerful is not the space, but the people. So, today I want to talk about how we can encounter the Divine through community.
Why are we here right now in this room at this time? Certainly there are many motivations such as “Tradition!”. The desire to connect and engage with the Jewish holidays often comes largely from our families, how we were raised. For those in this room who were not raised as Jews, the motivations are likely the choices that you made about what and who inspired you, and how you chose to believe and live your lives based on those inspirations. Some are possibly here looking for a sense of continuity with the ancient past, the present and the future. I hope that no one is here just out of guilt. I do believe that the human need for meaning, for connection, for finding purpose and self-improvement is a significant motivation. And at the heart of all of these motivations is a powerful factor: the desire to connect with others.
There is an old joke about an atheist who goes to shul every Shabbat and sits next to his friend Ginsburg. One day, someone asks the atheist why he keeps coming to services if he doesn’t believe in God. He replies, “Ginsburg goes to shul to talk to God; I go to shul to talk to Ginsburg.”
We are social creatures and there is something beautiful, even holy, about people coming to their local Jewish center to socialize, to catch up, to connect, to shmooze. When I was in Cairo 30 years ago, I went to the Sha’ar HaShamayim synagogue (which means “The Gate of Heaven”) on a Saturday morning. After a very lengthy security process involving two stern Egyptian soldiers, I was finally allowed inside. It’s a massive building and in the lofty sanctuary I discovered there a small group of elderly women, sitting in the pews and talking with an Arabic newspaper spread open in front of them. These last of the Jews of Egypt did what Jews do everywhere across the world: go to the synagogue on Saturday morning. As there was no one left to lead Services in this orthodox congregation, they engaged in what was their main if not only motivation for being there: connecting with each other. They seemed happy enough to see me, a young Jewish traveler, praying in their sanctuary, but they were much happier just sitting and talking. They were literally keeping this tiny and aging community open by socializing. I’m sure that these same women had done the same when this was a thriving large Jewish community. While it was somewhat sad to be the only one in the sanctuary who came to pray that morning, what they were doing was an authentic and compelling Jewish activity: talking to Ginsburg.
Synagogue is a Greek word for a Jewish center. In Hebrew, there are three names for there are at least three different functions: “Beit Tefillah” - a house of prayer, or literally self-reflection, “Beit Midrash” - a house of study, literally searching, exploration, and “Beit K’nesset” - a house of community, literally the place of gathering. Of these three names, which is the most commonly used description? The last one: the place that people come inside to see each other. I know that some people are here to talk to God, and some people are here to study, and some come to meditate and reflect, but all of us come to be here with others. According to our faith and to what we know to be true, one can pray, study or meditate on one’s own. One doesn’t need others to find God, but one needs a community to find Ginsburg.
As regular attendees know, at our weekly Friday night Services after we sing L’cha Dodi to welcome Shabbat, and at our weekly Saturday morning Services before the Torah reading, we take a few moments to welcome each other. I instituted this practice because I know that we are here to catch up, to be social creatures, to connect with each other. Most synagogues in Israel have a sign; there is a picture of the sign right here. It reads: “it is forbidden to speak during the reading of the Torah”. When we traveled to Israel as a congregation 3 years ago, our tour guide pointed out the sign and asked if we knew what it meant. I translated the sign and was explaining why there is a prohibition about talking during the Torah Service. Our tour guide Eitan interrupted me and said that’s not what the sign meant, it meant that in this synagogue a lot of people talk! There would be no need for the sign if people followed the instructions on the sign. While it’s not appropriate to talk loudly during the Torah Service, there is a room in our building whose very name explains why we are here: the social hall!
The OU, the Orthodox Union of North American synagogues has a great article on their website (OU.org) about talking during the Services: Rabbi Efrem Goldberg wrote on December 17, 2018 “Whether You Come to Talk to God, to Your Friends or to Both, Shul is a Place For You”
“The truth is there are many believers who come to shul to talk both to God and to their friends, most of whom they haven’t seen the entire week….We draw energy from one another, we come to connect with one another and it is an unreasonable expectation that we would do so without exchanging a greeting or being drawn to engage in at least a brief conversation. …Two and a half hours in a room full of friends is a very long time to refrain from talking. Sometimes we see someone and we have a message to deliver, something important to share, maybe even some love or support to offer. We invite anyone who is driven to talk, to step into the lobby, socialize and shmooze. One who steps out to have a conversation shouldn’t be judged, they should be admired. But someone who engages in conversation when their neighbor is communing with Hashem or talks while our community’s mourners are saying Kaddish in memory of their loved ones, deserves judgment, not for their lack of religious commitment, but for their lack of caring for his or her fellow community member.”
Community is at the heart of us being here together, and our heart is what motivates us. To be part of a family, a tribe, a faith is to care about each other. Community is all about giving, sharing, and kindness. There is no act of loving kindness that does not involve people. When we visit the sick, comfort the mourner, welcome the Bat/Bar Mitzvah teen, greet the guest and visitor, engage in the world around us, we are acting with our heart. And such actions are at the center of the Jewish spiritual journey. How do we show our love for God? By showing deeds of loving kindness towards our fellow.
We don’t all agree with each other. Every Jewish community has its divisions, its political disagreements, arguments about spiritual practices, and people we find it difficult to get along with. How much more so here, when we are the only Jewish congregation in the entire county? We are not on the deserted island where the Jew builds both his synagogue and the one that he wont set foot inside. Our very existence is a commitment to pluralism. One of the most important acts of loving kindness that we model every time we walk in here is tolerance. We may not always like each other, but we tolerate each other, and I hope, at least on a good day, we respect each other.
In Judaism, God can be found in the beauty of nature, and also in the still small voice inside us. God speaks to us when we wrestle with Torah and our other sacred wisdom. We call out to heaven when we are celebrating in joy and when we are broken by sadness and loss. And God can be felt, heard, and experienced when we gather together and bring our emotions and our connections to each other. God may be found in community, and community is all about Chesed: loving kindness.
Today, sanctuaries in Jewish communities across the world are full. As we give thanks for the gift of a new year, we look back at the one that has just ended. The story of the past year includes a horrible deadly attack on a synagogue in Pittsburgh. The impact of this is still being felt today, and not only in the form of increased security. While we are safe here, and have made many improvement over the past years that help us feel more secure and peaceful in our space, there is deep irony that the Jews of Pittsburg were attacked because of hate, specifically directed at Jews who were involved with welcoming the stranger and protecting the foreigner. We will never stop being loving and kind. It is simply who we are as a people. The most repeated line in the entire Torah, 36 times, is to be kind to the stranger, for we were once strangers in a strange land. We are to have empathy; we are to care for each other, even the ones in this room and in this country that we don’t yet know. We are to especially care for the most vulnerable in society.
Facing this tragedy, and the one like it at a mosque in New Zealand, has actually helped me envision the world that I want to live in: a place where the faiths and neighbors gather, not only in times of hardship and pain, but to get to know each other. To break bread together. To learn about each other. I am working with my multi-faith colleagues on a program where various faith communities will host meet and greet open houses with food, educational presentations, and Q&A sessions. Please consider helping make this “come meet your neighbor” program a reality and a new norm and ongoing tradition here in Modesto. We are to love our fellows, all of them, not just the ones we agree with, or who look, pray or vote like us. We are to love each other as we love ourselves. And that must start with forgiving ourselves as we forgive others. May this be a wonderful sweet year with many acts of loving kindness, forgiveness, coming together, celebrating and learning. May we continue to find both God and Ginsburg when we gather in sacred community. Shana Tova!
Rabbi Shalom Bochner
209-571-6062
Please contact us if you'd like a Spanish-language version of this or the previous Drash.
Why are we here right now in this room at this time? Certainly there are many motivations such as “Tradition!”. The desire to connect and engage with the Jewish holidays often comes largely from our families, how we were raised. For those in this room who were not raised as Jews, the motivations are likely the choices that you made about what and who inspired you, and how you chose to believe and live your lives based on those inspirations. Some are possibly here looking for a sense of continuity with the ancient past, the present and the future. I hope that no one is here just out of guilt. I do believe that the human need for meaning, for connection, for finding purpose and self-improvement is a significant motivation. And at the heart of all of these motivations is a powerful factor: the desire to connect with others.
There is an old joke about an atheist who goes to shul every Shabbat and sits next to his friend Ginsburg. One day, someone asks the atheist why he keeps coming to services if he doesn’t believe in God. He replies, “Ginsburg goes to shul to talk to God; I go to shul to talk to Ginsburg.”
We are social creatures and there is something beautiful, even holy, about people coming to their local Jewish center to socialize, to catch up, to connect, to shmooze. When I was in Cairo 30 years ago, I went to the Sha’ar HaShamayim synagogue (which means “The Gate of Heaven”) on a Saturday morning. After a very lengthy security process involving two stern Egyptian soldiers, I was finally allowed inside. It’s a massive building and in the lofty sanctuary I discovered there a small group of elderly women, sitting in the pews and talking with an Arabic newspaper spread open in front of them. These last of the Jews of Egypt did what Jews do everywhere across the world: go to the synagogue on Saturday morning. As there was no one left to lead Services in this orthodox congregation, they engaged in what was their main if not only motivation for being there: connecting with each other. They seemed happy enough to see me, a young Jewish traveler, praying in their sanctuary, but they were much happier just sitting and talking. They were literally keeping this tiny and aging community open by socializing. I’m sure that these same women had done the same when this was a thriving large Jewish community. While it was somewhat sad to be the only one in the sanctuary who came to pray that morning, what they were doing was an authentic and compelling Jewish activity: talking to Ginsburg.
Synagogue is a Greek word for a Jewish center. In Hebrew, there are three names for there are at least three different functions: “Beit Tefillah” - a house of prayer, or literally self-reflection, “Beit Midrash” - a house of study, literally searching, exploration, and “Beit K’nesset” - a house of community, literally the place of gathering. Of these three names, which is the most commonly used description? The last one: the place that people come inside to see each other. I know that some people are here to talk to God, and some people are here to study, and some come to meditate and reflect, but all of us come to be here with others. According to our faith and to what we know to be true, one can pray, study or meditate on one’s own. One doesn’t need others to find God, but one needs a community to find Ginsburg.
As regular attendees know, at our weekly Friday night Services after we sing L’cha Dodi to welcome Shabbat, and at our weekly Saturday morning Services before the Torah reading, we take a few moments to welcome each other. I instituted this practice because I know that we are here to catch up, to be social creatures, to connect with each other. Most synagogues in Israel have a sign; there is a picture of the sign right here. It reads: “it is forbidden to speak during the reading of the Torah”. When we traveled to Israel as a congregation 3 years ago, our tour guide pointed out the sign and asked if we knew what it meant. I translated the sign and was explaining why there is a prohibition about talking during the Torah Service. Our tour guide Eitan interrupted me and said that’s not what the sign meant, it meant that in this synagogue a lot of people talk! There would be no need for the sign if people followed the instructions on the sign. While it’s not appropriate to talk loudly during the Torah Service, there is a room in our building whose very name explains why we are here: the social hall!
The OU, the Orthodox Union of North American synagogues has a great article on their website (OU.org) about talking during the Services: Rabbi Efrem Goldberg wrote on December 17, 2018 “Whether You Come to Talk to God, to Your Friends or to Both, Shul is a Place For You”
“The truth is there are many believers who come to shul to talk both to God and to their friends, most of whom they haven’t seen the entire week….We draw energy from one another, we come to connect with one another and it is an unreasonable expectation that we would do so without exchanging a greeting or being drawn to engage in at least a brief conversation. …Two and a half hours in a room full of friends is a very long time to refrain from talking. Sometimes we see someone and we have a message to deliver, something important to share, maybe even some love or support to offer. We invite anyone who is driven to talk, to step into the lobby, socialize and shmooze. One who steps out to have a conversation shouldn’t be judged, they should be admired. But someone who engages in conversation when their neighbor is communing with Hashem or talks while our community’s mourners are saying Kaddish in memory of their loved ones, deserves judgment, not for their lack of religious commitment, but for their lack of caring for his or her fellow community member.”
Community is at the heart of us being here together, and our heart is what motivates us. To be part of a family, a tribe, a faith is to care about each other. Community is all about giving, sharing, and kindness. There is no act of loving kindness that does not involve people. When we visit the sick, comfort the mourner, welcome the Bat/Bar Mitzvah teen, greet the guest and visitor, engage in the world around us, we are acting with our heart. And such actions are at the center of the Jewish spiritual journey. How do we show our love for God? By showing deeds of loving kindness towards our fellow.
We don’t all agree with each other. Every Jewish community has its divisions, its political disagreements, arguments about spiritual practices, and people we find it difficult to get along with. How much more so here, when we are the only Jewish congregation in the entire county? We are not on the deserted island where the Jew builds both his synagogue and the one that he wont set foot inside. Our very existence is a commitment to pluralism. One of the most important acts of loving kindness that we model every time we walk in here is tolerance. We may not always like each other, but we tolerate each other, and I hope, at least on a good day, we respect each other.
In Judaism, God can be found in the beauty of nature, and also in the still small voice inside us. God speaks to us when we wrestle with Torah and our other sacred wisdom. We call out to heaven when we are celebrating in joy and when we are broken by sadness and loss. And God can be felt, heard, and experienced when we gather together and bring our emotions and our connections to each other. God may be found in community, and community is all about Chesed: loving kindness.
Today, sanctuaries in Jewish communities across the world are full. As we give thanks for the gift of a new year, we look back at the one that has just ended. The story of the past year includes a horrible deadly attack on a synagogue in Pittsburgh. The impact of this is still being felt today, and not only in the form of increased security. While we are safe here, and have made many improvement over the past years that help us feel more secure and peaceful in our space, there is deep irony that the Jews of Pittsburg were attacked because of hate, specifically directed at Jews who were involved with welcoming the stranger and protecting the foreigner. We will never stop being loving and kind. It is simply who we are as a people. The most repeated line in the entire Torah, 36 times, is to be kind to the stranger, for we were once strangers in a strange land. We are to have empathy; we are to care for each other, even the ones in this room and in this country that we don’t yet know. We are to especially care for the most vulnerable in society.
Facing this tragedy, and the one like it at a mosque in New Zealand, has actually helped me envision the world that I want to live in: a place where the faiths and neighbors gather, not only in times of hardship and pain, but to get to know each other. To break bread together. To learn about each other. I am working with my multi-faith colleagues on a program where various faith communities will host meet and greet open houses with food, educational presentations, and Q&A sessions. Please consider helping make this “come meet your neighbor” program a reality and a new norm and ongoing tradition here in Modesto. We are to love our fellows, all of them, not just the ones we agree with, or who look, pray or vote like us. We are to love each other as we love ourselves. And that must start with forgiving ourselves as we forgive others. May this be a wonderful sweet year with many acts of loving kindness, forgiveness, coming together, celebrating and learning. May we continue to find both God and Ginsburg when we gather in sacred community. Shana Tova!
Rabbi Shalom Bochner
209-571-6062
Please contact us if you'd like a Spanish-language version of this or the previous Drash.
Click Here for our Holiday Service Schedule
To RSVP or for additional information contact the CBS Office at 209.571.6060