The Choices Before Us
A Sermon for Kol
Nidrei Service 5778
By Rabbi Boaz D.
Heilman
September 29, 2017
An ad on Facebook recently grabbed my attention, and managed
both to pique my interest and irritate me at once. It was a cartoon video, drawn in primary
colors and simplistic designs, posing a short and direct question. I should have scrolled on, right then and
there—which is what I usually do, past a quick glance at the product being
advertised. But this time I stopped to
look. Unlike other ads, this one had Jewish
content. Relying on Facebook’s detailed
knowledge of me and my interests, the ad drew me in, and I yielded. The video was
of a man—presumably a rabbi—wrapped in a tallit, blowing the shofar for his
few, sparsely seated, all male congregants.
It was obviously an Orthodox synagogue (there was a mechitsa, the traditional curtain barrier separating the men from
the women, but no women were present).
The visual was a bit confusing, but its message was anything but
mixed. It read, “Should you feel guilty
or excited at Rosh Hashana?”
Now I was definitely both irritated and curious. Is that all
there was to the High Holy Days? Guilty
or excited? The Ten Days of Awe have
tremendous power over our people, causing us to stop everything we’re doing, and
congregate in huge numbers at our various and sundry houses of worship. The High
Holy Days stimulate and invigorate us; they inspire and challenge us to examine
our lives, our hearts, our souls. I resented the simplistic, binary approach of
this ad.
The video was a series of memes. One was of a heavenly scale, reminder of the annual
judging of our lives and deeds that takes place on Yom Kippur. The next meme
was of a joyous celebration (replete with colorful confetti) and the explanation
that the Torah actually speaks of Rosh Hashana as “a happy day.” This was then replaced by the final meme, where black
letters that looked an awful lot like engraving on a tombstone, spelled out, in
all-caps, the word “FEAR.”
There it was. The site
offered you a simple choice: you could choose between excitement and guilt,
between joy and fear.
What a crude and patronizing lesson, I thought. That’s it? Is that all that the High Holy Days are about?
What about love, tradition, community, or that wonderful sense of renewal you
get at this season?
Personally, I feel energized by the High Holy Days, restored
by the spiritual journey that they take me on. This season fills with gratitude for the many
blessings in my life, though I do also feel sadness and pain. There’s sadness for the passing of time, and for
the distance that lies between me and my loved ones; and deep pain for the loss
of family and friends who are no longer with us.
There’s regret for what we haven’t yet accomplished, but
also new strength to redress and repair the wrongs in our life. And yes, there is guilt, but along with guilt
there is also the prospect of reconciliation.
To be sure, there is fear, too. We don’t know what the new year will bring
with it, and the unknown fills us with dread. But then we’re restored, for right
there, right next to fear, are also hope, faith, and trust.
The High Holy Days do give us a choice, but this choice
is anything but shallow or simple.
Yom Kippur opens with Kol Nidrei, an ancient and moving
prayer that absolves us of vows, obligations, and promises. However, it actually has even greater power
and a more exalted mission: Kol Nidrei liberates us. It frees us from all obligations. Kol Nidrei gives us permission to examine
every word we’ve given, every pledge we’ve made. It isn’t only in the court of
Heaven that our ethics and morals are scrutinized. It’s down here. We get to define what we believe in,
and we get to decide how best to show our commitment to our ideals. It’s our
free choice.
Kol Nidrei calls on us to look at all of our ideals and
principles, both those that are very personal and those that bind us together
as a community, as Jews and as Americans.
And tonight, I would like us to consider a value we hold high above
others. Patriotism. The question that we
have been asking ourselves for several days now is, What does it mean to
respect the flag of the United States and our national anthem.
There is no greater symbol of the greatness of America, its
ideals and its contributions to humanity and the world, than this banner and this
powerful anthem. On the Fourth of July, to
kick off a sports event, and certainly when American athletes win gold at the
Olympics, hearing our national anthem never fails to bring a lump to the throat. We feel pride and awe as we join in and reach
for those impossibly high notes on “The rockets’ red glare.” They are hard to sing, but how better to
symbolize the high and lofty goals and purposes of our country: Liberty, equality and justice for all.
The debate we are engaged in now is about how best to pay
homage to these symbols. How does it
feel for us to watch athletes—the very personification of our ideals of strength
and endurance—when they take the knee or fail to stand at moments when
reverence and respect are called for? These
days, we are asked—and we ask ourselves: Do these gestures show disrespect to the
flag, and thus to America? Or do they perhaps express the shame, the
humiliation and even the dangers that people of color and other minorities face
on an almost daily basis in the United States?
There’s a cultural battle being waged in America today. Some say that it’s simply an extension of the
racial struggle that has always divided our country. But without a doubt these past few days and
weeks, the rhetoric and violence have seen a sharp rise in volume and pitch. There is tension and division between those
who say that America’s flag and national anthem must be respected regardless of
personal views and opinions, and those who feel that the best way to show them respect
is to safely and judiciously use the freedoms of speech and expression that these
symbols stand for.
The real question here is, when a player takes the knee
during the National Anthem, is that a sign of rejection, or is it an
affirmation of what the flag really stands for—the constitutional right to
protest a social wrong.
After all, taking the knee is nowhere near what we see in
countries that view America as the enemy.
There, the American flag is trampled on, torn, and burned. There, when good people, American soldiers or
civilians, are killed, people rejoice, dance in the streets and pass out
candies and sweets. No, as I see it, the symbolic gesture of taking a knee is
not in itself an act of violence, nor incitement to hatred. Rather, it’s a respectful call to stop
business as usual, a declaration that there’s a serious problem, a rift in our
nation that requires dialogue and conversation to resolve.
On the other hand, what I do find disrespectful is the
use of profanity to describe the protesters.
Many of them overcame tremendous challenges to earn the admiration of
their fans, and for millions of children who live in culturally and
economically deprived areas, these athletes are a source of pride, kindling
dreams of triumph in a harsh reality where opportunities for success and
advancement are few and far between. To use insulting language against these
individuals is to insult and humiliate the many who look up to them as legitimate
heroes.
America was founded on noble ideals. More than a million men and women have given
their lives in battle so that this country can thrive and live up to its noble
expectations and ideals. Taking a knee
does not diss their memory or bring shame to their ultimate sacrifice. What does bring shame to our Country and
Flag is a political and social system that preserves racism, anti-Semitism,
homophobia, xenophobia and misogyny; that shames people who do not fit
stereotype images; that cynically, cruelly and divisively, uses fear to enrich
itself and augment its own powerbase.
What does bring shame to us all is the use of foul language—in, of all places, the White House—to
denigrate people who are an integral part of the fabric of the America, and who
have given disproportionately of their strength and soul to build and defend
it.
Do America’s flag and national anthem deserve to be honored
and revered? Yes. Absolutely.
They represent the highest ideals and goals upon which this country was
founded and for which it stands.
Are sports and other public events the proper venue to
protest and demonstrate? Here is where
some of us may disagree. But my opinion
is this: 70% of the players on the NFL are African Americans. For them, this is the only venue where they
are recognized by all Americans for who and what they are. It is precisely at these arenas that they need
to, are able to, and are free to say what needs to be said—that America’s
ideals are not equally shared, that some of us are still considered less worthy
citizens than others, and that racism is both immoral and an injustice.
In ancient days, Yom Kippur was an
occasion when we asked God to judge us not only in righteousness, but also with
compassion. Today, it is an opportunity
for us to judge ourselves, as individuals and as a society. Today, Yom Kippur is so much more than only
about guilt and fear. On this day we are
given permission either to reject our ideals, or to affirm them. There is great
freedom in that, but also great responsibility, for our choice can determine
the future course of life and events.
What this Yom Kippur demands of us, today, is not only to
examine the faults or merits of our own, private lives, but also to engage in wider,
public discussion about the kind of nation we are. Unlike other countries, the United States
isn’t made up of only one nationality, one language or one religion. Our society is compound and complex. Our strength, however, is in our unity, and our
Union depends as much on our own personal integrity as on our ability to listen
to one another, to hear what others are trying to tell us about their lives, about
their fears and about their needs.
This is the gift of Kol Nidrei: The freedom to choose. This day empowers us. It teaches us that we may—indeed
we must—let go of empty words, vain gestures and hollow vows. But instead of turning to chaos and anarchy, Kol
Nidrei calls upon us to live our lives in such a way that our pledges and oaths
once again become valid and meaningful. The choice is ours.
Tonight I pray that this year we might see America united by
love and mutual respect again; that this year we be blessed with reconciliation
and peace; that hunger, ignorance and poverty be eradicated from our midst; and
that all people, all over the world, be granted the blessings and opportunities
they need and deserve for healing, repair and renewal.
G’mar chatima tova, may we all be
inscribed in the Book of Life for a good and sweet New Year. Ken
y’hi ratzon.
© 2017 by Boaz D. Heilman
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