Faith, The Sacred Bridge

Faith, The Sacred Bridge

Rosh Hashana Eve, 5779

September 9, 2018

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

One of the most important aspects of humanity—and one of the least understood—is the phenomenon we call Faith.  Faith has many forms and definitions.  It means trust and confidence, usually reserved for matters between people; it also stands for belief in God; and it could simply be a religious doctrine: a faith. 

Faith is not tangible, yet people swear by it. It comes handed down to us by the generations, and by-and-large, we mostly accept and live by it.

Volumes and volumes have been written about Faith.  Yet, for all that, Faith remains elusive, defying form or structure.  Try and describe your own faith, and you find yourself hard-pressed to find the right words.  For one thing, no one definition fits all. Faith adapts to the times and needs of the individual and community that adhere to it.

Much of Faith stems from—and unfortunately is still entrapped in—ignorance. From time immemorial, Faith has held that the earth was flat, that it was at the center of a singular and purposeful Creation, Willed and brought forth by a God whose will is unquestionable. 

Faith came like manna in the desert, to quench our thirst for understanding “why;” to sate our hunger for love; to erase our fears and doubts, and give us comfort and reassure us instead. 

Faith is at the foundation of how we see ourselves, and what our place and role in this universe might be. 

OurFaith teaches us to be better, to trust one another, to fill the world with acts of charity and goodness. But Faith has other faces too. It can also be the driving force behind some of the greatest evils that human beings are capable of.  Auto-da-fé, “an act of faith,” is ironically what the Inquisition called the penance it imposed upon those it found “unfaithful” to the Church. Most often, what auto-da-féreally meant was burning at the stake.

Extremist faith has always been responsible for horrific acts of abuse and exploitation. In the hands of corrupt and greedy leaders, Faith becomes a useful slogan, a banner waved to incite the masses. Hollowed out and replaced with fear and hatred, such Faith becomes a false faith. Intolerance and bigotry are some of its standards.  Violence is one of the means that it sanctions.

We have learned that Faith can strengthen us and give us hope, but also that blind faith is dangerous to our health. 

And yet, without faith we wouldn’t survive, either; not as individuals nor as a people. For to live without faith means to rely only on yourself. It means to live a lonely existence, bereft of trust and companionship. It means to live as an outcast, not bound—or supported—by the same social bonds of love and loyalty that unite us with other members of our society and culture. 

Faith can be a powerful motivator. It was the power of faith that compelled Abraham to leave his old homeland in search of God and a more righteous way of life. Generations later, it was the same faith that led Moses and the Israelites for forty long years, down dangerous desert paths, to a distant Promised Land. Still later, after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem by the Romans in the year 70 CE, it was faith that stirred the early rabbis, that inspired them to take the smoldering embers of our religion and turn them into a way of life that somehow, miraculously, still exists today.  The rabbis’ restructuring of Judaism succeeded in uniting countless, diverse communities, spread over a wide diaspora, into one single people that still lives today. 

And for the next two millennia, we can still see our people, expelled from one country after another, take this faith with them and replant it in new worlds, there to make it blossom and flourish again.

In our own day, however, new challenges present themselves. When I was a child growing up in Israel, practically all the adults I knew were Holocaust survivors.  Somehow, by sheer willpower, most of them managed to rise from their traumatic experiences. Leaving the past behind, they started new families and rebuilt their lives. Along the way, however, many of them abandoned any remnant of religion or faith.  Life had taught them that from now on they could only rely on themselves. They knew that they could no longer depend on divine redemption, that for food, water and safety they could only count on themselves.  They would survive—but only by the strength of their own hands. 

Facing evil changes you, putting your faith to the test.   

But it wasn’t always evil. Sometimes tests and trials sneak up on you, by stealth, under cover.  

You can’t stop progress, and the times weren’t always bad. All in all, the Enlightenment was good to us. Freed from ancient ghettos, America became our new refuge.  On another shore, the Land of Israel beckoned.  Modernity brought changes into our homes and lives, challenging us to adapt. Science expanded our knowledge and opened our eyes to infinite possibilities. With our broader perspective we were able to see and comprehendexactly where Earth lies in time and space. Step by step we took our rightful place in modern society.  We integrated, and more and more, the Biblical stories of Creation were replaced by the laws of physics and astronomy.

Once again, our ancient faith was being tested. 

Perhaps that’s the way it always is. Perhaps history does repeat itself.  With each expulsion and resettlement, with each catastrophe and renewal, we asked ourselves why we were still clinging on to a faith that only seemed to hold us back. It’s one of those eternal questions that never seem to have a good answer, except, perhaps for the one that always worked for Tevya the Milkman: “Tradition!”

Maybe that’s why we gather year after year; why, at the beginning of each new year, we return to our people and spiritual homes: To ask the questions yet again, hopefully this time to get some answers.  And if not that, then at least to stay for a taste of our old traditions; to surround ourselves with those old feelings and emotions; to feel again the warmth of family; the sweet and savory fragrances of traditional foods; the closeness of friends; to listen to melodies made sacred by the past; to speak the words that our parents and grandparents said before us, going back thousands of generations. Our memories give us strength to go on.

Faith lives within our memories. But faith is not restricted to the past.

There are things in life that can never be explained. The birth of a child; the rebirth of life at every spring. We know the mechanics behind these miracles, but we can’t explain the tears, the upswell of joy, the new purpose and meaning we sense within ourselves. When, after a drenching rainstorm we see a rainbow suspended between heaven and earth, we understand the physics; we can explain the colors and even measure the light waves that cause them.  And yet there is something about a rainbow that cannot be explained, that produces within us feelings of wonder and awe, that leaves us speechless.

That’s when the old story comes back to us, the one from the Bible:  the story of Noah’s Flood. Not so much the flood itself anymore, but rather, the rainbow. The rainbow, you may remember, is the symbol of God’s promise to Noah, the covenant that states that God will never again condemn the entire earth, never again destroy all life. It’s a promise we take on faith. The rainbow reminds us of this covenant made long ago. From here on, things will be better. 

And thatis faith. Faith has the power to make us understand that we are not merely specks of magical dust, but rather that we are part of something greater; that, far from meaningless, our lives mean so much more than the total number of atoms and particles that form our bodies; that we are all interconnected.  Faith gives us meaning.

Like a rainbow that extends from one end of the spectrum to the other, Faith forms an invisible, sacred bridge that links us one to another.  Connecting us with the past as well as with the future, Faith is a pathway to the Eternal God who fashioned us, to the Creator who gave us life and purpose, and who promises to be there for us when we need Him.

Yes, Faith is tested regularly. Maybe it has to be. Maybe faith is like a machine that, in order to function smoothly, must be constantly oiled and maintained. By itself, Faith may not protect us from hardship and adversity. It can’t do the work we must do ourselves to make things better.  But it CAN give us hope.  It CAN brace our purpose, and strengthen our resolve. And THAT’S why we hold on to it.  Because faith can, and does, restore us.  It keeps us going.

Rosh Ha-Shana isn’t only about the past, or only about Tradition. It’s about the path ahead of us. Year after year at this season we return to our spiritual home, the Synagogue, to draw on the strength that our Faith holds out for us. Like the olive branch brought back by Noah’s dove, our faith reminds us of God’s promise, made in ancient days and repeated throughout the ages: that as long as we hold on to our Faith, God will be there for us, to give us hope, strength, and the courage to face whatever tests may yet come our way.

As we go through the next Ten Days of Awe, may we find our love for our people and tradition deepened. May our prayers and meditations travel the entire span of the Sacred Bridge that exists between God and us. And may God’s presence, like a rainbow, always be there between you and me, linking us with unbreakable, eternal bonds.

L’shana tova tikatveu—may we all be inscribed in the Book of Life for a good year, a year of health, joy, love and peace.

© 2018 by Boaz D. Heilman