A long time ago in a shtetl called Chelm there lived a community full of pious Jews. If there was one thing that the Chelmites were known for, it was their wisdom. The stories of the Wise Men of Chelm always offer profound insight and a good laugh. Here is one of their stories:
Once, the Chelmites needed a solution to all their woes. On the night when they gazed up and offered prayers over the bright, full moon, Gimpel, the leading citizen cried, "I've got it! Chelmites we are saved! Give heed! We will capture the moon." "Capture the moon?!" replied the astonished Chelmites. "Yes! You know that all good Jews must pray to God when the moon is new and when it is full and bright in the sky. We will seize the moon from the sky and hide it in our synagogue. Then, Jews from all over the world will have to come to us to pray over the moon. And by charging them a small fee - nothing excessive, of course - we will become the richest town in the world and our problems will be solved." "We are saved!" cried the Chelmites and they praised the Lord for having blessed them with Gimpel and his wisdom.
The next evening, the town square was teeming with people. Not a Chelmite was missing and even the rabbi showed up. Everyone wanted to see how Gimpel was going to capture the moon. Soon Gimpel arrived with two Chelmites schlepping a barrel of beet soup, a canvas sack, rope, and wax. "Put the Borsht here," ordered Gimpel. "My dear Chelmites, behold, the moon is shining in the sky above us. Now look into the barrel of borsht." They looked and sure enough the moon floated in the barrel. Whereupon, Gimpel whipped the canvas over the barrel, and his assistants fastened it with rope and sealed the rope with wax.
A couple of weeks passed, and at the darkest part of the end of the month, Gimpel ordered that the barrel of borsht which contained the moon be brought forth. All of the people gathered around as the canvas was removed. The Chelmites' shouts of joy stuck in their throats for the night was as dark as it had been before. Gimpel thought that perhaps the moon got stuck on a nail in the barrel and he ordered that the barrel be turned over. The borsht and its awesome contents spilled out. But the night remained pitch black while only the smell of borsht hung in the air.
Some Chelmites went home that night with a hollow sense of loss in their hearts, as others wandered around the square, gazing at the cobblestone and small puddles of borsht. Some even thought they saw spots of light, the remains of melted pieces of moon. (adapted from The Wise Men of Helm and their Merry Tales by Solomon Simon)
We may take issue with Chelm's methods, but we can empathize with their yearnings for a better life. We might even empathize with the Chelmites' desire to capture the moon as a solution to their problems.
Yet, we know what Gimpel did not. The moon cannot be captured because it moves in a perpetual cycle of renewal in the sky. Therein lies the beauty of the moon on a clear starry night. For thousands of years, Jews have looked to the moon as a symbol of hope, of light, and renewal. As Jews, we mark the passage of time by the phases of the moon, and we renew our seasons with each month's new crescent. When Jews recite the traditional prayer over the moon each month, we say, "The moon should renew itself as a crown of splendor for all life, along with those who are destined to renew themselves like the moon...Blessed are you Adonai, who renews the moon." This prayer recognizes that we mirror the moon's ebb and flow as we live and grow, waxing and waning with the seasons of our life.
Today, our new year begins with a new moon on the first day of the month of Tishrei. We stop and recognize that 12 months have come and gone since the last Rosh Hashanah - 12 cycles of beginnings and endings. Today, on the first day of the New Moon and the first day of the New Year, our mission is to renew ourselves as the moon renews itself. The moon, by God's grace, has been set on an unending course of renewal in the sky. But unlike the moon, our path to renewal takes conscious effort and dedication. We, like the Chelmites, are on an unending quest to capture the moon's secrets. We are here today to seek avenues to our own self-renewal and re-creation. This morning, I want to share with you three stories of renewal that might guide us toward our own change and rejuvenation as we go forward into this year 5768.
Just a few weeks ago, Micah and I made our annual pilgrimage to Florida to visit my grandmother. This time, though, was a little different, since we traveled with our twin sons, Itai and Yonah, so that they could meet their great grandmother for the first time. After a long flight, we touched down into the hot, humid air. There is a certain rhythm and pattern to our time in Florida. The familiar and comforting scent of moth balls mixed with ben-gay tells us we've arrived at grandma's. Bagels, cream cheese and lox, fresh squeezed orange juice, and Folger's coffee await us. We get settled, eat, take pictures, play scrabble, and go to the pool.
On one night we always eat out, the early-bird special of course. We are joined by my great aunt and uncle. My great uncle Harry is a Holocaust survivor. He is a small, sweet-tempered man. For years he worked hard and raised his two children in New York. These days he is confined to a wheel chair, dependent on others to care for him. He speaks quickly, still in a thick Polish accent. He survived Auschwitz and various other concentration camps. The numbers on his arm read, 141421, a daily reminder of his ordeal. I think it touches him somewhere deep down that Micah and I are rabbis. Although his days in cheder are long past, our conversations inevitably turn to Jewish topics.
This year, the conversation turned to the High Holy Days. Uncle Harry commented that he would be happy to make it to another year. We asked Uncle Harry what renewal means to him. He said that renewal means doing the same thing over and over again, while always trying to find something new.
Even though Uncle Harry has a good attitude, I imagine that for him, this kind of renewal is difficult. Living in a wheelchair means a routine for everything. There is a routine for getting up, eating, bathing. Such routine can become monotonous. We all have our routines, be it school, work, or home. For me, it is a good day when we can wake up, get the twins changed, fed, dressed, often dressed again, and bring them to day care. Routine is unavoidable, so much so, that sometimes we feel like we are living in that movie Groundhog Day, in which the characters live the exact same day over and over again.
The antidote is the Uncle Harry way - finding something new in our routine, discovering something new each day. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel would say that this is the essence of Judaism. He teaches that we must encounter the world with radical amazement. Heschel writes, "Wonder is a state of mind...in which nothing is taken for granted...Each thing is a surprise, being is unbelievable...We are amazed at seeing anything at all." (Man is Not Alone)
It is easy to stand in amazement before the sunset on the beach, the birth of a child, a milestone anniversary. What makes Heschel's sense of amazement "radical" is that he bids us to look at the routine, ordinary, and mundane through eyes of wonder. We understood this when we were children; when each leaf was incredible, each bug a mystery, and each day's routine, a new adventure. As we grow older we must continually tend to our sense of wonder so that we might find daily renewal.
Judaism gives us tools to do this. Our tradition encourages us to start each day with these words of thanks and praise: "Modeh ani lefanecha—As I awake to the light of day break, I give praise for what You've returned to me, You've restored my soul so faithfully." (translation by Elana Jagoda) These words remind us that we awaken each morning with a renewed soul, a clean slate, with news eyes to discover the world. When we say the morning prayers we acknowledge that God continually renews all of creation every day. You will find the words to Modeh Ani on the prayer card that was handed to you when you arrived this morning. I hope that you will take this prayer of renewal with you and add it to your morning routine.
The second story of renewal begins in my office on any weekday afternoon. Across from me sits a student who is preparing to become bar or bat mitzvah. We study Torah together and reflect on its lessons. Now contrary to popular belief, when a student becomes bar or bat mitzvah, he or she does not magically become a man or a woman overnight. What does happen, or what we hope happens through the process, is that these students begin to learn what it means to be a Jewish adult. The key to Jewish adulthood is? - to embrace learning for its own sake, because learning leads to renewal. It takes some of us longer than others to learn this lesson but it is a lesson always available to us.
Six years ago, Micah's grandfather, Poppy, took Micah out to lunch. He wanted to discuss his 80th birthday, one year away. Micah thought maybe he wanted to talk about a big family vacation or a party at his country club. Instead, Poppy informed him that he wanted to become bar mitzvah. Micah was taken aback. Poppy had grown up near Pasadena, California in a secular household. As a teenager, he had learned to box, but he had never learned the boxy letters of Hebrew. He never went to synagogue and bar mitzvah in his family was a party at 13.
Not only did he want to become a bar mitzvah, but he wanted Micah and me to be his teachers. He wanted to learn Hebrew and to chant from the Torah. We knew this would be a monumental task, as Poppy would have to start with the letter aleph. But, we admired his desire to mark the completion of his eighth decade with a commitment to the values of study, family, and community. Over the course of that year, Poppy met with his tutors each week, and we saw a man who was a veteran of a World War II submarine, an innovative entrepreneur, and an avid runner and tennis player, add a new dimension to who he is. On August 28th, 2001, a month after his 80th birthday, Poppy was called to the Torah as a bar mitzvah.
In Judaism, study is the fountain of youth. When we study Torah, we discover new meaning and insight. The world cannot become stale because we are constantly seeking new perspectives. Through the process of learning and discovery our lives are renewed. Pirkei Avot, the Talmudic collection of ethical teaching, takes the connection between learning and renewal a step further. For the rabbis, it was a matter of life and death. Rabbi Hillel taught, "...One who does not increase, decreases; one who will not study deserves to die..." (Pirkei Avot 1:13) In other words, when we expand our minds and hearts, we keep ourselves vital and alive; we experience rebirth.
Modern research on human development supports this ancient teaching. Diane Tickton Schuster, a professor who studies Jewish adult learners, suggests that an individual's ability to learn and retain new ideas continues throughout the adult years. She writes, "Old dogs can and do learn new tricks. Cognitive flexibility—considering alternatives, trying new approaches, taking risks—motivates adults to explore learning areas they never before considered." (JESNA, "New Lessons for Educators of Jewish Adult Learners")
Schuster's words imply that any kind of learning leads to renewal. At any point in our lives, we can try a new approach, discover a new hobby, read a new book. But, I hope that in 5768 that you will search for renewal in the study of Judaism. There are many opportunities for adult learning here at Beth El and in our community—Hebrew, Introduction to Judaism, Torah study, Wednesday lunch time Talmud, becoming an adult bar or bat mitzvah.
I recall that when I was in rabbinical school there was no shortage of learning. But, I have since realized that in the rabbinate, it is not easy to find time to study. For my own renewal this year, I plan on studying the writing of the great Israeli poet, Yehuda Amichai. I will offer a class on his poetry so that I can share my learning with you. Take another look at your prayer card. You will find the blessing for Torah study and a web link to the URJ's (Union of Reform Judaism) Ten minutes of Torah page, a site for daily learning. I encourage you to join me in making time for renewal through study.
The third story of renewal stems from a more difficult kind of experience. This story of renewal grows out of pain and loss. When I was a rabbinic student intern at Temple Emanuel of Beverly Hills I was the staff liaison to a new project called, "Torah of Our Lives." The project was initiated by Rabbi Laura Geller and a congregant, Victor Gold, whose mother had passed away. His story is chronicled in the book, The Self-Renewing Congregation (by Isa Aron).
When Victor's mother passed away there was little outreach to mourners in the community. For Victor, like many others in the synagogue, there was only a void, the omnipresent feeling of loss, the absence of a loved one. Several months after his mother's death, Victor visited Rabbi Geller to discuss his ongoing grief. Rabbi Geller counseled him that his experience could be transformed into a turning point in his life. The rabbi encouraged him to become an active Jewish learner and volunteer in the community. This is where Victor found an opportunity for renewal. This is how he put it, "Because my mom's death was the catalyst, my contributions as a volunteer and my growth as a Jew provide the meaning for which I was searching. It's like creating a memorial with one's acts rather than in stone or with dollars."
Victor's living memorial, "Torah of Our lives," was born. Members of the congregation who had experienced a recent loss gathered to share their stories and reach out to one another. Out of this process, a group of dedicated congregants decided they would engage mourners through phone calls, shiva minyanim, rides to synagogue, and meals. "Torah of Our Lives", which had grown out of Victor's loss, brought renewal for him personally as well as the whole community.
Victor's experience is not an isolated one. We have Victors in our community, members of our congregation who have been devastated by loss. They, too, have sought renewal by bringing solace to others. We have congregants who are committed to the mitzvah of bikkur cholim, visiting the sick. We have congregants who bring meals to those in need. We have congregants who feed the hungry and house the homeless. Other members have sought renewal by participating in our Tuesday morning minyan—a safe and supportive place for those who are in mourning to say Kaddish, a place for any member to start the new day with prayer.
And there are also those who have not yet found healing. There are those for whom renewal seems inconceivable for it is eclipsed by darkness. The grief is too fresh; sadness, anger, and brokenness are still a part of each waking moment. For those who are not ready to move toward renewal, there are questions: How will I awake to a new day? Can I forge a personal identity apart from a loved one who is no longer here? How will this loss impact my family, my community, my work? Am I always going to feel like this? Will I ever be the same? Will the world ever feel balanced? Where do I find strength and comfort? Where is God now?
It is impossible to go through life without loss. The New Year and High Holy Day season acknowledges that life can be uncertain because we do not know whether a painful experience awaits us in the year ahead. But just as the year renews itself, and the moon cycles back to being radiant and full, we are blessed with the ability within us to do the same. The prophet, Jeremiah, affirmed this when in the name of God he cried, "I will turn their mourning into joy." (Jeremiah 31:13) The cycle of renewal begins when we turn—when we turn from loneliness and loss to tend to the pain of others, for in healing them we begin to heal ourselves. You will find a third reminder of renewal on your prayer card. It is a brief prayer that asks God for healing and the strength to heal others: "R'fa'einu Adonai v'neirafei; r'fa'ainu Adonai u'n'rapei—Heal us, Adonai, and we will be healed; heal us, Adonai, and we will bring healing." (adapted from the Weekday Amidah)
Rosh Hashanah beckons us toward renewal. This season calls us to turn from staleness and stagnation, toward re-creation and rebirth, from a dark sky to the brilliance of a full moon. In the next couple of weeks, as the moon moves from narrow crescent toward yellow harvest orb, we will strive to make our lives full through our own renewal. We can join Harry in the subtle search for seeing new wonders in each day. We can join Poppy in expanding our minds, hearts, and souls by dedicating ourselves to the lifelong pursuit of Jewish study. We can join Victor in establishing a memorial of deeds and choosing life renewed.
The Chelmites were right about one thing, we all want to capture the moon. We all seek renewal. We join the citizens of Chelm in this prayer for the new moon, "May the Holy One renew the moon upon us and upon all God's people, the family of Israel, for life and for peace, for joy and for gladness, for salvation and for consolation." May it be so as the New Moon of 5768 rises in the sky tonight.
