A Grater Message

Yom Kippur, 5770 — Positive Epidemics

Mon, 28 Sep 2009 10:00:55 -0700

Chances are if I say the word “yawn” to you now, many of you will yawn, including me. Yawn. Now, yawning is not exactly the best way to start a Yom Kippur sermon, but this little experiment is only one of the many examples given by Malcolm Gladwell, the brilliant thinker and author of The Tipping Point, one of his best selling books. In it, Gladwell chronicles events, episodes and trends that he describes as contagious or viral or in the most extreme language, epidemics. In writing about yawning, he says, “Yawning is incredibly contagious. I made some of you reading this yawn simply by writing the word ‘yawn.’ The people who yawned when they saw you yawn, meanwhile, were infected by the sight of you yawning — which is a second kind of contagion…And finally, if you yawned as you read this, did the thought cross your mind, however unconsciously and fleetingly, that you might be tired? Simply by writing or saying a word, I can plant a feeling in your head. Contagiousness, in other words, is an unexpected property in all kinds of things, and we have to remember that, if we are to recognize and diagnose epidemic change.” (Tipping Point, p. 10) When we think about epidemics, we often think of something negative, for that is what the word means. However the power of word, with its definition of “sudden, widespread occurrence of a particular phenomenon,” is inspiring me. You don’t often hear of an epidemic of happiness, or an epidemic of love going around. However, and this is Gladwell’s genius, the very same way that viruses and flues spread, and can turn quickly and massively into epidemics, so too can positive change in our society spread. I would like to posit this morning that we need some of these epidemics right now in our great nation, and there are three I am focusing on: an epidemic of compassion and gratitude, and epidemic of healthy food and an epidemic of civility. We are partners with God to create our world, and on Yom Kippur, we say over and over, “ki anu amecha, v’atah eloheinu, For we are Your people and You are our God.” God is waiting for us to act and so we must. Spiritual growth, working on our souls, should lead us to changed behavior in the world.

Kol Nidre, 5770 — Guided Meditation

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 20:00:18 -0700

Rosh Hashanah, First Day, 5770 — Agudah Achat

Sat, 19 Sep 2009 10:00:34 -0700

A recent exhibit at a Native American museum in Arizona featured works of mothers and daughters of the large Naranjo family, who, like their foremothers, tell family stories and pass on folklore through their pottery. “Pottery runs in our DNA,” says on of the potters. “Many pots of all types pass throughout our lives. Some made by ourselves, some by … other family members, neighbors or at times from another Pueblo. At the end of our lives, after death we have another pot. We begin and end with pottery.” And, as I read about this remarkable art work, I was reminded of a quote from Nobel Laureate Elie Wiesel, who said that God created human beings in order to listen to their stories. These Native American women tell their stories on pieces clay. We Jews tell our stories too, on parchment, in books, in music, art, liturgy and dance. Yet, the clay metaphor resonates with me at this time of year as I think about our community.

Erev Rosh Hashanah, 5770 — Living a Life of Choice

Fri, 18 Sep 2009 20:00:18 -0700

Sometime during the past year, reading a remarkable little book, I subconsciously knew what this first sermon needed to be about. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly how I would say it, or what would be result, but I was certain of the topic. If you have read the short memoir, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, you will know what I am talking about, to a certain extent, for each of us reads and interprets words in our own unique way. The book is remarkable not only for the content: short, witty and immensely deep chapters, but what is more important, it is remarkable because of how it came about. In December 1995, Jean-Dominique Bauby, the forty-three year old editor of the French edition of Elle magazine, suffered a massive stroke that left him completely and permanently paralyzed, a rare victim of “locked-in syndrome.” This gregarious and talented man now found himself, after waking from a month-long coma, only able to communicate by blinking his left eye. The title describes the polarities he faced: a diving bell is the old helmet worn underwater, a helmet that is incredibly heavy and totally cuts a person off from the outside world, save for the small eye window. That became Bauby’s physical existence. His soul, his inner life, however, is described as a butterfly: free, soaring, alive and hopeful. Not without pain and sadness, to be sure, but alive nonetheless. Yet, in a world that values worth based on productivity, he was relegated useless as a human being. Bauby, who died two days after the memoir was published, became my teacher for this moment, inspiring me in a way that I didn’t expect. So, as I read the book, I knew that I needed to talk about what I learned from this memoir, and what I think is one of the more profound truths of being human, which is a central theme we are meant to explore during these holy days. Life is about choice; life is about moments of decision; life is about creating possibilities; life is about what we do with what we have been given; life is about how we react to the circumstances we find ourselves in. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel teaches us this when he wrote, “…that what makes a human being human is not just the mechanical, biological, and psychological functioning, but the ability to make decisions constantly.” (Who Is Man? p. 9) Tonight, with thankfully more than just my left eye blinking, I hope to channel some of Bauby’s spirit and invite us to see life as a series of choices.

God Said Amen

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 20:00:25 -0700

The Kingdom of Midnight has plenty of water, but no oil to light the lamps at night. The Kingdom of the Desert has plenty of oil, but no water for the gardens. The Grand Prince from Midnight and the Grand Princess from the Desert both pray to God for an answer to the problem. They are shown that the answer lies in the other kingdom, but both of them are too stubborn and prideful to ask the other for help. Through the aid of two children, they do finally meet in the valley between their kingdoms, but neither one is able to make the first move. Instead, they stand waiting and in the process turn into stone mountains. While looking for the two rulers, the children meet and exchange their precious resources. In this way, the people's desperate needs are met.