Rosh Hashanah 5776 ~׳ ראש השנה תשע״ו
Last year, I became interested in six word memoirs.
The idea is attributed to Ernest Hemingway. Supposedly, the novelist was once
challenged to write a six-word story. He responded with, “For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.” Whether or not the story is true, those six words are
powerful. What do they tell you? They tell me someone bought shoes expecting to
have a baby, but sadly and regretfully, that never happened.
A book with a six word title, Not Quite What I Was Planning, features well-known people telling their stories. Stephen Colbert’s six-word memoir is “Well, I thought it was funny.” Another: “Found true love, married someone else.” Imagine your story—part or all of it—old in exactly six words.
Here are some six word memoirs about life experiences:
Followed the rules; wish I hadn’t
Faking my way through university life.
Living my fourth draft. Revising regularly.
Read lots. Thought lots. Did lots.
Always wanted to be somewhere else.
My mom always knew I was gifted.
My closet holds more than clothes.
There are six word insights about the beauty of our fragile natural world:
Observing miracles in little suburban gardens.
Thank you for the rain. Night.
Earth spoke softly. I thanked her.
National Public Radio has run a series on race and cultural identity in six words. One of them caught my ear: My name is Jamaal ... I'm white.
There are some Jewish six word memoirs:
If I'm chosen, why'd it happen?
I unplugged on Shabbat and reconnected.
Found Jewish princess. Good-bye succulent pork.
Didn’t get Seinfeld ’til met in-laws.
I kvetch. And therefore, I am.
Catholic in Jewish neighbourhood: double guilt.
Moved to Israel. Rest is history.
And, of course, there are six word memoirs about Jewish mothers:
You shtopt my soul with character.
Unconditional love but hates my outfit..
Welcome home. Want something to eat?
My father is the Jewish mother.
Shabbat dinner, Friday night at seven
She’s older. Now I’m the worrier.
I wrote a few about myself:
Jew by birth and by choice.
Amazed by God, fascinated by Torah.
confusing childhood, questioning adult, learning rabbi.
Still trying, becoming a better husband.
What six words would you write about yourselves? Try it with your family, with your kids.
What six words would best articulate Judaism for you? I’m going to suggest two sets of six Hebrew words. Perhaps you can guess what they will be.
Take a look at page 77 in Lev Shalem.
שְׁמַ֖ע יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל ה אֱ-לֹהֵ֖ינוּ ה אֶחָֽד׃
Hear O Israel, Adonai is our God, Adonai alone.
There are two elements of this translation which may strike you as different. First, notice what it doesn’t do. It retains Adonai untranslated. It wants the English to have the flavour of Hebrew prayer, so that even those who pray in English will make a Hebrew connection. It gives a sense of the untranslatability of the Name of God. And it avoids associating the Divine with the masculine image of Lord.
Second, the translation is not phrased as a theological statement about monotheism. These words, recited every day in our prayers, are closer to the Biblical intent, an expression of loyalty and devotion to God, an affirmation, a commitment, a statement of a relationship.
We are commanded to write these six words on our doorposts, to bind them as a sign on our arms and to speak of them when we sit at home and when we walk on our way. The Torah imagines and the history of our people confirms that Jewish life is often a journey. As our summer guest, Natan Sharansky told us, we bear witness to God in many settings. We might be on a mountain in Banff or in a boardroom. Wherever you go, remain aware of God—for inner security and moral direction.
Consider, for a few moments, the journey of Avraham. He went with his father and family. They left their birthplace near where the Tigris and Euphrates meet. On the way to Canaan, they settled in northern Iraq, the city of Haran. From there, God calls Avram to fulfil his father’s intention and journey to Canaan.
וַיֹּ֤אמֶר ה֙ אֶל־אַבְרָ֔ם לֶךְ־לְךָ֛ מֵאַרְצְךָ֥ וּמִמּֽוֹלַדְתְּךָ֖ וּמִבֵּ֣ית אָבִ֑יךָ אֶל־הָאָ֖רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר אַרְאֶֽךָּ׃
The Eternal said to Avram, “Go you forth from your country, your birthplace, your ancestor’s home—to the land that I will show you. I will make you a great nation. I will bless you and make your name great. You will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”
Parents initiate our journeys. They bring us into the world and direct us, usually on the path they had been travelling. When God says Lech lekhait might mean “Make the journey your own.” It may be what your parents intended, but at a certain point, take ownership yourself.
More than that: Terah went of his own accord. Avram does so at God’s command. That changes the intent and meaning. As Rachel Anisfeld writes, “The journey, though physically the same, becomes entirely new and holy. …Like a [berakhah] before the performance of a mitzvah, God’s command transforms an ordinary action, the taking of a journey, into a special, holy one…”
“Avram’s journey is the task of every child. From the child’s perspective, every parent’s path is like Terah’s, just a physical road they have been asked to follow. Every child has the obligation and the opportunity to heed God’s call to Avram—to make the trip her own, to give it meaning and sanctification, a sense of novelty and a future.” Are we such travellers? How do we make our life journey more meaningful, even holy?
Avraham and Sarah keep walking. They go from H̱aran to the mountains of what today would be north-east Syria, then south and on to Egypt, back to Beersheva, to the north again to rescue his nephew, to Mount Moriah, to Hevron. “Get up, walk the land, it’s breadth and depth.” Avraham and Sarah seek to know themselves and their Creator, to understand the Covenant and their role in the world.
Part of what makes us human is our ability to walk. We are homo erectus. Our species has been defined by walking upright. Our ability to traverse long distance uses the earliest and most basic human technology. As we walk, we step up and forward, one leg on the ground and one in the air.Perhaps that is why Hillel said that he could teach the Torah on one foot. Torah is acquired when we walk.
The H̱asidic teacher Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter, known as the Sefat Emet did not know anything about homo erectus, but he taught that the human being is defined by walking. We“must always try to walk up, stepping up level by level. At all times, we must renew our soul and religious direction.” (5656)
Avraham and Sarah are to develop, to move. And this movement is to be a lifelong journey. It will not come to a conclusion when they reach the new land. It is a geographical journey to a holy land. It is a spiritual quest for God. And it is a personal journey, a self- transformation.
But why Avraham? The Sefat Emet suggests that there is a connection between walking and listening. We all receive the call, but Avraham heard and walked forward.
One doesn’t have to watch the film, “Wild” to know that walking can be good for the soul. Recent studies also indicate that walking encourages thoughtfulness. To really hear the Sh’ma, we have to be willing to go on the journey.
There is another set of six words that you know and that define a core Jewish orientation to life. Please open the new mahzor to page 32. On that page and in the few pages before, you’ll see the six words that begin every berakhah' מלך העולם … אלהינו. ברוך אתה ה
Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu, melekh ha’olam...
Again, it doesn’t translate the name of God. But it also doesn’t translate barukh, a word that can connote praise, bless, or thanks, so that even when reciting the berakhah in English, you have to think about the meaning.
You will see that the the words melekh ha’olam are not translated as King of the Universe. Referring to God as Ruler shifts the male imagery. Olam often refers to the world. It can also be a reference to time, as in l’olam va’ed. By referring to God as Ruler of time and space, this translation offers a perspective that Einstein would have approved.
There are many different berakhot in our tradition. You are mostly familiar with the blessings for ritual acts: candle lighting, hand washing, motzeee, kiddush, shofar, lulav, matzah. Those add another phrase: “asher kidd’shanu be’mitzvotav ~ you make us holy through mitzvot”.
But the berakhot that I particularly love are the blessings of appreciation and recognition. When I met the President of Israel this summer, I recited a blessing for seeing a head of state. When I met a prominent scientist I recited a berakhah which is different from what I say when I see a great Torah scholar. In spring, I delight in a berakhah that celebrates the blossoming of trees.
There are berakhot for scent and sight: fragrant spices and beautiful people. There are berakhot for seeing mountains and oceans, for getting together with friend you haven’t seen over the winter. There is a berakhah for enjoying a good cup of wine and even one for seeing a crowd of people in this sanctuary.
Last Shabbat, I went into our Li'l Minions program for 3 to 5 year olds. They were saying Barukh ata H Elokeinu, melekh ha’olam… I got dressed today and didn’t make a fuss. Barukh ata H Elokeinu, melekh ha’olam … I brushed my teeth.
This summer, I taught my granddaughter that when she does something for the first time or puts on a new dress, that we say the berakha of She’he’hiyyanu. I have a wonderful video clip of her singing it with her parents and Savta.
A blessing is a way of expressing gratefulness as we move through our day, taking note of what is happening around us, training ourselves to be aware and appreciative.
I asked myself what berakhah to make when the photos came in from Pluto. In July, the New Horizons spacecraft passed Pluto and took photographs of the distant planet. The images were released to the public around Labour Day.
Imagine: a spacecraft the size of a piano, travelling 3 billion miles, at a rate of 8.1 miles/second. That is 40 times the speed of a bullet. After 9 1/2 years it arrives at its destination at its scheduled time. Is this an example of speed or patience?
I am in awe of this science and technology, as well as of the capacity of human beings to act on our curiosity. This type of inter-planetary exploration is both an extraordinary achievement and a humbling moment. It reminds us that we must think of our life-journeys both from a day-to-day perspective and from the view of many years. Moments like this help us to construct an attitude of gratitude.
Look at the morning blessings beginning on page 35. Our Torah teaches us to take a journey of gratitude every day, to awaken and say Modeh anee, I thank you for being alive. Thank you for the functioning of my body and the restoration of my soul-life. And we finish the day by saying, Barukh atah melkh ha’olam, you close my eyes for sleep and security.
Rosh Hashanah is a day when we not only articulate hope for the coming year, but express gratitude for what we do have.
The six words of the Sh’ma remind us to be loyal to God and our tradition, to feel the security of God’s love, and to bring our core values and principles into our actions in society, wherever our journeys take us.
The six words that begin every berakhah teach us to be attentive and attuned to what we experience, not to sleepwalk through life, to be grateful and appreciative.
Two Jewish six word stories—Sh’ma and the start of every berakhah—can be with us on our daily journeys, to awaken and arouse, support and inspire.
As you walk forward, will we hear them, as did Abraham? Will we see and pay attention? What six words will you speak on your journey?
http://www.cbc.ca/radio/ideas/walking-matters-part-2-1.2914045
http://www.cbc.ca/radio/ideas/walking-matters-part-1-1.2569538
http://humanorigins.si.edu/human-characteristics/walking
Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, by Yuval Harari.
http://www.health.harvard.edu/newsletter_article/Walking-Your-steps-to-health
http://thewisdomdaily.com/expanding-our-curiosity-beyond-the-old-limits/
