Tag: high-holidays

If you were to see me during the High Holyday Services, you wouldn’t see me reading the prayerbook. That’s because much of the language in Gates of Repentence does not reach to me. I’m too much of the scientist and objective thinker to connect with the notions of a God that judges actions or actively curses or rebukes. The notion of prayer doesn’t do that much for me. Instead, I connect to the holiday through history, so during the service you’ll find me reading Gates of Understanding 2 (the companion volume with backnotes to Gates of Repentence) and S. Y. Agnon’s Days of Awe. I find it interesting to read about practices of old, why particular prayers are in the prayerbook, how the structure of prayer was chosen to influence thinking, the conscious decisions that go into prayer.

For example, just yesterday I was reading in Days of Awe about the custom of Kapparot, where the very traditional transfer their sins to a chicken, swing it around their head, kill it, and then donate the chicken to the poor. I read that some communities don’t follow that custom, and donate the money that would have gone to the chicken to the poor instead. Later that day, I happened upon an article about how some communities in Israel are now rethinking the practice, realizing it is a form of animal cruelty that God would not want, and are (in turn) stopping the practice and donating money instead. To me, reading something like this demonstrates what the holy days are about: realizing you are doing something wrong, and taking some action to correct the practice.

I relate this not only to pass on some news chum, but to explain why I still go to HHD services even without an active belief in God (my belief in God is more of a Deist approach). Where I find the beauty in Judaism is in the traditions and practice, and more importantly the moral and philosophical teachings, as well as the analytic approach. For example, Judaism has the tradition of preserving the minority opinion, finding value in all views even if they are not accepted. Judaism also acknowledges the people are not perfect, and will continually make mistakes. I find the beauty of the HHD in this acknowledgement—in a sense, Yom Kippur is a day of continuous process improvement. You reexamine yourself, and ask yourself: where am I doing the right thing, and where can I do better. It also teaches you to acknowledge and learn from your mistakes. It is this process that, to me, is the value of the high holy days.

Every year I write about our high holiday sermons. So, you expected you would get out of it this year? You should be so lucky.

Seriously, as I sat listening to Rabbi Lutz’s sermon this morning, I kept thinking about how different this year has been from prior years, and how this congregation is different than prior congregations. In the past, the high holiday sermons were predictable. I don’t mean the specific words, but often the focus. There was the appeal for congregational funds. There was the appeal for Israel bonds. There was the sermon on the political topic d’jour, exhorting us to action. There was the sermon on the biblical theme, often the Akedah (the binding of Isaac). This was the pattern at most congregations I’ve been at — it certainly was the pattern at both Temple Beth Torah of Granada Hills and at Temple Beth Hillel. To some extent, it even was the pattern last year at Temple Ahavat Shalom.

This year has been very different. I’ve now listened to three sermons (Erev RH, Erev YK, and YK) and read the sermon for RH morning. All of them have a common theme that I haven’t seen before in high holiday sermons: that the congregation (in particular, Temple Ahavat Shalom) is a community that is important to have and needs to be a center of your life. Erev RH featured congregants talking about the important role the Temple played in their life. RH morning was about “blue zones”: communitites that help you build a better life, and how TAS was such a community. Even this morning’s sermon, although a bit more political, was talking about the social action work the congregation does. All of this was emphasizing the importance of the congregation to its congregants, to the Jewish community of the San Fernando Valley, and to the larger world as a whole.

As I listened, I tried to figure out why this particular theme was so heavy this year. I tried to figure out why, with all the financial trouble congregations are facing, there wasn’t an appeal for funds for the congregation (in fact, they emphasized the capital campaign had raised enough funds to pay off the mortgage). I could only see a couple of reasons. The first was that this was the result of the long-range planning that had gone on at the congregation: they were solidifying on a vision on what the congregration needed to be to survive another 50 years, and this was the first part of the work to articulate it. I could also see it being an impact of the economy: with the financial trouble in the country these days (which is affecting congregants), it is important to emphasize the importance of being part of the congregation, and how the congregation can help you through hard times. This is especially true as dues are expensive and to some extent discretionary. Family, however, is not discretionary… and thus emphasizing that the congregation is a family (and will help out if you are in need) is something important to remind congregants of, especially in this era of looking at dues as fees for service — in other words, “what do I get out of it?”.

So, with all this emphasis, is this congregation a family? As with any congregation, it depends on the effort you put into it, and it doesn’t come instantly. If you just go twice a year, you’re not going to find family. If you get involved in some way — be it through religious schools, social action activities, regular Shabbat attendance, or committee involvement, family will form. I’m starting to see that: we’re in our second year, and I’m starting to get to know some of the men in the Mens Club, and my daughter is making more friends in the school. If we stay long enough, I’m sure the family nature will reform (as it did at Beth Torah). The key trick to reemphasizing the Temple as a family is a reach out effort as was done in these sermons, but it must emphasize making the effort to reach out to people that aren’t involved and aren’t already friends of the active folks. It is these distanced people that must be drawn in, and it is one of the hardest things to do. It is really easy to form family with those you know.

Part of the other trick (and it is something this Temple is doing better) is to have activities that draw and appeal to the broad economic spectrum. I can clarify this best by looking at my past congregation. Temple Beth Hillel had numerous events designed to raise funds, but they were all expensive — seemingly at least $25-30 per person, with regular high-priced galas. That may have sat well with a segment of their membership, but it alienated the middle and lower income folks. TAS, on the other hand, has a better mix. There is the occasional gala or pricey event, but there are an equal number of lower-price events, including dining out nights at local restaurants. These are good things that draw people together.

So, I think that by re-emphazing the theme of the importance of the Temple in the community, the clergy was trying to help remind us where we should be… just like the words of the high holyday liturgy remind us of how we can do better. By exhorting us about the importance of the congregation as a safe and stable and loving community, we remind ourselves that it is our job to ensure that it is such a community.

This dovetails nicely with a comment I wanted to close with. In a post today, jeditigger said, “To my friends who practice Judaism, G’mar Chatima Tova.”. I responded that I am practicing, and one of these days I would get it right. What ever our religions or beliefs, we practice them. We may not get them right this year. But we keep practicing, and as they say, “practice makes perfect”. So the rabbis exhort the congregation to be a better community, and that practice will move it more in that direction. The rabbis exhort (through the liturgy) for us to be better people, and our practice will us more in that direction. We won’t be perfect. We’ll make mistakes, and need to apologize for them. But practice we will, and we’ll keep practicing.

I hope you found these sermon observations interesting. I’d love to hear your thoughts, or learn what your clergy talked about to you these high holy days. After all, all of us reading this, be it on Livejournal or via the Facebook feed, are creating our own safe community as well. G’mar Chatima Tova.