Kol Nidre Sermon: 5768

Rabbi Greg Wolfe
Congregation Bet Haverim
Erev Yom Kippur 5768
Davis, CA

Hayom Harat Olam: Today The World is Teaching Us

Hayom Harat Olam: On Rosh Hashanah, the world is born; and we marvel at its majesty: Vast towering mountains of staggering proportions, sunlight glinting just so on a quiet pond, the perfect formation of geese honking encouragement to one another on their annual pilgrimage to warmer climes, valleys painted in hues that startle the senses, soft white sand, gentle waves, the whisper of a breeze. Each of us has our own favorite scenes nestled in our hearts and memories. All of us have cherished moments of awe, and experiences that have evoked within us wonderment and a spiritual connection to the web of life. It is these treasured glimpses into the mysteries of nature that awaken us to an appreciation of what a magnificent gift our planet is. We are indebted to the generations before us who have cared for and tended to the natural resources so that they are here for us to enjoy; a precious inheritance. We have been so fortunate, so blessed, to know and experience these glorious wonders of the world.

Hayom Harat Olam: We celebrate the birth of the world, but on this Yom Kippur we must also sadly acknowledge, to ourselves and before God, our failures to guard and protect our world. Mother Earth's health is seriously threatened. Global warming, pollution, the decimation of natural resources, and a myriad of other challenges all plague our planet. Today, not only is the earth in need of healing, but it is clear that our relationship with the earth is unhealthy and unbalanced. Our sacred connection to the earth and its natural rhythms has been lost to a great extent. We take the world for granted, seeing it only for purposes of exploitation.

Yom Kippur is a time, an opportunity for the careful examination of the relationships that sustain us. Generally, our rabbinic tradition divides these relationships into two categories: bein adam l'chavero, our relationship with others, and bein adam l'makom, our relationship with the God. Today, however, I believe that we are required to contemplate, for our own good, a third category of relationship in our lives: bein adam l'olam, our relationship with the world. The Kenyan environmental activist and Nobel laureate, Wangari Maathai, reminds us: "What many people do not understand is that the environment does not really need us--we need it. Our very survival depends on it." (Sac Bee, 9-20-07, p. E7) And, so, there exists an urgency for us to seriously reexamine how we are living in harmony, or not, with our world. As we engage in cheshbon ha'nefesh, the soul searching so central to these Days of Awe, we must ask ourselves these important questions, too: How have we injured the planet this past year? What can we do to create a healthier relationship for ourselves and our community with our natural environment?

Hayom Harat Olam: A new understanding of this verse has emerged for me, thanks to the Hebraic insights of our congregant, Dahlia Frank. Harah can be interpreted not only as meaning birth, as in the traditional translation: "Today the world is born," but can also be understood as "teach or instruct", from the root yod, reish, hey, (yarah), which forms the root of the word for parents (horim), who point the way, or teacher (morah), or the Torah itself. Now, we might read the verse: Hayom Harat Olam, Today is a teaching of the world! Today, if we really look around us and pay attention to our surroundings, the world is teaching us; hayom, each and every day. What lesson is the world trying to impart to us?

Perhaps these two stories from our tradition can guide us in the right direction and suggest possible ways we can impact the future by our actions today. The first is the well-known tale of Choni hama'agal who meets an old man planting a carob tree, which takes 70 years to bear fruit. Choni asks the elderly farmer, "Why are you planting this tree? Do you really expect to live to enjoy its fruits?" The old man replies: "The world was filled with great beauty and lush trees bearing fruit when I came into it because my parents and grandparents had planted for me. So, too, am I planting for those who will come after me." Choni, the original Rip Van Winkle, then lies down to take a nap and wakes up 70 years later. He once again sees an old man who is now gathering in the fruit from the carob tree. Surprised, he inquires, "Are you the same man who planted this tree?" The man responds, "No, this tree was planted by my grandfather 70 years ago!" The aged grandfather, reaped no benefits from his actions personally, but planted for those whom he would never know, providing gifts and blessings for the future generations who would harvest the fruits of his labor.

Another tale, this time a cautionary midrashic legend: God takes Adam around the Garden of Eden for an orientation, as it were, to the realm of nature. "See how beautiful all My creations are", says God in this legend. "All has been created for your sake. So reflect on this, and take care not to destroy my world. For if you do, there will be none to repair it after you." Generally, this familiar story ends here; but there is an ominous coda in the full midrash of Kohelet Rabbah, where God warns Adam, "And what is worse, if you do not care for my world, you will bring death even to righteous people in the future." The same midrash then goes on to explain this dire warning through the following parable: A woman committed a crime and went to prison, and bore a child there. The child grew up in jail, and one day petitioned the king, asking why he was there, since he had not committed any crime. The king, however, responded matter-of-factly that he was there not because of his own crime, but because of his mother's. (Midrash Rabbah on Ecclesiastes 7:13) In this case, the mother's gift to her child is not one of bounty and blessings, but a stifled life of limitations, bitterness and suffering.

In both stories, however, the future generations inherit from their parents and grandparents a world not of their own making. Each story imparts a sobering lesson: The way we treat the world and our natural resources is less about us today than it is about the fate of humanity as a whole in the future. Our actions today have serious consequences tomorrow for our children, grandchildren and beyond. What will be our legacy to them? What kind of world are we planting for them? Will they discover the same bounty that we have enjoyed or will the world we hand down to them be as sterile and barren as a prison cell? The choice is ours. We must act. The time is now.

The central thesis of this holiest of nights, Kol Nidrei, teaches us that we have the power to start over, to wipe the slate clean; that we can redeem and atone for the past by setting for ourselves correct and righteous intentions for the future. But there is also an antithesis, an un-yom-kippuresque darker side. You can't always just start over. It isn't so easy. There are consequences for our actions that cannot always be reversed. Teshuvah is not a replacement for responsibility. As God informed Adam in the Garden, there are some intrusions into the natural world that will have irreversible effects, and can, in the end, doom even innocent future generations. With our great power in the world comes a concomitant measure of responsibility.

We have all been taught that Yom Kippur is not a free ride. We have to do the work required of us. Yom Kippur does not grant us atonement unless we make amends with those we have hurt and wronged. We have to apologize and ask for forgiveness. Should not the same be true in our relationship with our planet? We can't just say we're sorry. We have to show it. We must be willing to create and embrace new, more sustainable behaviors that will bring healing to our world. Only then will we experience at-one-ment.

Therefore, we must believe in the power of repentance, and find the courage to change in the hope that it is never too late. But we must also understand that one of God's greatest gifts to us is our sense of responsibility and our freedom to choose. It is easy to condemn the large corporations that cut forests and create oil spills. It is much harder to face the fact that so much of this irreversible damage to God's world goes on because all of us have, to one extent or another, chosen a lifestyle that drains and exploits our fragile natural resources.

Our response, then, must be to develop, for ourselves and our community, a Jewish ethic of environmental responsibility. We must engage in our own education leading to tikkunim, adustments, in our behaviors and attitudes. All of us do things that are wasteful--Do I need all those lights on? Do we really need to drive those few blocks to the store? Do we look for products that are made from recycled materials and produced sustainably? Often the answer to such questions is "no." Two Jewish values, in particular--anavah (humility) and tzimtzum (restraint) --can play an important role in informing our decisions and actions.

Rabbi Lawrence Troster, writing for the Coalition on the Environment and Jewish Life, argues for the power of humility to shape a better, healthier relationship with the earth when he points out that "when we study Creation with all the tools of modern science, we are filled with love and a sense of connection to a greater order of things. We feel a sense of wonder but also a sense of awe and humility, as we perceive how small we are in the universe as well as within the history of evolution. Love and humility should then invoke in us a sense of reverence for Creation and modesty in our desire to use it." Troster emphasizes the teaching of "Abraham Joshua Heschel to see the world as God-centered, not human-centered. By putting God at the center of life, we see the sacred in everything and the natural world becomes a source of wonder and not only a resource for our use and abuse." (COEJL Website)

The theme of restraint was captured in a recent public letter entitled "Wonder and Restraint" from key leaders of all the streams of the American Jewish community, which Rabbi David Saperstein, the Director of the Reform Movement's Religious Action Center, shared before the US congress this summer:

"Judaism encourages [restraint] in many of its most fundamental metaphors and mitzvot," Saperstein noted. "There is the restraint embodied by Shabbat, our central holy day of wholeness and not-producing. There is the restraint expressed through kashrut, dietary consciousness, which gives us an appetite for sacredness instead of gluttony. There is the restraint expressed as bal tashchit, the injunction against wanton destruction that is rooted in the Torah's responses to the environmental ravages of warfare."

Saperstein continued, "In the Jewish mystical tradition, it is God who sets the example of restraint by practicing tsimtsum, self-withdrawal, in order to permit the universe to emerge into being. The mystics, drawing upon the Talmud (Chagigah 12a), linked this creation story to the appellation Shaddai, usually translated to mean "Almighty," but understood by mystics as the One Who said to the infant universe, "dai," "enough," and thus gave form and boundary to the chaos.

"Today," Saperstein concludes, "we who are made in the image of Shaddai must emulate this act of tsimtsum if we want our world to persist in health and abundance. Human activity is now as consequential to the Earth and its wealth of species as glaciers, volcanoes, winds and tides —so we cannot persist in the illusion that the world is inexhaustible. Human activity has split the seas, brought down manna from heaven, cured pestilence, built vast tabernacles — so we cannot continue to quake and stammer at the prospect of assuming the responsibility given to us along with our power. Instead, we must transform ourselves from nature's children to nature's guardians by learning to say "dai," "enough," to ourselves." (RAC Website)

Kenyan environmental leader Maathai, should inspire each of us when she says: "individuals are making changes in their lives every day. They are riding bicycles, using public transportation, recycling and composting…. At the end of the day, it is the action of individuals that will make the difference." (Sac Bee 9-20-07 p. E7) Today, we can no longer pretend that what we do won't make a difference. What are you willing to do? What commitments are you willing to make on this holy night of promises to heal our planet? Will you bring your own grocery bags the next time you shop? Will you strive to reduce your fuel consumption? Will you make an effort to conserve more energy at home and at work? Will you learn more about these environmental issues and educate others? Take a moment to search your heart, and make your own personal promise to restore our world to health. When you have made a commitment, place your hand over your heart. The pledge you make today will be the blessing of tomorrow. Today, let us begin a communal conversation, sharing our dreams and commitments with one another, imagining what steps we can take as a community and as individuals to make a difference.

Hayom Harat Olam, Today, let us heed the teachings of the world:

For the sake of those alive today and for the sake of generations yet to come; for those who hunger for the beauty of clear, starry skies and snow-capped peaks and for the sake of those who thirst for quiet moments of solitude embraced by the glory of nature. For one another and for the sake of our own souls.

For the sake of this blue-green planet that we call home, for the water, sea and sky, and for the sake of all the living creatures that share our world.

May You bless us, O God, Source of Life, with the wisdom and courage to collaborate creatively to protect and restore, and always enhance, the integrity of Your creation, which is ever in our care.

ken y'hi ratzon

Rabbi Greg Wolfe