Braisheet -- When You Thought I Wasn't Looking

This week’s Torah reading is from the beginning of the Torah -- The Book of Genesis. On Simchat Torah, just celebrated on Monday evening, we concluded the final paragraphs of the Book of Deuteronomy which noted the death of Moses on the border of the Land of Israel. Our Torah reading concludes at that point.  Curiously, we never get to read about the conquest of the Land in the Torah.  We read about this in the Book of Joshua, which is part of the section of scriptures known as The Prophets. Instead of moving forward we wind backward, both figuratively and literally. We roll the Torah scroll back to the Story of Creation, and begin our yearly Torah cycle again.

“In the beginning, G-d created the heavens and the earth”. In some ways it is fascinating that we begin the Torah in the beginning! Let me explain. If the Torah is meant to teach us how we ought to live our lives, why does it begin with the creation of the universe? If the Torah is primarily designed to teach us the proper way to live, why does the Torah not begin with LAWS? The Torah could simply begin with the commandment to be fruitful and multiply, then follow up with the commandment to circumcise our sons. It could move on to the commandment to observe the Sabbath. Then it could tell us to observe our Festivals. It could lay out the laws of keeping kosher. It could tell us to love our neighbor as ourselves. It could command us to give charity the poor, and to protect the stranger, the widow and the orphan. Of course, the Torah does tell us all of these but as we know, in addition the Torah tells us much more.

In other words, I dare say, perhaps G-d could have used a good editor when G-d wrote the Torah. Perhaps G-d should not have been so convinced of His own perfection, and let an angel read what He wrote before publication. I am not the only one to think this. The very first comment in the Torah by the great commentator Rashi poses this very question. Of what use is the entire book of Genesis, which is basically a book of stories about our ancestors, in helping us to lead our lives? Why didn’t G-d just start with the commandments?

One answer is that we can learn a great deal from examining the lives of the patriarchs and matriarchs about how we should conduct our own lives. From reading about the life of Abraham we learn about what a life of righteousness and justice looks like. We can see how a man with unshakable faith in the One G-d lives out his life in that faith. From looking at the life of Rivka we can learn about how a strong woman can shape the destiny of her family and the Jewish people. From the life of Jacob we can see someone who struggles with his own inner demons and overcomes them. From the story of Joseph we learn about how repentance and forgiveness play themselves out in the life of an individual and a family.  We learn best not by following a set of rules laid down to us by an authority. We learn best by modeling ourselves after the behavior of those who live out those rules in their own lives. By studying their lives, we come to love these holy ancestors and want to follow their example.

A few weeks ago, footage was released containing lewd remarks about women made by one of our Presidential candidates back in 2005. Much of the condemnation by public figures that followed these remarks noted the status of the speaker as a father of daughters. For example, Mitch McConnell identified himself as “the father of three daughters” in condemning the remarks. John McCain mentioned his daughters. Mitt Romney was outraged on behalf of his mother, wife and daughter. Texas senator John Cornyn, North Carolina senator Thom Tillis, New Jersey House representative Scott Garrett, and Florida representative Carlos Curbelo all condemned the lewd comments by invoking their status as a “father of daughters”.

I wondered about the fathers of sons! One columnist who addressed this issue wrote that men would not have to worry so much about defending the honor of their daughters if more men taught their sons to respect women! He advised men to sit down and talk to their sons about proper behavior toward women in light of the candidate’s comments. I think men have to do that, and much more! More than talking to our sons, we need to model for our sons the proper way to treat women and talk about women. Our children, who area astute observers, notice what we do. Our children are carefully watching how we behave. Just as the Torah gives us role models to emulate, to show us how to live our lives, we need to live out our values in our lives in order to teach our children the proper way to live. We cannot simply lay down the laws and expect them to be followed – especially when our children can see that our behavior is at odds with our words.

We have just concluded the Festival of Sukkot. The Torah commands us in Leviticus 23: “You shall sit in sukkos … so that your children will know”.  The Chofetz Chaim derives a lesson from this verse about Jewish education that is applicable to all our efforts to educate our children. He notes that the Torah first tells a parent to sit in a sukkah. Only then does it say, “so that your children will know”. The lesson – Only by sitting in the sukkah ourselves will we be able to teach our children. If we fail to sit in the sukkah first, then all attempts to teach our children will be wasted.

Our children learn primarily by example. Our children are watching us, for better or worse. We may think they are not looking, but they are soaking up everything we do. I leave you with this poem by an unknown author:

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator, and I wanted to paint another one.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you feed a stray cat, and I thought it was good to be kind to animals.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you make my favorite cake just for me, and I knew that little things are special things.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I heard you say a prayer, and I believed there is a God I could always talk to.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I felt you kiss me good night, and I felt loved.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw tears come from your eyes, and I learned that sometimes things hurt, but it’s all right to cry.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw that you cared, and I wanted to be everything that I could be.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I looked…and wanted to say thanks for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn’t looking.

Shabbat Shalom

               

Haazinu: Three Unlikely Headlines

Two unlikely headlines in the paper in our national press seem worthy of the satirical newspaper, “The Onion”. The first headline is “Donald Trump wins Republican Nomination for President”. The second headline is “Bob Dylan wins the Nobel Prize for Literature”. I, along with many of us sitting here, am hoping for a third unlikely headline to appear, “Cubs Win World Series!”

Of these headlines, the announcement that Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize for Literature is the most surprising. We all knew that Donald Trump was a long shot for winning the nomination, but he had been toying with the idea of running for President for a long time. Over the course of year, we had grown accustomed to the possibility, at least, that this unlikely candidate would triumph. Chicagoans have been talking about the Cubs winning another World Series for over a hundred years, and it is bound to happen by the end of the 21rst Century. But Bob Dylan winning the Nobel Prize in Literature –whoever, thought of or discussed that? Philip Roth –yes! But Bob Dylan?

The parasha for this week is Ha-azinu. The parasha consists of a poem by Moses warning the Jewish people to remember G-d’s goodness when they settle in the Land of Canaan. The prophetic reading for this week is from Samuel. It is a long poem of gratitude written by King David. It seems, therefore, particularly appropriate that the announcement of the award to Bob Dylan should be made this week. Dylan was awarded the prize “for having created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition", according to the Nobel Committee.  He is only the latest in a long line of poet/musicians in the Jewish tradition. There is the Song of Deborah in the Book of Judges, an entire book of the Bible called “Song of Songs”, another book of poems called The Psalms. One could trace the succession of great Jewish poets from the Bible through the middle ages – Yehudah Halevi, Moses Ibn Ezra, Shemuel Hanagid -- all the way to the Modern Hebrew poets, Chaim Nachman Bialik, Yehuda Amichai, Zelda and Leah Goldberg, to name a few. Last January during the Rabbinic Mission we visited with celebrated Israeli poet Rivka Miriam in her Jerusalem home.

Another headline appeared in my in-box today that was unfortunately all too predictable – “Judaism’s Holiest Site is reclassified as Exclusively Muslim by UNESCO”. The Executive Board of UNESCO, by a vote of 24-6 with 26 countries abstaining, passed a resolution introduced by the Palestinians that called the Temple Mount and the Western Wall Plaza by their Arabic names, appearing to deny any Jewish connection to the sites. Of course this is nothing new. A year ago The Grand Mufti, the chief Muslim cleric of Jerusalem, declared on Israeli television that nothing was ever on the Temple Mount but the al Asqa Mosque. Mahmoud Abbas, the Palestinian President, has himself called Israeli history in Jerusalem “illusions and legends” and “delusional myths,” and refers to the “alleged Temple” when he refers to the Temple at all.

Political differences are one thing, they can be resolved. But when your enemy denies your very history and tries to convince others of the lie, it inflicts a deeper wound. Repeat a lie often enough, and people begin to believe it. In response to the UNESCO vote, Prime Minister Netanyahu put out a statement stating, “To say that Israel has no connection to the Temple Mount is like saying that China has no connection to the Great Wall of China or that Egypt has no connection to the Pyramids.”

Returning to Bob Dylan: In 1983 Bob Dylan celebrated his son Jesse’s bar mitzvah at the Western Wall in Jerusalem. Bob Dylan was raised Jewish and spent his summers at Herzl Camp, a Zionist camp in Wisconsin. But in the 1970s he became a Born Again Christian. He released three Christian themed albums in from 1979 to 1981 before returning to Judaism. The year Dylan celebrated his son’s Bar Mitzvah at the Western Wall, he released the album entitle “Infidel” with perhaps the most pro-Jewish rock song ever recorded, “Neighborhood Bully”. In it, he describes Israel as a man “always on trial” with “a gun at his back” unfairly labeled “the neighborhood bully”.

Well, the neighborhood bully, he's just one man
His enemies say he's on their land
They got him outnumbered about a million to one
He got no place to escape to, no place to run
He's the neighborhood bully.

The neighborhood bully he just lives to survive
He's criticized and condemned for being alive
He's not supposed to fight back, he's supposed to have thick skin
He's supposed to lay down and die when his door is kicked in
He's the neighborhood bully.

The neighborhood bully been driven out of every land
He's wandered the earth an exiled man
Seen his family scattered, his people hounded and torn
He's always on trial for just being born
He's the neighborhood bully.

Well, he knocked out a lynch mob, he was criticized
Old women condemned him, said he should apologize
Then he destroyed a bomb factory, nobody was glad
The bombs were meant for him. He was supposed to feel bad
He's the neighborhood bully.

Well, the chances are against it, and the odds are slim
That he'll live by the rules that the world makes for him
'Cause there's a noose at his neck and a gun at his back
And a license to kill him is given out to every maniac
He's the neighborhood bully.

Well, he got no allies to really speak of
What he gets he must pay for, he don't get it out of love
He buys obsolete weapons and he won't be denied
But no one sends flesh and blood to fight by his side
He's the neighborhood bully.

Well, he's surrounded by pacifists who all want peace
They pray for it nightly that the bloodshed must cease
Now, they wouldn't hurt a fly. To hurt one they would weep
They lay and they wait for this bully to fall asleep
He's the neighborhood bully.

Every empire that's enslaved him is gone
Egypt and Rome, even the great Babylon
He's made a garden of paradise in the desert sand
In bed with nobody, under no one's command
He's the neighborhood bully.

Now his holiest books have been trampled upon
No contract that he signed was worth that what it was written on
He took the crumbs of the world and he turned it into wealth
Took sickness and disease and he turned it into health
He's the neighborhood bully.

What's anybody indebted to him for?
Nothing, they say. He just likes to cause war
Pride and prejudice and superstition indeed
They wait for this bully like a dog waits for feed
He's the neighborhood bully.

What has he done to wear so many scars?
Does he change the course of rivers? Does he pollute the moon and stars?
Neighborhood bully, standing on the hill
Running out the clock, time standing still
Neighborhood bully.

Rosh Hashanah Day 5777 : A Fresh Start

One of the themes of Rosh Hashanah is birth and renewal.  We proclaim on this day, Hayom Harat Olam, “Today is the Birthday of the World”. Our tradition holds that the world was created 5777 years ago. Of course, nothing in Judaism is without controversy. In fact there is a debate in the Talmud between two sages as to precisely when the world was created. According to Rabbi Eliezer, the world was created in the fall, in the month of Tishre. According to Rabbi Yehoshua, the world was created in the spring, in the month of Nisan!  Each sage cites the exact same biblical verse to support his claim, yet they each interpret it differently. Their reasoning is..... Talmudic, which means mysterious, long, and complex -- I will therefor spare you the details.

Since the matter was not settled in the Talmud, later Rabbis took up the argument. The medieval Rabbi Avraham Ibn Ezra, of Navarro, Spain, supports the position of Rabbi Eliezer, that the world was created on Rosh Hashanah, in Tishre, in the fall. As proof, Ibn Ezra notes that the Torah commands us to sound the Shofar on Yom Kippur to mark the beginning of the Jubilee year, the year in which all slaves are freed, all debts forgiven, and all land returned to its original owners. It makes sense, he reasons, that the beginning of Jubilee Year would start very close to the beginning of the true New Year, Rosh Hashanah.  Not so fast, say other Rabbis, who bring evidence that the world was in fact created in the spring, according to the position of Rabbi Yohoshua.  Every 28 years, they point out, we recite the birchat hachama.  This is a blessing recited when the sun returns to the same position in the heavens that it was in when it was created on the fourth day. Some of us may recall gathering together in the synagogue courtyard on April 8, 2009 to recite this blessing. It was on a Wednesday morning, the fourth day of the week. This blessing is always recited in the spring, in Nisan. It stands to reason, therefore, that the world itself was created in the spring.

Two well thought out positions, two valid arguments – but we are no further in determining the truth of when the world was created than were the Rabbis in the Talmud. Rabbeinu Tam, a grandson of the illustrious Rashi who lived in twelfth century France, broke the deadlock this way – you guessed it – they’re BOTH RIGHT.  According to Rabeinu Tam, G-d thought of creating the world in the fall, on the day we celebrate Rosh Hashanah, but G-d did not physically create the world until the spring, in the month of Nissan. Since G-d’s thought is identical to G-d’s action – both positions are right! As the Torah explains in the Book of Numbers:

“God is not man to be capricious/or mortal to change His mind/ would he speak and not act/promise and not fulfill?”

If G-d is not man, then man is not G-d, and following through on our best intentions is precisely the challenge we face on Rosh Hashanah.  Every now and then we have an idea or an inspiration, and we expect it to change us, but we don’t do anything about it! We may intend to carry through on it, but we never get around to taking concrete action. We make promises to ourselves, but never fulfill them. We are inspired to change, but can’t motivate ourselves to take the first step. Thus, many worthy thoughts that should be acted upon remain stuck in our heads, and never realized.

In the Book of Deuteronomy, the Israelites are poised to enter the land of Canaan. Moses instructs them on how to establish a just and fair society when they settle the land. Moses tells the People of Israel to “appoint judges and officers at your gates”. On the face of it this means simply that they must set up a judicial branch of government. The sages see something deeper. They note that the Hebrew word for “gates”– shaar – is the same word as for “considerations”, “reckonings”, “thoughts”, “calculations” and “deliberations” in Hebrew. Accordingly, this verse can also be read, “Appoint judges and officers for your personal deliberations, your internal considerations, your calculations for the future.” We should appoint internal “judges” to carefully weigh the consequences of putting our thoughts into action, the effect they will have on us, the impact they will have on our loved ones, the ramifications they will have for our community. After we have given careful thought to our plans and and deemed them to be good for us, we should implement them! This is the point at which many of us falter. Many of us have difficulty bringing our plans to fruition.

Therefore, as the Torah says, we should also appoint internal “officers”, who will insure that our worthy plans are carried out. How many potentially life changing resolutions go unfulfilled because of an absence of will, a failure to follow through?  Our metaphorical officers are tasked with the enforcement of our good intentions so that we will actually CHANGE.

Rabbi Kalman Packouz poses five questions to think about while we are here in synagogue or to discuss at our Rosh Hashanah meals:

1.       When do I most feel that my life is meaningful?

2.       If I could change only one thing about myself, what would that be?

3.       If I could change one thing about my spiritual life, what would it be?

4.       Are there any ideals I would be willing to die for?

5.       If I could live my life over, would I change anything?

Rosh Hashanah is a time of reflection, of hope and of renewal. Rosh Hashanah should wake us up, spark us to look at our lives, inspire in us the belief that it is never too late to grow and to change.  In the autumn nature is preparing for her long winter sleep. Along comes the Shofar to warn us not to do the same. The Shofar cries out to us, “Awake ye sleepers from your slumber; rouse yourselves from your lethargy.”

We cannot allow blind habit and deadening routine to rule our lives. This is why our sages, while ordaining a fixed order and a fixed time for prayer, insist that we must add something new in our prayers. They feared that our prayers would become empty recitations of memorized words. Such prayers have neither the power to reach upward to move Heaven nor inward to touch our deepest selves. A central prayer in our siddur reminds us that G-d renews creation each day. G-d did not wind up the clock of creation in the Beginning and then let it run. G-d is continually involved in the process of creation of the world. In the same way, we too need to be continually involved in the creation of our lives, lest our lives, too, become dull and empty.

Mindless routine is the enemy of spiritual growth and renewal. Much of our day is spent going perfunctorily through set patterns of behaviors – the time we awaken in the morning, what we have for breakfast, the route we take to work, the regularity of our work-a-day lives, our bed-time rituals, the chores we perform week in and week out. Without some modicum of routine we would find it difficult to get much accomplished at all. But to sleepwalk through our spiritual life is to court our spiritual decline, to lose touch with the Divine Source that animates our lives.

The Chasidic Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev notes that the Hebrew word for soul --“neshamah”-- is related to the Hebrew word for breath -- “neshimah”.  He teaches that, with each breath out, it is as if our soul departs from our body. Were it not for the power of G-d to restore our breath each time we exhale, our soul would leave us permanently, and we would die. Just as creation is renewed each day, so, G-d restores our soul at every moment.  We are continuously being renewed and reborn.

The story is told of an angry reader once stormed into a newspaper office waving the day’s paper, asking to see the editor of the obituary column. He showed him his name in the obituary listing. “You see,” he said, “I am very much alive. I demand a retraction!”  The editor replied, “I never retract a story. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do; I’ll put you in the birth column and give you a fresh start!”

With each breath we take in we are new and are given a fresh start.

At the beginning of this sermon I told you about the debate between Rabbi Eliezer, who thought the world was created in the fall, and Rabbi Yehoshua, who thought that the world was created in the spring. We, of course, follow Rabbi Eliezer, and celebrate the “Creation of the World” in the fall. But is the fall really the season of birth and renewal?  The fall brings to mind the term “The Autumn of our Lives”, a saying that denotes that we are past our peak -- that we are winding down that we have more days behind us than we have ahead of us. However many days we may have ahead, it is incumbent upon us to determine, at this time of year, whether we have lived the life that is true to ourselves. If we have not – if we have long considered the need for a change in direction, a course correction, then let us make this year the year that we put our thoughts into action and renew our lives for the better. With that thought in mind, I leave you with a poem written in 1934 by American writer and musician Dale Wimbrow, which I have adapted:

When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world gives you accolades,
Just go to a mirror and look at yourself,
And see what that person says.

For it isn't your father or mother or spouse,
Whose judgement upon you must pass;
The person whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the one staring back from the glass.

That’s who you must please, never mind all the rest.
That’s who you live with to the end,
And you've passed the most dangerous, difficult test
If the one in the glass is your friend.

You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years.
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be the heartaches and tears
If you've cheated the one in the glass.

Rosh Hashanah 5777 Eve : Letting Go of our Baggage

I’d like to begin my sermon this evening by telling you a story. The story takes place in the 1980’s, before the widespread use of personal computers, before smart phones, before ipads and fitbits and all of the technology that we now carry around in our pockets or wear on our wrists. The story begins when Shimon gets off the train in Union Station struggling with two heavy suitcases. As he wrestles his suitcases to the platform, a man he doesn’t know, let’s call him Reuven, comes up to him and asks for the time. Shimon pulls a watch out of his pocket, but instead of looking at the time, he speaks to the watch! “Could you tell me what time it is?” Shimon asks. The watch replies, “It’s four o’clock, pm, Central Time”. “Wow, that’s some watch you have there,” says Rueven. “Oh, that’s nothing,” Shimon says. Speaking to the watch again, the he asks, “What time is it in New York?” “Two O’clock pm,” the voice in the watch responds.  “And in Barcelona?” “It is eleven O’clock pm in Barcelona,” answers the watch. Munich, Shanghai, Buenos Aires, the watch instantaneously provides the exact time in any city in the world.

“I am so impressed,” says Reuven. “I have never seen a watch that can do that!” “Oh, that’s nothing,” says Shimon. Speaking to the watch again, Shimon says, “Get me the Book of Genesis,” and immediately the story of Adam and Eve scrolls down the face of the watch.  “That’s fantastic,” says Rueven.  Seeing how engrossed Rueven is in this technological marvel, Shimon continues. “I’m able to carry around every volume of the Talmud in this little watch,” he says. “What would take up shelves upon shelves of space in my Rabbi’s office, I can carry around in the vest pocket of my suit jacket!”

“This is wonderful,” says Rueven, now beside himself with enthusiasm if not a little envy. “Look,” says Shimon, “My daughter recently had her bat mitzvah. Here’s a video of her chanting her Haftorah on Shabbes morning. We were so proud of her.  And that appointment book that I’m pretty sure you carry in your briefcase. I have it right here on my watch, at the touch of a button.”

“Where did you get such a watch, I have to have one,” says Rueven. Shimon tells him that it’s not available in any stores. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars for that watch,” Reuven says to Shimon. “Oh, I can’t sell it to you for ten thousand dollars,” says Shimon. “I’ll give you forty thousand dollars for that watch,” says Rueven. “I’m sorry, it’s not for sale,” says Shimon. But Rueven detects a hint of indecision in Shimon’s voice. “I will give you sixty thousand dollars for that watch,” Rueven proclaims, and he pulls out his check book and starts writing a check. Shimon thinks, well, sixty thousand dollars is a lot of money, and I can always make another watch for myself, so Shimon agrees to sell Rueven the watch for sixty thousand dollars. He hands Rueven the watch and Reuven walks away. Shimon yells after him, “Hey, wait a minute. “  Reuven turns around warily. Shimon points to the two suitcases he had been struggling to carry through the station, and says, “Don’t forget the batteries!”

How many times have we wanted something desperately only to find out once we actually got it that it did not bring us the satisfaction we had hoped?  I think back to an early lesson I learned as a child about this. I don’t think boys still play with toy soldiers, as I did when I was a boy. Nowadays a child can just turn on a screen and land in the middle of a hyper-realistic, apocalyptic war zone, but when I was a lad one had to rely more on one’s imagination. I remember desperately wanting a set of two hundred revolutionary war toy soldiers advertised on the back of the comic books I was reading. The illustration accompanying the ad, depicting Redcoats and Patriots engaged in fierce battle, made the toy soldiers look so exciting! I imagined setting a hundred Brits up against a hundred Yankees and re-creating the Battles of Lexington and Concord right there on my bedroom floor. I saved up my money, collected my box tops and sent for the soldiers. Each day I eagerly awaited the mailman. Yet, when those toy soldiers actually arrived they were nothing like they looked in the advertisement!  They were ¾ of an inch tall and a millimeter wide and no sooner did I stand them up for battle than then they all fell over. What a disappointment. Often, that’s the way it is in life. Those things that are told will bring us joy or change our lives for the good often don’t deliver on their promise. Later on it was the automobile that we just had to have that would make us so popular with the girls, the college that we had to get into that would lead to success, the marriage that would complete us, the dream house that would finally bring us happiness. Then we discover that yes, sometimes these things bring us a measure of satisfaction and sometimes they even make us feel whole. Sometimes, however, they become baggage that weighs us down or traps us because they are not what we hoped for or expected after all.

Like the man in the story who could not enjoy what he had purchased because of the baggage that came with it, we too are unable to fully enjoy the blessings of our lives because of what we bring along with us from the past.

Tomorrow morning we will read the story from the Torah about G-d’s call to Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac. It is, of course, not the first time that G-d has called Abraham. Abraham’s story begins with G-d’s words as recorded in the Torah -- "Leave your land, your birthplace, the home of your parents, to the land that I will show you."  Did you ever notice that there was something unusual in that call to Abraham?

Usually, the emphasis, when giving directions, is on the DESTINATION!  After all, a person already knows where they are --they need to know where they are going! In G-d’s charge to Abraham, however, it is the opposite! G-d never identifies the destination to Abraham. The emphasis in G-d’s charge to Abraham is not where he is going. The emphasis in G-d’s charge to Abraham is on where he leaving -- his land, his birthplace, the home of his parents. THAT is what is unusual.

According to Chassidic thought, the Torah is telling us that as we journey through life, we must leave some things behind in order to reach our potential.  Abraham had to leave his country, his city, and his home in order to fulfill his destiny. In a similar way, in order to become who we were meant to be, to achieve our personal destinies, to live healthy and productive and loving lives, we may need to abandon some of the values and beliefs that we learned in our homes, our communities, and our country.  We may need to examine and reassess those social conventions that we have taken for granted.  Many of us grew up believing, for example, that men don’t cry, or that women are the “weaker sex”. Many of us grew up being taught that homosexuality was a sickness, or that certain ethnic or racial groups were prone to violence, or laziness, or dishonesty. We were taught what constitutes beauty in a woman, and what is the measure of success in a man, and as adults we strive to live up to what we learned, often causing a lot of pain, alienation and conflict along the way.  Some of us were taught to always put the needs of others first, to the extent that one’s own legitimate needs are ignored or denied. We run ourselves ragged taking care of others, while neglecting our own emotional, spiritual and physical health. Sometimes we must identify and let go of what we were taught as to how to think about ourselves and others. Trying to conform to society’s ideas about who we ought to be can prevent us from becoming who we were meant to be. We need to be able to identify patterns that we repeat -- those which bring us back time and time again to familiar but hurtful ways of acting.  And we must figure out how we can break those patterns, shed the baggage, that is pulling us back, dragging us down, and making our efforts to recognize and embrace our blessings self-defeating. That’s why the emphasis is on the place where Abraham was leaving.  The Torah is teaching us that we need to pay attention to where we come from and what we take with us, if we are to be successful on our journey to who we want to be, and how we would like to be thought of by others.

There are two kinds of burdens we carry with us through life. There is the baggage we know we are carrying around, but choose to ignore. Perhaps that baggage consists of resentment over a slight we experienced in the past. Perhaps we were treated unfairly in a relationship, and this left scars on us that we carry to this day. Perhaps an employer did not give us the promotion that we felt we deserved, or our partner cheated us in business. Perhaps when you were growing up your rabbi made an unkind or hurtful comment, and made it difficult for you to want to embrace Judaism or feel a part of the Jewish community. Then there is the “hidden baggage” we carry, the baggage we are not as aware of -- a devastating loss that we thought we overcame, a life altering illness that we thought left no scars, a difficult childhood that we thought we outgrew.  As parents we want to do right by our children, but we too carry baggage into our marriages and into the families that we create. At times we unknowingly transfer our baggage onto the shoulders of our children who don’t ever realize that they have taken on the baggage of their parents and are carrying it into a new generation.

We carry these loads around for so long that they become a part of us. We don’t even know they are there until we examine our lives, we identify our grievances, we label our resentments, and we name our pain. That is part of the task of Rosh Hashanah, what we call “Chesbon Ha-Nefesh” taking an account of ourselves. Only when we do this are we able to unload the weight we strain under and begin to walk a little lighter.

The man who unloaded his baggage at the train station to a wide-eyed passerby found an easy way to get rid of an unwanted weight that was a burden to him. For us, it is never that easy. Let’s begin by using this holiday season to acknowledge that we all carry baggage around with us. Let us resolve this Rosh Hashanah to at least make a start at shedding our unnecessary burdens from the past.  Let’s examine our priorities and stop striving for goals that bring neither fulfillment nor true happiness to us or our loved ones. Let us cast away our stubbornness, our bad habits, and our unwillingness to recognize when we need to change. Let’s dispose of our selfishness and our self- centeredness, and free ourselves to share more of ourselves with others.  

May we carry a lighter load with us into the New Year. May we begin our New Year full of hope and confidence, of optimism and of humility, of self-scrutiny and of spiritual renewal.