Reaching Out To One Another
There is nothing that comes easier
to us than speech. And yet, our
tradition understands how fraught speech actually is -- how hard it is to speak
words that build up and enrich and not words that put down and devalue; how
hard it is to speak words that heal and repair and not words that denigrate or
shame, how hard it is to disagree without being disagreeable. That is why we
conclude our Amidah with the words "My God, guard my tongue from doing
evil, and my lips from saying words that are deceitful." And that is why eleven of the forty three
sins enumerated in the “al cheyt” prayer, the confessional prayer that we say
on Yom Kippur, are committed through speech. This morning I want to focus on a
subset of those sins -- scoffing, contempt, derision, arrogance, hardening of
our hearts, stubbornness.
And that is why an article in this
month’s Hadassah magazine entitled, “Politics in the Pews”caught my attention.
It opens with the story of Michelle Szpilinger, a 39 year old Orthodox Jew who
is finding it difficult to find an Orthodox synagogue in her neighborhood where
she feels comfortable. Michelle identifies herself as politically liberal, but the Orthodox community to which she
belongs tends toward the politically conservative. When she attends synagogue
she feels lonely, she feels like an outsider.. She feels that she no longer
fits in. Fortunately, she eventually found a Facebook community of like-minded
Orthodox Jews, and joined it.
Then there is Andrew Smith, a
registered Republican who moved to Arizona from New Jersey in November of 2016.
He is a Reform Jew. When he moved to Scottsdale he sought out a Reform
synagogue. He was so offended by the rabbi’s sermon critical of the
administration’s immigration policy that he walked out and never returned. He
felt that a person with his political views would not be welcome in that
synagogue. He now attends Chabad. “They leave politics out of it,” he
explained.
It makes me feel sad to hear that a
politically liberal woman feels so disconnected and isolated that she felt she
could not find a home in an Orthodox synagogue. It pains me to hear that a
politically conservative man is so distressed by a rabbi’s sermon that he felt
he could not find a home in a Reform synagogue. It made me wonder -- are there
members of our congregation who feel equally uncomfortable coming to our
synagogue because of their political views? That thought concerns me, as it
should all of us. We pride ourselves on being a “welcoming community” -- but
are we really equally welcoming to everyone across the political spectrum?
This is the world we live in.
Whether it be in our families, our synagogues, or our country we have
difficulty tolerating the tension that comes with being in the same room with
someone who holds political views that are different from our own. Social
science research bears out that we are an increasingly divided country. In 1960, just 5 percent of Republicans and 4
percent of Democrats said they would be unhappy if a son or daughter married
someone from the other party. Today, half of Republicans and a third of
Democrats say they would be unhappy if a son or daughter married someone in the
other party.
I think this stems from our belief
that we, and only those who think like us, have a hold on the truth. Polls show
that significant numbers from each political party consider members of the
other party exceptionally ill-informed, unprincipled and dishonest! We approach
one another with our minds made up, our positions set, our defenses raised for
battle. Many of us have no interest in truly listening to what another person
has to say. We avoid saying things that might be unpopular or controversial
because we don’t want to deal with the pain of having someone call us out,
attack us, or shame us. While we cherish our freedom of speech, we have forgone
our capacity to listen.
The Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai,
zichrono livracha, wrote a poem expressing the sterility of talking with one
another when either or both of the parties has foreclosed the possibility of
being influenced by the other.
From the place where we are right/ Flowers
will never grow/ In the spring.
The place where we are right/ Is hard and trampled/ Like a yard.
But doubts and loves/ Dig up the
world /
Like a mole, a plow…….
The poem is telling us that in
order to engage in a productive conversation from which we, and our
understanding of an issue, can grow, we must leave room for doubt in our own
position. Nothing can sprout in ground hardened by our convictions. “Doubt and love
dig up the world,” he writes. We must not only leave room for questioning our
own position, but we must engage with those who hold different positions with
love in our hearts. Our disagreements should not come from a place of
aggression and a desire to destroy a person or their positions, but from a
place of dignity and honor for a fellow human being.
We all know very well that
listening to one another is not easy. Yet, often we can learn the most from
those who have divergent ideas and have different experiences in life from our
own. The story is told in the Talmud about the relationship that developed
between Rabbi Yochanan and Resh Lachish. Rabbi Yochanan and Resh Lachish were
from completely different backgrounds. Rabbi Yochanan was the pre-eminent
scholar of his day. Resh Lachish was a highway robber. Yet they became fast
friends. Resh Lachish repented and became a great teacher in his own right.
Rabbi Yochanan once said that whenever he would interpret a text Resh Lachish
would pose twenty four objections to his position, to which he, Rabbi Yochanan,
would furnish twenty four solutions. This forced Rabbi Yochanan to hone his own
thinking as he addressed his friend’s challenges one by one.
So far, so good -- until one day
Resh Lachish was teaching a class at the Academy. Rabbi Yochanan disagreed with
him about a point of Law. Rabbi Yochanan lost his temper and became frustrated.
Rabbi Yochanan said, “You must be right after all, Resh Lachish, for a robber
knows his trade.” Resh Lachish was hurt. Rabbi Yochanan had brought up his past
in front of the students of the Academy and had shamed Resh Lachish
publically. “And how have you ever
helped me,” Resh Lachish retorted. “When I was a robber they called me ‘Master’
and in the Academy they call me ‘Master’”. Now Rabbi Yochanan was hurt. After
all he had done for Resh Lachish, to be treated this way! The falling out
between the two friends was complete.
As a result of their harsh words to
one another, Resh Lachish became gravely ill. But Rabbi Yochanan, angry, hurt,
and proud, refused to pray for his healing. When Resh Lachish died, Rabbi
Yochanan became deeply depressed and remorseful. He died shortly after of a
broken heart.
It is a tragic ending to a
wonderful relationship. That’s what can happen when stubbornness, pride,
jealousy, suspicion and public shaming interfere with the honest exchange of
views. It need not end that way, however. Fortunately, our tradition offers us
another model of relating to those who hold opinions different from our own.
The Mishnah, an early compilation
of the Oral Law,relates the following:
For three years the students of
Rabbi Hillel and the students of Rabbi Shammai were at loggerheads over
an issue of Jewish law. These issues are not of just academic interest. The
Rabbis debate issues of law because they seek to discern how G-d wants us to
live our lives. One group of students insisted, “The Law is according to our
interpretation” and the other group insisted, “No, the Law is according to our
interpretation.” Finally, a divine voice from heaven rang out and declared,
“Both of your opinions is right, but the law should be enacted according to the
Students of Rabbi Hillel!”
The rabbis of the Talmud, who lived
three hundred years after the event just
described, are perplexed. If both the School of Hillel and the School of
Shammai were correct about an issue of Jewish Law, why did the Blessed Holy One
decide that it was the interpretation of the School of Hillel that should
prevail? They answer, “The students of Hillel were good listeners and patient;
when they were insulted they showed restraint. When they taught, they would
cite not only their teachings but the teachings of the students of Shammai as
well. Moreover, they honored their opponents. They presented the students of
Shammais position prior to stating their own understanding and analysis of the
Jewish law in question. The qualities demonstrated by the School of Hillel that
merited that their interpretations be enacted -- patience, restraint, and understanding-- are all
clearly lacking in much of our discourse
today. It is all about, as Aretha Franklin put it -- R.E.S.P.E.C.T. Respect for
the dignity of every human being, listening to their positions and remaining
open to the possibility that we still have something to learn from those who
hold opinions that differ from our own.
A moving example of this in our own
time is the relationship between former Secretary of State John Kerry and the
late Senator John Mccain. As you may recall, Kerry, a decorated Navy veteran,
was a spokesperson for a group called “Vietnam Veterans Against the War.” that
sought an end the war in Vietnam. McCain, of course, was held prisoner of war
in North Vietnam and endured years of mistreatment and torture by his captors. At McCain’s passing, Kerry wrote, “"We
met 32 years ago. We both loved the Navy, but had opposite views about the war
of our youth. We didn’t trust each other, but really we didn’t know each other.
After a long conversation on a long flight, we decided to work together to make
peace with Vietnam and with ourselves here in America……..We traveled together
to Vietnam and together, we found common ground in the most improbable place. I
stood with John, the two of us alone, in the very cell in the Hanoi Hilton where
years of his life were lived out in pain but always in honor……...John McCain
showed all of us how to bridge the divide between a protester and a POW, and
how to find common ground even when it was improbable. I will be grateful for
that lesson every day of my life.”
In Hebrew this attitude is called
“Kavod Bri-oot” -- honoring all human beings. It is the recognition that we are
all created in the image of G-d and all human beings, no matter what our
religion, race, gender, sexual orientation, or political opinion, have an
inherent dignity that we should embrace, uphold and expand. As the Jewish sage
Ben Azzai says in Pirke Avot “Do not scorn any person, and do not discount any thing
-- for every person has his or her hour, and every creature of G-d has their
rightful place in the world.”
G’mar Chatimah Tovah
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