And more post ne'ilah thoughts

This is becoming a habit and I'll tell you why -- each year during Mincha, I imagine what I would say were I tasked with providing the inspiration pre-ne'ilah speech in synagogue so I force myself to come up with something and then I realize that no one spoke and I'm way behind...

Anyway, this year's "speech"

Ne'ilah is the scariest prayer.

I'll explain. The gates are closing and all that and the conventional wisdom is that these are gates of prayer and our prayers can't get through because, you know, gates. Meh.

I think of it differently. The holiday of Yom Kippur is an oasis in time, It is a refuge. It is a protected moment when we can explore spirit and commandment, take time to look inward and really focus on our prayers. In the prayers, we often read that Hashem gave the day to us. The Hebrew rod for "give" is the same root as the word for "present." No, not "stress on the second syllable 'to deliver' meaning" but the stress on the first syllable meaning a gift. The holiday is a gift because it allows us to step outside of the everyday and use our energy for something really special. The gates are closing and the holiday will end. And we are on the outside of the gates, left to our own devices, having to carry the mantle of spirituality into a world when it isn't Yom Kippur.

Man, that's scary.

God knows we need help. He gives us 3 prayer services a day during which we can carve some time and repent, ask, understand and praise. But that's not enough so on the sabbath and holidays, he gives us a fourth prayer (and these are the days on which we use that word "natan" -- gave, or some version of it to thank God for this bit of help, an opportunity to push off the world and reconnect with the divine.

But 4 isn't enough. We need more.

So once a year, God says, "OK kiddo, you tried to make due with 3 and struggled; you had some 4 but that isn't enough for you to rise the way I know you can so here's a softball -- one day a year, I give you 5, count 'em, FIVE prayers so you can really realize your spiritual potential." It's like he said "I'll give your training wheels training wheels and your crutches, crutches." The day is so joyous because with five prayers I can really make progress. Less time in between means less time for me to backslide. I feel an ecstasy at the close of day because I truly got INTO the experience. It was pervasive.

But the gates are closing. Welcome back to the world of 3 prayers a day. Try to keep this going with only 3 chances per day! Can I do it? I honestly don't know. I'm scared. I want more Yom Kippur (though, after a quick bite to eat, please). I want all impediments taken away FOR me -- I'm afraid I can't do it on my own.

But the gates are closing. I am being pushed out of the nest and told to fly on my own. And I'm scared. So I want to pour everything I have into that last prayer service, reach as high as I can, and as deep into myself as I can, so I can face tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow (sorry Bill) and stay on this level for as long as I can.

Please, God, let me stay inside the gates. Let me learn to carve that moment in time, that refuge of peace of spirituality everyday in my 3 opportunities and not lose myself in the spaces in between. I ask forgiveness for the times when I wandered away from path once the gates were closed, and I'll try to stay at the edge of that sacred space, basking even in the referred glow, so that when next Yom Kippur arrives, I will already be there, ready to jump in and reach even higher.

Some loose thoughts about this time of year

When Yom Kippur is just beginning, we will all say the Kol Nidrei prayer. This prayer is designed to absolve us from the consequences of unfulfilled oaths. I'm not going to get into the question of whether the prayer is on past vows, or on future vows, but on another point -- it doesn't absolve all vows. So, yeah, we chant it 3 times. It seems to be a really spiritual and affective moment. But it is incomplete. Then we have Yom Kippur. Full of awe and prayer and demanding of us that we deny ourselves food and other pleasures, we like to think that we emerge forgiven but in truth, it just isn't so! While we might be gain forgiveness for certain sins, there are others that are not covered by the prayers of Yom Kippur! (both these points are mentioned here and I'm sure you can find all sorts of other web pages which mention them including this one)

In temple times, we had sacrifices -- in fact, we had ones designed to bring about forgiveness. But the truth is, these sacrifices only dealt with a specific slice of sins and certainly not intentionally committed ones. What we have are a whole lot of incomplete systems. I'm going to couple this with another strange thing I noticed recently about Jewish ritual. These ideas might not really go together but to me they complement each other nicely.

There seems to be a fascination in Judaism with guests. Not only is there a biblical commandment to welcome guests, and not only do certain holidays include the giving of things to others and sharing meals, but there are a number of instances in which we actually invite conceptual/spiritual guests in to our practices as part of our obligation.

Every week, we say a prayer welcoming the Sabbath Queen -- the Sabbath, itself, is likened to a Queen or a Bride and we usher her in and we long for her to stay. Eventually, we escort her out. Elijah has a cup of wine set for him at the Passover seder as we invite him to visit. On Sukkot, the Feast of Tabernacles, we invite a series of guests, one each night, to join us in the Sukkah. Elijah gets another nod at each brit milah/circumcision. So we are constantly bringing in others -- human and supernatural alike, to share in what we are and what we have. It seems that, like our other atonement rituals, what we have on our own is incomplete.

The holidays are not about completing a ritual and moving on. We cannot be complete unless we complement our thoughts with actions. Our atonement must reflect a change, not a prayer, a repentance, not an ritual. Our celebrations have to acknowledge that we are part of a community which transcends time and space. If we want to have a complete result, we have to move beyond simply doing the letter of the law and expecting it to do the job.

Abraham didn't Screen his calls

On the second day of Rosh Hashana we read the Torah reading that mentions the binding of Isaac. It begins with a very strange statement (Gen 22:1) – And if happened after these things that God tested Avraham and said to him, “Avraham” and he replied, “Here I am.”

Then God goes ahead and tells Abe to drag the boy up the hill, tie him down and just go to town. In most counts, this command is the tenth of a series of tests – check out the lists in the ArtScroll Chumash (pages 100 and 101) if you want to check. But I disagree. I’m not saying that it wasn’t a test to be told to kill your boy, but I think the essence of the test is in the first verse.

God has spoken to Avraham before. He appeared in a vision, he visited after the circumcision, and he just shows up and gives commands or reassurances. One moment God isn’t there and then God is. Abe sits around and then, poof, God tells him the whatfor. But not here. Remember, Avraham has fought kings, moved his entire family, had his wife kidnapped, had to bargain for people and then save Lot, deal with famine and trust that he wouldn’t die childless. He was old. He was tired, and no doubt, he was still smarting from having to cut off his own foreskin.

Then the phone rang.

God didn’t just appear and give an order. God didn’t materialize in a vision or a dream, or even poof, show up as a disembodied voice and tell Avraham what to do. He called ahead. What was the test? At this point, Abraham figured that he was done and he just wanted maybe a nice nap. But he knows that if he picks up that phone, if he acknowledges that God is calling him, there is going to be a demand. He finally has a son and he wants some rest. The easy thing to do would be the ignore the phone, try to avoid any more conflict. This is the test. When you have a chance to think before you engage, do you still engage? Is it ever “enough”? God wants to see if Avraham has drawn a line and just wants to be left alone. But Abe steps up and picks up the phone on the first ring. He says “I am here – whatever you want” even when he knows that something difficult will no doubt be demanded. The superhero doesn’t get a day off. Being asked to sacrifice his son is almost anti-climactic after that. Of course he will comply! He picked up the phone knowing that God will want the impossible. By the time he says “here I am” he is already passing the test.

Compare this to a little bit ahead, in verse 7. Avraham is trekking with the boy, alone. There is an uneasy silence and then Isaac decides to ask the obvious question. He works up the courage “Then Isaac spoke to Abraham his father and said, ‘father’ –”

That’s all he says initially. “Father.” And Abraham, knowing what is coming, knowing the uncomfortable conversation about to happen chooses not to ignore his son. He doesn’t hum louder or pretend to be busy with something else. He picks up quickly and, again says “here I am.” Another test. Can he face his son when it all gets really real? Yes. The superhero mans up and engages. He doesn’t hide.

During this season, and in our lives, can we have the strength of Abraham and answer that phone on the first ring even though we know we will be asked something difficult? Can we answer the voices around us with equanimity and grace even when we know that conversation will be a tough one?

May we all find the strength to accept the charges.

Another Opening Another Show

A whole bunch of years ago, a wise man and I were discussing work. He was leaving his job, as was I (well, I was leaving mine, not his) and I explained that I had worked very hard at doing so much as to be irreplaceable. He said,

"The graveyard is full of irreplaceable people."

That stuck with me. We think of ourselves as performing a necessary function. Of being such an integral cog in a lurching machine that without us, nothing would move forward. But it would. Maybe with some initial fits and starts but life would go on. I am about to begin a new school year. For a teacher, that's a significant thing. If I were a lawyer or art gallery owner, the new school year would be somewhat less important. But I'm a teacher, so, yeah. That. This is going to be something in the range of my 25th year (I'm not good with numbers and it is tough to know what to count -- student teaching? The year I was only an administrator and had no classes of my own?) Regardless, it will be a major milestone, another new beginning - a chance to reinvent myself, rediscover what it is I do, and treat a new batch of students as if they are my first charges. I can't be the jaded pro who knows it all and just wants to slog through the year. The students have to get the impression that this is not my 25th year, but the 25th first year of my teaching.

I still get nervous. I still have trouble sleeping. I'm still scared of messing up, of being called out as not knowing things. I still wonder what it is exactly that I do. I'll still go in to that classroom and be that everything-guy, that actor, that mentor, that parent, that friend, that taskmaster, that resource, that jerk, that ear and whatever else any student needs me to be at any moment, whether s/he knows it or not. This is my task -- no matter how I feel, or whatever is going on in my life, I have to be there for the class. They deserve no less. Sure, there is new technology, but this dinosaur still has to drive the car and mix the metaphor for this nonsense to all make sense.

Over the last twelvemonth, since my last Opening Day, a lot has changed. I'm not the same person and in some ways, I'm sad about that. I suffered a loss and I have done so much that I want to share with my dad. But I have also learned incredible things that I can still share with my students, my family and friends. I have worked on independent projects, I have heard new songs. I have crafted new ideas and worded them in ways which capture more than I thought I could express. I have not gone gentle: I'm a teacher and I'm not allowed to.

So I'm off (way off) to work, to school, to have some fun and maybe, just maybe, motivate others so be better than they are right now. Ask me in June how it worked out.

See you on the other side.