Rosh Hashanah 2009

Last month, I had the distinct honor of serving as co-officiant for my best friend Mitch’s wedding in Los Angeles. There were three of us who helped conduct the ceremony: Carla and I led the Jewish elements, while the uncle of Mitch’s bride, Lauren, led the Christian parts.

Mitch had been very active in Jewish life through high school and college. He served as President of the Pacific Southwest region of USY, the Conservative Movement’s national youth group, and joined AEPi, the Jewish fraternity, in college. When his relationship with Lauren became serious, he knew that their religious differences presented a challenge. They even broke up for a period of time, but ultimately decided to get back together, and eventually got engaged.

As someone who cares deeply about the Jewish future, it’s a challenge for me when an active and committed Jew marries someone who is not Jewish. I greatly appreciate all of the interfaith couples that are here today, but also recognize that there are many more that are not spending this Saturday in synagogue.

The Jewish future depends on families raising their children Jewish, and I’m not sure if this is something that Mitch and Lauren are committed to. This very fact alone would prevent some Reform Rabbis from helping to officiate Mitch’s wedding.

However, as someone who cares deeply about the Jewish future, I think that not fully embracing a loving union such as Mitch and Lauren’s is the exact wrong approach. Every opportunity to inspire someone—especially someone who is marrying a Jew—with the meaning, purpose and significance of Jewish life is an opportunity not to be wasted. In being asked to help conduct the ceremony, Mitch was giving me the greatest opportunity to bring Jewish significance into his wedding day.

Specifically, my role was to explain the meaning of the breaking of the glass, the final act of the wedding ceremony. This is what I said:

The Kabbalists, the Jewish mystics, tell a story that in order to create the world, God gathered God’s light into a number of vessels. The vessels couldn’t withstand the power of God and shattered into a million pieces, spreading the divine spark into every element of creation. It is our responsibility to see the divine spark in every living thing, and to gather together God's light in the act of repairing the world.

The shattered pieces of this glass, I said to Mitch and Lauren, represent the commencement of a life-long commitment to repair the brokenness of the world and to bring God’s light into your home. Relationships take work, but with sustained effort, love, and a consistent acknowledgment of the divine spark in one another, your life and union will emanate with God’s light.

And with that, the most divine moment of the wedding happened. As Mitch stepped down and shattered the glass, and as family and friends, Jews and non-Jews, shouted Mazel tov, Lauren leapt into Mitch’s arms and gave him biggest, most passionate kiss I have ever seen at any wedding. There was such kedushah—such holiness—in that moment. Nothing else mattered but the divine light of their union.

As I enter the new year, this is the moment that will remind me that regardless of differences, we must embrace love, for only then can we truly see all of creation as b’tzelem elohim, as made in God’s image.

Delivered on Rosh Hashana 2009 (5770)
Rodef Sholom, San Rafael, CA

Rosh Hashana 2008

On Rosh Hashana, we are commanded to acknowledge that we each still have work to do to become the person that we want to be. Much easier said than done. In fact, the Jewish calendar helps us to prepare for this daunting challenge by designating the entire month of Elul, the Jewish month prior to Rosh Hashana, as a time for self-reflection. Recognizing that we missed the mark is really difficult and often hard to admit to ourselves. More than time alone, it takes courage to admit that we have fallen short of our own expectations; so much so that Judaism even recognizing that we may not be able to admit this by ourselves.

The Al Chet prayer, which we will soon recite, is a communal expression of our shortcomings. “For the sin we have committed against you…” we will say. We as a community—as a group of people who share similar values and care for each other in times of sadness and joy, loss and celebration—recognize that we need to help each other to acknowledge where we’ve missed the mark and hold each other accountable to being better in the coming year.

Have you done anything that you felt was not a true reflection of who you are? Have you consistently demonstrated to the people that you care about that they are important to you? Have you cultivated patience, empathy, compassion, and understanding? Have you prioritized that which is important over that which feels urgent?

There were envelopes on the seats when you entered today containing pencils and index cards. In a moment, I will invite you to write down something that you’ve done, or failed to do, that is inauthentic to the person you want to be. How have you been unsuccessful in demonstrating your full capacity as a loving friend, sister, brother, co-worker, parent, or child? For what are you sorry?

However, I invite you to use the word “we” instead of “I”. For example, I’ll share with you something from my own life. At work, I too often think of people in terms of how they are going to be useful or an obstacle in accomplishing what I want and need to get done, instead of thinking about what makes them a unique, special, and holy individual. However, when I write this on my index card, I’ll write down, “At work, we too often think of people in terms of how they are going to be useful…”

If you’ve done something this year that you’re not proud of, we, as a community, share the burden with you. It is now our shortcoming, and we as a community need to support each other to acknowledge, forgive, and try better next time.

There is one more thing I want to share with you and invite you to try. I have to admit that at times, I’m too self-critical. Maybe you feel the same way – that you could be kinder to yourself, judge yourself less harshly, forgive yourself more quickly and completely, and love yourself as much as you aspire to love others. If this rings true, you may also feel—as I sometimes do—that the emphasis of the High Holidays on what I’ve done wrong isn’t always helpful. This religious obligation to analyze how I wasn’t good enough can feel like added pressure.

If you feel this way, I encourage you to write what you’ve been doing well. How have you hit or gotten closer to the mark instead of missed it? How have you successfully cultivated in yourself the ability to live authentically, to love completely, to learn consistently, and most important to leave an enduring legacy? It’s totally kosher to admit, yeah, I was pretty good this year! I’ve made a lot of progress!

Don’t feel like you are only allowed one index card; write as many admissions as you like. If you want your Al Chet to remain private, seal the envelope and it will not be opened. We will collect these index cards, our communal Al Chet’s, and read a selection of them at Yom Kippur, 10 days from now. There’s no need to write your name on the card, just the ways in which you’ve missed or hit the mark. We as a community will admit our shortcomings and also acknowledge our personal successes.

Over the next 10 days, we all have the opportunity to summon the courage, to work to forgive, to make peace with ourselves and others, so that by the conclusion of Yom Kippur we are clean, unobstructed, and free to be the people that we want to be and have a community of people to help us get there.

Delivered on Rosh Hashana 2008 (5769)
Rodef Sholom, San Rafael, CA