Rabbi Sirkman’s Sermon for Kol Nidre, 5785/2024

I begin with the disclaimer which is likewise a guarantee: 

This is NOT a sermon proposing solutions to the great global problems we face.  You will not walk away with insight on how to reduce your carbon footprint or diminish the political divides and societal conflicts that persist. Its life lesson is more local, less grand, more immediate. In a way, much more important. For if every human life, as Talmudic trigonometry teaches, is worth the world entire, if this annual exercise in refocusing our life-perspective is to widen the lens on our worldview, then tonight you might just realize the essential role you play, through the art of sacred seeing, that can renew the hope at the heart of our lives.

Twentieth century Irish playwright and contentious social-critic, George Bernard Shaw once wrote: “The worst sin towards our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them.  That is the essence of inhumanity.” For most all of us this New Year, the forgiveness we seek is not due to any pre-meditated wrongs for which the damage is irreversible, but rather the offense of which most all of us are guilty: the sin of indifference. We go about our days caught in our own concerns, connected through social media and thereby largely disconnected from the lives of the people closest to us. We assess the daily data, contend with current trends, check the markets, read the latest on our news feed, and think we are totally in the know. Yet we remain blind to the very purpose of our being.

It was at the start of my second-grade year in Walnut Square school that I got eyeglasses. Complaining to my mother that I couldn’t see the blackboard, I remember her taking me to the go-to Haverhill optometrist, Dr. Harold Cohen. A kind, fatherly figure with a wicked NY accent, his initial examination made a lasting impression.  As I peered through the phoropter, the instrument fitted with all the various lenses, Dr Cohen repeatedly asked me to judge:  “OK Jeffrey, this one or that one?”  At one point, I was stuck, so Dr Cohen went back and forth again, asking: “OK, this one or this?  Which one helps you see more clearly?”  “Oh, this one!” To which Dr. Cohen cleverly responded:  “Good, because how well you see is up to you. I’m just the eye doctor!”

Judaism is nothing if not an eye exam of eternal proportions, One which we take daily and cannot pass simply with our eyes. It compels us to see beyond the surface. It asks us to set aside assumptions that lead us to prejudging, to get out of our own ego-centric way and open ourselves up to the people who inhabit our world, and just might fill our hearts. It challenges us to see them by trying to truly know them,  even when we think we already do. It demands our generous presence. It implies that by being there not with a ready-made answer but appreciative of another’s question, even if it’s hard to hear, we might perceive something new.

YES, Judaism is a daily eye exam for which glasses don’t much help. For somehow, our sincerely seeing others can make life brighter, more blessed, not alone for them, but for us as well.

Now for all of you who’s inner voice is saying: “OK rabbi, whatever. I see just fine.” Let me explain why Dr. Cohen and your rabbi would agree: when it comes to sacred seeing, we all need a new life-prescription! 

David Brooks, in his new book How to Know a Person, Lays out an aspirational approach to human interaction which all comes down to how well we see.

There is one skill that lies at the heart of any healthy person, family, community or society: the ability to see someone else deeply and make them feel seen.  To accurately know another, to help them feel valued, heard and understood. That is the heart of being a good person, the ultimate gift you can give to others and to yourself.
[Brooks, pg. 9]

But when it comes to [the art of] seeing/being seen, for most of us, it’s a whole lot easier to hide, to look but not really see…

How many people will we pass during these HH Days and ask: How are you?  And how many will respond with the perfunctory: I’m fine,” keeping the tsoris inside. An ancient ritual, reminding us of the potential power of this moment of meeting paints the picture.  When hundreds of thousands would gather on holy days to ascend the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, the crowd would enter en masse, everyone turning to the right and continuing counter-clockwise toward the left. That is, all expect for someone who was burdened, suffering, hurting, as the Talmud relates: That person to whom something had happened entered to the left, walking clockwise.  And every person who passed would stop, and ask: “Mah Lach” —What happened?  And as they explained, the other was obliged to listen and respond: “May you be held in the embrace of this community.”

Rabbi Sharon Brous steps inside this rite of meeting, helping us see ourselves.

Two thousand years ago, the rabbis constructed a system built on a profound psychological truth: when your loved one hovers between life & death, when you feel hemmed in by life’s darkness, when all you want to do is self-isolate because who’d understand you anyway, you show up, rooting your suffering in the context of care.
[The Amen Effect, Brous, pg. 4]

After all, what are we doing here?  Yes, as every year, our gathering beseeches God’s presence through prayer that we may be inscribed in the Book of Life. Yet, it seems to me that God is likewise seeking our presence, that we might bring life by showing up for one another. For though we are sitting in rows, in reality, we are all part of a Sacred Circle that frames our daily life-purpose, as Rabbi Brous affirms:

This ancient pilgrimage ritual has been my constant companion, Shaping my ever-growing understanding of the power of community.  It has taught me the transformative nature of showing up when we want to retreat, of listening deeply to each other’s pain even when we feel there are no words, of grieving and rejoicing together, recognizing that even though we can’t heal each other, we can and we must see each other.
[The Amen Effect, Brous, pg. 6]

Here’s what they don’t teach you in rabbinic school, because they can’t: how well you see and, thus, can be there for others will determine who you are. And since this foundational life-skill is not in any way restricted to clergy, I ask that you try on this tri-focal prescription for the sacred art of seeing one that might reframe your life path, how you see others, how you see yourself, and thus perceive your place in our world.

LIFE-LENS #1: See No Stranger

I’m nearsighted, which means nearby objects appear more clear than distant ones. Ophthalmologically speaking, that is a vision problem.

But for seeing this world through a sacred lens, it’s a bonus! Jonny Billet could easily have been invisible.  For many in town, I’m sure he was! Sitting in Starbucks, or more often, Sunshine across the street, nursing his extra-large iced tea, bushy hair, a bit unkempt, scribbling away in his notebook. Some would size him up and just write him off as unworthy of interaction, in a world all his own, strange, if not simply a stranger.

But for we who cannot help but see, Jonny was a local celebrity, a cross between an in-house café-counselor & a resident-poet.

Since he wandered into temple over 20 years ago to see me one summer afternoon, sharing his paranoia about outwardly expressing his Judaism and his perceptive social insights, I understood two things:

1. Jon had long struggled with his own mental health
2. Jon’s open heart made him a beautiful soul.

Beyond his phone calls and many a poem I’d receive regularly in the mail, one not long after Susan’s death which brought me to tears, I mostly saw Jonny when I went in to get my morning coffee at Sunshine. Sometimes talking to a teen or 20-something, listening and offering his life-wisdom…sometimes busy writing…but always greeting me with a warm word, being there by being himself.

So, when I got a call from his sister, a woman I’d never met, this past March, “Rabbi, thank God, I found you!”  Explaining that Jonny had spoken over the years about “his rabbi” to whom he was close, and a temple he loved, as she said:

“I didn’t know where he belonged.” My response, even though he officially didn’t, “Jonny belonged right here.”

“Oh great, so you’ll do his funeral?”

Officiating at Jonny’s memorial service a few days later, I discovered how many local shop owners were touched by Jonny’s unassuming spirit. Because he viewed every encounter as a chance to share his care, some unsolicited kindness, Jon knew what it meant to be seen. I concluded his funeral service by citing a poem he, himself, had penned, entitled, “To God.”

God never sends a letter without a return address…
A letter we can only answer with heart. So, see me in someone else,
Find me in love.

Just 70, driven by inner angst and the search for some life-sweetness, Jonny inhabited a world without a single stranger, one where no soul could remain unseen…

LIFE-LENS #2: Ask, Don’t Tell

That Sacred Circle question actually comes from our HH Day Torah texts. After Abraham cast out Sarah’s Egyptian handmaid, Hagar, along with her son, driven by Sarah’s jealousy into the wilderness, the picture appears bleak. With no provisions left, hopeless, Hagar leaves her baby under a bush, stumbling away just far enough so she wouldn’t hear Yishmael’s cries. Collapsing in her own well of tears, overcome with despair, Hagar’s cry reaches On High, as an angel calls out with the question: “Ma Lach Hagar” —Hagar, What’s the matter? [Genesis 21:17]

And as she answers, her hope is reborn.  Reassuring her she is not alone, as Torah then tells us: “God opened her eyes and she saw…a well nearby.”

What saved Hagar was that question, and the response that helped her realize her struggle was not alone hers to bear. If, as poet Marge Piercy understands, “Attention is love,”  then I believe David Brooks is right: “Questioning another about their life struggle is a moral practice.” [Brooks, pgs. 87, 92-93]

Wherever life takes us, we are walking that sacred circle…

And how we respond means the world…

Another comes towards us from a different life-direction, unable to look away, we ask: “Mah Lach” —What happened? They look up, no longer averting their gaze. We can see it on their face, and as they begin to share…

The diagnosis came out of left field…

I had no idea how depressed she was…

They were so upset they could hardly speak…

Immediately, as they speak, our minds start racing: “Oh, I’ve been through this. I know just what you are feeling.” [Actually, you don’t.] As they go on, you keep thinking, “I know how to solve this problem…” [Truth is, you probably won’t…] They open their hearts and share the hurt, and feeling helpless, you ask yourself: “What am I supposed to do? Just sit there and listen?… [Exactly.]

For as you open yourself to another person’s pain which cannot be simply taken away… As you sit with them in their struggles, helping them know they’re not alone, as you enable them to know they are seen/heard, heart to heart, you become that angel, just being there, empowering them to see the life-sustaining possibility that a well of hope might be right nearby.

LIFE-LENS #3: Broken, but Blessed—Heartache & Happiness all in One

Sophie & Ty were married July 27^th on this very spot. It was an amazing blessing for me to be both the father-of-the-bride and the officiating rabbi, affirming the love of their already 13-year relationship. It was truly a magical moment. The last time I stood on this bimah to officiate a family wedding was for Gabe & Chelsea, ten years before.

Speaking a decade ago to my son & daughter-in-law under their chuppah, I could not make it through my prepared message, overcome with the emotion of that moment, with my wife Susan’s cancer in its final stages.

Choking up as I spoke to Gabe & Chels, I felt a hand on my back, my wife suddenly appeared behind me, as always, holding me up… She was there to witness the blessing of a now flourishing family, and left us broken when she passed away just four months later.

Fast-forward to July 27^th [the day before what would have been Susan’s 65^th]. Speaking to Soph & Ty about the beauty of their bond, I was fine, until, describing their love, I referenced my own, suggesting what Susan might say.

I know, having lived it since I was a kid with the most beautiful girl in the world.  So channeling Mommy, Muffin, I know she’d say: ‘Sophie Alice & Tyler John, the two of you are soulmates, which means that you carry a piece of each other’s puzzle inside.’

Unable to get the words out, choking up…I suddenly felt a hand on my back, this time, my daughter’s, channeling the strength of spirit she’d inherited, affirming a life-presence that somehow never left.

“The most human thing we can do,” Sharon Brous relates, “is to build a spiritual consciousness that can hold both heartache and happiness, because, if we’re paying attention, every moment is pregnant with both.” [Amen, pg. 94]

If we are far-sighted enough, if we can see life with that wide-angle lens, we will understand, blessed as we might be, we are likewise just a bit broken.

Simcha and sadness, love and loss are entwined. Often present at one & the same moment. WHAT is the cue at a Jewish wedding to shout Mazel Tov? The Breaking of the glass.  And at such a joy-filled moment, what could such a ritual represent? That there is no joy without sorrow. That every loss contains a seed of new life. That even in life’s brokenness, the light might yet shine through…

Now I’m no ophthalmologist, but when it comes to an outlook that could renew our life-vision, I do have a preferred prescription. And it underscores the far-sighted realization at the heart of our faith: All of life is that Sacred Circle, an eternal eye-exam we take every day. We are all on the pilgrimage, paths intersecting, lives interconnecting. And how we respond along life’s path to each other’s journeys, how fully we are present, not alone frames our life-purpose, but just might make God’s presence real.

Rabbi Sharon Brous calls it, in the title of her book: The Amen Effect… AMEN, from Emunah—faith, an affirmation of WITH-ness, a pledge of cosmic connection, as if to say, “I’m with you, I see you!” [Brous, pgs. 19-20]

Pointing to the human relationship, and the holy responsibility we share, of listening deeply and supporting unceasingly, the transformative power of showing up, as Rabbi Brous puts it: “Presence is not an option; it is a moral and spiritual obligation.”

Here at LT, we might call it Covenant. This temple year, AMEN will be our covenantal prism: aspiring to live a life of purpose by being truly present. And by the time Rabbi Brous speaks at LT on 12/4, my hope is that hundreds of you will not only have read the book, and processed it in one of our LT Book groups, a number of which will be one-offs led by clergy, but will be putting The Amen Effect into practice.

…Seeing each other in our sorrow as in our celebration, truly linking our lives and so, allowing no one to remain invisible, and thus saying…AMEN

…Seeing one another in our vulnerability, and by expanding our hearts,

Extending our hands in mutual care and saying…AMEN

…Seeing each other “not despite our broken hearts 

but because our hearts are broken too,” and so affirming…AMEN

…Seeing each other as part of a transcendent narrative, a weaving of life-stories through which all of us are intimately connected, and so saying…AMEN

The tale is told by Rabbi Moshe Leib of Sassov: I learned from two peasants, sitting and drinking in a tavern the true meaning of love… With a full bottle on the table, they toasted everything… “To your daughters…To your wife…”To your cows!” After a few rounds, one raised a glass and said, “To our love!” The other asked, “Tell me, my friend, do you love me?” The other quickly replied, “Of course I love you.” “Then,” his friend asked, “So, tell me, what brings me greatest pain?” Wanting simply to toast life, to keep on drinking, the other responded “How should I know?” To which his friend, putting down his glass, disappointedly explained:  “If you don’t know what brings me pain, what really breaks my heart, how can you say you love me?”

May the compassion we give & the support we receive help us to be fully present, to really show up, truly seeing one another on this sacred circle of life, thereby… connecting us through a care so sincere, a love so present, so purposeful that witnessing the heart and hope we all share, day in & day out of this New Year, The Holy One will have no choice but respond: AMEN