God Loves Us: A Complex Message We Need to Hear

Deanna and I were in the city recently and stopped in a park where a whole bunch of families were playing soccer together.  At one point, the soccer ball was kicked over to where we were sitting and a little boy, probably no older than five, came over to claim it.  He picked up the ball and smiled at us.  I noticed that his T-shirt had the following words on it:  Jesus Loves Me.

I had a burst of clarity and said to myself, now I have my sermon topic for Yom Kippur.  With one change, as you might imagine.

Truth is, even before I saw the boy I wanted to talk about how God loves us.

But when I shared the idea with a colleague of mine, he said, emphatically “Don’t do it!”  I asked, “Why not?”  He said, “People don’t think about God in that way.  They’re not sure what they believe about God.  They feel abandoned by God.  And it sounds too…Christian."

When I texted my son about the topic, he texted back, “What about 9/11 and the Holocaust?”  Followed by suggestions for how I should give the sermon that concluded, masterfully I must say, with a request for some additional funds.   If God loves us, and I love him, then…

If enough people tell you your tie is on crooked, you look down to check your tie.  So first, I want to acknowledge why this topic is difficult.  But then I want to talk about why it’s so important.

As many people as are sitting here, that’s how many various opinions and shades of opinion there are about God, and how God operates in the world.

Some of us may feel certain that God exists and that God acts decisively in the world and in our lives.  Some of us may have serious doubts about one or both of those statements.  I suspect that most of us, at some point in our lives, regardless of our beliefs, have felt disappointed in God, maybe even angry at God.  I suspect that most of us have felt at some point that in some way, God has let us down, or let down our loved ones, or the Jewish people or humanity at large.

So what does it mean to talk about God’s love for us?  How can we say that God loves us if we have felt so strongly that God has let us down?  Why would we say such a thing?  What does God’s love mean in a world of earthquakes and tornados, Ebola and genocide?

In my experience, our feelings about God are not rational.  They’re not irrational, mind you, they’re just not fully rational.  They are feelings and they come from a deep place that isn’t always logical.

The Holocaust survivor, Elie Wiesel, described the following scene in his autobiography, All Rivers Run to the Sea, which I highly recommend.  After the war, he was sitting with a rabbi whose father came from the same part of Romania where Elie Wiesel grew up.  Elie Wiesel's faith, as he described it, was deeply shaken by his experience of the Shoah. 

And his attitude toward Jewish tradition was deeply shaken.  But sitting across the table from this rabbi, the son of the rabbi he knew as a child, he was thinking how much he wanted a bracha, a blessing, from him.  How much he wanted this rabbi to invoke a power about which he admittedly had mixed and complicated feelings.

Though Elie Weisel’s experiences were unique, I believe we each have similar mixed feelings.  We may hesitate to talk about God because of these mixed feelings, or because it’s too awkward, or who knows what.

But I believe that despite our doubts, despite our disappointments, despite the awkwardness, on some level, in some way, most, perhaps all, of us look toward a higher power for affirmation.  Like Elie Wiesel, we crave the ultimate blessing.

I am sad when I see people who work hard, and who have accomplished a great deal, who feel inadequate in the presence of people who are more financially successful than they are.

Imagine if all of us could say, and mean, the words that we say at this time of year.  Haneshama lach.  Dear God, our soul is yours, your creation.  And therefore we have infinite value, irrespective of what we have acquired materially.

I am sad when I see people, women and men, who aspire to look a certain way, even if it’s not how they naturally are constituted.  Most women are not size 2.  Most men don’t look like Greek statues.

Imagine if all of us could say, and mean, the continuation of the phrase I quoted above – haguf poalach, our body is your handiwork.  Imagine if we could say, and believe, that God loves us as we are. 

Imagine if we could say, and believe, that God loves us even though we are imperfect and that God believes that we have the ability to make positive changes in our lives. 

I’ll tell you something that I occasionally experience.  Sometimes, when I say the words to the prayer sim shalom, I focus on the words that begin b’or panecha, in the light of your presence, God, you give us Torah and love.  On occasion, in some way, I feel the warmth of God’s light and the embrace of God’s love when I say these words.

Now I have read numerous books about doubt in God and belief in God.  I recommend Christopher Hitchins’ God is Not Great, about the downside to belief in God, and I also recommend Karen Armstrong’s The Case For God, giving a comprehensive overview of arguments and approaches in favor of the existence of God.

And I have personally felt disappointment and anger toward God for a variety of reasons regarding my own life and certainly regarding what I have seen in our congregation and beyond.

And I cannot explain rationally why the words b’or panecha, in the light of Your presence, especially when recited as the light shines in through the windows in our sanctuary, make me feel embraced and affirmed, but they do.  Not always, but sometimes, they really do.

And possibly, you have also had such moments when you have felt embraced and affirmed.  You may associate them with God, or with the love of other people, or a little of both.  

Why shouldn’t we all get to wear some version of that t-shirt that the little boy was wearing in the park?  We can decide what words to put on it, but the concept is the same.  It’s above feeling loved, embraced, affirmed.

There are so many today who invoke God’s anger and hatred.  Several years ago, I’m sure you remember, our community was paid a visit by members of the Westboro Baptist church.  They came into town holding signs that contain the phrase “God hates.”  One read “God hates gays,” though using a more pejorative word.  And another read “God hates Jews.”  It seems that hate is quite flexible. 

I wrote an article for our bulletin at the time in which I said, for every sign that says “God hates” we have to hold up 100 signs that say “God loves.”  Ki L’olam hasdo.  God’s love lasts forever.  God’s love sustains the world.

Now I can’t prove my statement scientifically any more than the haters can, but which world would you rather live in?  One in which we model our behavior on God’s vengeance or one in which we model our behavior on God’s love? 

Today we are witnessing the intensification of militant Islam, the attempt of extremist groups like ISIS to reestablish caliphates that ruled centuries ago.  Their enemies include Shia Muslims, Yazidis, Christians and Jews.  Hate, as we know, can be quite flexible.

They are actively murdering as many of their enemies as they can, including non-combatants like journalists, women and children.  Hopefully, the coalition against them will grow in size and strength.  Some hate needs to be fought with power.

If we feel demeaned, we are likely to want to demean.  If we feel destroyed, we are likely to want to destroy.  On the other hand, if we feel affirmed, we are likely to want to affirm.  If we feel embraced by God, or by one another, or both, we are likely to want to embrace.

A colleague of mine, Rabbi David Greenspoon, shared an insight into an African tribe that has a particular ritual that they enact.  When someone commits a sin, the person is surrounded by the members of the tribe.  The person sits in the middle, as members of the tribe, one at a time, come forward to tell the person, in front of everyone else, all the good things that he or she did so far during his or her lifetime.  Again and again, the person hears about all of the positive words, actions and energy that he or she contributed.  This can go on for hours and hours.  When it’s over, the circle is broken, a joyous celebration takes place, and the person is fully welcomed back, literally and symbolically.

What a remarkable ritual.  Think about the underlying emotional and psychological dynamics involved.

In general, we don’t quite do that.  In fact, sometimes we emphasize the negative.  But we should do that, more than we do.  And actually, on this day of Yom Kippur, we do something similar.

On this day, we confess our sins together.  We take responsibility for one another.  On this day, we acknowledge that our bodies and our souls are the creation of a loving God.  We are invited to feel affirmed and loved by our creator, and to offer our own affirmation and love to one another as we ask for and offer forgiveness.  On this day, we acknowledge that God loves us even though we are imperfect and we are encouraged to love one another, warts and all.

My friend who cautioned me about this topic said, it’s one thing to say “Ahava rabba ahavtanu” in Hebrew, but it doesn’t work in English.  Don’t translate it, he told me.  With tremendous respect for him and his insight, I’ll take my chances.  

Ahava rabba ahavtanu: 

God, you love us deeply.  However we look, however much or little we possess, though we may often wonder about you, though we may doubt you, though we may be disappointed and angry with you, you love us.  And that love is non-negotiable, part and parcel of our reflection of your image. 

We deserve your love.  And so do the people around us.  We can and must love one another as a reflection of your love.  May your love become contagious through us, shedding light on every one of your creations.

Why should the little boy in the park have all the fun?  Especially considering that we had the idea of God’s love long before Christianity and Islam emerged on the world stage.  T-shirts for everyone, I say.  God loves us. 

Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck on Kol Nidre 5775