Yom Kippur is far away but I’ll start with a confession. I didn’t see the eclipse. I didn’t get the glasses in time, I didn’t think of some clever workaround like looking at the sun’s refraction through a colander.
I already have plans for 2024 though. Apparently the path of totality will include Burlington, VT, and assuming my son is still living there and toiling in the vineyard of the Lord – literally – I’m going to crash at his place and preorder the glasses.
The eclipse is a spectacular thing. Along with being spectacular it’s also frightening. Don’t look up! We were told. It will do permanent damage to the eye! Most people took those warnings seriously.
We are a few weeks away from Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur and I want to talk a bit about fear – healthy fear as well as unhealthy fear, as they often get mixed up.
Fear is powerful. Often it’s healthy. We can all come up with examples of healthy fear, starting with the fear that urges you to protect your eyes from the sun and all of the metaphorical implications of that. But often it’s not healthy. And today I want to reflect on one specific unhealthy manifestation of fear and how we fight it.
Fear is unhealthy when it causes us to erect unnecessary boundaries between people.
On Wednesday night, Deanna and I attended an interfaith gathering in New York. Speakers included rabbis, ministers and imams. At one point we were asked to introduce ourselves to someone we didn’t know and to talk about what brought us there. I ended up speaking with a Jewish educator at a Manhattan synagogue. Deanna spoke with a young man who immigrated from Colombia 10 years ago and is teaching music. The gathering was religiously, racially and ethnically diverse.
Continuing in the spirit of confession, I’ll tell you that I turned to Deanna at one point, during one of the speeches, and asked her if anyone at the front had checked her bag. And she said no. There was security, but it seems that they weren’t checking bags. And I was a little bit afraid. Such a gathering conceivably could be a target for someone hateful and violent.
Checking bags might have helped but there are no guarantees. Fear is real, it may often be quite legitimate, it doesn’t go away.
The question is – does it paralyze us? Does it make it nearly impossible for us to trust one another? Does it prevent us from doing good work, like ensuring that this country is truly a place with liberty and justice for all?
There were many moving statements shared by the clergy present but the most memorable for me was the address by the Rev. Brian Ellis-Gibbs. He’s the pastor of Queens Baptist Church in Queens Village. His remarks were amazing and I don’t usually use that word.
He began by identifying himself as an African American who sometimes feels like an African exile in America. He identified the reality of the hatred that consumes our nation but then he turned his attention to the power of love.
Love, he put forth, is the natural human state. He said the following:
“When we love, life is preserved. When we love, needs are met. When we love, families are restored. When we love, we construct community. When we love, we help each other heal from our hurt. When we love, we resolve conflict. When we love, we end wars. When we love, we share resources. When we love, the trajectory of racism is reversed. When we love, we disarm hatred.
“When we love, we eradicate white supremacy. When we love, we destroy anti-Semitism. When we love, we decimate Islamaphobia. When we love, we exterminate xenophobia. When we love, we obliterate homophobia. When we love, we see each other and no one is invisible.
“When we love we strive towards acceptance and embracing each other; transform the world; kingdom of God becomes real; when we love, God is revealed.
A love that leads to hard conversations. A love that engages us in our deepest pain. A love that pushes. A love that sacrifices. A love that is vulnerable. A love that is transparent. A love that brings us together. A love that corrects, consoles and comforts.”
One more confession. I want to join his congregation. Or at least get on the mailing list.
Pastor Ellis-Gibbs was contrasting love and hate, legitimately so. But we understand, when we look deeply, that the root of so much hatred is fear. This may explain why so many of the words that express an antipathy toward specific groups end in phobia.
Fear builds walls, fear alienates and isolates, fear rationalizes horrible statements and actions.
Obviously certain fear is legitimate. We shouldn’t reach out and hug those who want to destroy us. We need to protect ourselves. We need to fight back. Fear of anti-Semites, fear of racists, fear of terrorists is understandable and it should lead us to self-preservation and preservation of other potential targets.
But we shouldn’t assume that everyone who is different from us, everyone who looks a certain way, hates us and wants to destroy us. The art of living, and living is an art – involves taking risks to remove boundaries that separate us from other people when we aren’t sure of their intentions.
As we inch closer to the New Year, I want to share once again one of my favorite inspirational passages from our tradition. It was written by the philosopher, Maimonides, who said ideally we should worship God out of love, not fear (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, “Laws of Repentance”)
It’s understandable, Maimonides writes, to observe, to commit, because we’re afraid of the consequences if we don’t. But it’s far better to observe, to commit, to create the world that God calls upon us to create, because of our love for God, because we are lovesick, because we want to do whatever we can to ensure the creation of a good world that our divine lover calls upon us to co-create.
Fear is natural – it creates boundaries. Often it appropriately protects, but sometimes it over-protects. Love is natural too. It transcends boundaries. It urges us to take risks. It can leave us vulnerable.
When we start a conversation with someone we don’t know, or deepen a conversation with someone we do know, we are vulnerable. When we march or gather with people who look and sound different, we are vulnerable.
When we bring a child into the world we are vulnerable.
When we leave the house we are vulnerable.
Our deepest, most human, need – to give and receive love – makes us vulnerable. But it also makes life worth living.
As they prepared to enter a new land, Israelites were asked again and again to embrace love. ואהבת את ה׳ אלהיך v'ahvta et adonai elohekha – to love God. ואהבתם את הגר v'ahavtem et hager – to love the stranger.
As we prepare in these next weeks to enter a new year, I ask us to consider, in ways large and small, with people we know well and people we are getting to know, what it might look like for us to lead with love, rather than fear.
The risk is great. But think about the potential rewards.
Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck on August 26, 2017
I already have plans for 2024 though. Apparently the path of totality will include Burlington, VT, and assuming my son is still living there and toiling in the vineyard of the Lord – literally – I’m going to crash at his place and preorder the glasses.
The eclipse is a spectacular thing. Along with being spectacular it’s also frightening. Don’t look up! We were told. It will do permanent damage to the eye! Most people took those warnings seriously.
We are a few weeks away from Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur and I want to talk a bit about fear – healthy fear as well as unhealthy fear, as they often get mixed up.
The Rev. Brian Ellis-Gibbs
Fear is unhealthy when it causes us to erect unnecessary boundaries between people.
On Wednesday night, Deanna and I attended an interfaith gathering in New York. Speakers included rabbis, ministers and imams. At one point we were asked to introduce ourselves to someone we didn’t know and to talk about what brought us there. I ended up speaking with a Jewish educator at a Manhattan synagogue. Deanna spoke with a young man who immigrated from Colombia 10 years ago and is teaching music. The gathering was religiously, racially and ethnically diverse.
Continuing in the spirit of confession, I’ll tell you that I turned to Deanna at one point, during one of the speeches, and asked her if anyone at the front had checked her bag. And she said no. There was security, but it seems that they weren’t checking bags. And I was a little bit afraid. Such a gathering conceivably could be a target for someone hateful and violent.
Checking bags might have helped but there are no guarantees. Fear is real, it may often be quite legitimate, it doesn’t go away.
The question is – does it paralyze us? Does it make it nearly impossible for us to trust one another? Does it prevent us from doing good work, like ensuring that this country is truly a place with liberty and justice for all?
There were many moving statements shared by the clergy present but the most memorable for me was the address by the Rev. Brian Ellis-Gibbs. He’s the pastor of Queens Baptist Church in Queens Village. His remarks were amazing and I don’t usually use that word.
He began by identifying himself as an African American who sometimes feels like an African exile in America. He identified the reality of the hatred that consumes our nation but then he turned his attention to the power of love.
Love, he put forth, is the natural human state. He said the following:
“When we love, life is preserved. When we love, needs are met. When we love, families are restored. When we love, we construct community. When we love, we help each other heal from our hurt. When we love, we resolve conflict. When we love, we end wars. When we love, we share resources. When we love, the trajectory of racism is reversed. When we love, we disarm hatred.
“When we love, we eradicate white supremacy. When we love, we destroy anti-Semitism. When we love, we decimate Islamaphobia. When we love, we exterminate xenophobia. When we love, we obliterate homophobia. When we love, we see each other and no one is invisible.
“When we love we strive towards acceptance and embracing each other; transform the world; kingdom of God becomes real; when we love, God is revealed.
A love that leads to hard conversations. A love that engages us in our deepest pain. A love that pushes. A love that sacrifices. A love that is vulnerable. A love that is transparent. A love that brings us together. A love that corrects, consoles and comforts.”
One more confession. I want to join his congregation. Or at least get on the mailing list.
Pastor Ellis-Gibbs was contrasting love and hate, legitimately so. But we understand, when we look deeply, that the root of so much hatred is fear. This may explain why so many of the words that express an antipathy toward specific groups end in phobia.
Fear builds walls, fear alienates and isolates, fear rationalizes horrible statements and actions.
Obviously certain fear is legitimate. We shouldn’t reach out and hug those who want to destroy us. We need to protect ourselves. We need to fight back. Fear of anti-Semites, fear of racists, fear of terrorists is understandable and it should lead us to self-preservation and preservation of other potential targets.
But we shouldn’t assume that everyone who is different from us, everyone who looks a certain way, hates us and wants to destroy us. The art of living, and living is an art – involves taking risks to remove boundaries that separate us from other people when we aren’t sure of their intentions.
As we inch closer to the New Year, I want to share once again one of my favorite inspirational passages from our tradition. It was written by the philosopher, Maimonides, who said ideally we should worship God out of love, not fear (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, “Laws of Repentance”)
It’s understandable, Maimonides writes, to observe, to commit, because we’re afraid of the consequences if we don’t. But it’s far better to observe, to commit, to create the world that God calls upon us to create, because of our love for God, because we are lovesick, because we want to do whatever we can to ensure the creation of a good world that our divine lover calls upon us to co-create.
Fear is natural – it creates boundaries. Often it appropriately protects, but sometimes it over-protects. Love is natural too. It transcends boundaries. It urges us to take risks. It can leave us vulnerable.
When we start a conversation with someone we don’t know, or deepen a conversation with someone we do know, we are vulnerable. When we march or gather with people who look and sound different, we are vulnerable.
When we bring a child into the world we are vulnerable.
When we leave the house we are vulnerable.
Our deepest, most human, need – to give and receive love – makes us vulnerable. But it also makes life worth living.
As they prepared to enter a new land, Israelites were asked again and again to embrace love. ואהבת את ה׳ אלהיך v'ahvta et adonai elohekha – to love God. ואהבתם את הגר v'ahavtem et hager – to love the stranger.
As we prepare in these next weeks to enter a new year, I ask us to consider, in ways large and small, with people we know well and people we are getting to know, what it might look like for us to lead with love, rather than fear.
The risk is great. But think about the potential rewards.
Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck on August 26, 2017
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