A few weeks ago all three of our sons came home. We were hanging out in the kitchen, which is somehow the room we all tend to hang out in. I didn’t realize this but Deanna pointed out that the three of them and I, four people – pace constantly when we talk. We don’t stand still. From her perspective it looks like a tiny solar system, four planets in constant motion.
I spent a few weeks this summer reading a novel by renowned Israeli author, A. B. Yehoshua, called “The Liberated Bride.”
I’ve read several of his novels. He depicts Israeli society in a complicated way that is specific to Israeli society but also in many respects universal. To an unusual degree, his novels tend to unpack the relationships between Jews and Arabs. The Arabs include Israeli and Palestinian Arabs, Christian and Muslim Arabs.
The main character in “The Liberated Bride” is a Jewish professor at Haifa University who is studying French colonialism in Algeria. He has numerous Arab students, which gives him a port of entry into several Arab communities. He undergoes a tragi-comic journey to uncover a secret about his son’s past. Much of his journey involves the locations and lives of Israeli and Palestinian Arabs.
I can’t possibly do justice to the book in a few sentences. But I want to focus on an ongoing theme that we should all consider.
The professor, Yochanan Rivlin, is often headed to the airport to pick up family members. The detours on the way to the airport are half the story and half the fun.
One of the Arabs, who works at a hotel owned by Jews and gets to know the professor very well, notes that Rivlin’s folks are always flying in and flying out and he remarks to him that the Jews are always coming and going.
This morning I want to reflect on two things. One – how deeply rooted “coming and going” is in Jewish culture. Pacing back and forth, flying in, flying out.
And two – how important it is for us to learn how to land.
So much in our tradition advocates for striving to be somewhere else – geographically and chronologically.
Geographically –our scripture often describes a situation of exile. Banished from the Garden of Eden. Down in Egypt. Wandering in the wilderness.
That leads to a posture of yearning. Wondering when and how can we enter, or re-enter the promised land?
Chronologically we’re never quite where we want to be. We look back at a glorious past and we pray for some Messianic future.
To offset all of the emphasis on being in a better place, at a better time I wonder, is there a Jewish impulse to land. To embrace where you are?
This morning we read an essential passage that encourages us to embrace where we are. ואכלת ושבעת וברכת V’akhalta v’savata uverakhta. You eat something. You’re satisfied with what you eat. And you offer a blessing.
Right there, in the moment.
Elsewhere we’re told צדק צדק תרדוף tzedek tzedek tirdof. Pursue justice. There's no start time attached. The Torah seems to be telling us, start now and don't stop.
A few practical ways that this can work for us.
First. Jewish people in particular have been wandering for centuries – wherever we land, we wonder how long we’ll be there. Even Israelis are wondering how secure their identities are in the land of Israel.
We’ve been in the United States since the 1600’s. Though we can’t predict the future, it’s worth pointing out that our freedoms and influence here in this country are unprecedented. We shouldn’t be shy about expressing ourselves. We shouldn’t treat this country like a temporary layover.
We can and must exert whatever influence we can especially when it comes issues of basic human justice and equality. Are we white? Are we privileged? Yes and no to both questions. But in the end, what really matters is that we recognize our obligations as citizens of the United States. So long as we reside in this great country we have obligations.
We have to land. Here as American Jews. And to act like we’ve landed.
Second. We look around and we see that there are many issues that deserve our attention. Discrimination against people based on race, ethnicity, sexuality and gender.
Sometimes we get so overwhelmed that we just freak out and we never land. We never do anything well. We just remain overwhelmed.
I’m urging us to land. Focus on a cause that is significant to you and land. Some people are reaching out to vulnerable refugees. Some are advocating for children with special needs. I can go on and on. Many people, I’m afraid to say, have not landed. They haven’t identified a cause or two that they support. It’s understandable to dart back and forth, overwhelmed by the breadth and depth of human sufferin. But it’s important that we land in a place or two where we can and will make a difference.
And now a final realm in which we need to learn how to land. I’m directing this toward parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, teachers, anyone who bears some responsibility for the growth and maturation of young people.
When it comes to children, it’s easy to worry about what’s going to happen to them in the future without embracing the blessings and challenges that they offer right now.
I once heard the following concern raised by a parent whose child will soon be leaving for college. The parent is concerned that the child doesn’t believe in God and is moving away from organized religion.
I listened as the parent said, “I’m concerned that my child will not celebrate the Jewish holidays in college and I find myself thinking, will he ever come to a Passover seder again? And will my grandchildren have bar and bat mitzvahs?”
This is not the only parent who has shared these kinds of concerns. What’s completely understandable, but perhaps unfortunate, is the tendency that we all have to jump to the future. Oh – by the way – first we jump to the past – what did I do wrong? Should I have pushed my child more to come to services? Did I push too hard?
And then we often jump to the future and we imagine a hard-nosed atheist living wherever and holding our grandchildren hostage during the Passover seder while eating pepperoni pizza.
Our minds are flying back and forth and we need to train ourselves to land. What can we do to listen to our children now? What can we do to honor their intellectual independence and their moral compass now – after all, it is often their sense of intellectual and moral honesty that is at odds with their understanding of religion. They may see inconsistency and hypocrisy in their tradition that gives them pause. Why not honor their concerns and hear them out?
I actually once, in speaking with my own children, decided – I hope it was a good move – to say, explicitly, I respect the choices that you are making now in terms of your religions commitment and observance. And I hope you recognize that the choices you are making now don’t have to determine the choices that you’ll make for the rest of your lives.
The freak-out factor prevents us from landing in the present with children. In fact, it prevents us from landing with other people who are important to us. Fear of where things will go can derail our ability to honor and engage right now.
So yes – we come and we go. We are overwhelmed by the magnitude of the problems that surround us. We blame the past, we project anxiety into the future.
This is human nature and Jewish tradition, like many other faith traditions, provides ample scriptural and ritual scaffolding for how to transcend the here and the now.
But this great tradition also recognizes that right here and right now also deserve our attention.
Eat. Be grateful. Say a blessing. Now.
Pursue justice. Now. Pick a mitzvah and do it. Now.
The airports are overcrowded. Why not learn how to land and stay put, even for a short while. To act as a responsible citizen. To focus on one or two areas where we can make a difference. To honor the choices and dilemmas of our loved ones. Right now.
Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck on August 12, 2017
I spent a few weeks this summer reading a novel by renowned Israeli author, A. B. Yehoshua, called “The Liberated Bride.”
I’ve read several of his novels. He depicts Israeli society in a complicated way that is specific to Israeli society but also in many respects universal. To an unusual degree, his novels tend to unpack the relationships between Jews and Arabs. The Arabs include Israeli and Palestinian Arabs, Christian and Muslim Arabs.
The main character in “The Liberated Bride” is a Jewish professor at Haifa University who is studying French colonialism in Algeria. He has numerous Arab students, which gives him a port of entry into several Arab communities. He undergoes a tragi-comic journey to uncover a secret about his son’s past. Much of his journey involves the locations and lives of Israeli and Palestinian Arabs.
I can’t possibly do justice to the book in a few sentences. But I want to focus on an ongoing theme that we should all consider.
The professor, Yochanan Rivlin, is often headed to the airport to pick up family members. The detours on the way to the airport are half the story and half the fun.
One of the Arabs, who works at a hotel owned by Jews and gets to know the professor very well, notes that Rivlin’s folks are always flying in and flying out and he remarks to him that the Jews are always coming and going.
This morning I want to reflect on two things. One – how deeply rooted “coming and going” is in Jewish culture. Pacing back and forth, flying in, flying out.
And two – how important it is for us to learn how to land.
So much in our tradition advocates for striving to be somewhere else – geographically and chronologically.
Geographically –our scripture often describes a situation of exile. Banished from the Garden of Eden. Down in Egypt. Wandering in the wilderness.
That leads to a posture of yearning. Wondering when and how can we enter, or re-enter the promised land?
Chronologically we’re never quite where we want to be. We look back at a glorious past and we pray for some Messianic future.
To offset all of the emphasis on being in a better place, at a better time I wonder, is there a Jewish impulse to land. To embrace where you are?
This morning we read an essential passage that encourages us to embrace where we are. ואכלת ושבעת וברכת V’akhalta v’savata uverakhta. You eat something. You’re satisfied with what you eat. And you offer a blessing.
Right there, in the moment.
Elsewhere we’re told צדק צדק תרדוף tzedek tzedek tirdof. Pursue justice. There's no start time attached. The Torah seems to be telling us, start now and don't stop.
A few practical ways that this can work for us.
First. Jewish people in particular have been wandering for centuries – wherever we land, we wonder how long we’ll be there. Even Israelis are wondering how secure their identities are in the land of Israel.
We’ve been in the United States since the 1600’s. Though we can’t predict the future, it’s worth pointing out that our freedoms and influence here in this country are unprecedented. We shouldn’t be shy about expressing ourselves. We shouldn’t treat this country like a temporary layover.
We can and must exert whatever influence we can especially when it comes issues of basic human justice and equality. Are we white? Are we privileged? Yes and no to both questions. But in the end, what really matters is that we recognize our obligations as citizens of the United States. So long as we reside in this great country we have obligations.
We have to land. Here as American Jews. And to act like we’ve landed.
Second. We look around and we see that there are many issues that deserve our attention. Discrimination against people based on race, ethnicity, sexuality and gender.
Sometimes we get so overwhelmed that we just freak out and we never land. We never do anything well. We just remain overwhelmed.
I’m urging us to land. Focus on a cause that is significant to you and land. Some people are reaching out to vulnerable refugees. Some are advocating for children with special needs. I can go on and on. Many people, I’m afraid to say, have not landed. They haven’t identified a cause or two that they support. It’s understandable to dart back and forth, overwhelmed by the breadth and depth of human sufferin. But it’s important that we land in a place or two where we can and will make a difference.
And now a final realm in which we need to learn how to land. I’m directing this toward parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, teachers, anyone who bears some responsibility for the growth and maturation of young people.
When it comes to children, it’s easy to worry about what’s going to happen to them in the future without embracing the blessings and challenges that they offer right now.
I once heard the following concern raised by a parent whose child will soon be leaving for college. The parent is concerned that the child doesn’t believe in God and is moving away from organized religion.
I listened as the parent said, “I’m concerned that my child will not celebrate the Jewish holidays in college and I find myself thinking, will he ever come to a Passover seder again? And will my grandchildren have bar and bat mitzvahs?”
This is not the only parent who has shared these kinds of concerns. What’s completely understandable, but perhaps unfortunate, is the tendency that we all have to jump to the future. Oh – by the way – first we jump to the past – what did I do wrong? Should I have pushed my child more to come to services? Did I push too hard?
And then we often jump to the future and we imagine a hard-nosed atheist living wherever and holding our grandchildren hostage during the Passover seder while eating pepperoni pizza.
Our minds are flying back and forth and we need to train ourselves to land. What can we do to listen to our children now? What can we do to honor their intellectual independence and their moral compass now – after all, it is often their sense of intellectual and moral honesty that is at odds with their understanding of religion. They may see inconsistency and hypocrisy in their tradition that gives them pause. Why not honor their concerns and hear them out?
I actually once, in speaking with my own children, decided – I hope it was a good move – to say, explicitly, I respect the choices that you are making now in terms of your religions commitment and observance. And I hope you recognize that the choices you are making now don’t have to determine the choices that you’ll make for the rest of your lives.
The freak-out factor prevents us from landing in the present with children. In fact, it prevents us from landing with other people who are important to us. Fear of where things will go can derail our ability to honor and engage right now.
So yes – we come and we go. We are overwhelmed by the magnitude of the problems that surround us. We blame the past, we project anxiety into the future.
This is human nature and Jewish tradition, like many other faith traditions, provides ample scriptural and ritual scaffolding for how to transcend the here and the now.
But this great tradition also recognizes that right here and right now also deserve our attention.
Eat. Be grateful. Say a blessing. Now.
Pursue justice. Now. Pick a mitzvah and do it. Now.
The airports are overcrowded. Why not learn how to land and stay put, even for a short while. To act as a responsible citizen. To focus on one or two areas where we can make a difference. To honor the choices and dilemmas of our loved ones. Right now.
Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck on August 12, 2017
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