Roughly 10 years ago I was sitting at our dining room table, opposite Deanna, working on some project, and the phone rang. It was one of our son’s high school teachers. He said, “Hi Mr. Stecker. It’s Mr. So-and-so, your son’s teacher.” I said, “Hi Mr. So-and-so. So nice to hear from you.”
He said, “I want you to know that your son is a really great guy, Mr. Stecker.” I said, “Thanks, Mr. So-and-so.” He went on, “But the thing is, Mr. Stecker…there are a bunch of assignments that he didn’t hand in. And if he doesn’t get them in, it’s definitely going to affect his final grade. So hopefully you and Mrs. Stecker can talk to him and encourage him. Remember I’m here to help.” We discussed some of the details and then he said, “It’s been great talking to you, Mr. Stecker. I’m so glad that we can partner with each other to ensure the best educational outcomes for your son.”
And I said, “Thanks, Mr. So-and-so. I too am glad that we can partner together.”
I got off the phone. I summarized the conversation to Deanna and I said, “You know, this is frustrating. But let’s look on the bright side. If our son keeps going in this direction, we’ll be able to save a whole lot of college tuition.” And then I said a few more things that of course I shouldn’t have said.
At that point I heard a voice from the kitchen, which is right next to the dining room. “Thanks a lot, Abba.”
It was our son. It seems he had heard what I said. I felt terrible. I walked into the kitchen and apologized. I told him how much I love him, how much I regret what I said, how much faith I have in him. But of course, I couldn’t take back the words.
At that moment I understood something that I want to reflect on this morning for all of us. I understood that I have more power than I realize. We all have more power than we realize. Power to do harm. And also to do good.
At that time in my life, I definitely didn’t feel so powerful. I was entering middle age, frustrated about this and that, wondering what was going to be with our children, wondering if people really listen to what I have to say.
But here was this other human being and he was listening, not just at this moment, but possibly at other times too. We have power – to do harm and to do good – with people we love, and even with people we hardly know.
It’s important for us to understand that we have more power than we realize.
Lately I’ve been hearing people say that they feel powerless. And it’s understandable.
We can’t control so much of what happens to us.
We wonder if people listen to us.
We know that we can’t change so much of the craziness going on in the world. Between natural disasters and human inflicted misery, the world is quite a mess. The waters are rising. Hatred is rising. Nuclear threats are frightening.
At the very beginning of the New Year, I bring us good news and here it is. Our tradition, our people, our Creator – all want us to know that we have more power than we realize. And we can use our power to make things better.
At the end of today’s service we will sing the words היום תאמצינו hayom t’amtzeinu. Today – make us powerful. One way I understand that is, today, help us discover the source of our power.
Truly, where does our power come from? I want to reflect on that.
First of all, our power comes from doing something that we believe is important. It comes from having a sense of purpose.
The Israeli author David Grossman wrote a novel about a boy growing up in Israel whose parents survived the Holocaust.
As a child living in Israel in the 1950’s in a community of many survivors, the boy witnesses how the holocaust has traumatized the people around him. His parents have nightmares. They find it very hard to trust other people. Some of the elders in the community behave in ways that are not fully rational – one woman regularly goes out wandering at night and needs to be brought back home.
The boy wants to understand as much as he can about what happened “Over There.” Slowly, slowly, the adults in the community share their painful stories.
And he starts to write. As he grows up, his writing naturally becomes more sophisticated. He has a deep motivation for sharing the stories of those who have been silenced. He has a sense of purpose and that gives him a productive sort of power.
When we have a sense of purpose, it gives us a foundation.
The philosopher Nietzsche said: If you have a why to live for, you can bear almost any how.
If you have a sense of purpose, you can withstand adversity along the way.
The rabbis have a great word that describes sense of purpose. The word is שליחות sh’lihut, related to the Hebrew word for "send." What were we sent here to do? What’s our mission?
We should ask ourselves, What do we believe we were sent here to do? What do we do each day that gives us a sense of purpose?
Perhaps we find it in our professional work. Perhaps we find it as a volunteer. Perhaps we find it when we help take care of someone. Perhaps a little bit of this and a little bit of that.
When we have a sense of purpose, it gives us a positive kind of power. If we believe that what we’re doing makes a difference in the world, in someone’s life, then we have the guts to do what we need to do. We will cut through the bureaucracy, we will move mountains, to make sure that our child/our patient/our client/our student/our parent/our planet – has what he or she or it needs. Our sense of purpose gives us power.
By extension, power comes from the words we use. Most of us aren’t authors like David Grossman or the boy he described in his novel. So what. Our rabbis teach us, חיים ומוות ביד הלשון. Hayim u'mavet b'yad halashon. Speech can mean the difference between life and death.
“Maybe we’ll save on college tuition,” I said sarcastically 10 years ago. Those were powerful words coming from a father regarding his son and the son heard those words and they were hurtful. We can hurt each other deeply with our words.
When I was in high school I acted in a show and at one point during a performance I messed up. I forgot a line or I was standing in the wrong place – I don’t even remember. But I’ll tell you what I do remember.
After the show was over, with the whole cast gathered around, the director said, looking right at me, “A show is only as good as its weakest link.” That was 35 years ago and I still remember his words. His message was unmistakable. I was the weakest link. His words were powerful. They really hurt.
We have the power to cut people down with our words but we also have the power to raise people up.
When I first got to Temple Israel, a longstanding member of the congregation introduced herself and spoke a bit to me about Rabbi Waxman’s great legacy. She then said, “Some people will say you have big shoes to fill. But I say – you’ll find your own shoes.” She has since passed on. Fourteen years later I well remember her words. They were a beautiful blessing. They truly empowered me.
Let’s not forget how powerful our words are. Because the people we are talking to will remember. They will remember when we brought them down and when we raised them up.
At the beginning of this New Year, we should consider, What are the harsh words that others said to us that we still remember? What are the uplifting words that we still remember?
How can we use the power of our words to lift up the people around us?
As an extension of the power of our purpose and the power of our words, we have the power of our actions.
We can’t tell hurricanes where to make landfall. But we can, as we are doing as a synagogue, raise funds and donate goods to communities that have been devastated by storms and other natural disasters.
We can’t tell illness whom to affect and whom to not affect. But we can support those who are affected by illness. We can visit and love and cook and listen and hug.
Our actions can be quite powerful.
We have the power of our purpose, our words and our actions. And now I want to, I need to, address one more source of power that we must tap into.
Given everything going on, I must talk about the power of our people.
You are probably as worried as I am about the rise in hate crimes we are seeing. Anti-Semitic hate crimes are on the rise. We are also witnessing rising racism, rising homophobia, rising Islamophobia, rising misogyny. This is not surprising. When hatred of one group rises, it usually accompanies hatred of another.
We have the power to fight this. We have the power to fight discriminatory hatred that’s directed against anyone. Our power comes from the eternal message of the Jewish people, which is prominently displayed toward the beginning of the Torah. The message is that all human beings are created in God’s image. And therefore, everyone is deserving of equal love and respect, equal rights and opportunity.
When people are being discriminated against based on race, religion, ethnicity, sexuality and gender, we have the power – because of our history and our message – to advocate for fair and just treatment for everyone.
Jews are perfectly situated to do this. We are vulnerable enough to know the difference and we are powerful enough to make a difference.
You will recall that when the neo-Nazi white supremacists were marching through Charlottesville this summer, they were chanting the same thing over and over again. “Jews will not replace us!” “Jews will not replace us!”
The statement is deeply offensive. It’s also dead wrong. We WILL replace them. We, and our many allies, will replace their vision with our vision. We will replace their vision of America only for people who look a certain way and act a certain way with our vision of America as a place with liberty and justice for all.
We will replace their grotesque worship of uniformity with a genuine celebration of diversity because we acknowledge God as משנה את הבריות meshaneh et habriyot, the Creator who makes one human being different from another while all contain God’s image.
As Jews, as Americans, as human beings, we acknowledge that diversity is part and parcel of the Creator’s plan and it is our glory.
We must continue to find allies who preach acceptance over rejection, love over hate. We must join with them, march with them, pray with them, and advocate together with them for an America that reflects our deep, powerful vision.
We don’t know where the next storm will strike. And we don’t know where the next hate crime will take place. And we don’t know what our health will be tomorrow. And we don’t know what others will hear when we speak to them or about them.
We could mope around feeling utterly powerless.
But that’s not the Jewish way.
Instead we say to God, היום תאמצינו. Hayom t’amtzeinu. Help us today to discover our power.
Help us today to tap into the power of purpose. Help us today to discover the power of our words. Help us today to realize the power of our actions. Help us today to harness the power of our people to ensure dignity and decency for everyone.
We are hardly powerless. Dear God, help us to find our power and to use it for good. Amen.
Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck on Rosh Hashanah 5778
He said, “I want you to know that your son is a really great guy, Mr. Stecker.” I said, “Thanks, Mr. So-and-so.” He went on, “But the thing is, Mr. Stecker…there are a bunch of assignments that he didn’t hand in. And if he doesn’t get them in, it’s definitely going to affect his final grade. So hopefully you and Mrs. Stecker can talk to him and encourage him. Remember I’m here to help.” We discussed some of the details and then he said, “It’s been great talking to you, Mr. Stecker. I’m so glad that we can partner with each other to ensure the best educational outcomes for your son.”
And I said, “Thanks, Mr. So-and-so. I too am glad that we can partner together.”
I got off the phone. I summarized the conversation to Deanna and I said, “You know, this is frustrating. But let’s look on the bright side. If our son keeps going in this direction, we’ll be able to save a whole lot of college tuition.” And then I said a few more things that of course I shouldn’t have said.
At that point I heard a voice from the kitchen, which is right next to the dining room. “Thanks a lot, Abba.”
It was our son. It seems he had heard what I said. I felt terrible. I walked into the kitchen and apologized. I told him how much I love him, how much I regret what I said, how much faith I have in him. But of course, I couldn’t take back the words.
At that moment I understood something that I want to reflect on this morning for all of us. I understood that I have more power than I realize. We all have more power than we realize. Power to do harm. And also to do good.
At that time in my life, I definitely didn’t feel so powerful. I was entering middle age, frustrated about this and that, wondering what was going to be with our children, wondering if people really listen to what I have to say.
But here was this other human being and he was listening, not just at this moment, but possibly at other times too. We have power – to do harm and to do good – with people we love, and even with people we hardly know.
It’s important for us to understand that we have more power than we realize.
Lately I’ve been hearing people say that they feel powerless. And it’s understandable.
We can’t control so much of what happens to us.
We wonder if people listen to us.
We know that we can’t change so much of the craziness going on in the world. Between natural disasters and human inflicted misery, the world is quite a mess. The waters are rising. Hatred is rising. Nuclear threats are frightening.
At the very beginning of the New Year, I bring us good news and here it is. Our tradition, our people, our Creator – all want us to know that we have more power than we realize. And we can use our power to make things better.
At the end of today’s service we will sing the words היום תאמצינו hayom t’amtzeinu. Today – make us powerful. One way I understand that is, today, help us discover the source of our power.
Truly, where does our power come from? I want to reflect on that.
First of all, our power comes from doing something that we believe is important. It comes from having a sense of purpose.
The Israeli author David Grossman wrote a novel about a boy growing up in Israel whose parents survived the Holocaust.
As a child living in Israel in the 1950’s in a community of many survivors, the boy witnesses how the holocaust has traumatized the people around him. His parents have nightmares. They find it very hard to trust other people. Some of the elders in the community behave in ways that are not fully rational – one woman regularly goes out wandering at night and needs to be brought back home.
The boy wants to understand as much as he can about what happened “Over There.” Slowly, slowly, the adults in the community share their painful stories.
And he starts to write. As he grows up, his writing naturally becomes more sophisticated. He has a deep motivation for sharing the stories of those who have been silenced. He has a sense of purpose and that gives him a productive sort of power.
When we have a sense of purpose, it gives us a foundation.
The philosopher Nietzsche said: If you have a why to live for, you can bear almost any how.
If you have a sense of purpose, you can withstand adversity along the way.
The rabbis have a great word that describes sense of purpose. The word is שליחות sh’lihut, related to the Hebrew word for "send." What were we sent here to do? What’s our mission?
We should ask ourselves, What do we believe we were sent here to do? What do we do each day that gives us a sense of purpose?
Perhaps we find it in our professional work. Perhaps we find it as a volunteer. Perhaps we find it when we help take care of someone. Perhaps a little bit of this and a little bit of that.
When we have a sense of purpose, it gives us a positive kind of power. If we believe that what we’re doing makes a difference in the world, in someone’s life, then we have the guts to do what we need to do. We will cut through the bureaucracy, we will move mountains, to make sure that our child/our patient/our client/our student/our parent/our planet – has what he or she or it needs. Our sense of purpose gives us power.
By extension, power comes from the words we use. Most of us aren’t authors like David Grossman or the boy he described in his novel. So what. Our rabbis teach us, חיים ומוות ביד הלשון. Hayim u'mavet b'yad halashon. Speech can mean the difference between life and death.
“Maybe we’ll save on college tuition,” I said sarcastically 10 years ago. Those were powerful words coming from a father regarding his son and the son heard those words and they were hurtful. We can hurt each other deeply with our words.
When I was in high school I acted in a show and at one point during a performance I messed up. I forgot a line or I was standing in the wrong place – I don’t even remember. But I’ll tell you what I do remember.
After the show was over, with the whole cast gathered around, the director said, looking right at me, “A show is only as good as its weakest link.” That was 35 years ago and I still remember his words. His message was unmistakable. I was the weakest link. His words were powerful. They really hurt.
We have the power to cut people down with our words but we also have the power to raise people up.
When I first got to Temple Israel, a longstanding member of the congregation introduced herself and spoke a bit to me about Rabbi Waxman’s great legacy. She then said, “Some people will say you have big shoes to fill. But I say – you’ll find your own shoes.” She has since passed on. Fourteen years later I well remember her words. They were a beautiful blessing. They truly empowered me.
Let’s not forget how powerful our words are. Because the people we are talking to will remember. They will remember when we brought them down and when we raised them up.
At the beginning of this New Year, we should consider, What are the harsh words that others said to us that we still remember? What are the uplifting words that we still remember?
How can we use the power of our words to lift up the people around us?
As an extension of the power of our purpose and the power of our words, we have the power of our actions.
We can’t tell hurricanes where to make landfall. But we can, as we are doing as a synagogue, raise funds and donate goods to communities that have been devastated by storms and other natural disasters.
We can’t tell illness whom to affect and whom to not affect. But we can support those who are affected by illness. We can visit and love and cook and listen and hug.
Our actions can be quite powerful.
We have the power of our purpose, our words and our actions. And now I want to, I need to, address one more source of power that we must tap into.
Given everything going on, I must talk about the power of our people.
You are probably as worried as I am about the rise in hate crimes we are seeing. Anti-Semitic hate crimes are on the rise. We are also witnessing rising racism, rising homophobia, rising Islamophobia, rising misogyny. This is not surprising. When hatred of one group rises, it usually accompanies hatred of another.
We have the power to fight this. We have the power to fight discriminatory hatred that’s directed against anyone. Our power comes from the eternal message of the Jewish people, which is prominently displayed toward the beginning of the Torah. The message is that all human beings are created in God’s image. And therefore, everyone is deserving of equal love and respect, equal rights and opportunity.
When people are being discriminated against based on race, religion, ethnicity, sexuality and gender, we have the power – because of our history and our message – to advocate for fair and just treatment for everyone.
Jews are perfectly situated to do this. We are vulnerable enough to know the difference and we are powerful enough to make a difference.
You will recall that when the neo-Nazi white supremacists were marching through Charlottesville this summer, they were chanting the same thing over and over again. “Jews will not replace us!” “Jews will not replace us!”
The statement is deeply offensive. It’s also dead wrong. We WILL replace them. We, and our many allies, will replace their vision with our vision. We will replace their vision of America only for people who look a certain way and act a certain way with our vision of America as a place with liberty and justice for all.
We will replace their grotesque worship of uniformity with a genuine celebration of diversity because we acknowledge God as משנה את הבריות meshaneh et habriyot, the Creator who makes one human being different from another while all contain God’s image.
As Jews, as Americans, as human beings, we acknowledge that diversity is part and parcel of the Creator’s plan and it is our glory.
We must continue to find allies who preach acceptance over rejection, love over hate. We must join with them, march with them, pray with them, and advocate together with them for an America that reflects our deep, powerful vision.
We don’t know where the next storm will strike. And we don’t know where the next hate crime will take place. And we don’t know what our health will be tomorrow. And we don’t know what others will hear when we speak to them or about them.
We could mope around feeling utterly powerless.
But that’s not the Jewish way.
Instead we say to God, היום תאמצינו. Hayom t’amtzeinu. Help us today to discover our power.
Help us today to tap into the power of purpose. Help us today to discover the power of our words. Help us today to realize the power of our actions. Help us today to harness the power of our people to ensure dignity and decency for everyone.
We are hardly powerless. Dear God, help us to find our power and to use it for good. Amen.
Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck on Rosh Hashanah 5778
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