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The mission of Congregation Dor Hadash (New Generation) is to inspire exploration
of Jewish spirituality and create a caring Jewish community.

Who is Rich?

On Yom Kippur, we step back from our material lives very dramatically. We desist from work of all kinds. We don’t buy or sell anything. We stop eating and drinking. We abstain from all physical pleasures. We wear white, like the shrouds of death, and gather to pray throughout most of the day. We are seeking atonement, a renewed sense of one-ness with ourselves and with God.

One thing we reflect on is our relationship to the material world. For a moment, we act like we’re out of it, apart from it. Many say we’re practicing to be dead; looking over our values, accomplishments, and failures as though it was all over and now we have to make an accounting. It’s a unique chance to think about how we wish to relate to material success, what part it plays in our lives. In addition, we are told to give money to various causes; we repeat that “teshuvah, tefilah, utsedakah maavrin et roa hagazera" -- whatever God has decreed for us may be lightened by repentence, prayer, and tzedaka, giving away money. Our resistance to this message is an interesting window into ourselves and perhaps our misconceptions.

As we spend this time together, we reflect on ourselves, and also on the wider world around us. What forces beyond our power are shaping our society? What values are seeping into our thinking through various media? How has this affected us and what do we make of it?

There has been some extraordinary corporate crime this last year that has done terrible damage to a lot of vulnerable people, and significantly impacted many others. False accounting that deliberately misled investors has come to light, as well as personal loans made to CEO’s that amount to massive theft. Enron CEO Kenneth Lay took $81.5 million in such loans. Tyco CEO Dennis Koslowski took $135 million. WorldCom CEO Bernard Ebbers took about $408 million, and John Rigas, the Adelphia CEO, and his family took something like $2.3 billion. These are gigantic sums, meant to present a show of wealth that would astonish, not just impress.

Writing in the LA Times, Neal Gabler has suggested that the scale of these raids on company money represents something new that goes to the core of American culture that affect us all. While it may be true that people are no more greedy now than they ever have been, there is a new business mentality that is all about showmanship. He says, “The US economy has shifted from being largely industrial to one that is service oriented and technological. To survive, major companies must be light-footed and sensitive to innovation, which puts a premium on fast-thinking fast-moving business buccaneers.” What they do is engineer what looks like spectacular growth to excite investors, and flaunting their personal wealth is one way to do that. They used what Gabler calls “botox economics”: the idea that a corporate balance sheet must look good rather than actually be good.

He also notes the way wealth has become a road to celebrity status, especially since the 80’s. He notes that in the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, no one knew who the chiefs of industry were and they didn’t particularly want to be known. But then Donald Trump and Lee Iacocca and “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” made it more and more attractive to be a superstar of business success, especially when all the publicity led directly to more investment. Gabler thinks this is a corruption, not just in the rotten souls of some overzealous CEO’s, but deep in the soul of modern American culture. In other words, it rides on all of us thinking having all that wealth is the answer to life. We are a culture that adores stars, even worships them, and considers fame, wealth and celebrity to be the best life has to offer. Many of us feel we are just not as important or accomplished as people who are rich and famous.

The prospect of wealth and fame definitely tempts us away from pursuing the more solid traditional values like justice and kindness. This is not a new problem. In Psalm 116, it says “I shall walk before God in the lands of the living. The rabbis interpret the grammatically incorrect use of the plural word “lands” as referring to something specific, namely marketplaces. The rabbis singled out marketplaces as one location where we particularly need to walk before God.” (R. Rachel Bovitz) People have always had difficulty maintaining their values when the prospect of getting rich is distracting them.

The Baal Shem Tov used to tell this story before the Shofar was blown:

“Once there was a wise king who was also an expert illusionist, who could make fabulous illusions of walls, and turrets, and gates, a whole castle. He gave an order that the people who wanted to be near him should enter through the gates and come to him, but to tempt them away, he gave commands to scatter distracting treasures in front of each gate. Many who started with the intention to come near the king contented themselves instead with some of the treasure, and went home. But then the king’s own beloved son came to be near his father. Undeterred by the temptations, he simply went directly to his father, and lo, there was no castle there at all, and the separation between them was revealed to be just an illusion.”

Lawrence Kushner, who tells this story, explains that material stuff is only a problem if gets in the way of our being close to God.

Now, as I’ve said before, Judaism does not teach that poverty is good. Obviously life is easier and smoother when there is no material lack, and when someone becomes poor just makes the rest of us have to support that one. The problem comes when one expects the material comfort to be enough to give meaning to life. We look around and it appears that if we can be thin enough, rich enough, young enough, extravagant enough then we will be fine. Then we get those things, and they’re pleasant, but they don’t touch the deeper longings we still have.
Strangely, one of the things that can pop these illusions and make life very sweet is the knowledge that life will end. Yom Kippur comes to say, enjoy life but don’t forget it will soon be over. This is not as cheerless as it may sound.

Tuesdays With Morrie is a book about a great teacher, dying slowly of Lou Gehrig’s disease, talking with his student, the author, Mitch Albom. In one interview, he says,

“All this emphasis on youth: I don’t buy it. I know what a misery being young can be, so don’t tell me it’s so great. Who wants to live every day when…people are manipulating you, telling you to buy this perfume and you’ll be beautiful, this pair of jeans and you’ll be sexy, and you believe them…”

Mitch asks him, “Weren’t you ever afraid to grow old?”

He says,

“Mitch, I embrace aging....It’s very simple. As you grow, you learn more…if you stayed at 22, you’d always be as ignorant as you were at 22. Aging is not just decay you know. It’s growth. It’s more than the negative that you are going to die. It’s also the positive that you understand you’re going to die, and that you live a better life because of it. The issue is to accept who you are and revel in that.”

In the beautiful play, When Grace Comes In, by Heather McDonald, the heroine seems to have every "happily ever after" that any American girl dreams of. She is married to a senator, has three lovely children, a nice home, but she is haunted by having left behind her own artistic dreams. Eventually, she finds the courage to walk away from what everyone tells her she is supposed to be happy with to follow her own star. Like a caption to the events in the play, the line keeps drifting by that “She thought she was dying; no-- she REMEMBERED she was dying…” and this becomes a key to changing her whole life.

But this is not a new idea. There is nothing new under the sun. That line comes from Kohelet, the Book of Ecclesiastes, which is read on the holiday of Sukkot that begins this coming Friday, and is in many ways the culminating fall festival.

The main theme of the book is the old King Solomon, assuring the reader, "Believe me, I’ve tried everything, and no material acheivement or pleasure lasts or matters. Chasing money, fame, business success, sensual pleasure, foolishness, or wisdom -- none of if lasts or matters. The wicked, the righteous, the wise, and the foolish all end up dead.”

Doesn’t sound like a very cheery message, does it? I used to see the book of Kohelet as the crabby, depressed ruminations of a bitter old man. It’s a short book, full of famous sayings, like:

“Vanity, vanity, all is vanity” and

“There’s nothing new under the sun.” and

“To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven"

It’s fun to read because you keep coming to phrases you know:

"The sun also rises” and

"The race is not to the swift,” and my favorite,

“There is no end to the buying of books.”

But the message of Kohelet opened up for me when I read the translation by Rabbi Rami Shapiro, published two years ago. Rami is a Reconstructionist rabbi and a longtime practitioner of Buddhist meditation. He recently came to Los Angeles where he directs the Metivta, which is a study center for Jewish spirituality. He sees another message altogether in Kohelet; he sees life advice that guides us away from illusion and toward profound joy. He sees the message as being very much like the basic Buddhist message: nothing in the world is permanent, and you suffer if you try to make it last. Let go of each moment as it passes, don’t cling to anything, and you will be free to see the great beauty and meaning in life and how you can help.

He explains his approach like this(p. 3-4 Wisdom of Solomon):

“If Solomon were living today, he would find the world far more complicated than the ancient world he inhabited, yet no more complex. The complexity of life is generated not by the tools we use but by the illusions we cultivate and live by. And the illusions of our day are no different than the illusions of Solomon’s time -- the illusions of permanence, separateness, and control.

We insist that the world is permanent, and then do all we can to keep ourselves from the truth of its fundamental impermanence.

We insist that each self is not only unique but also separate from every other, and we do all we can to escape from the interdependence of all things.

We insist that life can be controlled, that we can ensure profit for ourselves: financial, moral, spiritual. We then spend our days in the vain effort to control outcomes in our pursuit of wealth, righteousness, salvation.

Underlying all three illusions is the desire for immortality. Wishing to live forever, we create all kinds of schemes to make that desire seem more and more plausible.

Thus Solomon looked at life and cried, “Emptiness!” All our doings are a vain and ultimately fruitless pursuit of immortality and control. All our theories are futile blustering against the fundamental emptiness of separate things. There is no absolute diversity. There is only the relative diversity of the One manifest as all. Seeing the emptiness of separate things allows us to tap the oneness of all things. And it is this AT-ONE-MENT that brings with it the tranquility we so ardently desire.

…Immortality is an illusion. Memory fades. Doing something great, doing something small are equal in the eyes of eternity. What matters is not our legacy but our capacity to enjoy and honor life here and now.

He translates part of the opening verses to Kohelet, “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity…” like this (p.14):

Emptiness! Emptiness upon emptiness!
The world is fleeting of form
Empty of permanence
Without certainty
Like a breath breathed once and gone,
All things rise and fall.
Understand emptiness, and tranquility replaces anxiety
Understand emptiness, and compassion replaces jealousy
Understand emptiness, and you will cease to excuse suffering and begin to alleviate it.

He translates a later verse like this (5:9-11):

“You think that wealth will make you free
But I say this: Freedom is not bought, but seized.
Freedom is not the last step, but the first.
You never have enough money
You never have enough possessions
You become enslaved to owning
And suffocate beneath a mountain of debt and fancy debris.
The more you have, the more you are hounded
The more you have, the more you have to defend
And you will have no time for appreciation and joy.”

He is saying that we should let go of our illusions, and not be sad about the impermanence of everything. This Yom Kippur truth is purifying, sobering, and paradoxically the surest path to peace and developing a compassionate heart that wants to help others.

The alternative is to cling to your material possessions, believe they will save you, and be hounded by the sense of never having enough, no matter what amount you have. This leads to a closed heart, and a callousness to the suffering of others. It may even become a covert belief that suffering and poverty are the victim’s fault or God’s will.

As Rabbi Paul Joseph has said:

It is not a new tactic to blame the victims of injustice and misfortune for their plight:
--the hungry for their malnutrition and starvation
--the homeless for their restless wandering
--the unclothed and barefoot for their neglect of priorities
--the unskilled and uneducated for their ignorance
--those whose human rights and civil liberties have been taken away by force for not having the strength to recover them .

Jews are supposed to understand that wealth is fine if used justly; the meaning of “tzedakah” is justice. There is real poverty, hunger, illiteracy, lack of healthcare, here and all over the world, and we are called upon to do what we can to make a difference.

Today we read the words of Isaiah, "Is this not the fast that I have chosen?..to share your bread with the hungry?” We can deepen the meaning of our Yom Kippur fast by helping to ease the involuntary fast of millions in our country and around the world whose hunger will not end at sundown. For the sixth consecutive year, the Reform, Conservative, and Reconstructionist movements, together with Hillel, speak in a united voice out of our common tradition, to support MAZON: A Jewish Response to Hunger by participating in this High Holy Day appeal called “The Corners of our Fields.” Please take home your MAZON envelope and write a check for at least the amount it would have cost to feed your family today.

The Midrash speaks of the Time of Judgment, when each soul is asked, "What was your occupation?" If a person answers, "I used to feed the hungry," such a person will be told,"‘This is God’s gate, you who fed the hungry may enter." And if a person replies, "I used to give water to the thirsty," that person will be told, "This is God’s gate. You who gave water to the thirsty may enter."

Maimonides tells us there are good and better levels of giving; even the worst motives for giving are better than not giving. Whether you give out of kindness or guilt, the recipient is helped. But from the point of view of the giver, the ideal is to give anonymously and from a sense of the abundance of your blessings. Part of the joy of having a lot is the ability to make a difference. The giving that comes from trying to show off, get approval, to buy love or respect or standing -- this is useless for the giver. The giving that wears you out because you don’t feel appreciated, or that leaves you bitter because you don’t get the recognition you wanted, this will not bring peace to the heart of the giver.

We have a great story about this in the Torah in the children of Adam and Eve. Cain gets the idea for sacrificing to God, and throws together some of his stuff in a basket for God. Then Abel notices, and loves the idea, and goes and brings the very best he has before God, and God prefers Abel’s offering. You know what happens next. The fury this rouses in Cain leads to fratricide. Did God set him up by preferring his baby brother, when in all fairness, the whole thing was Cain’s idea? No. Cain sets himself up by thinking he must out-do his brother, rather than simply thank God for all he has been blessed with. Cain blames his brother for winning a competition he was not even trying to compete in.

We have been renovating our building and appealing to you to contribute to the Mishkan project. We are hoping to having 100% involvement, hoping that everyone will give at least something so we can really say we all did this together. The improvements are really wonderful, while maintaining our generally modest style. But I have noticed a funny backwards thing; whereas some synagogues get arrogant about how fancy and expensive their buildings are, we have tendency to get egotistical about how unpretentious we are, but it’s just the same ego, just the same comparisons being made for the sole purpose of trying to feel better by making others look worse. When we think about giving money or time, constant self assessment and housecleaning is required. For what am I giving? You never finish figuring it out. Each request touches off a series of reactions in us, and we need to balance participating and giving with what we really hope to be getting back.

Our building is great for us, beautiful to us, and that’s all that needs be said. Let’s pay for it with open hearts and be grateful mostly for the people who come together there. We don’t want anyone to give so much that they do themselves harm, or give in a way that asks for more gratitude from the community than others might get. We aren’t telling anyone how much anybody gave.

The same goes for gifts of time. We need more people to step up to committee work and get involved. But as much as no one should feel all the things we provide materialize for their benefit alone and don’t require involvement, likewise no one should feel their religious life is being corroded by how much work they have to do for the synagogue.

One theme of Yom Kippur is that each of us is responsible for the way we make choices. We can embitter or sweeten our lives and those of others, depending on how we treat them and how we hold ourselves. We want to understand that we will die and nothing lasts mostly so we can open our hearts to everyone who is alarmed about this. Bringing peace begins with helping people accept themselves, and forgive their own shortcomings so that they come to see that others are just human, too. We need to give what we know, what we’ve learned, and what we have to others who need those gifts. Seeing the good this does is pure joy, and all the reward we could ask for.

Rami’s translation of Kohelet ends with these words (p.92 Eccl 12:14):

So when all is said and done, remember this:
Open your mind to wonder
Your heart to compassion
And your hand to justice
That you fashion a whole and holy world.

May the holiness of this Yom Kippur lighten and clarify many of the days to come. May we take the things we know in the quiet of a day like this into our daily lives as source of joy, appreciation, and a willingness to help. May we come home to ourselves in this way, and realize our one-ness with everyone and with God. Amen.

p. 76:

“Live joyfully with a lifelong companion
Accept the impermanence of all things
Accept the interdependence of all things
Seek not to escape your fate
But embrace whatever you encounter with
Simplicity, humility, grace, courage, honesty, and humor
Labor and love as best you can
Welcoming success as well as suffering
Heed my words well
There is nothing better than this.

Joseph Krauskoff writes:

A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner; neither do uninterrupted prosperity and success qualify us for usefulness and happiness. Shallow and loose rooted is the tree that has known only sunshine, that has never felt the wrench and shock of the gale. The storms of adversity, like those of the ocean, rouse the faculties -- excite the invention, prudence, skill, and fortitude of the voyager. The martyrs of all times, in bracing their minds to outward calamities, acquired a loftiness of purpose and a moral heroism worht a lifetime of ease and security.

©Rabbi Alexis Roberts
Congregation Dor Hadash 2002



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