TO LOVE – ROSH HASHANAH – 2017/5778

Shannah tovah! A good new year.

Here’s my basic New Year’s message for you today: GOD LOVES YOU!

Really!  I mean it: God loves you.

Now, I imagine it sounds odd to hear a rabbi say, “God loves you.”

Does it make you wonder: “Who does she think she is, Rabbi Billy Graham?

Because for a lot of us, the phrase “God loves you” conjures up images of tent revival meetings and charismatic Christian preachers with broad Southern accents.  And well, that’s not exactly me.

But I’m gonna let you in on a little secret: With all due respect to our Christian friends and neighbors, we Jews were saying, “God loves you” long before Christianity was even a thing. In fact, “God Loves You” is the beating heart of a Jewish spiritual life.

And that, by the way, is one reason love is the central pillar in our new tagline, which you may have seen on the large poster at the back of the sanctuary.   Temple B’nai Abraham: To Learn, To Love, To Life!  

That’s us. Love is literally at the center of who we are.

We’ll talk about the two surrounding pillars - to learn and to life – on Yom Kippur – though really the three are all deeply connected.  On this New Year’s day, after such a challenging year for our country and our world – from horrific hurricanes, earthquakes and famines to increased bigotry, threats and acts of violence – we need more love, and so, let us reflect on love and lovingkindness ahavah, v’chesed.

Let’s start by opening our prayer books to page 77 and taking a look at the Shema.

Because Jews love the Shema! We love to begin with it, and to end with it, and to put it in the middle somewhere. It’s traditionally the first prayer we teach to children, and the last words in the mouth of a Jew who is dying – and at the center of every traditional morning and evening service.

 The Shema is a declaration of God’s unity – a unity that fills all and is beyond all.  Whenever we say Shema Yisrael – Listen, Israel! – we are speaking to B’nai Yisrael, the children of Israel.  We are calling upon ourselves and each other: “Listen Israel! God is One!” The One that gives us life, that flows through all and – as I have been saying – loves all.

And when we look at our machzor, we see a remarkable thing: The Shema itself is surrounded by love, ahava – and it’s no accident.

Let’s turn back to page 76 for a moment, and read together in Hebrew at the top: “Ahava rabba ahavtanu...  You have loved us deeply, Adonai, our God, and shown us boundless compassion.”

The blessing describes that it is through this eternal love and compassion that we are given the Torah.  And if we skip down to the last 2 lines, we see that love - ahavah - is also the last word. 

 We are to “lovingly proclaim Your oneness – uleyachedcha b’ahavah”. (This is referring to what’s to come, declaring God’s oneness in the Shema!) and then the closing, “Blessed are you Adonai, the one who cares for the people Israel with love - ha-boheir b’amo Yisrael b’ahavah.” 

So now let’s turn back to page 77 and wave to the Shema again at the top of the page – see it up there?  And what comes next?

A very familiar prayer – doubtless one of the most beautiful ever written:  V’ahavta – You Shall Love. Does everyone see it? Let’s read the first sentence in Hebrew, or you can follow along using the transliteration in red on the left-hand page: 

V’ahavta et Adonai eloheicha, b’chol levavcha, u-vchol nafshecha, u-vekol m’odecha.

“You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all that is yours.”

This passage from Deuteronomy expresses our fervent desire to emulate the Divine, who – I’ll say it one more time – loves each and every one of us. Guided by the teachings of the holy Torah from which it springs, V’ahavta urges us to love God.  And how do we love God, according to our tradition?  By following Torah, by loving God’s creation - our fellow creatures and our home, this exquisitely complex earth – all filled with God’s loving presence. 

V’ahavta – like Ahava Rabba – is a prayer about love.

Now let’s put these three prayers together and see where they take us: Ahava Rabba; Shema, 

V’ahavta.   God loves us eternally; God is one; and we, too, shall love.
 Love, oneness, love. [Beat] Love, oneness, love.

That is the ceaseless rhythm of the Jewish heart.

Think of it – for generations, for centuries, our ancestors have recited these prayers in the same order as we.

Let’s take a moment right now to picture our ancestors in our mind’s eye. Our ancestors from 70 years ago; from six hundred years ago; from a thousand years ago, dressed for synagogue on Rosh Hashana, as we are. Surrounded by their families, their neighbors and their friends, as we are.

And what did our ancestors do in synagogue on Rosh Hashanah? For one thing, they recited Ahava Rabba – God loves us; then, they recited Shema – God is one; and then, V’ahavta – we, too, shall love.  And of course, this happened not just on Rosh Hashanah, but every single day. Evening and morning.

Love, oneness, love – the same rhythm of the same Jewish spirituality that has brought us to this moment, to this place, on this holy day.  And looking around us now, how can we not feel love and fellowship with one another, because we share the same rhythmic, spiritual heart: Love, oneness, love.

For centuries, Jewish parents and grandparents have whispered these prayers to their children – Ahava Rabba, Shema, V’ahavta – saying, “learn these words; keep them in your heart.” Love, oneness, love. The rhythm of the Jewish heart, alive and beating in each and every one of us.

And yet, at the same time, think of how different we are!

One thing that defines us as Jews – though it may seem contradictory – is that we are not defined by any one specific definition of God. Our sacred texts and sages may agree on certain of God’s characteristics -- such as God’s oneness and that God loves us.  But we know that one need not even believe in God to be Jewish. 

My teacher Rabbi Arthur Green, whom many of you met when he taught here a few years ago, tells of his grandmother.  She was born and raised in a Polish shtetl and grew-up to become a sharp-tongued, militant atheist.  So, in the late 1950s, when Grandma Green began to realize just how seriously young Art was studying Judaism at Brandeis, she sent him a very sharply-worded letter that read, in part: 

“Dear Arthur. I hear you still want to be a rabbi. I would be prouder of you if you would be a teacher and teach people things that are true. Because if there [ever] was a God in the sky, he would have been shot down by Sputnik already.”

Now, how can you argue with that? You can’t, except to say, as Rabbi Green does to this day: “I try very hard not to believe in any sort of God that could be shot down by ‘Sputnik already.’ “

Seriously, though, if we don’t agree about God, what might we at least strive to agree about?

Love. 

Rabbi Green writes of the Shema and its surrounding blessings:

“Just as (the blessing for eternal divine) love has led us to the possibility of seeing and calling out God’s oneness, so does that moment call forth a response within us…To be a religious person is to cultivate a heart open enough to receive that love and to reprocess it into love for those around us.”

When Torah commands us to love, it is not merely ordering us to carry a certain feeling around in our hearts – for how can a feeling be commanded? it is calling us to channel divine love into action.

Let’s look at the three major commandments to love that dominate our Jewish world view.

First, there is V’ahavta, as we’ve discussed: “You shall love your God.” Second, there is V’ahavta l’re-echa kamocha: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” And finally, Va’ahavta et a ger: “You shall love the stranger, for you were once strangers in a strange land.”

Now the first of these – the commandment to love God – is the starting point of the Jewish mystical tradition that I personally love so much.

The Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Hassidic Judaism, taught that there is only one single love in the world; that is the love of God for all God’s creatures. That love flows through all existence and penetrates every creature. It is the hiyyut or life-force within each of us.

And the exhilaration we can experience when we feel the love of God that fills us makes us long for the opportunity to love others.  And by love them, of course, I don’t mean, to hug ‘em and kiss ‘em and ruffle their hair. I mean to perform loving acts for them. 

Make no mistake: It is not always an easy thing to love others. We realize this vividly when we consider both the importance, and the challenges, of V’ahavta l’re-echa kamocha  and Va’ahvta et a ger.

The great Rabbi Akiva, who lived 2,000 years ago, taught that “love your neighbor as yourself’’ is the foundation of the entire Torah. And yet, it is the commandment to care for the stranger that is repeated in the Torah more than any other -- 18 times.

As many of you know, in Hebrew numerology, the number 18 corresponds to the letters that make up the word Chai, or life.  If you count the leaves of the tree on our new logo, you will find that there are exactly thirty-six - double Chai. This is no accident; nor is it an accident that the Torah calls upon us to love or support the stranger exactly eighteen times – stirring a deep empathy with the reminder that we were once strangers in Egypt.

There is no ambiguity about this in Judaism – no wiggle room. When we choose to care for the stranger, we choose the path of Torah; when we – the children and grandchildren of refugees and descendants of slaves - wall ourselves off from the immigrant and turn our backs on huddled masses yearning to breathe free; we forsake the way of Torah and love.

That is why our diverse Jewish mainstream communities have formed a consensus opposing policies that hurt immigrants and refugees and support ones that care for them.  From the national Jewish Federations to the Anti-Defamation League to leaders of Hebrew College and the Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist and Modern Orthodox seminaries and movements.

Unfortunately, this moral necessity to care for the stranger often leaves us at loggerheads with longtime allies or even family members. When we engage each other and our differences, we must bear in mind the equally important necessity to love our neighbors.

It’s also helpful to remember Jewish American satirist Tom Lehrer who once said, “I'm sure all of us agree that we ought to love one another.  But unfortunately, there are people in the world that do not love their fellow human beings – [angrily!]  and I HATE people like that!”

Reaching out to others in love is a lot more challenging than just hating them; but it’s our responsibility, nonetheless and, occasionally can lead to some amazing transformations.

Not long ago, I heard a fascinating podcast about a young, charismatic former white supremacist named Derek Black. He was raised in the movement – the infamous David Duke is his godfather. It was both chilling and fascinating to hear him describe anti-Semitism as the glue that keeps the white supremacist culture together.  But an amazing thing happened in his sophomore year in college:  A Jewish acquaintance began inviting him to Shabbat dinners at his apartment along with other students. The contrast between the evil, cartoon Jew that Derek had been raised to believe in, and the real thing who treated him with love and respect, was a central reason he left the movement.  Now, such extreme redemptions are rare.

But it is nonetheless heartening to see how, throughout the country, people are fighting hate, and standing up to promote love, tolerance and inclusion. 

For instance, as 40,000 people streamed into Boston to counter a rally of white supremacists in August, here in Beverly a 15-year-old Beverly High School student named Eliza Michaels organized a Rally for Love, which many of you attended.

Since the horrific events in Charlottesville, Virginia earlier this year, where a neo-Nazi murdered a pro-diversity demonstrator, Heather Heyer and injured many more, not only have donations to the Anti-Defamation League increased, but The United States Conference of Mayors’ Compact to Combat Hate, Extremism and Bigotry endeavors to work with the ADL.  The compact has been signed by several local mayors, including Beverly’s.  This in addition to all the non-bias training the ADL does with police and in our schools.

We can continue to partner with such organizations in the fight for justice, in the fight against racism, bigotry and hate – and thereby bring more of God’s love into this world. It is our duty as people of faith.

For as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel taught, a religious person is one who holds God and (human beings) “in one thought at one time, at all times, who suffers harm done to others, whose greatest passion is compassion, whose greatest strength is love and defiance of despair.”

            
Time and again, over the last year, when bad news has been followed by worse news, I find myself humming a verse from psalms, set to a beautiful melody by Rabbi Menachem Creditor just after 9/11: Olam chesed yibaneh, which means God’s chesed, God’s steadfast love or mercy, shall be established forever. We have taught this song to our children to fulfill those words of the v’ahavtah – to teach our children Torah, about channeling divine love into action and compassion. 

So I would like to invite our kids up here, to sing this song with you.   

KIDS SING:

            Olam chesed yibaneh

I will build this world from love

And you must build this world from love

And if we build this world from love

Then God will build this world from love

     

As we enter this new year together, let us remember that our greatest strength against despair is loving, compassionate action.

Shanah tova, a new year with more goodness, more love.