The World Exists Because of the Breath of School Children - Rosh Hashanah First Day Sermon 5779/2018

Shannah tovah.

Our liturgy Declares: HaYom Harat Olam: Today we celebrate the creation of life itself… and we read Torah and Haftarah passages about the birth of two precious children, Isaac and Samuel. And so, I thought it would be appropriate to speak about children.

I so love the children in this community and I like to think some of them, at least, love me, too. It does my heart good when a child shows a little affection. One little girl, for instance, often comes to Tot Shabbat and when the service ends, she always runs up to me and gives me a big hug. And she always says, "Don't worry rabbi! When I grow up, I'll give you LOTS of money."

I've always chuckled, but one recent Shabbat, had to find out what exactly was in her head. So, as usual, she jumped into my arms and said, "Don't worry rabbi! When I grow up I'll give you LOTS of money!" But this time, when I hugged her back, I said, "That's very sweet of you, honey. But why do you want to give me money?

And she replied: "Because mommy and daddy say that you're the poorest rabbi we've ever had." 

That's a joke, by the way. I don't want any parents running home this evening and asking their kids: “Oh my, did you tell the rabbi what we said about her?”

Seriously, though, when I consider this congregation, both as your rabbi and as the mother of one of our children, who just entered second grade and is already talking about his bar mitzvah, I appreciate how central children are here, how loved.

We are so blessed to have many loving and generous members of our community creating a place of enduring warmth for all generations. New furniture in the lobby will make it a warmer space to hang out in, thanks to Alan and Donna Pierce.   Also, our library and children’s room have been completely remodeled thanks to Zellie and Harold Kaplan, who gave us this gift in memory of their son, Alan and niece, Deborah Kaplan Sergi, both tragically taken from this world. What a beautiful way to honor their too-short lives, by dedicating a place of Jewish learning for all ages in their memory.  

For learning is the lifeblood of the Jewish people and there is no mitzvah like teaching a child. We are commanded by the v'ahavta -- a magnificent bit of poetry from the book of Deuteronomy that we traditionally recite every morning and evening -- v’shinatam livanacha v’dibarta bam -- literally translated as “to repeat to your children and to speak to them” words of Torah, which our prayer book translates as “teach them diligently to your children”. This is perhaps the most important, fundamental responsibility not only of parents but of an entire Jewish community.

That is one reason the holiday of Simchat Torah is so important. We'll be celebrating it on the evening of Monday, Oct 1 -- just three weeks. In keeping with ancient tradition, we'll take the Torah scrolls from the ark and parade around with them, singing and dancing, Then, we’ll unroll a Torah scroll around the room, and enjoy ice cream, courtesy of Eli and Dina Davidyan.  All of this is an expression of love -- love of Torah and the spiritual and ethical values it holds.

But whenever I think of Simchat Torah, I also think of a story Elie Wiesel used to tell about how the holiday was once celebrated in a concentration camp. A group of Jews gathered in one of the barracks of Auschwitz. But, of course, there was no Torah scroll to march around with. So how could they celebrate Simchat Torah? As they mulled over the problem, one of the men noticed a small boy standing and watching.

The man asked him: “Did you study, my friend?"

"Yes," the boy replied, "I studied well."

“Really,” said the man. “Do you remember Sh’ma Yisrael?”

“I remember Sh’ma Yisrael and a lot more,” the boy replied.

“Wonderful,” shouted the man. And with that, he lifted the boy from the ground and began dancing with him, as though he were the Torah. And all the people in the barracks joined in; they all sang and danced and cried. They cried, Wiesel concludes, but they sang with fervor!

And the moral of this story is that children are, and always have been, at the center of Jewish civilization.

Anyone who's been to Israel knows this.

It's said that Israel is the only country where senior citizens who ride the bus routinely get up and offer their seats to children.  

This is a tradition that runs deep. Even before the Israelites left Egypt, God was reminding us to teach our children about the Exodus story (Exodus 12:26). And according to a midrashic legend, before giving the Israelites the gift of the Torah at Mt. Sinai, God asked them how they could guarantee that the Torah would be revered forevermore.  Our ancestors struggled with that one at first, but finally they hit on it: "Our children will be our guarantee,’ they proclaimed. And God agreed.

Think of that; and then think of our people dancing with a child amidst the fire and terror of Auschwitz. I'd say we've kept our promise -- or, rather, our children have kept it for us, as our sacred texts teach, and our Jewish souls know. Indeed, the Talmud says, “The world only exists because of the breath of schoolchildren.”

Just a few weeks ago I had a chance to see a documentary about a person whose view of children and whose goals in life deeply reflected the Jewish ideals I have shared.  I'm talking about . . . Mister Rogers.

Now, I know Mr. Rogers was not Jewish; in fact, he was an ordained Presbyterian minister. But stay with me here and I'm sure you'll see what I mean.

The documentary is called Won't You Be My Neighbor and it is a tear-jerker. I cried pretty much all the way through it. And I wasn't the only one; almost everyone in the audience walked out of the Cabot Theater with tear-stained faces.

How many here today either grew up watching Mister Rogers or had your children watch it?  

Now let me ask another question:  Could you please raise your hand if you've seen the film? Okay, now keep your hands raised if you cried, even a little a bit.

Everyone I've talked to about the film agrees that it stirs deep emotions. It got to me, first of all, on a personal level.

I cried because I remembered how I felt when I watched him as a child. I was an introverted, very shy kid who had trouble making friends or telling adults about my fears.  Mr. Rogers made me feel a little more loved and accepted; he liked me just the way I was.   

I cried as a mother, too, wondering where on earth my son will find such messages on the screens that are constantly before young people these days -- for an average of 7 hours a day -- filled with violence and aggression and marketing and materialism. Indeed, over $17 billion is spent marketing to kids each year and nearly all of it feeds their drive to want some material thing, and almost none of it urges them to be satisfied either with who they are or what they have.  I don’t know a single parent who doesn't struggle with how electronic media, in all its forms, is impacting children.

But I also cried because Mister Rogers’ message was so in keeping with the Jewish values that are dear to me. Again and again, he repeats the simple but deeply-felt doctrine that every child is special.

This notion is derided and mocked by some who say it’s a recipe for the coddling and spoiling of children.

Well, if so, we Jews have been coddling and spoiling our children for at least 2000 years. The Talmud declares in no uncertain terms that -- and I am quoting now -- “Each child brings their blessing into the world.” Not for nothing have we inscribed this quotation above the new children’s learning center that the Kaplans have re-built for us.

Our ancient rabbis taught that each child is unique, sacred. I know in my soul that this is true, and so I cried.

But there’s another reason I cried: Because I also know that we have to do better for our children. This community, this state, this nation, this planet -- we all have to do better. As Mister Rogers put it, “Love is at the root of everything, all parenting, all relationships.”

But then, he adds this caveat: “Love -- or the lack of it.”

Unfortunately, we see a lack of love all around us today, and it is hurting us and hurting our children.  I mentioned one example already - the extreme marketing and violence that fill the screens that kids would watch all day if they could.  

We see policies that simply do not take children seriously or value them sufficiently.  No government that values all children could have initiated a policy of separating immigrant and refugee children from their parents. Nor could it contemplate the horrific string of mass shootings in our nation’s schools -- in our schools!  -- and offer nothing practical to stem the violence.

And no government that values children could ignore the horrendous threat that climate change presents. The nightmares that scientists around the world have been warning us about are starting to come true with increasing frequency -- in extreme weather, rising sea-levels and many scientists say an increase in devastating fires in the American West.  

But all of that is just the tip of the iceberg -- the melting iceberg. The real costs of climate change will be borne by our children and grandchildren. For God’s sake, let us show them that we value them now. We need to slow down climate change by reducing greenhouse gasses and we need to prepare for it by investing in infrastructure that mitigates it.

Love, or the lack of it -- America must choose.

But government is only part of the picture. Our lack of love is hurting our children in a myriad of other ways. Drugs are killing and otherwise destroying their lives, every minute of every day. Earlier this year, I attended graduation ceremonies at Recovery High School, located right here in Beverly. The school is devoted to helping kids with addiction issues get their lives back on track.  We celebrated with the graduates; but we also mourned the recent death-by-overdose of one of their friends, and shed tears for two more who were unable to finish school because their addictions had landed them in jail.

No wonder a friend of mine recently said that, “It might be a good thing Mr. Rogers didn’t live to see what’s happening today.”

But I disagree. I think the values Mr. Rogers stood for -- completely consistent with Jewish values, as we have seen -- are precisely what we need in today’s world. What can we do?

Well, for starters, we can strive to be the best parent, grandparent, friend, mentor, teacher, and community member we can be.

That is why our motto here at Temple B’nai Abraham is, To Learn. To Love.  To Life!

We can specifically support our Religious School, as Ken and Alan suggested a few moments ago. Our Judaism should be aspirational and invite children to feel loved and respected for who they are.  No one does this better than Deb Schutzman - who is with them right now in the chapel - and all of our teachers.   It doesn’t matter if your kids are in the school or not – you can support these urgent and beautiful goals.  

We can do much more to help children who are vulnerable in so many ways - refugees fleeing war zones, children facing abuse, oppression and starvation around the world.  There are vulnerable children right here at home. 

For example, transgender people here in Massachusetts – including children, some of whom are part of our Temple B’nai Abraham community, or related to TBA members.  Transgender kids, teens and adults are bullied, and prone to depression and suicide, in alarming numbers.   Did you know that this November Massachusetts voters will need to come to the ballot box to protect critical rights for transgender people?  

These rights and protections are already in place, signed into law by Governor Charlie Baker.  But a ballot initiative called “Question 3” seeks to take them away. Join the Jewish community, including the Anti-Defamation League, The Massachusetts Board of Rabbis, the Jewish Community Relations Council and Keshet, to learn more, and say yes, we want to help keep protective laws in place. In case you are wondering, as a not-for-profit, religious institution we can absolutely take a stand on issues, and in this case, I hope we – like synagogues across the Commonwealth - stand for our children, and we stand for human rights. And we do so because we believe that each and every one is precious, and a child of God.

The Beverly Multifaith Coalition will be holding a forum on Question 3 in October, for it is vital to discuss religious perspectives on these protections, which I am barely touching on today.   

Here’s one more thing we can do: Get involved in our grant through Combined Jewish Philanthropies, or CJP as its better known, that brings 6 synagogues together with the Lappin Foundation,  the Jewish Climate Action Network, Gannei Beantown Jewish Gardens, and others to create a Jewish North Shore focus on local environmental and sustainability efforts.  We will meet in the TBA Sukkah on Thursday, September 27^th for a locally sourced meal and a discussion of where to begin – open to all generations.  Flyers outside.

We can support immigrant and refugee families through TBA’s involvement with interfaith organizations like ECCO and Refugee Immigration Ministries; and homeless families through Family Promise.

Opportunities to protect and nurture children are right before us, every day.

But on this day, all of us are children.

For today in our prayers, we refer to God as Avinu Malkeinu, traditionally translated as Our Father, Our King - or, Our Parent, Our Sovereign.  And when we refer to God as a parent, we also remind ourselves that we are still children, singularly precious, longing to be seen, comforted, loved.

And so, in this new year, we offer our heartfelt prayer:

Avinu Malkeinu, have compassion upon us all. Hear our cries. Heal our pain.

Avinu Malkeinu, inspire us to nurture the seeds of hope and love you have implanted within our children, so that those seeds can fully take root.  

Avinu Malkeinu, grant us the strength and courage to continue to work for a world in which all of your children may thrive and live in safety and peace.  

And let us say, Amen.