How to Make Reason, Meaning and Purpose Out of Everything©
Yom Kippur 5778/2017
Rabbi David Baum, Congregation Shaarei Kodesh
Have you ever asked yourself, what's the purpose of my life? There's a famous story of Adam HaRishon, the very first human, who wondered this same thing. It actually came out of a little know creation story.
The first animal that God created was the dog and said to the dog: 'Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life span of twenty years.' The dog said: 'That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?'
So God agreed.
Then God created the monkey and said: 'Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year life span.' The monkey said: 'Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the Dog did?'
And God agreed.
Then God created the cow and said: 'You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years.' The cow said: 'That's kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?'
And God agreed again.
Finally, God created man and said: 'Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I'll give you twenty years.' But man said: 'Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?'
'Okay,' said God, 'You asked for it.'
So that is why for our first twenty years we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves.
For the next forty years we slave in the sun to support our family.
For the next ten years we do monkey tricks to entertain our grandchildren.
And for the last ten years we move to Boca Raton, sit on our balconies and bark at everyone.
It seems like everyone is obsessed with finding their own purpose – and yet, we seem not to be finding it. As I spoke about last night, we are lonelier than ever, we are more depressed than ever, and we may be less filled with purpose today than ever before.
As Jews, we think we have it all, we have power, we have wealth, we have a state of our own in Israel…so what’s happening. I touched upon it last night – we are lonely, we are depressed mainly because we aren't connected to each other in the right ways, but more than that, we aren't connected to ourselves, to our purpose.
But, are we asking the right question? Perhaps the question isn't what is my purpose, perhaps we should be asking a different question – how can I make meaning and purpose out of my life?
Today, I want to help us find meaning and purpose in our lives, both as individuals, and as a holy community. And I want us to see that our loved one’s lives, no matter how short they lived, no matter how little we think they accomplished also had meaning.
First, I want to share a story of an experience that happened to me this summer at Camp Ramah Darom.
It was the 9th of Av, and I was rabbi in residence at Camp Ramah Darom. The 9th of Av is the only other 25-hour fast on the calendar, except for this day, and I was asked to teach the oldest age group for a little over an hour. We had to pick titles for our class, and I chose, why does God let terrible things happen? It was a hot day, and the fast wasn’t so easy, and the hour was getting late. By 5 pm, I was exhausted, not really ready to lead an intense discussion, and I figured, the kids would skip anyway. As I approached the room, I saw twenty-seven teens staring at me. “Hey everyone, I’m supposed to be teaching a class on why God let’s terrible things happen, do you know where it is?” They said, it’s here. I was shocked – what terrible things would 16 year olds have experienced to question God? We went around and children shared their experiences. One young woman talked about her best friend who drowned in a tragic accident. She said rabbi, everyone kept saying, everything happens for a reason, is that true? I was honest with her – I told her that I really hate when people say that to people who have experienced tragedy. It doesn’t make anyone feel better. The truth is, I don’t know if everything happens for a reason, but we can make reason, or as I like to call it, meaning and purpose, out of our experiences, even our greatest loses. The young woman was one of a couple of teens who were training to become certified lifeguards – that was her reaction to tragedy. That’s what God does for us – in order for the world to be created, God had to withdraw God’s self from the world, in Kabbalah it’s called Tzimtzum – God gives us the opportunity to heal the broken hearted and to heal the world after it is broken by tragedy. God is there with us when we act in the world.
But it was another story that shook me to my core. It was after the class, a young man approached me. He said, “Rabbi, thank you for saying that.” Now, as a rabbi, I say a lot of things, and sometimes I even forget what I just said 30 minutes ago, so rather than just thank him, I was honestly: “What did I say?” He went on, “I watched my father die when I was six years old, and every person came up to me saying the same thing, everything happens for a reason. I just couldn’t believe in a God that would take my father from us in front of my eyes. But I can believe in a God that challenges me to make reason out of his life.” So I asked him to tell me about his father, what he did, what he was known for, and how he would have wanted him to live. And I told him, always say kaddish on his yahrtzeit.
I learned a fascinating thing about the mourner’s kaddish from Rabbi Yitz Greenberg. Rabbi Greenberg told us that the Kaddish is not a prayer for the dead, and it wasn’t even meant for mourning. It was a short summary of what our whole tradition is about.
יִתְגַּדַּל וְיִתְקַדַּשׁ שְׁמֵהּ רַבָּא
Yitkadal Vyitkadash Shemei Rabbah
Glorified and sanctified be God’s great name throughout the world
How is God's name glorified? Through our actions – the mitzvoth, good deeds, our the acts of Tikkun Olam, healing the world, that we perform.
בְּעָלְמָא דִּי בְרָא כִרְעוּתֵהּ וְיַמְלִיךְ מַלְכוּתֵהּ בְּחַיֵּיכון וּבְיומֵיכון וּבְחַיֵּי דְכָל בֵּית יִשרָאֵל בַּעֲגָלָא וּבִזְמַן קָרִיב,
b’alma di-v’ra chirutei, v’yamlich malchutei b’chayeichon uvyomeichon uvchayei d’chol beit yisrael, ba’agala uvizman kariv
May God establish God's kingdom in your lifetime and during your days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon
God's kingdom will be established when the world is full of life, and that life is supported with all its dignity.
Why say kaddish? Because the mission of our loved ones before us was not completed – and if someone is saying kaddish after their loved ones who said for their loved ones, then our people's purpose is on going – it continues through us.
We find purpose and meaning through each other, and through our loved ones, and the lives they lived.
Today, we read a section from Leviticus 16 and it begins with an auspicious line,
וַיְדַבֵּ֤ר יְי אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה אַחֲרֵ֣י מ֔וֹת שְׁנֵ֖י בְּנֵ֣י אַהֲרֹ֑ן בְּקָרְבָתָ֥ם לִפְנֵי־יְי וַיָּמֻֽתוּ׃
The LORD spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron who died when they drew too close to the presence of the LORD. Aaron, the high priest, is about to perform the most important ritual of the year, the ritual of the two goats on the holiest day of the year. Why does the text bring up the deaths of his two sons, Nadav and Avihu, who were killed by God when they offered an 'alien or strange fire'? The Zohar comments on the first verse which recounts the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, Aaron’s two sons. It pictures God saying to Aaron and to all of us, “Engage in the study of the death of these righteous, and it will be as if you are offering a sacrifice for your atonement.”
Study the deaths of the righteous – how many of us come into Yizkor cold? How many of us come in having done a little bit of homework. Studying our loved ones lives as if they were the Torah itself?
When we study their lives, it will bring us atonement, but I like to look at atonement in the following way – ‘at one ment’ – at one ment, being at one, means that we are clear about who we are, what we stand for, what our lives mean, and how we can make a difference in this world.
I want to tell you a second story, an experience I had in Israel in May. In May, I went on a rabbis mission through JNF to Israel, and one of the projects we visited was a school called Green Horizon. The school teaches water conservation, water technologies and a love of the actual land of Israel to children. For those who do not know, Israel is the world leader in water technologies, and as the climate changes all over the world and populations grow, we are going to have less and less water, and the world is going to need these children to be its leaders. The CEO of the project took us around to show us the place, and we met 8-year-olds who know more about water conservation and technology than any of us in this room.
Just a couple of minutes before we heard from Ido Eiskovitz, we had learned that Ido was a former CEO of a start-up in Israel. He was doing very well financially, but there was something missing in his life – he was looking for meaning and purpose. He quit his tech startup and started the non-profit Green Horizon, and as he said, my reward is my salary was cut into a 10th of what it was.
We had asked him, “what made you give up your life as a tech CEO?” He didn't say much – only that he was I was in the Army for a long time and together with the background of his family, he felt that I needed to do something more purposeful.
On the way back to the van, one of the Chabad rabbis asked him if he would like to put on tefillin. He said yes. Keep something in mind - Ido is not a religious guy, in fact, he was the opposite of religious as he grew up with parents who were staunch Communists – no Jewish practice was allowed in his house. With his tefillin on, he told us the real story of why he seemingly had it all in the tech industry and gave it away:
“The last time I put tefillin on was in the army – my friend Yedidya, a fellow soldier, used to make me put his pair on. Yedidya was the exact opposite of me. I was big and athletic, popular - I thought I had everything. Yedidya on the other hand was a scrawny and quiet guy who was also very religious, the exact opposite of me, but he was always helping others. From morning to night, he made himself available to be at service for other people. This impressed me immensely, but more than that, it was the inner happiness that Yedidya had. As much as I felt that I was better at everything than him, somehow Yedidya seemed even happier than me.
Ido was invited to his house for Shabbat and it was the real first Shabbat dinner that he ever had. Shabbat dinner at Yedidya's house had meaning he never knew growing up.
They became best friends after that Shabbat dinner, and spent a lot of time together. Yedidya wasn't an elite fighter like the others in his platoon. He was a medic, a healer.
During the Second Lebanon war an explosion took place that injured many soldiers. Yedidya, the medic began to take care of the soldiers that were injured. When they had basically cleared everyone from danger and Yedidya had done what he could for them on the spot, tragedy occurred. Before Yedidya could clear out himself, a katusha fell and killed him instantly.
The day that Ido found out that Yedidya was killed is a day he remembers well. It was that day that he made a promise. That day he decided to honor Yedidya. He promised himself that he would truly commit to live a life of serving and helping others. He would continue the life that Yedidya lived now that he can no longer do it himself.
Do you know what Yedidya means? It means beloved of God, but Yedid is also translated as 'friend'.
Every Jewish holiday has a main character, and usually, it is Moses, but Yom Kippur is different. Today, on the holiest day of the year, the main character is Aaron. When a plague struck Israel, Aaron rushed to the midst of the people and tried to save them. The Torah describes Aaron with these words, he “stood between the living and the dead” (Numbers 17:15).
On Yom Kippur, all of us are Aaron – we stand between the living and the dead, and we help the dead live again by making their reason for living part of our purpose.
Today is Yom Kippur – today, we are only pretending to be dead, but in reality, we are very much alive. We are the lucky ones – we get to take steps into the new year that others cannot.
Our tradition teaches us -
Lo Alecha HaMelacha Ligmore, v'lo atah bnei chorin mimena – It is not upon us to complete the work, but are we not free to avoid it.
This year, let's make a commitment to ourselves and our community:
Let's learn about the living, the people around us while we have them. The truth is, we don't know when our last day is, so every day is an opportunity to learn from each other. Put yourselves in the shoes of that young man whom I met this summer, the young man who lost his father when he was just six years old. Can you imagine what he would give for just one more day with him? You have it – spend time with your loved ones, learn their stories.
Last year, I interviewed several of our interesting congregants to find out about their lives as our part of our Panim El Panim, Face to Face, program. I really did very little speaking – I just allowed people to tell their incredible stories. Together, we heard the story of a World War II fought in the European theater, who told us about the horrors of war, but who also liberated Jews in concentration camps and attended the first seder at a liberated camp. We learned from a Jewish war correspondent who reported from Afganistan and Iraq. We learned about the journeys of Jews by Choice and how they came to Judaism, and they brought us to new heights. These weren't scholars in residence, they were people you sit next to at shul on Shabbat.
Everyone has the potential to have a Yedidyah, a stranger loved by God who can become a friend to help give us find meaning and purpose in our lives. At Shaarei Kodesh we have a saying, you may come here as a stranger, but you leave here as a friend. If you are a stranger, come to us on Shabbat and become a friend. If you are already a friend, a chaver, join us for a special program on Sunday mornings where we will walk the labyrinth at the Federation campus and hear each other's holy stories.
Finally, I want you to begin the search for your purpose, for meaning in your life. Our congregation, Shaarei Kodesh, exists to ignite the Jewish spark within each individual, journeying together as a holy, Jewish community. But our vision is tied into my own purpose statement. I wrote it last year - My sacred task as rabbi is to ignite the God-given hidden spark (Or HaGanuz) within each person, and connect this light to others through building spiritual community. The tool of ignition, inspiration, and agitation is our Torah, 70 Faces and all, and my task is make Torah come alive (through diverse venues) in the present so it will live in the future. I seek to be a madrich/guide and leader who can help others traverse through the windy pathways of life. I strive to connect to my congregants and students through our stories, finding each other within our own narratives and journeys. This year, I am going to put together a course for our chaverim interested in searching for their own sacred purpose in life.
On Yom Kippur, we are empty, not filled with food or drink, but because we are empty, we can rise, we can see things we couldn't see while on earth. As we rise through the day, we see that the there is a path that we are on, and meaning to every step we take. May we take a small piece of the 'at one ment' of today to the rest of the year, and let us live on the legacy of our loved ones, becoming the bridges between life and death.
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