YOM KIPPUR
TRANSFORMING THE HARSHNESS OF LIFE
September 18, 2010
Rabbi Vernon Kurtz
An individual in our Congregation sent me the following story. I cannot verify
the veracity of it, but the message is surely one that needs to be heard:
There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the
mirror, and noticed that she had only three hairs on her head. “Well,”
she said, “I think I’ll braid my hair today.” So she did and she had a
wonderful day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror, and saw that she had
only two hairs on her head. “H-M-M,” she said, “I think I’ll part my
hair down the middle today.” So she did and she had a grand day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror, and noticed that she
had only one hair on her head. “Well,” she said, “Today I’m going to
wear my hair in a ponytail.” So she did and she had a fun, fun day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror, and noticed there
wasn’t a single hair on her head. “Yay,” she exclaimed. “I don’t have
to fix my hair today.”
Minister, David Habit, who is a Pastor on the coast of Maine and has his own
website, suggests that this is an example of a positive attitude. While each person has
challenges, the issue is how we meet them. What is our attitude as they come our way?
How will we survive the trials and tribulations that most assuredly come into each
person’s life?
We appreciate the phrase “into each life some rain must fall.” We understand the
truthfulness of this statement. No one has or ever will be granted a life symbolized
simply by the rose garden. It is also filled with thorns, thistles and weeds. The question
is: What is our attitude, our demeanor, as the skies darken, as the rain falls, as the storm
hits?
The day of Yom Kippur is filled with drama. There is some dread as well.
According to our tradition, Rosh Hashana is Yom HaDin, the Day of Judgment, and
according to the Babylonian tractate of Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur is the sealing of that
judgment as the decree is declared for the coming year. While we may have trouble with
this concept it challenges us to recognize a truism, there are certain things beyond our
control. The question is what can we do with those things over which we have some
control to shape events and attitudes?
To my mind, the key prayer in the High Holy Day liturgy which outlines in stark
reality the meaning of this moment is U’Natane Tokef. The poetry of the words and the
stark reality of its phrases join together to outline for us what the High Holy Day season
is attempting to teach us - there is judgment made on our deeds, words and actions. It
may happen at this time of year, or as stated in another passage in the tractate of Rosh
Hashana, each day and perhaps each hour as we are judged by God and our fellow human
beings.
In preparation for the High Holy Days of 5771 a new book was published edited
by Rabbi Lawrence Hoffman, a Professor of Liturgy at Hebrew Union College – Jewish
Institute of Religion. It is entitled “Who by Fire, Who by Water,” and it is a compilation
of a series of essays on the prayer U’Natane Tokef by leading Rabbis and educators from
North America, Europe and Israel. Each of the essays brings forth the personal testimony
of the author concerning the poem and its significance in our modern day experience.
According to Dr. Erica Brown: “The prayer’s poetry is lofty, brilliant even, and its
imagery is vivid.” The courtroom prosecutor doubles as judge and witness, stacking the
cards against the defendant when the stakes are no less than life and death. The poet
informs us that even the angels are terrified of the upcoming judgment. It begins with the
blast of the Shofar and all that is heard is “a thin whisper of a sound.” The liturgy
informs us that all humanity passes in review before God either as the angelic host or as a
flock of sheep or as soldiers in formation. Books are open before God and according to
the text, God recalls specifically what we tend to forget, presenting a book of records
where we, ourselves, have signed off on every deed.
If the poem ended there it would bring down the Awe of Heaven upon us. But the
second paragraph is even more stark in its reality and in the finality of judgment.
“On Rosh Hashana it is written and on Yom Kippur it is sealed.” The poet then
delineates the finality of the judgment: “How many will pass on and how many will be
created?” Twelve doublets follow, the first seven referring to life and death, the last five
to the quality of life. They deal with timely and untimely death and ten modes of
premature death. “The final ones deal with our physical, mental, psychological, material
and social situation by spelling out the vagaries of our stability, serenity, suffering,
income and status,” writes Rabbi Reuven Kimelman. “Together they warn us,” he writes,
“that even the lives that are spared can be rocked by trial and tribulation. How vulnerable
is our life, how fragile our existence.”
Rabbi Noa Kushner writes: “When we read the list in U’Natane Tokef, we are
brought back to reality. The list is a specific, unyielding look at what we know but
regularly we try to forget – mainly that we will die. Everyone in or out of the room,
everyone reciting and not reciting this prayer, you and I, we will all die. There is no
getting around it. Too many whom we know, whom we love, will die too young, in ways
we can’t even talk about.”
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If the second paragraph ended the prayer, it would seem most fatalistic,
deterministic and life would be totally controlled by God. We would walk out of
synagogue on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur totally depressed and wonder why we
were present in the synagogue at all if our fate is already sealed. However, there is a line
which changes the entire meaning of the prayer and teaches us that we must confront the
reality of life and the challenge of living with a positive spirit.
In the Silverman Mahzor that we have been using for many years these words are
translated as “but repentance, prayer and righteousness avert the severe decree.” The
translator follows some of the words in the Babylonian tractate of Rosh Hashana and
suggests that improvement on these items actually either tear up or annul the decree. Our
translation in our new Mahzor Lev Shalem states: “T’shuvah, T’fillah, and Tz’dakah
have the power to transform the harshness of our destiny.”
To my way of thinking, this new translation is critical to our understanding of the
poem, the manner in which the author wrote it and the very attitude of life that we must
possess as we come to the Synagogue on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. The text in
our Mahzor, unlike that in the tractate of Rosh Hashana, does not suggest that we can
avert the severe decree, that we can annul it. Instead it suggests that we can annul the
harshness, or the hardship of the decree. As Reuven Kimelman writes “this startling
answer suggests that not only is everything not ordained, but we have a hand in the
outcome.” The author of the poem, whomever it may have been, recognizes that we may
not be able to control the decree, as we do not believe that we have total control over
God’s actions. However, we can mitigate the harshness or the misfortune that results
from the decree, we can have an influence upon our lives and the way we live them. As
another author wrote: “We have it within our power to reshape, although not totally to
change our fate.”
In a remarkable passage in the book, Rabbi Aaron Panken writes: “Our actions
help us live in such a way that when we suffer life’s darkest depredations, we will always
have ways of coping with them. Our actions may not change the ultimate outcome one
iota, but they alter our attitude, bolster our ability to withstand challenges, help us handle
unavoidable misfortunes better and see life’s value amid chaos and dismay.” This is the
story of the woman. She is a cancer sufferer undergoing chemotherapy treatment. But
her attitude changes the entire way she looks at life and hopefully will help with her
spiritual healing and even her physical healing, as well.
Victor Frankl was a noted Viennese psychiatrist who was taken first to
Theresienstadt and then Auschwitz. Assigned to a labor detail, he was able to observe his
fellow prisoners. He wondered what it was that enabled certain inmates in the
concentration camp to maintain a sense of hope and inner strength while others lost their
will to live. In the book that he published entitled “Man’s Search for Meaning,” Frankl
argues that we cannot avoid suffering but we can choose how to cope with it, find
meaning in it, and move forward with renewed purpose. Frankl showed that there are
people who melt at the slightest disappointment or setback. And there are those who
suffer immeasurably and yet maintain an air of optimism and hope.
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As Frankl writes: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing, the last of
the human freedoms, to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose
one’s way. Human freedom is not freedom from conditions, but freedom to take a stand
toward conditions.” This is the lesson, I believe, that the author of U’Natane Tokef
really wanted to teach us. We may not be able to control our destiny, but we can most
certainly control how we confront it, how we live with it, and our attitude towards it.
A few weeks ago, I received a pre-publication copy of a new book by my
colleague Naomi Levy entitled “Hope Will Find You – My Search for the Wisdom to Stop
Waiting and Start Living.” Rabbi Levy has also authored another book entitled “To
Begin Again,” in which she shared the story of the murder of her Father and her personal
challenge of finding meaning in life. In this book she tells the story of her young
daughter, Noa, who was told that she had a fatal degenerative disease. Rabbi Levy
describes the despondency and anger that she feels with this diagnosis. As a Rabbi she
wants to make it alright for her daughter, but knows that she can’t. The book outlines her
own struggle as well as that of her family not only with the disease, but with the ability to
deal with a life filled with unsure outcomes. She writes that her dreams of a quiet and
beautiful family life were torn asunder. Her daughter had plans, as she did, for the future
and now it was all a fog, a question mark, a mystery. “Will she be with me next year? In
five years? In ten? Man plans and God laughs,” she writes: “Life is exhilarating,
breathtaking, and beautiful, and life is unfair and cruel.”
The book is the remarkable story of Naomi Levy’s fight to return to life, hope and
optimism. She learned from her daughter Noa “to see that hope was looking for me, that
hope would track us all down,” The book gives one hope as Noa is able to fight her
disease and Rabbi Levy regains her faith in God, in people and in a bright future.
She concludes her book by writing: “It’s even okay to lose hope sometimes, not
the end of the world because hope won’t lose you. Hope’s got your number and address.
Once I starting believing it, I started seeing it. Hope comes in the form of helping hands.
It comes when someone offers you the words you need to hear just at the moment when
you need to hear them most. Hope arrives in all sorts of disguises. When hope comes,
offer it the chair.” I encourage you to read the book when it is published.
While Naomi Levy’s personal story was most touching, she also tells the saga of
one of the doctors who was of great help to Noa in her search to live a full and productive
life. Noa was having problems with her eyesight and a vision therapist named Dr. Bill
Takeshita was recommended. Levy states that Dr. Bill was a pied piper if ever she had
seen one. For Noa he was a gift from God. He helped her with her hand-eye
coordination and gave both Noa and her Mother much hope. For Naomi Levy, Dr. Bill
was one of those rare people who was living his bliss. A number of months later Naomi
and Noa went for their usual appointment, but were told that Dr. Bill had retired. “He’s
42 years old, what do you mean he retired?” The receptionist responded, “He’s lost his
vision.” “What, in two weeks?” “Yes, he’s growing blind,” she said. And for the next
six years Naomi never heard of or from Dr. Bill Takeshita.
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In the summer between 5th and 6th grades, Noa’s teacher gave her a summer
reading lesson. Noa was having a really hard time reading the books. Naomi Levy found
out that there was a center in Los Angeles which distributed free audio books which
would be available to Noa. She inquired about this and the next day her phone rang and
who was on the line? Dr. Bill Takeshita!
In the course of their conversation he explained Noa’s options in the world of
audio books. Rabbi Levy told him what an inspiration he was and that she wanted to
understand his story and what happened to him. And this is what he said: “By the time I
was 42 years old I had everything I had ever dreamed of. I was happily married with a
wife and two amazing kids. I loved my work. When a friend would call and say, ‘Come
play golf with me,’ I’d answer, ‘I already have a hobby. My hobby is working with these
kids.’ I was at the top of my profession. People would fly from all over the world so I
could see their kids. Then I started to notice a blind spot in my left eye. At first I ignored
it and thought I needed some rest. But sure enough I found out it was a degenerative eye
disease. There was nothing I could do.”
Dr. Bill told Naomi Levy that he was devastated, angry, bitter and depressed. For
a long period of time he sat at home all day, not wanting to see family, friends or even go
outside. He was so ashamed that he didn’t want anyone to know that he was going blind
and he even lost his faith in God.
When Dr. Bill’s life was at its very lowest low, his brother had a massive heart
attack and lost 70% of his heart function. But his brother’s reaction to the situation was
the complete opposite of his own. His brother remained positive and optimistic though,
since his heart was so damaged, his only hope was to receive a heart transplant. Dr. Bill
asked his brother, “Why aren’t you angry? Why aren’t you bitter?” His brother told him,
“If I am angry now it’s only going to ruin my life now and I want to enjoy every precious
day of I’ve got.” Unfortunately, Dr. Bill’s brother died before he could get that
transplant. But it did wake up Dr. Bill himself.
He told Rabbi Levy, “I was so focused on my retina, which is as small as a
postage stamp, and I couldn’t see that I was wasting precious years.” He continued, “We
all do this. We think about our own problems: I am blind, I am deaf, I have an illness, I
don’t have enough money, I am not a good athlete, I am not a good student – and we
can’t see the good around us.”
At that time, he realized that he could use his personal experience to change the
way doctors treat patients. He took his first steps back into the professional world, began
to lecture and became a major force in the field of low vision. He became an adjunct
professor at Southern College of Optometry, the Chief of the Center for the Partially
Sighted, and a Director of Low Vision at the Braille Institute. In his spare time he offers
two podcasts every week where he discusses all the latest technology for people with low
vision and also hosts a national call-in show “Ask Dr. Bill,” where he helps people with
low vision take full advantage of the world.
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Finally in their conversation, Dr. Bill told Naomi Levy that he now knows that
“every person goes through difficulties. Every single person has some kind of weakness
and if you can acknowledge that you have that weakness you will learn ways to adjust to
it.”
This remarkable story moved me and showed me once more the brilliance of the
author of U’Natane Tokef . We cannot control everything that happens to us, physically,
mentally, emotionally, financially or otherwise, but the manner in which we accept it,
live with it, confront it and challenge it, is in our control.
“T’shuvah, T’fillah and Tz’dakah” which are to mitigate the harshness of the
decree are not merely philosophical terms. They suggest a manner of correct living, as
well. An author in the book suggests they form the spiritual foundation of destiny: to
reach within, to reach beyond and to reach out toward others. Another author suggests
that it teaches us we can be kinder, more forgiving, more generous. We may not be able
to make our lives longer, but we can make them better, less bitter and more loving. A
third author suggests that “T’shuvah means returning to the awareness of God and
walking the path of Torah. T’fillah can cultivate gratitude, inwardness, connection to
transcendent values and spiritual depth and Tz’dakah is not just about giving significant
amounts to charity, and thereby cultivating personal generosity, it is also making the
pursuit of Tzedek, justice, a central part of life.” In other words, these three concepts
serve as ongoing signposts to a good life filled with hope, reaching out to God, to other
people and to strengthening ourselves in the process.
In one of Moses’ last discourses to the Children of Israel he tells them: “The
hidden things are for the Lord our God, but the revealed things are for us and for our
children for the ages.” In other words, we will never understand everything. That is the
reason that we are human and God is God. But what we can understand is that we can
live with hope in the future and faith in ourselves, in God and in our destiny. We may
not be able to avert each decree, but we can most assuredly “transform the harshness of
our destiny.”
It was the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow who wrote these words:
“Be still, sad heart, and cease repining:
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
And to each life some rain must fall.”
When the rain will fall in each of our lives, I pray that we will look for the shining sun,
have an umbrella ready and see a rainbow at the end of the storm. I pray that we live life
to its fullest, be blessed with a positive spirit and an optimistic outlook, even during life’s
most difficult and challenging moments, so that we can transform the reality of those
trials, tribulations and travails into a positive mode of living for us and all those around
us.
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