What is the Fast that I Choose and the Shofar Call that I Hear?
September 22, 2007
by Rabbi Gerry Serotta

Yom Kippur 5768

On Rosh Hashanah it is written and Yom Kippur it is sealed—on Rosh Hashanah the questions were asked, and on Yom Kippur, perhaps we may begin to find the answers. If you were here you will remember that Rabbi Feshbach gave us a template in the form of his words and our temple’s gift to you of the book, “I am Jewish” with interpretation of what this phrase signifies to dozens of thoughtful people. And, he began his own answers to that question last night by focusing on Jewish religious obligation and its (S)source for us.

I began my thoughts last week by reflecting on the prescribed course of action if someone wishes to join the Jewish people. After making sure that the person is sincere and reminding them of the historical reality that they are joining a people who have suffered discrimination, “s/he is accepted forthwith, and is given instruction in some of the minor and some of the major commandments. (In the Hebrew text, they are referred to as Mitzvot Kallot, the light or easy commandments, and the Mitzvot Chamurot, the stringent or difficult commandments.)

But, as we said last week, the text does not specify which commandments fall into these two categories. This gives the court of acceptance, the Beit Din, an opportunity to ask the incoming Jew by Choice about their own experiences of the practices that will frame part of their Jewish identity. The responses we hear are frequently surprising and inspiring, and I’ll share some of them with you today.

But returning for a moment to the text, the Talmud continues at that point:

“S/he is informed of the sin of neglecting the commandment to leave for the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the non-citizen four specific types of charity: gleanings, the crops already harvested but forgotten in the field, the tithe for the poor, and the corners of the field (the pay-ot, which are to remain unharvested in order to provide for the landless poor the dignity of harvesting their own food.)”

These are the specific commandments that must be impressed on the prospective Jew by Choice—they are apparently the first principles, the sine qua non, of what it means to be a member of the Jewish people. Note that they are not a question of holding the right belief about God but are rather a question of behavior. Without recognizing your obligation to the most vulnerable in the society, including the stranger, the immigrant, you cannot be one of us. We are the people who had an experience of slavery in Egypt, we remember it, and we translate that experience by trying our best to support the dignity and the livelihood of those who are disadvantaged by class, ethnicity, or disability.

And, didn’t we just hear that lesson so strongly in the haftarah that the Rabbis chose for us to read at the pinnacle of our ritual observance of Yom Kippur, the moment of most intense spiritual discipline of the year, in the words of Isaiah:

“What is the fast that I have demanded of you—to undo the bonds of wicked power and the yoke of heavy burden; to let the oppressed go free, to share your bread with the hungry; to bring the homeless home, to clothe the naked—don’t hide yourself, as these are all your flesh and blood.”

To return to the Beit Din, I like to ask the person sitting before our court of acceptance, something like the following: In your understanding of what Judaism requires of you what seems to you to be an easy commandment and what seems to be difficult or stringent. The question elicits incredibly diverse answers. Typically folks will single out ritual requirements as challenging to them, specifically the challenge of establishing a meaningful observance of Shabbat, similarly with the dietary laws, or difficulty with the prayer service, As easy commandments many cite the positive “family” oriented observances of holidays like Passover and Chanukah, Some say the ethical commandments are “easy” in the sense that being a moral person reflects similar if not the same values and commitments with which they were raised as Christians or in other traditions.

But we have also heard some say that Shabbat feels like an easy commandment. One person said that Shabbat was like a gift that comes every week. It made a difference in his life by making one day unique and providing a welcome respite and an overall rhythm that carries over to the week of work as well. And I remember well one person who said that the hardest commands were in the area of Tzedek,/Tzedakah. As a Jew he felt obliged every time he passed someone on the street who sought a handout to give him or her something, and he also felt reminded each and every time that he needed to do something to change the society which resulted in that person’s being on the street. I loved these answers—think of the beautiful individuals who join us and support us in our task as a Jewish people.

The answer about tzedakah reminds me of two stories from widely different periods of our history one told in Yiddish and one from the Rabbinic Midrash in the Talmudic era:

A story was told about the Rabbi of Zholotov, Rabbi Michael, said: “when my day comes and I get to the world of truth, they will ask me, “Why didn’t you study the entire Torah, the Talmud, the Responsa, and the laws of the Shulchan Aruch in every part and detail? And I will answer, “My brain was too small to contain such vast learning.”

And if they ask me, “Is it true what is written in the Shulchan Aruch, that every righteous and devout Jew must fast each Monday and Thursday in memory of the Temple’s destruction and the lack of God’s justice in the world So why didn’t you do so?’ And, I will answer, “I suffered many illnesses that prevented me from fasting.”

And if they ask me, “Why did you give so little in tzedakah?’ I will answer that I was poor.

But if they ask me, “Since you had a small brain and you were ill and poor, why were you so proud?’ I won’t know what to answer.

A much earlier story: One of the unique elements of our High Holy Day prayers is the recitation of the narrative of the Ten Martyrs, the ten rabbis who were tortured and died in the early part of the 2nd century during a period of rebellion against the Romans. We do this as part of the afternoon service.

The Roman historian Dio Cassius wrote of the Jewish rebellion in the land of Israel: 985 of their most famous villages were razed to the ground. 580,000 men were slain in the various raids and battles, and the number of those that perished from famine, disease, and fire was past finding out. Thus, nearly the whole of Judea was made desolate. Punishing the rabbinic leadership for their participation in the revolt, many were martyred.

The midrash gives a remarkable account in connection with this martyrdom: “When Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Simeon were already on their way to be martyred, Rabbi Simeon said to his colleague, ‘Master, I lose heart, for I do not know what it is I am giving up my life for.’

Rabbi Ishmael replied to Rabbi Simeon, ‘In your entire life, did not someone come to you for judgment and did you not put him off until you could finish your drink: Or tie your shoes? Or until you put on your clothes? And did not the Torah say, ‘You shall not mistreat any widow or orphan. If you do mistreat them, I will heed their outcry as soon as they cry to me, and my anger shall blaze forth and I will put you to the sword, and your wives shall become widows and your children orphans (Exodus 22:22-23) What difference is there between a major or minor mistreatment?

And to this Rabbi Shimon replied, ‘I am consoled my teacher.’

So now, we can add Isaiah, Reb Michael of Zholotov, and Rabbi Ishmael, to the Talmud’s attempt to help us understand the meaning of the phrase “I am Jewish.”

There are actually two powerful practices on Yom Kippur that echo these themes of the essence of Judaism: Fasting, of course, as Isaiah mentions and the sounding of the Shofar at the end of the day. The custom of blowing the Shofar, a symbol of redemption and a call to change, was originally used to announce the coming of a jubilee year. With the blast of the Shofar at the end of Yom Kippur, the society took a step towards a better future. Debts were wiped free, slaves were liberated, and property was redistributed in a way to promote greater equity. Although this year that we have entered is not a Jubilee year (the next one is 2051), it does in fact mark the first cycle that ends in a shmitah year, a Sabbatical year. This practice,  innovated in ancient Israel and commanded in the Torah, to reflect the fact that the land itself needs a break from exploitation and over use, every seventh year. What an important value that we need to preserve and reflect upon in today’s world of human exploitation and devastation of our ecosystem!

One of the echoes we are to hear in the sound of the shofar is the cry of those who would be silenced. We are reminded on these days that we have a responsibility beyond ourselves. For in enlarging our sense of self by saying “we” in our prayers, by including within our cry, the cry of those whose crying is rarely heard, such as those suffering from torture and cruel and degrading treatment, our voice becomes the sound of the shofar, the voice of redemption. In the reading from Jeremiah from the haftarah last week, the prophet says, “A voice cries out in the wilderness, prepare a way for God!” A voice cries out, a voice sounded in the wilderness; do we hear it, here in the land of plenty?

The other ritual, fasting, has, of course, achieved a place in almost every major religious tradition as a way to make ourselves receptive to a Divine message or vision, to prepare ourselves for an important event, or to expiate guilt and win compassion from God. But we also may see it as a kind of voluntary suffering that can remind us of other people who suffer, those who unlike us are not choosing to fast but are doing so involuntarily. Or it can be an act of atonement, something hard to do that helps deepen our resolve to change behavior. A big part of spiritual development is not only breaking bad habits, but also becoming conscious of our habits in general, of what is automatic in our lives. Fasting can give us some leverage to examine our lives—a change in physical condition that can alter our consciousness.

In addition to the eloquent comments from Isaiah that connect our fast today with our commitment to justice, there is also a link with the haftarah we will read at the afternoon service, from the Book of Jonah, You will hear again and then remember that when Jonah finally gets to Nineveh to prophesy, what is the response of the people to the possibility of their impending destruction? They call a fast day—for everyone from the king to the commoner to their domestic animals. And this particular fast has a resonance for the rest of Jewish history. Whenever the ancient Jewish community would fast, frequently in a situation of drought, which they viewed as an ecological punishment from God due to their failures of justice, this was the ritual for the public communal fast, according to a text from the Mishnah (Taanit 2:1):

“What was the order of procedure on the fast days? They used to bring out the Ark into the open space in the town, and strew wood-ashes upon the Ark and upon the head of the President and on the head of the Chief of the Court; and every one there put some on his head. The eldest among them uttered before them words of admonition: “Brethren, it is not said of the people of Nineveh And God saw their sackcloth and their fasting,’ but “And God saw their works that they turned from their evil ways.”

What were the works of people of Nineveh? According to the Midrash, Pirke D’Rabbi Eliezer, the penance of the Ninevites did not stop at fasting and praying: “Their deeds showed that they had determined to lead a better life. If a man had usurped another’s property, he sought to make amends for his iniquity; some went so far as to destroy their palaces in order to be able give back a single brick to the rightful owner. Of their own accord, others appeared before the courts of justice, and confessed their secret crimes and sins, known to none besides themselves.

“One incident that happened at the time will illustrate the contrition of the Ninevites. A man found a treasure in the building lot he had acquired from his neighbor. Both buyer and seller refused to assume possession of the treasure. The seller insisted that the sale of the lot carried with it the sale of all it contained. The buyer held that he had bought the ground, not the treasure hidden therein. Neither rested satisfied until the judge succeeded in finding out who had hidden the treasure and who were his heirs, and the joy of the two was great when they could deliver the treasure up to its legitimate owners.”

This model of action that the Midrash attributes to the people of Nineveh,(an area near Mosul in contemporary Iraq,) is inspiring and reflects values to which we can all aspire. In the interpretive language of our Machzor reflecting on the idea that Yom Kippur seals our fate for the year, we read the suggestion that in our actions we have the ability to determine

“Whose hunger shall be for the good, who shall thirst for justice and right?

Who shall live for the sake of others, who dying, shall leave a heritage of life”

I personally will choose another fast this year in the spirit of Isaiah who demands justice along with ritual. Following upon the call of Union for Reform Judaism Executive Committee to begin a phased and expeditious withdrawal of troops from Iraq, and together with religious leaders such as the Dean of Hebrew Union College and the heads of the National Council of Churches and the Islamic Society of North America, I have joined the following request:

“We call on all Americans to join in fasting from dawn to dusk on Monday, October 8, to call for an end to the Iraq War. On this day, people of faith in local communities across our nation will act as catalysts to transform the meaning of the day from one of conquest to community and from violence to reverence. Just as Isaiah called the People Israel to hear the Yom Kippur fast as God’s call to feed the hungry, just as Jesus fasted in the wilderness, just as Christians through Lenten fasting and Muslims through Ramadan fasting have focused on spiritual transformation, just as Mohandas Gandhi, Cesar Chavez and others drew on fasting to change the course of history, so we call on all our communities of faith to draw now on fasting as a path toward inner spiritual transformation and outward social transformation. Ending this war can become the first step toward a policy that embodies a deeper, broader sense of generosity and community at home and in the world.”

On that day, (observed as Columbus Day on our American calendar,) I invite you to join me in a public interfaith observance on Capitol Hill from 12 noon to 1 PM. I hope also to participate as a sponsoring religious leader in a dialogue with the candidates from both parties in what we are calling “The Compassion Forums,” tentatively November 26 and November 27 in Greenville South Carolina, sponsored by Faith in Public Life. We hope to capture the current energy in our nation’s faith communities, including communities across a wide religious and political spectrum around the “compassion” issues—domestic poverty and Katrina, global poverty and AIDS, climate change, Torture and Human Rights, and Genocide in Darfur.

And there is a path for all of us to walk along at Temple Shalom this year. I am very, very honored and pleased at this moment to present to you the important groundwork laid by our Tikkun Olam Committee. Following the themes of today’s haftarah, you can see on this leaflet five areas of concern to which our Tikkun Olam Committee will direct our attention and hopefully our action in the coming year:

We will have our own compassion forums! You can learn more about these issues at the study session tomorrow afternoon from your fellow congregants or join our Tikkun Olam mailing list and attend our organizational meetings on the last Tuesday of each month. We have also chosen to work on at least these five issues.

1) Affordable and Low Income Housing,

2) Environment/Green Menorah

3) Torture and Human Dignity

4) Darfur and Genocide

5) Civil Marriage Equality

The last of these issues has become just in the last three days even more pressing. You will have noticed a new banner outside of our Temple, Civil Marriage is a Civil Right approved by our Board as timely and necessary to state our values as a congregation. The failure of the Maryland Supreme Court in its decision this week to provide equal justice for all families in our state by allowing civil marriage rights to all citizens regardless of sexual orientation demands a response.

Speaking of banners, we also read in the prophet Isaiah (Chapter 18): “All you who dwell upon the planet and live throughout the earth shall see when the banner is lifted on the mountain, shall hear the Shofar when it is sounded forth.” The shofar sounds like a battle cry, but at the same time, it sounds like a cry of pain. In this one sound, we hear both the problem and its solution. If we listen carefully this year to the sound of the Shofar, we will hear a broken world crying. And waking up to this consciousness is a good first step toward contributing to the world’s repair. But we will also hear a rousing cry for help that can empower us to take the next step beyond opening our eyes to actually taking an active part in changing our reality.”

What is the fast that you have chosen and will choose?

What will the Shofar call to you to do at the end of this Yom Kippur?

May you continue to experience a Tzom Kal—An enlightening fast and may the Shofar speak also to your heart.