September 14th: Shabbat Shuvah
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
This week, our Torah Commentary consists of my Erev Rosh Hashanah sermon, Entering the Gates. Next week, we’ll post my Rosh Hashanah morning sermon, Approaching the Torah.
I begin with a prayer by Rabbi Sydney Greenberg:
May the door of this synagogue be wide enough to receive all who hunger for love,
all who are lonely for fellowship.
May it welcome all who have cares to unburden, thanks to express, hopes to nurture.
May the door of this synagogue be narrow enough to shut out pettiness and pride,
envy and enmity.
May its threshold be no stumbling block to young or straying feet.
May it be too high to admit complacency, selfishness, and harshness.
May this synagogue be, for all who enter, the doorway to a richer and more meaningful life.
There is a particular awareness in our Jewish spiritual sensibility of the significance of entering or leaving. We mark our doors with a sacred symbol, the mezzuzah, to imbue our transition from one domain to the other with holiness. In Psalm 121, we pray: “May the Lord guard us, both coming and going, from this time forth and forever.” We feel the special quality of entering this place on these High Holy Days, and, in ten days’ time, we shall conclude our worship with prayers about the Gates of Repentance, the Gates of Prayer, and the Gates of Righteousness. With the Psalmist in Number 118, we pray: “Open for me the gates of righteousness, that I may enter and thank God. This is the gateway to the Lord; the righteous shall enter it.”
My thought, as we begin these ten days of holiness and repentance, is to consider this metaphor of entrances and exits in our Tradition and to see what we can learn.
Let us begin with what you have just done: walked through the synagogue’s door. What do you expect to find? Whom do you hope to see? Of course, many of us look forward to seeing friends. Sharing the Holy Days with family or friends can be part of the charm. But, on a deeper level, who else can we possibly find in here?
Some of us come to find God. We are taught that God is everywhere, but there is often a sense that God is somehow more present in the synagogue—and even more present on certain holy occasions.
Some of us come here and encounter their ancestors, those who came before and brought Judaism to these shores, who raised us to be just and righteous, kind and compassionate, and who taught us to be Jewish. When we recite the same words they recited, it is as though they are still here—that the generations are praying together.
Some of us come for an answer to our questions—questions about the meaning of life or Judaism or the values that we hold dear. That is one of the goals of every rabbi, by the way: to somehow anticipate the questions of each worshipper and to try to address them in prayer and d’var Torah.
A final possibility is this one: some of us come here to find our own better selves. Improvement and repentance are always possibilities, and this place holds those possibilities aloft.
When I walk in and meet God, and my ancestors, and, hopefully, my better self, I also see all of you. It is a wonderful sight to see the assembled congregation and to feel the aspirational energy and the holiness. I think I can speak for God in this case, for the Lord is also happy to see you—happy to have this time to reason together. God wants and needs our attention, and our Tradition teaches us that we need some time with God. Where else can you go and God is glad to see you? This is a good place to be.
Back when I was in Rabbinical School, one of my friends came in on Monday in a very angry mood. He had been at his student pulpit in Columbus, Mississippi, and he believed that he had been treated badly—disrespectfully. He visited some congregants and went to the front door. As he was leaving, they instructed him to come to the back door next time. “The back door?!” he complained to me. “What am I, a servant or tradesman? How can they treat the rabbi like this?” My response was a combination of humor and horror. “No, no,” I said. “When they say, ‘Come to the back door,’ that is Southern for, ‘You’re now part of the family. Formality is not required. We want you to feel at home in our home.’” That’s not the way it was in Upstate New York where he was raised, but, after a little cultural interpretation, he realized that they had actually given him a compliment.
This image can reflect both our feelings in synagogue and also our feelings in the greater synagogue, God’s world. What would be the difference—out in the world—between “front door formality” and “back door ease?” What would it take for us to feel at home in the world? And, what must we do so that others are at home in the world? We are taught to extend a welcoming glance and hand to others. As Hillel used to say: “Be of the disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving your fellow creatures, and bringing Torah close to them.” (Avot 1.12) Shammai agreed. He used to say: “Greet all people with a cheerful smile.” (Avot 1.15)
While there are certain proprieties for behavior in this holy place and in every place, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could never make anyone feel uncomfortable? Extending the love of God to every individual is an important component of our faith, and we are thus are bidden to welcome both stranger and friend. We are also bidden to see in each individual the image of God. Whether they come into the front door or the back door, let us endeavor to make everyone feel at home.
One of the traditions of the High Holy Days is to visit the cemetery and to reflect upon the blessings brought to us by our departed loved ones. Then, of course, we have Yizkor on Yom Kippur morning where we sanctify our lives and theirs with our memories. How many doors in our lives were opened by those who came before us? Our parents and grandparents? Our beloved family members and friends? Our teachers? Let us remember how our journey through life has been blessed by those who opened doors for us and who ushered us through them and who showed us blessings and skills and opportunities. These gates were opened for us in love.
A final thought about doors and gates and entrances and exits, this one asked by my friend and teacher, Rabbi Steven Sager. What are the Gates of Righteousness? Are they when we walk into the synagogue, or when we walk out into the world? In a sense, we enter this holy place to find righteousness or to be reminded of righteousness or to find the strength and the wisdom to pursue it. But, the fact is that righteousness and holiness are not reserved for the synagogue alone. The fulfillment of all that we hold sacred is the daily righteousness we bring to the world.
Another one of my friends, Rabbi Denise Eger, makes this point about Sukkot. Why, she asks, do we have another holiday so soon after Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur—after we’ve spent more time praying that in the rest of the year? You’d think that we’d be tired of religion, but, no, Sukkot comes just four days after Yom Kippur. Perhaps, she suggests, it is to remind us that the holiness we find in the synagogue is intended for the world outside of the synagogue walls. In fact, she continues, the holiday stipulates that we dwell in a little booth that is more outside than inside and that, by design, has holes in it so we can see the world—the place where God’s holiness is so urgently needed.
You may remember this meditation from our prayer book.
The Aramaic term Sh’may D’kud’sha (which we read in the Kaddish) means “God’s Holy Name,” but it can also mean “God’s Reputation,” and thus does it reflect a particular Divine vulnerability. God’s power and reputation are dependent on the behavior of God’s people. It is good to declare our faith in God or to have a religious experience, but neither is complete unless we actually behave in godly ways. Praising God is beautiful, but praise from the righteous is what really counts. Sanctifying God is lovely, but only one who is behaving in a holy manner can show the world that God’s ways are worth adopting as our own.
So, when we pray, “Open for me the gates of righteousness, that I may enter and thank God,”
let us realize that the Gates of Righteousness lead us both into the synagogue and into the world. They are both gateways to the Lord; let us be righteous and enter them.