Rabbi Vicki Seren Tuckman
Temple Micah, Lawrenceville, NJ
Kol Nidrei Sermon
10 Tishrei 5775 * October 2014
“Prayer: If Not Now, When?”
I first sat to scribe this sermon on an impeccable August day after returning
from a walk in the woods. My day had started in prayer and perfection. As I
entered my sun-drenched kitchen I was greeted by a soft summer light; the kind
of gentle morning we all wish for. I was not even aware that I had been holding
my breath through weeks of humid July heat for just this moment in time. On
that crisp morning, I could see the leaves slightly blowing in the summer breeze,
just outside the kitchen window. It was as if they moved with the rhythmic
breath of an invisible fairy, the ones of childhood lore who dwell between blades
of grass and in empty logs. I know they were blowing their sweet morning breath
on each leaf and on every blade of grass, drying up the morning dew.
And my response to such perfection? I sent up a quick spontaneous prayer
to God, or whatever Divine voice was tuned into my prayers that morning, and
silently whispered: “O! Thank God for this day!” Terse, to the point. But yet a
clear prayer of impulsive gratitude. It was prayer as instinct. The kind that easily
rolls off the tongue. We are completely free in those moments. We do not
consider who or what is listening. We just react. It is natural, non-cerebral, pure.
So... Why the need to make it a religious act? Why not just think or talk?
Is there an emotional and spiritual need to express our feelings...? to emote...?
to believe that there is something beyond us that listens or registers our words...?
Is prayer instinctively Jewish? Or do I make prayer Jewish, because I am a Jew?
Clearly prayer takes place beyond the walls of our synagogues, churches
and mosques. All of us have prayed or hoped or bargained, most likely in times of
great need. Perhaps spoken in fear, other times in sorrow. Our personal
petitions are uttered in hushed tones and the squeeze of a hand as we watch our
child being wheeled down a hallway towards surgery. Or when we visit the grave
of a loved one whom we desperately miss and vision ourselves laying on the
ground next to them, weeping into the soil, without a single coherent word
escaping our lips.
We are here tonight to pray. In addition to fasting, which is an individual
sacrifice, Yom Kippur is a holy day to offer words of confession as a community.
Rabbi Leon de Modena, a medieval Jewish scholar, taught “words are the guides
to acts. The mouth makes the first move.” Rabbis Kerry Olitsky and Rachel
Sabath teach: “perhaps the most powerful theme during this (High Holy Day)
period is the constancy of hope. No matter where we are, what we do, or what
has happened to us, our profound belief in (the future) is implicit in our every
thought” and prayer. (Preparing Your Heart for the High Holy Days) Rabbi Nancy Flam of the Institute
for Jewish Spirituality teaches: “prayer is a fundamental defining human need.
When our hearts are full or empty, when we feel deep longing, gratitude,
humility, awe, love, or devotion, many of us instinctively turn toward prayer, just
as a flower turns toward the sun.” (RJ Magazine)
A pressing goal of the Kol Nidrei service is to direct our hearts towards selfimprovement. But let me present to you the true challenge; the hurdle you must
clear for success. You have to be here. And not just physically taking up space on
a pew. It is not enough to just “show up” for the next 24 hours; it is being here
emotionally and physically as a participatory member of the Jewish People. It is
bringing all of your reflections and all of your soul work, that makes this solemn
day a true celebration of the human potential for Teshuvah; for true growth and
change.
So as they say in sports “game on”. This is not a practice or a scrimmage,
this is when you are asked to bring your “A” Game. We will exit the sanctuary
tomorrow exhausted but empowered for the new year ahead. But teshuva is,
ultimately, on ongoing process. The hard part is – our game is 354 days long. And
if we return to our old ways, we have ultimately lost. We must commit ourselves
to real change, to new habits and behaviors, ones that affirm the divine spark in
each of us.
Isaiah, our biblical prophet (whom we will read from tomorrow morning)
warns that God does not approve of our empty fast on Yom Kippur if it does not
lead us towards helping the hungry, the poor, and the needy. And in this same
vain, I say to you, do not waste this moral opportunity that Yom Kippur sets
before you. If you simply recite the prayers, but give no true intentionality (no
kavanah) to their meaning, you are wasting your time. If you put no effort into
the atonement for your sins, you are wasting your time. If you have wronged
another, and do not seek to repair the damage, you are wasting your time.
So how do we make this happen? It is critical that we each find our own
“sanctuary” to pray, as well as, carve out the necessary time to reflect. The
synagogue is the “meeting house” par excellence for Jews. In Hebrew, the
synagogue is called the “Beit K'nesset” - a House of Gathering. A gathering spot,
shall we say, to pray, to learn, to eat, to build our Jewish friendships. However,
we instinctively know at Temple Micah, as we have prayed in this house of
worship for 45 years, that the space itself only becomes sacred, and Jewish, when
we enter. It is our physical and emotional presence that brings holiness to our
gatherings.
Some people truly love attending services; while others do not. There are a
myriad of reasons as to why synagogue worship is not a natural behavior for
many modern/progressive Jews. Perhaps the biggest barrier may be the lack of a
meaningful relationship with God. So many of us are simply confused as to what
we believe in a theological sense, and so avoidance is the easiest answer. Some
people say they are “culturally Jewish” as an explanation for avoiding temple - but
I think all of us are “cultural” Jews and so much more than that. I am absolutely
certain that a vast majority of us “observe” at least some Jewish rituals and
religious obligations. Lighting a menorah, attending a Passover Seder, or
providing our children with a Jewish education – these are concrete signs of our
Jewish observance. Furthermore, I would contend we all strive to live by an
ethical system that is consistent with the moral teachings outlined in the Torah
and Reform responsa literature. Hence, this makes us cultural, religious, as well
as observant Jews.
So what else gets in the way of prayer? Many of us have not figured out
how to decline all of the events that invade our Friday night or Saturday morning
calendars. And to be honest with ourselves, most liberal/progressive Jews do not
feel drawn to Sabbath worship or observance. I, of course, am a tremendous
advocate for people creating meaningful Shabbat rituals as well as attending
services, for it is here that we gather with our Jewish community and recite words
from our prayerbook that link us to our ancestors and to our sacred inheritance.
At Temple Micah we gather one Friday evening a month for Shabbat worship, and
on Saturday mornings when a child of our community is called to the Torah as a
Bar or Bat Mitzvah. I ask you to consider gathering with us and making this a
commitment in your life.
However, and please hear me, I do not think Temple Micah is the only place
for deep, authentic prayer. A Jew can, and should, pray anywhere/anytime. Your
individual “sanctuary” might be a bench in Central Park, a yoga mat, or your
kitchen when cooking a holiday meal. As I have mentioned before, I consider the
woods to be my sanctuary away from this sanctuary, like my “home away from
home”. Often I use my dog as an excuse to walk in the Princeton Institute Woods
where I breathe a bit deeper, let my brain slow down. In the spirit of scholar and
author, Wayne Muller, each of my walks in the woods is like a “mini sabbath”.
When I am in nature I pray in silence and solitude. I enjoy hearing the crunch of
the leaves under my feet and the pit-pats of Jezebel’s paws hitting the dirt path.
A plane overhead, a duck swishing in the water, birds in conversation. My God...
Who has time for this on a daily basis? But then again, who doesn’t?
But as a Jew, I need to be here with you. It is with my Jewish community
that I mark Jewish time and celebrate my Jewish existence. In both places, I
escape from the daily cacophony that clutters my mind and competes for my
attention. It is here, in this sacred space, that I can silent my i-phone and ignore
my emails. We live in a world full of texts and tweets, FaceBook posts and junk
mail. None of these follow me into the woods or into Shabbat services.
Imagine if we gave ourselves enough time to process our lives. Imagine if
we were able to reflect on life’s circumstances. Could we not better understand,
and accept, the garbage we all have to deal with on a daily basis? Imagine if we
could review some of our important conversations (or disagreements) that we
have with family members or co-workers. Would we not grow in our
relationships and interactions if we had this sacred time? Would we feel that we
could do better the next time around a difficult situation is thrust upon us? Could
we grow in our own responses and reactions, because we gave ourselves the gift
of not rushing from one thing to the next?
A partial answer to these questions is “prayer”. To me - prayer is a simple
act of reflection. It is a way of pausing and sanctifying time. In synagogue we reenact and reacquaint ourselves with our history each time we pray as a
community. We sing our prayers in Hebrew and Aramaic, as it strengthens our
link to Israel, our Jewish homeland. We also offer our prayers in English, because
if we are not listening and digesting their eternal messages, than all of this is for
naught.
Prayer is dialogue. And I truly believe that the most important person you
will have a conversation with over the next 24 hours is you. God’s role as a
listener is how you define it, but let me offer this image. God is like a mirror,
reflecting back that which you need to see and hear most on this Day of
Atonement. For if you are not listening – then God stops listening as well; as does
your spouse, or your partner, or your child, or your best friend. Because you will
not grow. You will not change. And you will not become that person you hope to
be.
In Leviticus 16 it says: “On this day - atonement shall be made for you to
cleanse yourself from all your sins; you shall be clean before Adonai your God.”
Judaism teaches – we all have the potential for change. You are not a slave to a
particular habit, or pattern, or belief system. Every year, and even every day,
starts off with a clean slate. Teshuvah and prayer work hand-in-hand to help us
take an accounting of our lives. It is a mitzvah, a sacred obligation, for us to
engage in this process. May we meet our challenges head-on with heart-felt
prayer, grace, and courage. And may the sanctuaries we visit, or find along our
journeys, provide us with the opportunity to grow in Jewish identity in order to
live creative and fulfilling Jewish lives.
Kayn Y'hi Ratzon.