Words

Words carry enough weight to cause a war. 

Can you imagine that?  What a single person says could send men hurtling to their deaths and reduce nations to rubble.

Long ago, a man sent his servant to invite Kamza to attend a special, elite party.  The messenger delivered the invitation to Bar Kamza by mistake, a man despised by the party-giver.  Bar Kamza was excited to be included and arrived with great anticipation.  When the host saw Bar Kamza he shouted at him and shamed him, demanding that the offensive Bar Kamza leave immediately.  He was ejected in front of the community.  Bar Kamza got revenge by bringing in the Roman legions with lies about the aristocracy and, in the end, brought about the Fall of Jerusalem and the Destruction and terrible exile that followed.

Words can lay waste to an intact family.  In the aftermath of a few ill-chosen words a loving family can become a battleground. 

Think of Joseph who, by carelessly speaking to his brothers, ultimately caused his people to endure harsh slavery for generations.  Had Joseph kept his dreams to himself, the brothers would not have hated him, thrown him in a pit, sold him to Egyptians, and later found themselves begging for food at his doorstep.

Think of family celebrations and mark who is absent because of past words spoken too carelessly.  Brothers do not speak.  Children are estranged.  Connections are severed all because of words.

Perhaps that is why many people resort to writing e-mails, sending texts, and communicating innocuously.  A couple of thousand years ago there was a proto-postal service in Rome; it came in the form of a dispatched messenger.  This ancient service was called, “cursus publicus,” probably because it was a poor substitute for understanding the tone and gestures that accompanied the words.

Abraham Lincoln understood words and the power they carry.  When he became angry with someone he would sit at his desk and write a heated letter.  Lincoln would then tuck it into a drawer in the desk.  Later, in the calmness of letting time pass and his heat cool, Lincoln would take out the letter and write on it, “never sent, never signed."

Hear the words of the ancient scholar Avtalyon,  “Be mindful of your words lest you be punished with exile, and you will be exiled to the place of the bad waters, and your students who come after you will drink, and the name of heaven will be profaned.”  -Avot 1:11

            Words have the power to generate and regenerate.  Not only do words affect the listener, they are passed on to others in what may be a never-ending journey of blessing or toxicity.

One of the great benefits of Freud and the great tradition of psychoanalysis has been the ability to stir the unconscious by verbalizing our feelings.  One of the negative consequences of this same proficiency is that it does not always make us more skilled in being thoughtful to others.

Another Sage, Shimon ben Gamliel, said, “Whoever is profuse of words will eventually bring about sin.”  Enough said.

Thinking About Past and Future

As Jews, we have marked time with both the moon and the sun reminding us of the passage of the seasons.  Time is important.  For example, nobody ever knew exactly how grandpa was.  He ran from Czarist Russia and certain death when he was just fourteen.  Unfortunately, many things were left behind in the old country, including his age.  We never learned grandpa’s birthday either.  We tried to figure it out after he died, but it was all guesswork.

Age and dates are important.  That is why we continually look back into time to trace the roots of our present.  The only gauge of time that goes back beyond human record-keeping is the Bible.  Scholars investigating genealogies of matriarchs, patriarchs; of wars and treaties, prophets and saints have read back into time the present age of the world.  They read all the “begots” with a measured eye.  According to their estimate, the world is now five thousand seven hundred seventy odd years old.

The date of the birth of the world this year falls on September 5, 2013.  That date comes to us from all the years of the lives of the ancient ones along with the passage of the marked epochs of time. 

Why are birth dates important?  It celebrates an arrival.  Your birthday is important because you entered the world on this day.  All the gifts that you have brought would not have happened without you.  That is the reason for the cake, candles, and song.  We are wanted and needed.  We are unique and indispensable.

All birthdays are also the occasion of re-assessments of self and being.  We consider who we are, what we have become and where we have veered off the path of further self revelation.  Birthdays are a time of renewal.

September 5th is important as it celebrates both a beginning and renewal.  We wish the world a better future.  We have abused it far too much with deforestation, pollution, lack of concern for life-forms that are dependent upon us, an absence of love.  We have uprooted without planting.  We have disemboweled the earth without replenishing it.  We have savaged all but the heartiest of animals and plants. 

At the same time, this yearly Rosh Hashanna is a call for renewal for inter-personal changes.  It does little good to treat the dog well, while we abuse people.  Remember: all people are as unique and as gifted as you.  Every person carries a blessing that they alone can give.  For the Jewish tradition it is said that any person can be the emissary of God, the Mashiah.  The pauper on the street, a child’s face, your girlfriend, your father, or spouse may be the chosen.  Since we do not know who the hidden emissary may be we must treat everyone as if they are the One.

From the entire Jewish community, may this New Year be a time of renewal of hope and determined love.  May you be blessed.  May you be the blessing, in 5774.

Death Date

When I give tours of the Synagogue to our non-Jewish neighbors and curiosity seekers, I point out that the boards at the back of the sanctuary list names of the deceased and their death dates- which we know as yahrzeit. 

Yahrzeit is an amalgam of two words- “yahr” meaning “year” and “zeit” which is “time.”  I go on to explain to our guests that in Judaism we commemorate a death date and place great emphasis on it.  “People come to say special prayers on the yahrzeit of their loved one.  These prayers are so old that they predate Christianity.”

“See those tiny bulbs on the brass plaques?” I ask.  “Well, if the light is glowing that means their death date is this week.”  They grow still as they wonder about this.

What I do not explain to the visitors is the meaning of the tradition of yahrzeit and kaddish. 

Generations come and go.  Despite the epochs, we recall those who have traveled this road before us.  Gazing at scrapbooks and faded pictures we remember zayde and bubbie (grandpa and grandma).  Memories float to the surface.  Eagerly, we point them out to our families, carefully explaining who each person was along with a tale of how their lives are still interconnected with ours.  Their legacy is us.  We are the possessors of their story, their lives.  When we recall them, name our children after them, they gain definition, even in death.

On the Holy Days we sing a prayer, zochraynu l’hayyim, “Remember us for life,” we plead with God.  At the same time, we also want, or need, to be remembered by the living after we have passed.  As age brings us closer to our ultimate destination a jarring question leaps to mind: “Who will remember me?”  Will anyone name their child after me?  Will anyone say kaddish when I am dead?  Perhaps it is a kind of double death to die and be forgotten.

We believe that when a person dies their body returns to the earth but their soul, being a gift of God, survives.  If this is true, perhaps then their soul still “knows” us.  What a gift to their spirit to be remembered, still cherished!  That they have not been forgotten may be the greatest balm to their spirit. 

Believe it or not we know Moses’ yahrzeit.  We know the date of Rabbi Akiva’s death.  And we read the names of the members of our congregation each Shabbat when their yahrzeits fall that week.  The list is long.  Many names are now familiar to me.  As I read the list, I smile at some of the memories and am saddened by others.

I imagine on those Shabbatot or during the week when we have evening services and someone stands to recite kaddish, a soul is nourished.  Somewhere is the vast cosmos a soul reflects, “See? I have not been forgotten.”  And that soul rises a bit higher on the letters of the kaddish as they are enunciated by the living.

The words are the same as previous generations pronounced, yitgadal, v’yitkadash… as they praise the Eternal One.  Perhaps that too is part of the gift.  “See Lord, I left a good legacy.  They not only remember me but through me they remember You.”