God

The key to understanding ourselves lies within our children.  To look at them is to gain insight.  After all, they grow to embody the sensibilities and outlook that we possess, even if we do not acknowledge them.  This is one reason why our children have problems with God.  We do too.

‘God’ is one of those -- well, you know -- words that it is difficult to use unless we are swearing or giving birth.  That is not to say that we do not believe in God:  most Americans do have firm belief in God.  They even pray.  Occasionally.

Far more difficult is developing a sense of comfort with the idea of God.  One colleague has gone so far as to say that until a couple discusses belief in God they are not truly intimate.  Only when such a sensitive issue is shared without feeling embarrassed can people be said to be truly honest with each other.  Think of it.  There is truth here.

Children are receptacles for what spills over from our lives into theirs.  Our beliefs have a profound impact in forming their inner core values.  Feeling shy about God means they will have to infer what our true sentiments are.  Is it not disturbing that so many young Jews turn away from God and religion?  They get a sense that God is more mysterious and dangerous than any other taboo.

English only compounds the problem.  Christians have little difficulty in expressing their values in religious terms.  Jews, on the other hand, would rather worm their way out of saying things like, “God loves you.”  In Hebrew, it feels far less dangerous to utter.  The only problem is:  Nobody understands what they are saying.  You have heard the phrase, “Our Father Who Art in Heaven”?  Jewish words.  Comes from “Avinu Sh’Bashamayim”.  Or ”God loves you?”  We say it before the Shma every day.  We call it “Ahava Rabba”.

 A key factor in coming to terms with God is developing a comfort level with words.  I often urge people to speak aloud to God when praying from the heart.  It can be an awesome experience.  Most important is to find our deep-set belief and nourish it.

The Baal Shem Tov once said:  A young man wanted to learn the art of becoming a blacksmith.  He went to an older man seeking to become his apprentice.  Learning from his teacher, the boy was a quick study; he learned all the skills of the trade.  Going out on his own, however, the young man soon failed.  He returned to his teacher and asked what he was doing wrong.  The elder replied:  “You have all the information, all the tools, and you’ve mastered the techniques.  What remains is learn to kindle the spark.”

Our Gift and Purpose

We did not arrive alone.  That would have been impossible.  No one person could have made this trek.  The journey was made conceivable because of a spirit that set their souls on fire.  Once aflame nothing would stand in their way.

They came through the cauldron of the Holocaust.  They pushed past the pogroms that decimated Asia.  They persevered through the ghettos of Europe and the Inquisition of Iberia.  These same souls witnessed the snaking vile course of the Crusades and the Destruction of the Temples.

Throughout the epochs they carried Shabbat candles, tallit, tefillin, siddur and a Godly vision that kept them inspired. 

Samuel Beckett wrote, “We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment.  How many people can boast as much?” 

The same can be said for us.  We have not forgotten our destiny.  Otherwise, we would not be.

We are here because our ancestors refused to give up.  They maintained their fidelity, their allegiance to the God of Abraham and Sarah.  From one generation to the next the covenant has been passed down.   In our hands it now rests.

Abraham Joshua Heschel, visionary, scholar, theologian, wrote, “ Every seventh day a miracle comes to pass, the resurrection of the soul, of the soul of man and the soul of all things.  A medieval sage declared: The world which was created in six days was a world without a soul.  This is why it is said: ‘and on the seventh day He rested, vayinnafash’ (Exodus 31:17): nefesh means a soul.”

Our essential destiny is to infuse the world with a soul, to give an unruly world meaning and purpose.  Without our essence, our nefesh, the world would be chaotic and meaningless.  The purpose of life is not mere survival or conquest, it is much more lofty.  We render meaning because of our actions.

Yet, there is no reason to assume that we have arrived at our destination.  Sure, we have made significant inroads.  The world is largely monotheistic.  Most people realize the values of democracy, equality, and goodness.  These are among a few of the gifts of the Jews.  But our mission is far from complete.

I cannot tell you what our ultimate destiny will look like, or yield.  All I know is that the candlesticks, siddur, tallit, tefillin and vision are still needed.  Our inner core still yearns for completion; the wholeness that comes from living a life of purpose.

All those forbears that pushed through seemingly impenetrable barriers left us a package.  It is our inheritance.  Each week we open the package and read from it.  It is the Torah from Sinai that brings us light, hope, soul, and purpose.  But it is only yours if you claim it.