Sermons

Being Certain
Erev Yom Kippur 5769
by Rabbi Sim Glaser

My favorite this year comes out of the book Plato and a Platypus Walk into a Bar. It goes something like this: a voice comes out of the heavens to Harold one day, saying, “Harold, sell the store.” He protests. “Sell the store!” says the booming voice. Harold sells his huge store for megabucks. “Harold,” comes the voice again, “Take the 5 million dollars from the sale of your store and go to Vegas!” “What? Las Vegas, are you kidding me?” “Go to Vegas, Harold.”

Harold goes to Vegas. He’s walking through a casino and the voice says, “Harold, go to the black jack table!” “Oy vey is mir,” mutters Harold, but he knows it’s out of his hands now. “Harold,” says the voice, “Bet the whole 5 million dollars on one hand.” He looks up shakes his head in utter disbelief, plops down the stack of bills as a crowd gathers around the table. He is dealt a 17 and groans.

“Harold, take a hit.” “I think we should leave it be!”

“Take a hit Harold!” “Whatever,” he sighs. It’s an ace.

“Harold, take another one!” “No, really, we’re doing ok. We got 18, let’s see what the dealer…” “Harold! Take another card!” Another card comes down. Again it’s an ace! An audible gasp comes from the crowd. “Harold.” “No, please no.” “Another hit, Harold.”

He closes his eyes as another card comes down, still another ace. The crowd cheers and then quiets, fearing the worse. “Harold?” “Please, it’s everything I have. We’ve got 20, can’t we stick?” “Another card Harold,” says the great voice. The card pops down in slo-mo landing on the table with a thud. It’s another ace. The voice booms: “Woah, unbelievable!!!”

For you youngsters who haven’t made it yet to the green felt tables, the moral of that story is that even God is astounded by the miracles of our world! And yes, even God is not sure of everything. How could God be sure? Look at us, after all. Dependable? You tell me! Creatures that can and will make decisions this year at a whim or even after due consideration – we change the course of events of the universe each time we open our mouths and each time we make a decision.

I’ll tell you one sure thing about the Kol Nidre we heard played and chanted so beautifully tonight is that it basically says: None of us are very sure we’re going to be able to fulfill our vows this year. It’s one big gorgeous central prayer that says I am not sure and please don’t be too tough on me God, if I fall short.

You might say that God answers back with tomorrow’s haunting prayer unetaneh tokef – the prayer which asks – who will die by this? Who will die by that? Even God doesn’t know what’s going to happen to whom.

So why get all bent out of shape praying to God over Yom Kippur to make our year a sweeter, safer, healthier new year? Why spend this time over the next 24 hours fasting and facing off with God? Because it will affect what we do. Even when we are not entirely sure of our reasons or our faith, there is great strength to be found in trying.

Another story for you. I’m into stories tonight. A Jew named Moishe was doing business Friday afternoon at the far end of his shtetl and realized there was no way he could make it home before sundown, before the onset of Shabbat. So he headed to the nearby home of the town’s most orthodox and learned rebbe, but the rebbe had guests already, and told Moishe that there was really no more room. He added, “But I am certain that God will provide.”

Disappointed, but convinced of the rebbe’s words Moishe walked on until he spied the home of Yankl the atheist. (Yes, everybody had a title in the shtetl – Yankl the atheist, Mendel the tax collector, Shireleh the tax revenue consultant. This was the home of Yankl the atheist.) Moishe was reluctant even to knock on the door – the man, after all, was an atheist. But the sun was about to set, so Moishe did what he had to do. He told Yankl his story and Yankl invited him in. Moishe was amazed to see a very proper Shabbat setting on Yankl’s table, with candles burning. After a delicious meal, Moishe loosened up and said, “Yankl, I don’t understand any of this. I go to the home of the most holy Jew in town, and he tells me to go away. ‘I know that God will provide,’ he tells me. Then I come to you, an atheist, and you treat me like a Jew.” Yankl the Atheist smiled and answered, “Yes, that’s because I knew that God would not provide!”

We Jews are good at hedging our bets. We really hope God is out there or in here, or at least somewhere – but often we harbor grave doubts. All in all we’re pretty sure we shouldn’t bet the whole store on the black jack table. Yet there’s certainly no harm in covering all the bases.

That’s why a lot of us come here. Yom Kippur is the time we check in, we pray with unusual sincerity, we experience moments of transcendence. Perhaps especially tonight, because the mood and the music of Kol Nidre transformed us into different people for a while.

This is a weird moment in American financial history out there. A lot of folks in high places were very certain they knew where things were going. They seemed so surprised. We seem so surprised. If there is any spiritual message to come out of this, it is when you mix the complex human emotions of security, frugality, risk, greed, trust, deception, forthrightness and secrecy with human beings from the top to the bottom of the economic spectrum, sparks are going to fly. And such circumstances could certainly evoke cynicism.

But that would be unfortunate. The state of the world today actually demands and requires of us more hope and faith than ever before. Hope and faith that people will care about one another, that there is a heavenly grace that comes to the aid of those who are sincere about making the world a better place for themselves and for others.

I am always reminded of the story about the two little girls, one, of great faith, who has a nice bicycle and the other who doesn’t. The girl with the bike says to the other, well your faith in God is so strong, why don’t you pray for one? The next day they meet, the little girl still doesn’t have a bike and her friend asks “so, what happened?” She responds: I asked, and He said “no!” - and don’tcha just know her reward’s in heaven.

All we can really do in the coming year is maintain faith in each other, in the strength of our leadership to guide us forward. In a time of mistrust, some despair and fear, it has never been more important to say what we mean and mean what we say.

One final story. A man comes to his rabbi asking him to pray for his son who is going off to war. The rabbi tells him to come back tomorrow. He is surprised by the rabbi’s response, but he does come back the next day with the same request. Again the rabbi says come back tomorrow. He comes back a third day with the same request uttered in the same exact manner and the rabbi says come back tomorrow. He comes back yet another day and the rabbi says: I’m not going to pray on your behalf because you aren’t praying on your own behalf. I know this because your tone has been the same each day. Had you been more wrought up and fervent in your request each day I should have known that we could pray together.

What kind of baby theology or politics leads us to believe that an artificially uttered hope or prayer, or, for that matter, leaving the fate of the world to someone else, to a leader or even another voter will ever have much of an effect?

The Kol Nidre at least is an honest prayer. It’s saying hey, I may mess up this year and will you please cut me a break because I’m a human being and you created me to take chances; to test my own morality at every moment.

Since you created this flawed universe, you of all beings should understand this!

And I believe with some certainty that God understands completely.