Sermons

Who Shall I Say is Calling?
Erev Yom Kippur 5770
by Rabbi Sim Glaser

A few days ago I officiated at a funeral of an elderly woman who was formerly a Baptist. 98% of those attending the funeral were Baptists of color, and every time I said anything that resonated with them about the deceased they offered up a hearty “A-men” An occasional “that’s right”. It was encouraging and my eulogy started getting fired up which for me in general is probably not a good thing. After the service I mentioned it to a Baptist preacher who happened to be in attendance. He said that his father had once told him that saying “amen” to a Baptist preacher is like saying “sic’ em” to a hound dog. Amen.

So then I asked him: “how do I get the Jews to do that?” and he smiled at me sadly. But I thought: but Jews are passionate people with strong beliefs and emotional responses. Maybe not always verbally or publicly. Nobody has shouted “You lie!” during a sermon. Yet. But then the day is young.

Generally, when the Jewish people hear something, we say – really who says? Much of the Talmudic tradition is based on:  “oh yeah? Well I think… That’s how the great Jews of the science world test their hypotheses: prove it! Our artists, gutsy and innovative challenge the norms by asking: Why not?

We’re certainly not a patient people. Turn Turn Turn, which we sang to open erev Rosh Hashanah could have been written with our new prayer book  Mishkan Tefilah in mind –

To the next prayer, turn turn turn
There are more options, turn turn turn
Where are we? You ask some person, who says: page eleven.

The author of Ecclesiastes, whence that song evolved, is a fine example of how our poets have always questioned and prodded this contentious people into awareness and humility:

There is a time and a place for everything, he confronts: a time to be born, to die – what do you think about that? A time for love and a time for hate – how does this sit with you? There is nothing new under the sun – prove me wrong!
God does what God does, in order that people should fear – take that!
Man has no preeminence over a beast – all is vanity – heh?

But then, in the 7th century a prayer for these high holy days made the scene, upping the ante on Ecclesiastes, and challenging our humility and our resolve before the great Ordainer of futures. We’ve been bugged by the unetaneh tokef prayer for hundreds of years.

On Rosh Hashanah it is inscribed,
And on Yom Kippur it is sealed.
How many shall pass away and how many shall be born?
Who shall live and who shall die?
Who shall reach the end of his days and who shall not?
Who shall perish by water and who by fire?
Who by sword and who by wild beast?

Our futures seem so out of our control! The average person might believe that the universe just does its thing regardless of your input. But Jews don’t like that stuff. So over the years we paraphrased that prayer. Here’s an example from the service downstairs where teens lead the service; teens, the least likely demographic on earth to be told exactly what the future’s got in store for them:

Who shall be tormented by the fire of ambition?
And whose hopes shall be quenched by the waters of failure?
Who shall be pierced by the sharp sword of envy?
 And who will be torn by the wild beast of resentment?
Who shall hunger for companionship and who shall thirst for approval?
Who shall be poor in their own eyes and who shall be rich in tranquility?

In other words, to put it in teenagese: Who says it has to be that way? It’s in my hands!

The Poet/Songwriter Leonard Cohen, who is on tour right now, at the age of 75: asked the question point blank in his version of the unetaneh tokef: Here’s how he does it. And yes, he does it with a guitar.

And who by fire, who by water,
who in the sunshine, who in the night time,
who by high ordeal, who by common trial,
who in your merry merry month of May,
who by very slow decay,
and who shall I say is calling?

And who in her lonely slip, who by barbiturate,
who in these realms of love, who by something blunt,
and who by avalanche, who by powder,
who for his greed, who for his hunger,
and who shall I say is calling?

And who by brave assent, who by accident,
who in solitude, who in this mirror,
who by his lady's command, who by his own hand,
who in mortal chains, who in power,
and who shall I say is calling?

Cohen is a religious liberal Jew; lights Shabbos candles when on tour; playing Tel Aviv against the threat of boycotts and donating the proceeds to Jewish Palestinian reconciliation efforts. Cohen doesn’t advocate taking fate lying down. He acknowledges that we don’t have all the answers, but it’s that refrain of his that hauntingly echoes the very question that defines this Yom Kippur day:

Who shall I say is calling? Who says? Who is making these bold proclamations about my future?
To the original author of Unetaneh Tokef, Rosh Hashanah is one of the most solemn days of the year; the day humanity is judged. Hope hinges on prayer, charity and repentance, which might temper God's decree.
When Leonard Cohen tackles the prayer, the nature of God, and the prayer's underlying struggle with mortality, take on a different, distinctly post-modernist, meaning. He lists the various ways a person can die. A vengeful lover, and depression, for example, replace the traditional 'wild beast' and 'stoning'.
But then a refrain, a remark tossed casually, in God's general direction: "And who," he says, "shall I say is calling?" After all this divination, this fortune telling, the worshipper responds: Really. Who says? Who is this anyway? And how dare you talk to me that way?
After a year like we’ve had, the original theodicy of the Unetaneh Tokef prayer is almost loathsome! Those who lost their homes? You touched by financial swindlers? One who lost a dear one to a terminal illness? You’re telling me this was all sealed between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur last year?

Jews don’t take that kind of fortune telling lying down. And yet there it is in the book. Some would say the prayer keeps humble those who think they can control everything; that it emboldens, almost teases, those of us who feel thoroughly overwhelmed or who have given up; and it challenges the sassy Jews among us who want to continue wrestling with God, as is common in our tradition, and work as partners to fix a broken world.

Cohen’s is the voice of the modern Jewish prophet thousands of years after the era of prophecy. When God calls, the line buzzes, but no one speaks on the other end." His question: who shall I say is calling? describes the hunger of so many Jews today. We know we are here. But most of us cannot say with the same certainty that God is. What are we to do, saddled with such a God-centered religion while being such an in-your-face, prove-it-to-me-people? What will happen to our theology? To our prayers?

Marc Gellman, Long Island Rabbi and co-star of the God Squad cable program, says you can basically boil down prayer into four categories – Gimme! Thanks! Oops! And Wow! Just think how short services could be today! Gimme! Thanks! Oops! Wow! Let’s eat!

Gimme is the petition prayer: I need this, I need that. But it makes God into a genie and we don’t buy it.
 
Oops! is the big Yom Kippur prayer. And we’re not too bad at that either, but we only have to unpack it once a year.

Thanks! And Wow! are good because they open us up to our gratitude and our great potential in an awe inspiring world. But we don’t show that type of gratitude or awe nearly as much as we might.

Sure there was a time, a long time when Jews took orders and predictions and prognostications from the great commander-in-chief, praised-be-God. But we don’t fill synagogues like the mega-churches to utter our thanks, oops, wow and gimme.

We do come to change ourselves and our world for the better, and just about every prayer is going to have to line up in that category. But we always come back to the questions – To whom are we speaking? And who is calling us?

When I was a rabbi in Hartford Connecticut I was taken out to lunch by an Evangelical minister one summer day. We were having a pleasant enough time when he asked: so, when were you called to your rabbinate? And I said: Called? It was more of a practical decision. It seemed like fun and I needed a job. He nodded politely and we finished our Chinese food.

Two weeks later I received a letter from him saying while on vacation he had had a lot of time to think about our lunch together and said that he decided I had been  called. I had been called by Jesus Christ. Now that will make the moo-shoo stick in your throat. That’s all well and good, I responded, but if I get up at Rosh Hashanah and tell them we have to add new holidays to our already crwded calendar I’m going to lose my job.

This did get me to thinking about what it means to be called, and who is on the line, and do I really believe what happens in our lives is preordained or decided on high. And why does the Jewish people think differently about calling than other faiths? I know myself well enough to know, if I got a call like that, and I have caller ID, I’d say: how did you get this number?

I probably should have told my minister friend that my people descends from the argumentative Abraham at Sodom and Gammorah; from Jonah the reluctant fleeing prophet, from Jacob the wrestler. From the daughters of Zelophehad; from Moses whose first question to the solicitous burning bush was: “And, uh, who shall I say is calling?” We’re just not big on taking orders on faith, especially if somehow they contradict our souls’ dictates. Even when God is issuing the orders!

But if we zoom in on the ‘thanks’ and the ‘wow’, the Unetaneh Tokef becomes not a rhetorical question, a “guess who’s gonna get it this year, yours truly, God” … but a challenge! What am I going to do this year to not be lonely? How am I going to be nicer to myself and to others? Am I going to believe everything I hear or read as my fate? Will I be lulled into apathy and contentment by voices I don’t even know? Am I going to abdicate my responsibility to family and community to someone else? Am I going to let my illness get the best of me?

This last year was a real in-your-face year and we sat and took it. This next year, I do believe will be a “who says?” year. That’s what the Jewish people do when we are told what our outcome has to be. We say: “Who says?”

Maybe being in the face of fate is our religion! We will always ask the question: And who shall I say is calling? It is our stubborn way. And the heavenly answer will probably continue to be: good, good, keep asking!