Sermons

Erev Yom Kippur Sermon 5771
by Rabbi Marcia Zimmerman

There is an important distinction between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. Rosh HaShanah is a time when we look out into the world. We see our place as a community and we understand how the world might see us depending on what has been happening.  Yom Kippur is quite different. Yom Kippur is about what happens in this sanctuary, in our hearts and in our souls. We go deep. We deeply understand the realities of t’shuvah, atonement…the realities of our place in the world, then we can come before God to ask forgiveness.  

Tonight I thought I would give a sermon about the sacredness of messiness. Life is messy. The reality is that no one’s life is neat or clean. Everybody experiences something. Everybody has things to contend with. 

There is a great story about a woman who was always perfect. During the eight years when she had survived cervical cancer and gone through a divorce, she never had a hair out of place. She was always perfect. 

Things changed when, one day, she found herself in a department store in San Francisco.  She had a new partner, a man she loved dearly and really respected…but there wasn’t much passion in their lives. She didn’t quite understand why, but she had accepted it as a reality of their relationship. He was about to receive an honor as a very revered and respected businessman, and she was at the store to find an outfit for the event. In the department store in San Francisco she found the perfect dress. The saleswoman said, “Let’s go to the shoe department to find the perfect shoes.” 

On that day, October 17, 1989 at 5:04 p.m. in San Francisco, the earthquake hit. The building shook and the lights went out. Everybody ran out of the store for their lives, including her. She had no money with her, since she had left her purse behind in the store. She had no way to ask for help. She decided she was going to walk home…in a formal gown and in uncomfortably high shoes. She lived on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge.

About a mile from the department store she threw off her shoes and walked home barefoot. By the time she arrived at her front door, her feet were bleeding, her hair was a mess, and her make-up was smeared. This was a woman who, even through chemo, woke up a half hour before anyone else did in her house so that she could look perfect. When she arrived at her home, her partner had a moment of extreme passion, after which she looked at him and said, “What was that?  I’ve never experienced something like that!”  He replied, “I was always afraid to smear your lipstick.” 

Our perfections are part of what keep us separate from other people. Our desire to be perfect is a wedge, it doesn’t bring us closer. It is our wounds and vulnerabilities that keep us connected to other people. It is the messiness in our lives that gives our lives meaning.  It helps us understand that nobody is perfect and no one will ever be perfect.  We mess up. It doesn’t mean that is the end of the story…“Oops, we’re human.”  No…it’s a little more difficult than that.  

You see, because we’re not perfect, we all transgress. The fact that we all transgress means that we all have to struggle with that transgression. To just say we’re sorry and we won’t ever do it again is just not enough, it isn’t really doing the important work. We have to look that transgression in the eye.

Our behavior is never based on nothing. Our behavior reflects something that is being shaken and stirred up inside. When we transgress, we have to look at it and be honest.  We have to ask ourselves, “What made me say that?  What made me do that?” We have to really unpack what it is all about in order to find forgiveness and fill the words “I’m sorry” with intent and with a true sense of honesty. 

Rachel Naomi Remen says, “Perfection is the booby prize in life.” It is not something we are born with, it is something we have learned. Somehow we learned that perfection is what we should want, that happiness is what we should want. Guess what? Life is messy.  There are moments of happiness. There are moments when we feel this intense love, but we feel intense and profound ambivalence the next. We feel love and confusion. We feel these intense and conflicting realities all the time. This is the messiness in life…but it is sacred. It is what we are supposed to experience, what we are supposed to feel. 

We get to the point where we think we’re perfect, that we should have the answer or the “fix” for someone else’s problems. “Fixing” things is really too small a strategy for life.  It doesn’t work. Being next to a person as they are in their own trauma and messiness, by their side, listening to their story in its entirety, and just being present…is the most profound experience for another person. There was a survey of medical students who were asked to think about a loss in their lives and to then tell a fellow student about when somebody was really there for them during the loss, and also when somebody was really not there for them. What they found was that when somebody gave advice without knowing all the facts and listening to the whole story, it wasn’t really helpful. They were trying to “fix” it, and it wasn’t helpful. When somebody just listened to the whole story, reached out and somehow was present, it was the most profound experience of one human being with another. 

We are human…but in that humanness we have a whole lot of work to do. We have to understand that life presents us many opportunities to do that work. As human beings we do want to evolve, and to grow…and to do something to make this world better. On this day of Yom Kippur, as we come to God to say we’re sorry, we also have to do the work to accept somebody’s apology. Sometimes that is the hardest thing for us to do…to let go of the grievance, to let go of the situation and move on. Of course, there has to be real t’shuva on the other side…but what is our part in forgiving another human being? 

The early mystics have a great image. You will know this image, but you may not know that it comes from the early mystics. They say that our life is a set of doors. When one shuts, another one opens. Whether it’s a death, a loss of a relationship, or a deep wound created when somebody transgressed against you, it is a closed door. The mystics say that if you turn toward that door and shake it, only looking at that closed door, you’re facing the wrong way. You’ll miss the other doors that might be open. When others have transgressed against us, we too have work to do in order to forgive and to let go.

There are interesting ways for us to understand the messiness of life. The mystics say that everything is already included within Torah…that there are no new ideas…nothing separate from Jewish thought.  We can also look to the scientific world to illuminate what we might do with the messy life we’ve all been handed.

There is a theory in the scientific world known as chaos theory. It basically states two things. Now, I am not a scientist, so I will give you a fairly superficial overview. The chaos theory is about studying change. That is its first and foremost goal, studying change that is a part of everyday life and the world. The second part states that disequilibrium or chaos has to happen for evolution to take place. In order for transformation to take place you need chaos, or some kind of break in reality, such as the death of a cell. Something must happen to allow evolution to propel forward in this complex universe.  

What a powerful lesson about life. That when we find ourselves stuck in goop, in the realities of the mess, we can just stop for a minute and study it. We can try to understand it without trying to impose a theory on it. We can just stand in its presence. The scientists say that an “actual reality” will emerge. A pattern will emerge if you give it time.  Perhaps if we just stand in the presence of whatever life gives us, then chaos can move us forward. 

The second thing that I love about chaos theory is the idea that a small act can make a huge impact. This is known as the butterfly effect. It says that a butterfly in Brazil can flap its wings and create a tornado in Texas. Something small can put something in motion that is immense. A small moment can have a huge impact. When we are in the face of something we feel overwhelmed by, maybe small acts of random kindness are the answer. Maybe helping and caring for and feeding people are all we need to do. 

Chaos theory tells us that chaos is good and we need it to move forward. Instead of being the breaker wall stopping it, we need to bring it on. Rabbi Larry Kushner tells the story of a time when his father-in-law taught him the power of change. He and his wife bought a house. From the day they bought it, they hated the chandelier that hung over the dining room table. They talked about it all the time. Every time they had a party they said, “We’re going to get a new chandelier.” One year, two years, twenty years passed…and the chandelier was still over the table. One day, Rabbi Kushner’s father-in-law came to visit. Sick of hearing about the chandelier, he went down to the basement to get a hammer. He came upstairs and broke the chandelier into pieces saying, “Now you have to get a new chandelier!”

Sometimes in our lives, the status quo really should not be ok. Sometimes we need to take a hammer to our lives in order for us to change. That, too, is something on this Yom Kippur we can think about. The messiness and the chaos is a part of life. There are no real answers to the big questions in life. If you think you have an answer, you’d better think up some better questions.

G’mar tov (to be sealed for good in the coming year).