Post by Rabbi Neil on Sept 27, 2023 15:42:17 GMT
Through four sermons since Rosh Hashanah, we have explored varying aspects of fear in Judaism. On Erev Rosh Hashanah, we saw how fear of the future can be used positively to drive our repentance, and that realistically being grounded in this world is essential to help us engage actively in the world around us. On Rosh Hashanah morning, we looked at two differing ways to understand the notion of Fear of God, which I explained should never be confused with fear of punishment. The first understanding of Fear of God was that of Abraham at the Binding of Isaac, which is fear of God through awesome displays of power. The second way was that of the midwives who defy Pharaoh whose fear of God is derived from an awesome recognition of the fragility of life. I suggested that the Akeidah was a test for Abraham to see how he understood fear of God, and suggested one possible reading that he even failed the test by expressing fear of God inappropriately, compared with the midwives’ expression of fear of God. On Shabbat Shuvah, we explored the relationship between fear of God and love of God. At that time, we looked at three differing levels of love of God – love based on our knowledge of God’s wonder, love out of fear of punishment, and love out of the belief that it will bring reward, and I suggested that the first was the only appropriate form of love. In last night’s sermon, we looked at how our society tries to convince us that we’re actually in control and that we have nothing to be afraid of. As a result of believing that, we saw that we often deliberately use metaphors in our liturgy that were once terrifying but now are impotent metaphors that fail to challenge us. I suggested that Yom Kippur is a time to let go of any idea that we are masters of our own destiny, and that we can only control how we respond to what happens to us, which is at the core of teshuvah, of atonement.
Today, we stand in awe. The Hebrew words for fear and awe are the same, from the root letters yud-resh-aleph, but in differing contexts the word means differing things. Sometimes it means to be afraid, to experience dread or terror, and sometimes it means to stand in reverential awe or astonishment. Remembering the phrase “fearful awe” by Orna Pilz, sometimes yirah leans more towards fear and sometimes more towards awe. In Genesis 28, the two concepts of awe are fear are brought together masterfully, as Jacobs awakens from his dream, and one verse uses the same root letters twice – “Frightened, he said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven.” Fear and awe together.
The twentieth century theologian and activist Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote extensively on awe. He says that “Awe… is the sense of wonder and humility inspired by the sublime or felt in the presence of mystery. … Awe, unlike fear, does not make us shrink from the awe-inspiring object, but, on the contrary, draws us near to it.” Awe of God draws us near to God, it doesn’t make us cower from God. Yom Kippur is a day of drawing close to God out of awe. Rabbi Shai Held, President in Jewish Thought at the Hadar Institute, teaches in the name of his teacher Bernard Steinberg that "Awe is what happens to fear when it stops being about me." When I fear God, in other words, I think about God's might and the ways it could impact upon me, but when I hold God in awe, I think only of God's might; thoughts of how it could affect me simply fall away. Fear becomes awe, then, when I forget about myself and focus only on God.” Rabbi Held says that the situation is similar to the Hebrew word todah, which means both thanks and praise. He says “When I am thankful to God, I acknowledge God's generosity and its impact on me. When I praise God, however, I acknowledge God's generosity in and of itself. Thanks becomes praise when I forget about myself and focus only on God. In other words, fear is to awe as thanks is to praise: The former give way to the latter when I transcend myself and think only of God.” Fear gives way to awe when I transcend myself and think only of God. But how can we transcend ourselves and think only of God at a time when we’re praying to be written in the Book of Life, which by definition is about us?
Rabbi Simcha Bunim teaches that “Every person should have two pockets. In one pocket should be a piece of paper saying: "I am only dust and ashes." When one is feeling too proud, reach into this pocket and take out this paper and read it. In the other pocket should be a piece of paper saying: "For my sake was the world created." When one is feeling disheartened and lowly, reach into this pocket and take this paper out and read it.” For this Yom Kippur, as we’re faced with the challenge of balancing fear and awe, I would suggest a similar approach. Everyone on Yom Kippur should have two pockets. In one pocket should be a piece of paper with the Biblical verse: “Let the fear of the Eternal God be upon you.” When one is feeling too proud or too in control, reach into this pocket and take out this paper and read it. In the other pocket should be a piece of paper with the Biblical verse: “Let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of God.” When one is feeling too fearful, reach into this pocket and take out this paper and read it.
It's not that Rav Keruspedai was wrong when he suggested the terrifying metaphor of the Book of Life for individuals, it’s just that there’s a specific time and place for that belief. There is a time for fear – especially fear of the future or fear of God – but we can’t live in that space of fear all the time, even on Yom Kippur. Part of the day should be spent in fear, but not all of it. Another part of the day should be spent in awe…. awe that we exist, awe that any life exists, awe that we can stand before God, awe that our mistakes of the past can be covered over. Our liturgy does not just speak in one voice – it weaves together a multitude of theological perspectives into a religious smorgasbord that it serves up on the one day when we can spend time sitting and appreciating those differing perspectives. In the same way as it balances fear and awe, our liturgy of today also balances the personal and the communal. So, in one pocket, we read from the machzor, “My God, the soul that You have given me is pure,” while in the other pocket, we read from the machzor, “Unite us in love and reverence for You.” Rav Keruspedai’s Book of Life focuses on the individual, whereas Avinu Malkeinu focuses on the communal.
Fear and awe, personal and communal are all brought together through yirah. Rabbi Harry Zeitlin explains that “The goal of God-fearing is not that we live in paralyzing, quivering terror [but], rather [that it] urges us to always examine the consequences of our every act and decision. The certainty that no act goes unaccounted instills in us proper caution, respect and awe of the moral universe created and embodied by God.” I read that as saying that we can be afraid of the randomness of life, what we perceive as the arbitrary nature of life and death, and can be terrified, and we can be in awe of the fact that we perceive anything at all. Not controlling our deaths makes us appreciate our lives all the more. So, Yom Kippur gives us a taste of death in order to help us experience fear but also specifically awe, while ensuring that we don’t actually succumb to death on this day.
We started our High Holy Day journey through the concept of yirah by considering how we live in scary times and how our fear can motivate our change. We explored differing ways of expressing fearful awe of heaven, from positive to negative, and we considered how to balance fear and love. We also saw how letting go of the idea of total control can lead to awe and humility. And today, we have tried to embrace fear and awe in the personal and communal realm at differing times.
We know that we as individuals are not yet redeemed, we as a community and as a society are not yet redeemed, and we know that the world is not yet redeemed. These are fearful realities that direct us toward an awesome task. The fear and awe of Yom Kippur help to define our lives. “The foundation of life is for a person to have clarity as to what they are living for,” wrote Moshe Chaim Luzzatto. Once we balance fear and awe, once we balance personal with communal, only then can we find the clarity to truly see what we’re living for. And that, I believe, is true teshuvah, true atonement – the letting go of the dross in our souls that we have accumulated in order to protect us from the potential existential dread that threatens us at all times. Only when we stand in awe of the universe, of life, of our own bodies which have been stripped to their core today, can we move forward individually and communally with a shared task. That task is tikkun olam, not as political action or mystical reunification, but tikkun olam as taking all of that which frightens us in this world and helping it instead become part of a society that fills us all with awe. May that be our task on this Yom Kippur, as we unify fear and dread, personal and communal, a task that redeems the world through fear to awe, and let us say, Amen.
Today, we stand in awe. The Hebrew words for fear and awe are the same, from the root letters yud-resh-aleph, but in differing contexts the word means differing things. Sometimes it means to be afraid, to experience dread or terror, and sometimes it means to stand in reverential awe or astonishment. Remembering the phrase “fearful awe” by Orna Pilz, sometimes yirah leans more towards fear and sometimes more towards awe. In Genesis 28, the two concepts of awe are fear are brought together masterfully, as Jacobs awakens from his dream, and one verse uses the same root letters twice – “Frightened, he said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven.” Fear and awe together.
The twentieth century theologian and activist Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote extensively on awe. He says that “Awe… is the sense of wonder and humility inspired by the sublime or felt in the presence of mystery. … Awe, unlike fear, does not make us shrink from the awe-inspiring object, but, on the contrary, draws us near to it.” Awe of God draws us near to God, it doesn’t make us cower from God. Yom Kippur is a day of drawing close to God out of awe. Rabbi Shai Held, President in Jewish Thought at the Hadar Institute, teaches in the name of his teacher Bernard Steinberg that "Awe is what happens to fear when it stops being about me." When I fear God, in other words, I think about God's might and the ways it could impact upon me, but when I hold God in awe, I think only of God's might; thoughts of how it could affect me simply fall away. Fear becomes awe, then, when I forget about myself and focus only on God.” Rabbi Held says that the situation is similar to the Hebrew word todah, which means both thanks and praise. He says “When I am thankful to God, I acknowledge God's generosity and its impact on me. When I praise God, however, I acknowledge God's generosity in and of itself. Thanks becomes praise when I forget about myself and focus only on God. In other words, fear is to awe as thanks is to praise: The former give way to the latter when I transcend myself and think only of God.” Fear gives way to awe when I transcend myself and think only of God. But how can we transcend ourselves and think only of God at a time when we’re praying to be written in the Book of Life, which by definition is about us?
Rabbi Simcha Bunim teaches that “Every person should have two pockets. In one pocket should be a piece of paper saying: "I am only dust and ashes." When one is feeling too proud, reach into this pocket and take out this paper and read it. In the other pocket should be a piece of paper saying: "For my sake was the world created." When one is feeling disheartened and lowly, reach into this pocket and take this paper out and read it.” For this Yom Kippur, as we’re faced with the challenge of balancing fear and awe, I would suggest a similar approach. Everyone on Yom Kippur should have two pockets. In one pocket should be a piece of paper with the Biblical verse: “Let the fear of the Eternal God be upon you.” When one is feeling too proud or too in control, reach into this pocket and take out this paper and read it. In the other pocket should be a piece of paper with the Biblical verse: “Let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of God.” When one is feeling too fearful, reach into this pocket and take out this paper and read it.
It's not that Rav Keruspedai was wrong when he suggested the terrifying metaphor of the Book of Life for individuals, it’s just that there’s a specific time and place for that belief. There is a time for fear – especially fear of the future or fear of God – but we can’t live in that space of fear all the time, even on Yom Kippur. Part of the day should be spent in fear, but not all of it. Another part of the day should be spent in awe…. awe that we exist, awe that any life exists, awe that we can stand before God, awe that our mistakes of the past can be covered over. Our liturgy does not just speak in one voice – it weaves together a multitude of theological perspectives into a religious smorgasbord that it serves up on the one day when we can spend time sitting and appreciating those differing perspectives. In the same way as it balances fear and awe, our liturgy of today also balances the personal and the communal. So, in one pocket, we read from the machzor, “My God, the soul that You have given me is pure,” while in the other pocket, we read from the machzor, “Unite us in love and reverence for You.” Rav Keruspedai’s Book of Life focuses on the individual, whereas Avinu Malkeinu focuses on the communal.
Fear and awe, personal and communal are all brought together through yirah. Rabbi Harry Zeitlin explains that “The goal of God-fearing is not that we live in paralyzing, quivering terror [but], rather [that it] urges us to always examine the consequences of our every act and decision. The certainty that no act goes unaccounted instills in us proper caution, respect and awe of the moral universe created and embodied by God.” I read that as saying that we can be afraid of the randomness of life, what we perceive as the arbitrary nature of life and death, and can be terrified, and we can be in awe of the fact that we perceive anything at all. Not controlling our deaths makes us appreciate our lives all the more. So, Yom Kippur gives us a taste of death in order to help us experience fear but also specifically awe, while ensuring that we don’t actually succumb to death on this day.
We started our High Holy Day journey through the concept of yirah by considering how we live in scary times and how our fear can motivate our change. We explored differing ways of expressing fearful awe of heaven, from positive to negative, and we considered how to balance fear and love. We also saw how letting go of the idea of total control can lead to awe and humility. And today, we have tried to embrace fear and awe in the personal and communal realm at differing times.
We know that we as individuals are not yet redeemed, we as a community and as a society are not yet redeemed, and we know that the world is not yet redeemed. These are fearful realities that direct us toward an awesome task. The fear and awe of Yom Kippur help to define our lives. “The foundation of life is for a person to have clarity as to what they are living for,” wrote Moshe Chaim Luzzatto. Once we balance fear and awe, once we balance personal with communal, only then can we find the clarity to truly see what we’re living for. And that, I believe, is true teshuvah, true atonement – the letting go of the dross in our souls that we have accumulated in order to protect us from the potential existential dread that threatens us at all times. Only when we stand in awe of the universe, of life, of our own bodies which have been stripped to their core today, can we move forward individually and communally with a shared task. That task is tikkun olam, not as political action or mystical reunification, but tikkun olam as taking all of that which frightens us in this world and helping it instead become part of a society that fills us all with awe. May that be our task on this Yom Kippur, as we unify fear and dread, personal and communal, a task that redeems the world through fear to awe, and let us say, Amen.