Post by Rabbi Neil on Jan 3, 2020 22:26:15 GMT
As the New Year comes in all around the world, and as country after country display their pyrotechnic capabilities, I find myself looking at it all, thinking, “Didn’t we do fireworks last year? And the year before? And won’t we almost certainly do fireworks again next year?” I don’t want to be the New Year Grinch, but at the same time the New Year as celebrated by our society is a time for us to ask ourselves whether we are actually changing?
Many people at this time commit themselves to New Year’s resolutions, usually involving losing weight. I’ve set mine, which include weight loss, painting miniatures, playing some of my as-yet unplayed board games and doing more research for my first book. Last year, though, I had very similar goals, and I achieved most of them, apart from the weight loss one (which in and of itself puts me in the same category as most other people!). Why is it that we take a totally arbitrary revolution of the Earth around the Sun and use it to make resolutions regarding our personal behaviour, and why is it that we so often fail to keep those resolutions? Are we ever going to really change?
Around Rosh Hashanah – the Jewish New Year - we explore the idea of teshuvah, of returning to God anew. In theory, teshuvah is possible, but in practice, we know that changing regular behaviour patterns is extremely difficult. Perhaps we could turn to Ecclesiastes to explain why change is so hard. After all, it says, Mah shehayah k’var hu, va’asher lihyot k’var hayah – “What is occurring already long since occurred and what is to occur occurred long since” (Eccl. 3:15). In other words, nothing really changes. But if nothing really changes, is teshuvah, is personal change, even possible? And if nothing ever changes or if things just repeat, does that mean that this sermon has already been given in this community? How can that be possible since I only wrote it today? Or does Ecclesiastes mean that only things of consequence repeat, thereby suggesting that the content of this sermon is inconsequential? [Of course, that’s obviously ridiculous because as we all know, all of my sermons are of crucial global importance!]. Taking Ecclesiastes literally, we end up getting very confused, and we quickly realize that we have to change the way we think to help it make sense. The Bible doesn’t think about individuals as we do, as truly autonomous individuals. One of the triumphs and, simultaneously, one of the failures, of contemporary society is that individuals can exist completely alone. This is not the Jewish way. We know this not only from the Bible and its idea of collective reward and punishment but also from the tale of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai who hides from the Romans in a cave for many years and who leaves the cave only to set on fire a farmer just by looking at him! The message of the story is for Shimon bar Yochai to get back into the cave until he can learn to live in society again. The beginning of January is a time when people think about who they personally want to be in the coming year. Their resolutions are personal. But Biblical Judaism is not about personal resolutions but, rather, about communal behavior. It only shifted to personal redemption and personal teshuvah when it became heavily influenced by Hellenism. So, ancient Biblical Judaism and contemporary Judaism exist between two widely differing poles of identity – between personal individuality and between being a member of a larger identity. This is why Ecclesiastes is able to tell us that there is a time for everything under heaven – a time to give birth and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot that which has been planted – and yet can still tell us that everything is futile and nothing is new. It does this because to us as individuals everything is new – on the micro-level, but within larger society, on the macro-level, there are patterns to history – war and peace, plenty and famine, oppression and liberation.
But is this true? Yes, kings and queens may come and go, heads of state may be corrupt and violent or they may be righteous and peacemakers, of that nothing will ever be new. But do we think actually differently? I used to think so but now I’m increasingly doubting that. Just because some of us may be progressive, I can’t help but think that there will always be fundamentalists and there will always be liberals, that there will always be bigoted people and there will always be inclusive people. There will always be oppressors and there will always be the oppressed. With that in mind, I think that Ecclesiastes may well be correct. Yes, there will be unique events in history which are unlike anything that has been before – the Shoah being an obvious example. But Ecclesiastes isn’t talking in those specific terms. While the Shoah may have been unique in the world, there have always been leaders who wanted to wipe out entire other peoples – there is nothing new there. Cures to rare medicines may have been developed with the help of analysing DNA structure but there have always been those who wish to heal others – there is nothing new there. If we get this general, though, is Ecclesiastes really saying anything of value, though? I think it is, and I think that understanding that can be very helpful at this time of the secular year, becausetalking in such generalities helps take ourselves out of the equation, and helps us think about the big picture of humanity.
It’s very easy on the New Year to get carried away with glorious firework displays that lift those who watch it for a short while. But that’s really just the small picture. We can make promises about losing weight or similar things, but that’s really just the small picture. The bigger picture is the health of our society, the health of the human race. In the last 60 years, suicide rates have increased markedly, as have levels of violence against the self, alcoholism, drug addiction and substance abuse. Indeed, according to the World Health Organisation, mental health problems are fast becoming the number one health issue of the 21st century, with one in ten people suffering at any point in time, and one in four suffering at some point in their lives. That’s not a healthy society. That may be a society where we can put on a spectacular firework display, but not one that is healthy, not yet, at least. But we can try to help make it healthy.
For most of the book of Ecclesiastes we read the idea that we should essentially eat, drink and enjoy our lot in life. It seems remarkably personal, insular and, to be honest, selfish. But near the end of the book we read that we should send our “bread forth upon the waters” and “distribute portions to seven or eight,” (11:1-2) in other words, give some of what we have away. Ecclesiastes, then, becomes a very powerful book to read at a time when everyone else is making personal resolutions because it inspires us to step outside society, to not get caught up in all the merriment. It inspires us to work for good for a community not just for ourselves. And, most importantly, it inspires us to think long-term, to realise that most things in our lives are the same thing repeated in history just with slightly different presentation. If we wish we can be part of society which obsesses over individual fulfilment and contentment. But Ecclesiastes tells us that if we really want to have a happy new year then we have to make our own happiness by letting go of the selfish pressure of our society, by letting go of our search for wealth or indeed our search for individual happiness, and we have to consider that true happiness can only be found in revering God and, in the words of Ecclesiastes, by “observing all God’s commandments” (12:13). A life focussed on wealth or on individual happiness is not a new life in our society, it’s nothing new under the sun. Ecclesiastes describes the water of the sea coming and going – this year we can either go with the tide towards personal fulfilment, or we can make our own small waves against the current. This year, then, let’s have a happy new year by stepping outside ourselves and our social expectations of only personal resolutions, by devoting ourselves to living in God’s presence, by devoting ourselves to a larger whole of which we are a tiny but nonetheless essential part. Let our personal fulfilment be intimately tied to a larger communal fulfilment, so that we can really have a happy new year and, if possible, also lose a few pounds on the way!
Many people at this time commit themselves to New Year’s resolutions, usually involving losing weight. I’ve set mine, which include weight loss, painting miniatures, playing some of my as-yet unplayed board games and doing more research for my first book. Last year, though, I had very similar goals, and I achieved most of them, apart from the weight loss one (which in and of itself puts me in the same category as most other people!). Why is it that we take a totally arbitrary revolution of the Earth around the Sun and use it to make resolutions regarding our personal behaviour, and why is it that we so often fail to keep those resolutions? Are we ever going to really change?
Around Rosh Hashanah – the Jewish New Year - we explore the idea of teshuvah, of returning to God anew. In theory, teshuvah is possible, but in practice, we know that changing regular behaviour patterns is extremely difficult. Perhaps we could turn to Ecclesiastes to explain why change is so hard. After all, it says, Mah shehayah k’var hu, va’asher lihyot k’var hayah – “What is occurring already long since occurred and what is to occur occurred long since” (Eccl. 3:15). In other words, nothing really changes. But if nothing really changes, is teshuvah, is personal change, even possible? And if nothing ever changes or if things just repeat, does that mean that this sermon has already been given in this community? How can that be possible since I only wrote it today? Or does Ecclesiastes mean that only things of consequence repeat, thereby suggesting that the content of this sermon is inconsequential? [Of course, that’s obviously ridiculous because as we all know, all of my sermons are of crucial global importance!]. Taking Ecclesiastes literally, we end up getting very confused, and we quickly realize that we have to change the way we think to help it make sense. The Bible doesn’t think about individuals as we do, as truly autonomous individuals. One of the triumphs and, simultaneously, one of the failures, of contemporary society is that individuals can exist completely alone. This is not the Jewish way. We know this not only from the Bible and its idea of collective reward and punishment but also from the tale of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai who hides from the Romans in a cave for many years and who leaves the cave only to set on fire a farmer just by looking at him! The message of the story is for Shimon bar Yochai to get back into the cave until he can learn to live in society again. The beginning of January is a time when people think about who they personally want to be in the coming year. Their resolutions are personal. But Biblical Judaism is not about personal resolutions but, rather, about communal behavior. It only shifted to personal redemption and personal teshuvah when it became heavily influenced by Hellenism. So, ancient Biblical Judaism and contemporary Judaism exist between two widely differing poles of identity – between personal individuality and between being a member of a larger identity. This is why Ecclesiastes is able to tell us that there is a time for everything under heaven – a time to give birth and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot that which has been planted – and yet can still tell us that everything is futile and nothing is new. It does this because to us as individuals everything is new – on the micro-level, but within larger society, on the macro-level, there are patterns to history – war and peace, plenty and famine, oppression and liberation.
But is this true? Yes, kings and queens may come and go, heads of state may be corrupt and violent or they may be righteous and peacemakers, of that nothing will ever be new. But do we think actually differently? I used to think so but now I’m increasingly doubting that. Just because some of us may be progressive, I can’t help but think that there will always be fundamentalists and there will always be liberals, that there will always be bigoted people and there will always be inclusive people. There will always be oppressors and there will always be the oppressed. With that in mind, I think that Ecclesiastes may well be correct. Yes, there will be unique events in history which are unlike anything that has been before – the Shoah being an obvious example. But Ecclesiastes isn’t talking in those specific terms. While the Shoah may have been unique in the world, there have always been leaders who wanted to wipe out entire other peoples – there is nothing new there. Cures to rare medicines may have been developed with the help of analysing DNA structure but there have always been those who wish to heal others – there is nothing new there. If we get this general, though, is Ecclesiastes really saying anything of value, though? I think it is, and I think that understanding that can be very helpful at this time of the secular year, becausetalking in such generalities helps take ourselves out of the equation, and helps us think about the big picture of humanity.
It’s very easy on the New Year to get carried away with glorious firework displays that lift those who watch it for a short while. But that’s really just the small picture. We can make promises about losing weight or similar things, but that’s really just the small picture. The bigger picture is the health of our society, the health of the human race. In the last 60 years, suicide rates have increased markedly, as have levels of violence against the self, alcoholism, drug addiction and substance abuse. Indeed, according to the World Health Organisation, mental health problems are fast becoming the number one health issue of the 21st century, with one in ten people suffering at any point in time, and one in four suffering at some point in their lives. That’s not a healthy society. That may be a society where we can put on a spectacular firework display, but not one that is healthy, not yet, at least. But we can try to help make it healthy.
For most of the book of Ecclesiastes we read the idea that we should essentially eat, drink and enjoy our lot in life. It seems remarkably personal, insular and, to be honest, selfish. But near the end of the book we read that we should send our “bread forth upon the waters” and “distribute portions to seven or eight,” (11:1-2) in other words, give some of what we have away. Ecclesiastes, then, becomes a very powerful book to read at a time when everyone else is making personal resolutions because it inspires us to step outside society, to not get caught up in all the merriment. It inspires us to work for good for a community not just for ourselves. And, most importantly, it inspires us to think long-term, to realise that most things in our lives are the same thing repeated in history just with slightly different presentation. If we wish we can be part of society which obsesses over individual fulfilment and contentment. But Ecclesiastes tells us that if we really want to have a happy new year then we have to make our own happiness by letting go of the selfish pressure of our society, by letting go of our search for wealth or indeed our search for individual happiness, and we have to consider that true happiness can only be found in revering God and, in the words of Ecclesiastes, by “observing all God’s commandments” (12:13). A life focussed on wealth or on individual happiness is not a new life in our society, it’s nothing new under the sun. Ecclesiastes describes the water of the sea coming and going – this year we can either go with the tide towards personal fulfilment, or we can make our own small waves against the current. This year, then, let’s have a happy new year by stepping outside ourselves and our social expectations of only personal resolutions, by devoting ourselves to living in God’s presence, by devoting ourselves to a larger whole of which we are a tiny but nonetheless essential part. Let our personal fulfilment be intimately tied to a larger communal fulfilment, so that we can really have a happy new year and, if possible, also lose a few pounds on the way!