5771 Yom Kippur Sermon: The 'Days of Awe' are only beginning here in Brattleboro
by Rabbi Tom Heyn
Having grown up near Baltimore, I recall looking up at night and seeing a reddish cast from the city lights reflecting in the haze. I could sometimes see enough stars to make out constellations like the Big Dipper in the summer and Orion’s Belt in the winter. But one year I went to a summer camp in the Rocky Mountains. I especially recall one night in particular when it was so chilly, I had to get up in the middle of the night and chop more wood to keep the fire in our little stove burning. When I grabbed the axe and stepped outside, I happened to look up and suddenly stopped dead in my tracks. There in the sky were more stars than I had ever seen in my life at one time. The sky was so full of stars, there seemed to be more white space than black space up there. Then, what seemed like only a change in perspective allowed me to see something I had never seen before.
Thanks to an astronomy course I took in college, I recognized the densest band of stars stretching across the sky as the Milky Way. I had recognized it many times before, but that night, I could see quite clearly that it really is a view toward the center of our disk-shaped galaxy. What had previously seemed like a two-dimensional band of stars suddenly opened into a three-dimensional view that allowed me to actually see the distance it took light from the center of our galaxy 25,000 years to travel. It was like one of those “Magic Eye” pictures you have to stare at and if you're luck you might see a hidden 3-D image all of a sudden pop into view. I had never quite understood the magnitude of space, but at that moment, having gone out to merely chop some wood, I found myself standing in awe, as though I were standing before an indescribable...well, it's just indescribable.
As I recall the experience now, I regret that the memory has faded over time. Once again the sky looks two dimensional and the earth we walk on seems flat. The sun comes up over there [pointing east] and goes down over there [pointing west] and after awhile it seems that the universe is revolving around us, here. Yet, I suspect I’m not alone in these feelings. We all go about our business and do what needs to be done, becoming almost oblivious to the miracles that surround us. Instead, we get caught up in an increasingly competitive society which mainly focuses on the satisfaction of bodily needs with the ultimate goal being comfort. Yet after awhile, even those who succeed in this pursuit find themselves wondering, “Is this all there is?”
As the level of discontent and alienation in our society increases, so does the level of confusion people have about spirituality. We all know that Ultra-orthodox and other fundamentalist groups are flourishing today at an unprecedented rate, as are all varieties of healers, life coaches, support groups and personal growth seminars. And while Jewish institutions are trying to respond to this escalating trend, I wonder whether we are using a language and a theology that resonates with the thousands of Jewish seekers who right now are out looking anywhere but here for a sense of place and purpose.
I cannot help but think that the solution to many of the problems we’re facing today lies in a means by which we can reclaim a sense of awe and wonder in our lives. Imagine for a moment what it would be like to wake up in the morning like the psalmist who, overwhelmed by God’s creative powers said, “Ma gadlu ma’asecha Yah – How awesome is Your creation (92:6)!!” Imagine being fully awake to the miracle of life, then imagine the ever-expanding ripple effect this would have on those around you and beyond. It all sounds good, but c’mon: we're hungry and soon it will be time to get back to our busy lives. Right? On the other hand, today is Yom Kippur. What better day to open ourselves to experiences of awe than on this climactic end of the Yamim Nora'im – the Days of Awe? What better day than today than to appreciate these words by American poet e.e. cummings:
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today...
now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
After many years of aspiring to this kind of awareness, I found that I shared this same yearning with mystics and practitioners of then Kabbalah. And I found that they many of them describe this pursuit as nothing less than the essential meaning of the Torah and the purpose underlying all of the mitzvot. They tell us, in no uncertain terms, that the cultivation of a sense of awe and wonder is the most important mitzvah of all.
When we consider for a moment this perspective, we find that the Torah portion we just read lends itself to a very interesting interpretation. When Moses says, “Ki hamitzvah hazot – For this mitzvah which I command you this day…,” why does he refer to only one mitzvah when the demonstrative pronoun 'hazot' is plural? Because he is referring to the one most important mitzvah of them all – the cultivation of an intense and ecstatic awareness of the mystery and majesty we call 'God’s presence.'
And so what does Moses say about this mitzvah – hamitzvah hazot? First he tells us: “Lo niflait hi mim’cha – it’s not too difficult - v’lo rekhoka mim’cha – and it’s not far away.” It’s not in the heavens, that I would need to look up at the stars in order to experience God’s magnitude. And it’s not across the sea that one must travel to India or anywhere to find it. No, it is really very close: it’s in your mouth and in your heart and is something entirely possible for you to achieve.
This mitzvah is not in any of the places we might be inclined to look. On the contrary, it’s so close, one could miss finding it altogether. We are so used to looking outward, but here the Torah is telling us to do just the opposite, suggesting nothing less than a radical change in orientation. Suddenly, what we thought was real and important turns out to be trivial, and what eludes our senses turns out to be more real than anything we ever knew.
[I omitted the next four paragraphs, realizing that congregants were starting to look tired.] At the core of this realization is the recognition that one’s self in relation to God is so utterly insignificant that it even ceases to exist as something separate from God. Hillel Zeitlin, an early twentieth century mystic, wrote that: “When humility and joy are united, a person experiences the nearness of God.” The humility of which he speaks is the recognition of our smallness, or going a step further, our ultimate non-existence! It’s an openness to the possibility that everything we think about ourselves and about God may be only partially right, if not altogether wrong! Yet, because such a state of mind could seem rather depressing, Rabbi Zeitlin is careful to say that humility must, at the same time, be mixed with joy; the joy of knowing that as small and insignificant as we are, we share equally in the glory of Creation.
After suggesting that a change of orientation is needed, our parasha then tells us where we might best find and experience this ecstatic awareness we seek. Moses says it’s: “b’fi’cha ul’vil’vav’cha – in your mouth and in your heart.” Many commentators agree that Moses says “it’s in your mouth” to emphasize the oral transmission of his teachings as distinct from the written transmission we know as the Torah. Had Moses simply said “it’s in your heart,” we might not know exactly what to look for and when we’ve found it. But in light of the oral transmission known as the Kabbalah, the “received” tradition, we can discover what Moses means when he says God’s presence is to be found “in your heart.”
In the written transmission we know as the Torah, the human relationship with the Divine is described using what we might call a “vertical metaphor.” By that, I mean the idea that God dwells “in heaven,” while we humans are “down below” on earth. This notion is, of course, was derived from ancient beliefs about the gods as 'sky dwellers.' Yet, as mature and sophisticated in our faith as we may think we are, it is difficult for us to outgrow entirely the idea of God being up there, in some vague place in the sky. Every time we read a prayer about “God in heaven,” or tell our children the tale of Moses ascending the mountain to speak with God, we reinforce what Arthur Green calls “the myth of verticality.”
I am not suggesting that we revise the liturgy and eliminate all such metaphors in our tradition. But it is important to see through this language and, in doing so, free ourselves of its dominating influence. We can do this most easily by turning to another metaphor widely used in our tradition - that of inwardness. Rather than standing around waiting for God to send rain or manna from the heavens, let us imagine ourselves dancing and singing with Miriam who, tradition says, was followed through our desert wanderings by a mysterious, life-sustaining well. These alternative ways of re-imagining our journey through life are common in many early Hasidic sources which, to this day, remain a largely untapped source of theological language and ideas. It may be worthwhile for us to explore their viability for a contemporary Jewish theology.
Finally, aside from discovering in this parasha a call to humility and inwardness, Moses’ most important message can be found, where else?, but in the first words of his instruction to the Israelites:“Atem nitzavim hayom kul’chem, lif’nei Adonai Eloheichem.” You are standing here today - all of you - before the Lord your God.” What Moses seems to be saying here is that the experience of awe and wonder that ensues when we encounter the Divine is not something that can only be experienced by a select few. It is not only accessible for the leaders and heads of our tribes, but for the wood choppers and water carriers as well. Furthermore, Moses says this teaching applies not only to those present at Sinai but to all future generations, which includes us. Moses is saying to us “Atem nitzavim – You are standing here today – all of you – before the Lord your God.” In other words, we are standing in God’s very Presence on this final day of the Yamim Noraim – the Days of Awe. It is now up to me and you to help and inspire one another to open our eyes and our minds, more and more each day, to an ecstatic awareness of this Presence.
[I omitted this part too.] What the rabbis and mystics tell us, I have discovered from my own experience – not only as a wood chopper standing before God under the stars, but as someone who has spent many years exploring various mystical traditions as well as our own. The sense of awe and wonder that can transform our lives is possible for each and every one of us. In fact, it is our obligation, the most important of all mitzvot.
I’m not advocating what some claim to be a sort of “mysticism for the masses” or “an escape from the world.” I am only calling for greater humility and a willingness to seeing things as we’ve never seen them before. I’m suggesting that we explore and embrace the practices and metaphors in our tradition that lead us to an ever-deepening, ecstatic awareness of God’s presence. And here is my most radical statement of all: that we – ourselves – each and every one of us – can strive to fulfill this most important mitzvah and in doing so, not escape, but transform our world.
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