Home Home / In the High Tides of Life (1963)

Synagogue Sermon

September 19, 1963

In the High Tides of Life (1963)

Rosh Hashanah
View Original
View Text View Original

Some time ago, at Long Beach, N.Y., I witnessed a scene that both frightened and inspired me. It was frightening because danger to life was involved. And it was inspiring because, though it was an actual event, it was also a parable containing a truth that is universal and of particular relevance this Rosh Hashanah. Three boys had ventured far out into the water, farther than common sense and safety regulations permitted. They frolicked there for quite a while, and

RELATED CONTENT

Synagogue Sermon

The Fountain of Life (1961)

During my trip to India six months ago, I had the occasion to visit one of the most fabulous cities in the world. This small city, containing about one or two dozen exquisitely ornate buildings, was built by King Akbar, who lies buried in the nearby Taj Mahal, for himself, his two queens, and about 2,000 concubines. It is a most striking example of Oriental opulence and incredible splendor. Built four hundred years ago, these breathtakingly beautiful structures are made of marble, semi-precious stones, and extremely valuable building materials and composed in a marvelous architectural style. Fatehpur Sikri, as the city is called, has an unusual, weird story behind it. After spending what today would be millions upon millions of dollars to build it, employing thousands of slave laborers for many, many years, the King and his court never had much of an opportunity to enjoy the wealth and beauty of Fatehpur Sikri. For shortly after they moved in, they discovered, to their dismay, that the architects had built the city without thinking of a water supply. And since there was no well or other source of water in the vicinity, they all had to move out, and Fatehpur Sikri has been a ghost town for these past four centuries. Rich, exquisite, glorious – but empty, dead, a ghost town.I mention this today – the day of self-judgment and self-criticism – for the story and fate of Fatehpur Sikri is to me both a symbol of and a warning to American Jewry. Remember that a well or a fountain of water is more than just a supply problem for an engineer or city planner. It is a life-giving necessity for everyone and, as such, a poetic symbol in religion for G-d Himself. In the words of Jeremiah, oti azavu, mekor mayim chayyim, My people have abandoned Me, says G-d, the Fountain of living waters. G-d, as the Creator and Source of all life and existence, is the Well or Fountain of the waters of life.And we have indeed abandoned Him, Like the foolish builders of Fatehpur Sikri, we have laid…
Rosh Hashanah

Synagogue Sermon

The Only Story (1953)

Despite the lovely sentiments and the feelings of tenderness which the Shofar, soon to be sounded, will stir in each of us, the fact is that the major virtue which the Shofar-blowing should evoke in us is not pity, not love, not sympathy, not goodness, not humility; rather, it must move us so that we can face up to the greatest and most difficult virtue of all: Truth. The great Maimonides explained the meaning of Shofar as a summons to face up to Truth when he described the effect Shofar should have as: עורו ישנים משנתכם והקיצו נרדמים מתרדמתכם, “Arise, ye who slumber from your sleep, and rouse you from your lethargy. Scrutinize your deeds and return in repentance. Remember your Creator, ye who forget Eternal Truth in the trifles of the hour…” So that the challenge of Rosh Hashanah is one of acquiring Truth and using it as the measure and standard of all our activities. Indeed, the verse we recite before Shofar sums it up: rosh dvarcha emess. Thy chief word, the beginning of all, the only story worth telling, the message worth delivering, the only sermon worth preaching is: Truth.Of course, that is going to sound rather unoriginal to most of those here today. Naturally, the Rabbi is for Truth. Who is against it?And yet there is something terrifically urgent about this insistence upon Truth. For we must understand this too: that the test that most men, aye even most men of goodwill, apply to their behavior is not “Is it true or not true.” There is a different criterion and one with which Judaism cannot agree.Allow me to explain by referring to a historic event which occurred, according to Tradition, 5,714 years ago, this very day. That was the day Adam was created, and the day in which he also experienced the greatest crisis to befall him. Adam, and his wife Eve, were placed in the Garden of Eden, the real Paradise, and were permitted by G-d to do whatever they wished and to eat from all the trees in that luxurious garden, Only one thing did G-d forbid them: He did …
Rosh Hashanah

Synagogue Sermon

The Revelation of Man (1963)

One of the most popular and beloved phrases in all the Mahzor is: ha-yom harat olam, which we recite in response to the three times the Shofar is sounded during the Cantor’s repetition of the Musaf. All the congregation joins in unison in reciting it warmly, lovingly, and reverently. Yet there is something puzzling about it. For these words mean, “Today is the birthday of the world.” But what does the doctrine of the creation of the world have to do with Shofar? In what way is ha-yom harat olam a reaction to the message of the Shofar? Perhaps we can understand it by referring to the only time that the words harat olam appear in the Bible – and that, in a radically different context.The Prophet Jeremiah had warned his people against engaging in treacherous power politics, and summoned them to a noble and decent ethical life lest their land be utterly destroyed. His reward for acting as a voice of conscience was that he was imprisoned, beaten, and tortured. Upon his release, he again warns of the impending doom of the nation and, broken in body and in spirit, he utters a lament of despair which rivals in power and eloquence the greatest passages of Job, Arur ha-yom asher yuladeti bo, he cries out: “cursed be the day wherein I was born.” If this must be my fate, if all my dedication and sacrifice must be so futile, then why was I ever brought into the world? Why did not G-d slay me before I was born; or ve’rahmah harat olam – why was not my mother’s pregnancy an eternal one so that I would never have seen the light of day!This, then, is the meaning of harat olam in the 20th Chapter of Jeremiah – for harat means not only birth but, more often, the conception and carrying of the child before birth; and olam means not only “world” but “ever,” eternity. Harat olam in Jeremiah means the exact opposite of what it does in the Mahzor. For the Prophet it means never being born, eternal waiting, an unending potentiality that never culminates in the creative act of birth and rea…
Rosh Hashanah