I imagine that if this afternoon Abraham should come walking down Park Avenue, this would cause a sensation. Of course, some of our local Jews would be shocked beyond description. Their sense of propriety would be outraged by his oriental attire; most would take him for an eccentric who has ventured outside his native Williamsburg, and very probably, some would waste no time in calling the police and having Abraham arrested for disturbing the peace. Whatever it may be, and I invite you with me in this fantasy, I venture that as shocked as we would be, Abraham would be more shocked. And not by our skyscrapers or penthouses or automobiles – an Abraham is not startled by such things – but rather, he would be taken aback by the change of face that our generation of Jews has undergone. He would be so astounded at our change of face that he would not even extend to us the courtesy of a “Gut Yom Tov.” Rather, he would peer at us intently, he would stare at us with his black desert-dweller’s eyes and say with dismay, “But are ye not my children? I recognize ye not!” Indeed he would not recognize us. For we have had a change of face.Now, what do we mean when we say that this generation has experienced a “change of face?” We do not mean that our modern Jews do not have long beards. Today we may trim our mustaches, shave our whiskers, and shorten our פאות, our sideburns. But that does not account for a change of face. The modern Jew may dress differently and speak in English rather than in Hebrew or Aramaic, yet this too is not a change of face. Also, a “change of face” does not imply a “change of heart.” No, the modern Jew, despite all his metamorphoses and shortcomings is still endowed with a great Jewish heart. He is a רחמן, a merciful, kind man. He leads, on average, an excellent family life, and when he comes to worship in his synagogue his heart is really in his prayers. No, there has been no change of heart. Abraham would not accuse us of that. But he would be amazed b…

“וכל באי עולם יעברון לפניך כבני מרון". “And all mankind passes before Thee like bnei maron." This inspiring verse from the sacred .ונתנה תוקף prayer crystallizes within its few words the essence of this holy day. All mankind, on this Day of Judgement, passes before the Divine Tribunal awaiting the verdict of the heavenly magistrate. Now, what are the specific charges on which we, the defendants in this cosmic trial, are brought up? What are the actual matters on which we are being tried? The author of the prayer summarizes these charges in the words בני מרון. We are being tried as בני מרון. And the Rabbis of the Talmud tell us that these words have three meanings, three interpretations, each of which symbolizes another charge against which we must defend ourselves.The first meaning of בני מרון which the Talmud records is בני אמרנא, a flock of sheep. We are tried as a flock of sheep. The characteristic quality of sheep is that they are gregarious, they keep together. Of all the members of the animal kingdom, they are most famous for their sociability. Other animals, too, tend to stay in groups. But none can equal the sheep in loyalty to its own society, devotion to its fellows, in the desire to stay with its friends and not stray off alone. When we say, therefore, that mankind is judged like a flock of sheep, we mean that man is judged for his community responsibility, his devotion to his society, his loyalty to his flock. Let us add to that philosopher’s thought by saying that even animals live in flocks and herds – and that G-d, too, created for Himself a פמליא של מעלה, a heavenly “family” of angels. Living like a sheep in its flock, responsible to his community, is therefore man’s Divine obligation. And on this day, therefore, each and every one of us is asked: how much of yourself have you given to your fellow man? Have you been only a go-getter, or also a go-giver? How much have you done for the synagogue, and how much have you accomplished for Jewish education…

It would seem, on the surface, that modern man should be the happiest of his kind in history. He has, per capita, more money than his ancestors ever had. He has a degree of freedom unknown to ages gone by, and his opportunities are almost unequaled. He has conquered the elements, and electricity has become his handmaid. He abounds in luxuries of all kinds. Medicine and science are here to protect him, and there is no end to his entertainment. Yet despite all of this, one disturbing aspect of modern man becomes painfully evident. He is lonely. Modern man is terribly alone. Here we are in shul to become the godparents, so to speak, of the New Year about to be born. In hushed reverence, we shall soon hear the sound of the Shofar. We are among fellow Jews, among friends, and yet so many of us feel so lonely, so terribly alone. We look about and observe the friendly faces of our neighbors – people whom we like and who probably like us. Then we look into our own souls, and we again feel that loneliness. We are each walled off by iron curtains through which, it is true, we can see; but through which we cannot feel. We are thousands of little islands of humanity floating about in the cold ocean, occasionally bumping into each other, but never establishing any real and comforting contact. We are alone.If we were to look for the best symbol of the loneliness of man, we should choose that person whose birthday, according to tradition, falls on Rosh Hashana – today. That man is Adam, the first human being. Think of how prosperous this man Adam was. He lived in the Garden of Eden and had it all to himself. The landscape was breathtaking, for it was done by G-d. The Garden of Eden abounded in wonderful trees, beautiful to look at and good to eat. A four-pronged river covered this fertile area and added to its richness. Adam had plenty of gold and there was also much quartz and crystal. Bubbling brooks shaded by majestic oaks gave him comfort, and the rolling soft meadows offered…

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 …

The sound of the Shofar, as we indicated yesterday, serves as the clarion call challenging its hearers to seek out the Truth. In piercing the Jewish heart, and penetrating the deepest recesses of our conscience; the Shofar also dares our minds and challenges our souls to recognize the Truth – emess – for its own sake. But recognizing the Truth, is not yet achieving it, before a man can feel that he has grasped the emess of Torah and Judaism, he must know how to arrive at it. And the best way to learn how to arrive at it, is by learning to steer clear from the wrong approaches, to keep away from mistaken ways. When Reb Chaim Sanzer would preach to his Hassidim, he would preface his holy remarks with the story of two lost travelers who met in the middle of the forest. One asked the other, “Can you tell me how to get out of this forest?”, and the other replied, “I cannot show you the right path which will take you home, but I can point out to you the wrong paths which will only lead you deeper into the forest.” We too, this morning, will try to point out the wrong path that most people are prone to take these days. Perhaps thus can we help, in some way, to find, each for himself, the real emess. On this sacred day of introspection and spiritual reckoning, no task seems more important.This terribly wrong path, which attracts Jews even more than others, has been correctly identified by one of the world’s greatest geniuses in a letter made public a short while ago. Prof. Albert Einstein issued an appeal for “non-conformism.” Too many people, he correctly complained, express certain opinions, think certain thoughts, act in certain ways, only because everyone else does so too. Our average man is too quick to conform to whatever everyone else is doing, thinking, and saying at a particular time. There is unfortunately amongst us a fear of being different and unpopular. The enlightened press has pointed out that the same fear exists in government and education, where it has b…

This is a year of hope. Internationally, the clouds that have darkened our world horizons have cautiously begun to part. The cold atmosphere of the past ten years has slowly but perceptibly begun to warm up. Medically, we are thrilled to the news of the great strides in preventive medicine which promise to eliminate one of man’s most dreaded childhood diseases and ensure hope for thousands of as yet unborn human beings. Religiously, the growing return to tradition, whatever its motivation, the increased growth of schools teaching maximal Judaism is a good, welcome, and hopeful omen for the future.Yet so frequent have been our disappointments in the past, and so painful our disillusionments, that we moderns have found ourselves almost incapable of hope, almost afraid to hope. Our fondest and most cherished hopes have been dashed to splinters of frustration so often, that we no longer dare to hope. Perhaps Geneva is just another diplomatic maneuver. Perhaps the vaccine will not ultimately work out, or other and more terrible diseases will appear. Perhaps the return to Religion is only a passing fad.Well, is hope justifiable? Do we, who have flocked to this holy place on this holy day, have the right to hope? Dare we hope?The answer of Judaism is expressed in one verse, the crowning conclusion of the Penitential Psalm, composed by King David and recited twice daily by Jews the world over during this High Holiday season: kavei el Ha’shem, chazak ve’ya’ameitz libecha va’kavei el Ha’shem, Hope to G-d, be strong and have courage of heart – and hope to G-d.This is a Declaration of Hope first uttered by the Shepherd King of Israel while hiding out in a cave, hunted like a wild animal by the sick King Saul, not knowing if he would ever again see the light of day. It is an Affirmation of Hope prayerfully chanted by David as his own son Absalom came at him with sword in hand and hatred in heart. It is an Ode to Hope sung by the penitent King as the Prophet Nathan chastised him…

Every generation has its own special vices. Every people has its cardinal sin; sometimes cruelty and sometimes immorality, sometimes idolatry and sometimes intolerance. Ask any of today’s teachers of religion what, in their opinion, is the greatest sin of our generation, and they will unhesitatingly tell you: Pride. Preachers of all faiths regularly attack our pride in our technological progress. Moralists berate us for our pride in our scientific accomplishments. And recently theologians have been scolding modern man for what they call “the pride of the intellect.”There is, of course, a kernel of truth in all this. We are foolish if we think that building better machines makes us better men or that constructing greater cyclotrons makes us greater human beings. Yet, it seems to me, they miss the point. For while all this pride is sinful, it does not constitute the special, characteristic sin of our generation, the generation of Americans and especially American Jews we represent. I prefer to think that our great crime, our cardinal sin, has been, quite the contrary, not enough pride. We have too much pride in things, in possessions, in techniques. But we have a crying lack of proper pride – a lack of pride in ourselves, a lack of appreciation of the human beings we are, with the infinite capacities for good with which we are endowed. The tragedy of our age is not our foolish pride, but an unwholesome humility which makes us forget that we were created in the tzelem Elokim, in the Image of G-d. It is this lack of self-appreciation and proper pride which accounts for the mediocrity of the spirit, for the religious shallowness, for the amorality of our day. It is our accursed inferiority feeling that breeds our inferiority. We have so convinced ourselves of our lack of worth, our incapacity for greatness, that we no longer strive for it.One of the greatest sociologists of our time, Prof. David Reisman, has noted the same unfortunate tendency in his own students, colle…

1. There is a question that is asked wherever thinking and believing men congregate, a question that is put forward with particular urgency when men are faced with crises and confronted with the great issues of life. That question is: “Why is G-d silent?” We think back to the unbelievable horrors of the last two decades, and we cry, “Why is G-d silent?” We see 3 million Jews behind the Iron Curtain threatened with spiritual extinction; “Why is G-d silent?” Our minds are troubled by doubts. We hear the voices of evil gloating. We see the apostles of irreligion reveling. We recall that G-d once spoke out clearly to Moses and Isaiah and Jeremiah. Then we see the void in our world where no vision is received and no voice is heard. And we wonder: “Why is G-d silent?” To be sure, we are not the first to ask that question. The saintly David, hunted like a wild beast by Saul and betrayed by his own son, pleaded with the Almighty, Elokim al dami lach, al techerash – “O G-d, keep not Thou silence; hold not Thy peace, and be not still O G-d, for lo Thine enemies are in an uproar.” And the Englishman Carlysle, in an impatient and irreverent mood, concluded, “G-d sits in Heaven and does nothing.” Well, we need not share his frivolousness to consider that serious problem of G-d’s silence, because it is a fair question, and an appropriate one for a day when Jews gather to contemplate the ultimate ends of life and plead with the Psalmist, “Be not still, O G-d.” 2. This morning I undertake to explore the question with you, not to provide the definitive answer. Greater minds have wrestled with the problem without emerging with clear solutions. But while we cannot fully explain, surely some things can be said about it. The burden of my message to you this Rosh Hashanah is that G-d is NOT silent, that He CAN be heard. It is true that the tumult of G-dlessness is sometimes so overwhelming that we feel driven to accept the fact of G-d’s silence. The Sage of the Midrash must have been de…

1. My words this morning are addressed to the ladies in this congregation, and they concern the immortal ideals of Jewish womanhood. My choice of this topic is, frankly, a result of the growing influence of woman in determining the religious life of her family. Her rise in business and in politics has been paralleled in religion. Only recently in a discussion held in the parlor of one of our people here today, the opinion of the men was that if they were to move to a new city, that by and large their choice of a synagogue would be motivated not by their religious principles but by the choice of their wives. It is a most revealing and very real sociological fact: for whatever reason it might be, a great number of our male contemporaries have abdicated their traditional stewardship of the spiritual destinies of their homes, and the burden of religious guidance has devolved upon the women. Whether they use or abuse this new responsibility will determine the future of our people in this country. It is because of my deep concern for the future of Torah and Orthodoxy in America that I believe it imperative to speak to and about Jewish women on this Holy Day. 2. Of course, there is ample precedent for doing this. When Moses received the Ten Commandments at Mt. Sinai, G-d commanded him to teach them to the House of Jacob and the House of Israel. And our Rabbis taught that the “House of Jacob” refers to the womenfolk, while “House of Israel” refers to the menfolk. So that Moses’ eternal message was directed first to women and only then to the men. A thousand years later a great Rabbi with deep insight anticipated our modern era by saying that anashim holchin acharei daatan shel nashim (Pirkei D’R. Elazar), that men are not to follow the opinions of the women. 3. Indeed, the Torah Readings of Rosh Hashanah highlight the role played by women in our sacred history. It is women whose stories permeate this holiday, instructing and exhorting, inspiring and uplifting, teaching us …

Our Torah reading this morning is the heroic epic of the akeidah, the story of the courage and faith and loyalty of Father Abraham who offered up his only son Isaac at the behest of G-d. It is a glorious chapter in the history of mankind, and a leitmotif of all Judaism. Here a father conquered his natural feelings of love and tenderness for his child, and showed that loyalty to G-d transcends even these. Yet one cannot help feeling that all this great story, as we read it today, leaves us somewhat flat. For one would have expected that this tale of moral heroism would end in a paean of praise for this great Abraham, that we would reach a climax in hearing a chorus of angels welcome this patriarch in their midst. What do we read instead? – what happens when Abraham returns from the scene of his historic trial? – Listen: ויהי אחרי הדברים האלה ויגד לאברהם לאמר הנה ילדה מלכה גם הוא בנים לנחור אחיך: את עוץ בכורו ואת בוז אחיו ואת קמואל אבי ארם: ואת כשד ואת חזו ואת פלדש ואת ידלף ואת בתואל… ופילגשו ושמה ראומה ותלד גם הוא את טבח ואת גחם ואת תחש ואת מעכה: What a fantastic anti-climax!! Is this really a fitting conclusion to the akeidah story? – that Abraham’s brother had all these 12 children: Utz and Buz and Kessed and Pildash and Yidlaf and all the others? It is tantamount to tacking on the list of birth announcements from the NY Times onto the end of the Declaration of Independence! And even assuming that this genealogy is an important historical record, purely for the sake of historical fact, yet why read it on this Holy Day? Surely the Day of Judgment when all creation stands in awe before the Divine and Almighty Judge is no time to make public announcements that Nachor had these eight children from his wife, and four others from his concubine! Why bother with this today.And yet I tell you friends that this is the very essence of the story of the nissayon, of the trial of Abraham. In this seemingly trivial record is the great climax to a great experience. Just put yours…