RABBI ARI LEV: WHAT WE NEED IS HERE [1]
Rosh Hashanah Day 1 5782
September 7, 2021
View the video here.
Last Saturday night, we gathered under the night sky to sing the songs of Selichot. A late afternoon rain had brought a refreshingly cool breeze, following a relentlessly hot and humid week. It was the first large, in-person gathering we had planned since Purim 2020. 120 of us sat in spacious circles, joined by another 120 or so on Zoom.
The service opened and closed with ancient words from the book of Lamentations.
September 7, 2021
View the video here.
Last Saturday night, we gathered under the night sky to sing the songs of Selichot. A late afternoon rain had brought a refreshingly cool breeze, following a relentlessly hot and humid week. It was the first large, in-person gathering we had planned since Purim 2020. 120 of us sat in spacious circles, joined by another 120 or so on Zoom.
The service opened and closed with ancient words from the book of Lamentations.
הֲשִׁיבֵ֨נוּ יְהוָ֤ה ׀ אֵלֶ֙יךָ֙ וְֽנָשׁ֔וּבָה
חַדֵּ֥שׁ יָמֵ֖ינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם׃
חַדֵּ֥שׁ יָמֵ֖ינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם׃
Return us to you Holy One, we are eager to return;
Renew our days to the way things were, k'kedem. [2]
These are meant to be words of hope and comfort.
Words we sing repeatedly throughout these Days of Awe. Words that bridge time.
Sitting there singing, I was filled with longing for the way things used to be. I could feel a desperate plea in my heart.
Please, make things go back to the way they were before COVID. Make it safe for us to gather again in person. I want to return to a world where there are not physical threats to one another. I miss hosting people in my home and talking to strangers in the park. I want the world to be the way it used to be, k'kedem.
Sitting under the stars at Selichot singing these words, the space filled with the resonant harmonies of a community that I love. And I began to cry.
This prayer has existed for 3000 years because it captures a primary human impulse. To want things to be the way they once were; to long for the days of old.
These words were born out of disruption, loss and uncertainty. Times just like the one we are living through. It was healing to give voice to so much longing.
As I allowed the tears to drip behind my mask, I opened my eyes and saw the computer screen with tiny boxes of people, singing and swaying with us. And then I thought, well don't return us exactly to the way things were before. Thinking about all the people who were part of this experience that otherwise would not have been. The community member zooming in from her ICU bed, and people who live in remote rural communities, members in other cities and people home doing childcare or unable to leave their homes for a myriad of reasons. We are better off for having learned how to make our community more accessible, for expanding our circles of connection.
We long for return, but not a complete return. The world as we knew it was fundamentally and systemically broken. We are living through a cascade of natural disasters. We felt it acutely here in Philadelphia last week as the Schuylkill River rose to record levels. Who by fire and who by water? Who by disease and who by war? Whose life is cut short and whose extended?
It did not take COVID-19 for us to recognize that our healthcare system was unjust; or, to be aware of the exploitation of essential workers, to see that capitalism was laying waste to communities and the earth. And, long before George Floyd, Breona Tayler and Walter Wallace were murdered, we understood all too well that white supremacy sought to choke the life from Black people and people of color.
Don't take us back to the days of the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh or the Mother Emanuel church in Charleston or the violence of Standing Rock.
And then I started reimagining what the verse was longing for.
Hashiveinu- return us. But not to all of that.
Renew our days to the way things were, k'kedem. [2]
These are meant to be words of hope and comfort.
Words we sing repeatedly throughout these Days of Awe. Words that bridge time.
Sitting there singing, I was filled with longing for the way things used to be. I could feel a desperate plea in my heart.
Please, make things go back to the way they were before COVID. Make it safe for us to gather again in person. I want to return to a world where there are not physical threats to one another. I miss hosting people in my home and talking to strangers in the park. I want the world to be the way it used to be, k'kedem.
Sitting under the stars at Selichot singing these words, the space filled with the resonant harmonies of a community that I love. And I began to cry.
This prayer has existed for 3000 years because it captures a primary human impulse. To want things to be the way they once were; to long for the days of old.
These words were born out of disruption, loss and uncertainty. Times just like the one we are living through. It was healing to give voice to so much longing.
As I allowed the tears to drip behind my mask, I opened my eyes and saw the computer screen with tiny boxes of people, singing and swaying with us. And then I thought, well don't return us exactly to the way things were before. Thinking about all the people who were part of this experience that otherwise would not have been. The community member zooming in from her ICU bed, and people who live in remote rural communities, members in other cities and people home doing childcare or unable to leave their homes for a myriad of reasons. We are better off for having learned how to make our community more accessible, for expanding our circles of connection.
We long for return, but not a complete return. The world as we knew it was fundamentally and systemically broken. We are living through a cascade of natural disasters. We felt it acutely here in Philadelphia last week as the Schuylkill River rose to record levels. Who by fire and who by water? Who by disease and who by war? Whose life is cut short and whose extended?
It did not take COVID-19 for us to recognize that our healthcare system was unjust; or, to be aware of the exploitation of essential workers, to see that capitalism was laying waste to communities and the earth. And, long before George Floyd, Breona Tayler and Walter Wallace were murdered, we understood all too well that white supremacy sought to choke the life from Black people and people of color.
Don't take us back to the days of the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh or the Mother Emanuel church in Charleston or the violence of Standing Rock.
And then I started reimagining what the verse was longing for.
Hashiveinu- return us. But not to all of that.
חַדֵּ֥שׁ יָמֵ֖ינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם
Not like the days of old. Instead, make the world new again, like it once was. Like creation. Let this be a fresh start, k'kedem.
---
There were those brief weeks in early summer when I felt shockingly optimistic. But, as COVID cases in the United States continue to rise again, I am starting to feel like the light at the end of the tunnel may be slipping away.
If we can't go back to the way things were before COVID, then how do we get through this?
On a personal note, the pandemic has helped me realize that I am prone to thinking that hard times will not pass.
During the birth of our first child, my partner, Shosh was in labor for 50 hours. Labor began on a Sunday evening. We spent the night baking a chocolate cake in between contractions, imagining the baby would be born in the morning.
She labored all day Monday. She was steadfast and strong.
By the second night I was delirious but still excited for what was to come.
But by the second morning, I had lost myself, forgot what we were even doing.
I started thinking that maybe instead of giving birth, Shosh could just go back to being pregnant and we could try again in a week. I actually remember asking our midwife if her body could reabsorb the fetus. I couldn't see another way out.
It seems almost comical in retrospect, but I can still remember the feeling: there is no way out of these contractions.
When certainly there was.
Torah is replete with stories in which people cannot see a way out of their unwanted circumstances.
Even more than a personal experience or a Jewish experience, this is a profoundly human experience.
We are the inheritors of a deep and wide wisdom tradition. Our collective story is a reminder that we have been here before.
Our biblical stories are powerful not because they tell us what happened, but because they tell us what is always happening. [3]
Noah didn't know how many days he was going to be in the ark. The Israelites didn't know how many days Moses was going to be on Mt. Sinai.
And perhaps most iconically, the Israelites had no idea how long they were going to journey through the wilderness.
Each of these stories shares at least three qualities.
The first is that the length of time is equal to the number 40. Be it 40 days or nights or years. 40 represents a fullness of time. Which is to say, a seemingly endless period of time.
Second, in each of these stories, the people experienced profound doubt, fear, and loss.
In the beginning, Noah hesitates to build the ark at all, not really believing the waters would actually come. Then the Torah explains that even after the water receded, Noah would not leave the ark until the Holy One literally commanded him to do so, doubting it was safe to leave. When the waters receded, and he finally emerged, everything Noah had known was gone.
While Moses was up on the mountain, the people gathered at Sinai became convinced he would never return, so unmoored that they reverted to the ways of idolatry and built a golden calf to quell their fears. [4] When Moses returned down the mountain and saw the Golden Calf, he ordered the Levites to kill 3000 Israelites.
And the Israelites in the wilderness kvetched about everything. "If only we had meat to eat! We were better off in Egypt!" They complained so much that they started to believe it would be better to go back to Mitzrayim, to be enslaved, than to live with this much uncertainty.
As if to say, Hadesh yameinu k'kedem.
Please God, just make things go back to the way they were, even if they were oppressive!
Now, for some good news!
There is a the third quality that each of these stories shares:
The felt sense of "Are we there yet?," or even more so, "Are we ever gonna get there?" is always actually the beginning of some kind of revelation, which is what I want to explore with you today.
What revelation was possible for our ancestors in the midst of their unending uncertainty? And what revelation is possible for us?
---
Let's begin with our ancestors.
So what in fact was revealed in each of these stories?
We begin with the story of the Flood.
God tells Noah to enter the ark without telling him when he will leave. This is the biblical shelter in place order we all received last March.
It goes on to rain for 40 days and 40 nights. When the waters had finally receded, and Noah was sure the ground was dry, he exited the ark.
God makes a promise in this moment:
"So long as the earth endures,
Seedtime and harvest,
Cold and heat,
Summer and winter,
Day and night
Shall not cease."
And thus God established a covenant "with every living thing on earth," declaring,
"I will maintain My covenant with you: never again shall all life be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth." [6]
We all need to be reminded of these words after last week’s storms which devastated Louisiana and New York, and led to record flooding here in Philadelphia.
Then God said further, "I have set My bow in the clouds, and it shall serve as a sign of the covenant between Me and the earth." And thus the rainbow was revealed.
Just a few weeks ago, my kids called from our back alley, "Come quick, there is a double rainbow in the sky."
For about five minutes we were mesmerized by the spectrum of color miraculously displayed above. As far as I am concerned, a rainbow is a revelation every time. [7]
Second, the story of Sinai.
Exodus 19 recounts how the Israelites camped by the base of the mountain filled with awe and terror.
Now Mount Sinai is all in smoke, for the Holy One had come down upon it in fire; the smoke rises like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain and everyone present trembles violently.
The blare of the horn grows louder and louder. As Moses speaks, God answers him in thunder. Then Moses goes up the mountain.
While on the mountain, the people grow fearful. They fear not only for their lives but for their leader Moses, the one who brought them out of Mitzrayim. They even cry out to Aaron, "We do not know what has happened to him." [8]
When Moses finally descends, every bird, bug, and being is silent. Moses' face is glowing and he is carrying two tablets, upon which were engraved the 10 Commandments.
Torah itself was revealed.
And we were all there for it. It was whispered into our ears and felt in our bones. So much so, that this moment in Torah is referred to as "revelation" itself.
And finally, the wilderness. 40 years of wandering through the desert. The journey through the wilderness embodied the most profound uncertainty. And it was defined by a near constant cascade of revelation.
When the people feared they would have nothing to eat, manna fell from the sky, elevated on the morning dew. And when the people complained of its monotony, the manna transformed, "tasting according to one's own desires." [9]
When the people feared they would die of thirst, a well of water appeared, providing water for hundreds of thousands of Israelites on their 40-year journey through an arid desert, following them wherever they went. Rolling up mountains and down into valleys, and resting at the entrance of their camp. [10]
Not to mention the cloud that followed them by day, providing shade from the hot sun, and the fire that warmed them through the cold desert nights.
Amidst endless verses of complaining filled with doubt and fear, we learn that the Israelites were quite literally sustained by miracles every day of their journey.
And so are we. Amidst our doubt, and our fear and our tremendous losses.
Now, in each of these biblical stories, the revelation is unique to its circumstances. But, in the rabbinic imagination, they are deeply connected.
We learn in Pirkei Avot [11], that ten things were created at twilight, just before the first Shabbat.
Imagine the haste of the Holy One, rushing to complete the work of creation before pausing to celebrate it on the first Shabbat. As if they were last-minute packing for a trip, throwing into their suitcase anything they thought the world might need, ever!
---
There were those brief weeks in early summer when I felt shockingly optimistic. But, as COVID cases in the United States continue to rise again, I am starting to feel like the light at the end of the tunnel may be slipping away.
If we can't go back to the way things were before COVID, then how do we get through this?
On a personal note, the pandemic has helped me realize that I am prone to thinking that hard times will not pass.
During the birth of our first child, my partner, Shosh was in labor for 50 hours. Labor began on a Sunday evening. We spent the night baking a chocolate cake in between contractions, imagining the baby would be born in the morning.
She labored all day Monday. She was steadfast and strong.
By the second night I was delirious but still excited for what was to come.
But by the second morning, I had lost myself, forgot what we were even doing.
I started thinking that maybe instead of giving birth, Shosh could just go back to being pregnant and we could try again in a week. I actually remember asking our midwife if her body could reabsorb the fetus. I couldn't see another way out.
It seems almost comical in retrospect, but I can still remember the feeling: there is no way out of these contractions.
When certainly there was.
Torah is replete with stories in which people cannot see a way out of their unwanted circumstances.
Even more than a personal experience or a Jewish experience, this is a profoundly human experience.
We are the inheritors of a deep and wide wisdom tradition. Our collective story is a reminder that we have been here before.
Our biblical stories are powerful not because they tell us what happened, but because they tell us what is always happening. [3]
Noah didn't know how many days he was going to be in the ark. The Israelites didn't know how many days Moses was going to be on Mt. Sinai.
And perhaps most iconically, the Israelites had no idea how long they were going to journey through the wilderness.
Each of these stories shares at least three qualities.
The first is that the length of time is equal to the number 40. Be it 40 days or nights or years. 40 represents a fullness of time. Which is to say, a seemingly endless period of time.
Second, in each of these stories, the people experienced profound doubt, fear, and loss.
In the beginning, Noah hesitates to build the ark at all, not really believing the waters would actually come. Then the Torah explains that even after the water receded, Noah would not leave the ark until the Holy One literally commanded him to do so, doubting it was safe to leave. When the waters receded, and he finally emerged, everything Noah had known was gone.
While Moses was up on the mountain, the people gathered at Sinai became convinced he would never return, so unmoored that they reverted to the ways of idolatry and built a golden calf to quell their fears. [4] When Moses returned down the mountain and saw the Golden Calf, he ordered the Levites to kill 3000 Israelites.
And the Israelites in the wilderness kvetched about everything. "If only we had meat to eat! We were better off in Egypt!" They complained so much that they started to believe it would be better to go back to Mitzrayim, to be enslaved, than to live with this much uncertainty.
As if to say, Hadesh yameinu k'kedem.
Please God, just make things go back to the way they were, even if they were oppressive!
Now, for some good news!
There is a the third quality that each of these stories shares:
The felt sense of "Are we there yet?," or even more so, "Are we ever gonna get there?" is always actually the beginning of some kind of revelation, which is what I want to explore with you today.
What revelation was possible for our ancestors in the midst of their unending uncertainty? And what revelation is possible for us?
---
Let's begin with our ancestors.
So what in fact was revealed in each of these stories?
We begin with the story of the Flood.
God tells Noah to enter the ark without telling him when he will leave. This is the biblical shelter in place order we all received last March.
It goes on to rain for 40 days and 40 nights. When the waters had finally receded, and Noah was sure the ground was dry, he exited the ark.
God makes a promise in this moment:
"So long as the earth endures,
Seedtime and harvest,
Cold and heat,
Summer and winter,
Day and night
Shall not cease."
And thus God established a covenant "with every living thing on earth," declaring,
"I will maintain My covenant with you: never again shall all life be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth." [6]
We all need to be reminded of these words after last week’s storms which devastated Louisiana and New York, and led to record flooding here in Philadelphia.
Then God said further, "I have set My bow in the clouds, and it shall serve as a sign of the covenant between Me and the earth." And thus the rainbow was revealed.
Just a few weeks ago, my kids called from our back alley, "Come quick, there is a double rainbow in the sky."
For about five minutes we were mesmerized by the spectrum of color miraculously displayed above. As far as I am concerned, a rainbow is a revelation every time. [7]
Second, the story of Sinai.
Exodus 19 recounts how the Israelites camped by the base of the mountain filled with awe and terror.
Now Mount Sinai is all in smoke, for the Holy One had come down upon it in fire; the smoke rises like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain and everyone present trembles violently.
The blare of the horn grows louder and louder. As Moses speaks, God answers him in thunder. Then Moses goes up the mountain.
While on the mountain, the people grow fearful. They fear not only for their lives but for their leader Moses, the one who brought them out of Mitzrayim. They even cry out to Aaron, "We do not know what has happened to him." [8]
When Moses finally descends, every bird, bug, and being is silent. Moses' face is glowing and he is carrying two tablets, upon which were engraved the 10 Commandments.
Torah itself was revealed.
And we were all there for it. It was whispered into our ears and felt in our bones. So much so, that this moment in Torah is referred to as "revelation" itself.
And finally, the wilderness. 40 years of wandering through the desert. The journey through the wilderness embodied the most profound uncertainty. And it was defined by a near constant cascade of revelation.
When the people feared they would have nothing to eat, manna fell from the sky, elevated on the morning dew. And when the people complained of its monotony, the manna transformed, "tasting according to one's own desires." [9]
When the people feared they would die of thirst, a well of water appeared, providing water for hundreds of thousands of Israelites on their 40-year journey through an arid desert, following them wherever they went. Rolling up mountains and down into valleys, and resting at the entrance of their camp. [10]
Not to mention the cloud that followed them by day, providing shade from the hot sun, and the fire that warmed them through the cold desert nights.
Amidst endless verses of complaining filled with doubt and fear, we learn that the Israelites were quite literally sustained by miracles every day of their journey.
And so are we. Amidst our doubt, and our fear and our tremendous losses.
Now, in each of these biblical stories, the revelation is unique to its circumstances. But, in the rabbinic imagination, they are deeply connected.
We learn in Pirkei Avot [11], that ten things were created at twilight, just before the first Shabbat.
Imagine the haste of the Holy One, rushing to complete the work of creation before pausing to celebrate it on the first Shabbat. As if they were last-minute packing for a trip, throwing into their suitcase anything they thought the world might need, ever!
עֲשָׂרָה דְבָרִים נִבְרְאוּ בְּעֶרֶב שַׁבָּת בֵּין הַשְּׁמָשׁוֹת
Ten things were created in that liminal window between the suns of the 6th and 7th days of creation.
And wouldn't you know it, each and every one of the revelations from the stories I just told you is on that famous list. [12]
And wouldn't you know it, each and every one of the revelations from the stories I just told you is on that famous list. [12]
הַקֶּשֶׁת
The rainbow from Noah
וְהַכְּתָב, וְהַמִּכְתָּב, וְהַלּוּחוֹת.
The tablets that Moses carried down the mountain, the writing on the tablets, even the letters themselves were created bein hashmashot, between the suns, just before the first Shabbat
פִי הַבְּאֵר וְהַמָּן
And the manna and the well from the wilderness.
I know some of you had the chance to study this midrash in detail all year long with the amazing Dr. Elsie Stern. Thank you for letting me benefit from your insights.
I've surveyed a number of commentaries, and, as far as I can tell, for the past 2000 years, the rabbis have regarded this list as a relatively random collection of miracles.
But I don’t think it's random.
What connects the items on this list is the stories they come from. And what connects the stories they come from is that they are stories of unending uncertainty and loss.
Each of these miraculous revelations appears in the midst of a seemingly unending experience of uncertainty.
Each one appears when the people involved in the story have lost hope that there will be a way through to the other side, a light at the end of the tunnel.
Perhaps it is helpful to imagine this teaching from Pirkei Avot as a question in Jeopardy. In Jeopardy, the questions are actually answers. And the game is to figure out what question we are answering.
This list from Pirkei Avot is the answer to our ancestors' question, which is the same as our question: How do we get through this?
This list of revelations was compiled by people living through unending uncertainty: the fall of Jerusalem, the destruction of the Temple, the beginning of exile.
We are the inheritors of their clarity. A clarity that is usually beyond the grasp of those in the midst of the experience.
Our study of their stories reveals to us the wisdom and insight that we need in order to live through our story with greater grace, calm, and even an inkling of clarity.
Our biblical stories are powerful not because they tell us what happened, but because they tell us what is always happening. [13]
Our collective story is a reminder that we have been here before and we will be here again.
These stories aren't history or mythology, they are paradigms. Now is a great time to study the paradigms we have inherited, to develop the skills we need to be able to navigate the uncertainty of our wilderness.
This pandemic, warming temperatures, rising sea levels, drought, and famine, coupled with restrictive voting rights and the rise of authoritarian governments around the globe...
Much like the Israelites, we don't know how long we are going to be here.
Now we have explored what revelation was possible for our ancestors in the midst of their unending uncertainty.
So what revelation is possible for us?
According to Maimonides [14],
Every miraculous thing that has ever been revealed
was programmed into creation,
integrated into the cosmos.
Which means that this list of 10 things that the Holy One created at twilight before the first Shabbat, like all lists, is not exhaustive.
It is representative.
The list of miraculous revelations in the wilderness exists to help us realize that the things we need are not only possible, but they are already here, even -- especially -- if we don't know what they are. They already exist.
The things we need already exist.
Sadly, I am not a prophet. I wish I could tell you what these things are. I can't. Trust me I've tried.
What I do know, is that whatever it is, it is available to us. It will appear when we need it most. And if Maimonides is right, then it is already here, within us and within our world.
To quote the agrarian poet Wendell Berry,
"Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here."
What we need is here!
Now if you are thinking, "Yeah, but what is it that's here? Give me something I can hold in the palm of my hand. Something of this world."
You are not alone.
That beloved list of the 10 things that the Holy One squeezed into creation in the last moments before the clock ran out just as the sun was beginning to set on the sixth day before Shabbat,
That list concludes with a bonus track.
It ends with the line:
I know some of you had the chance to study this midrash in detail all year long with the amazing Dr. Elsie Stern. Thank you for letting me benefit from your insights.
I've surveyed a number of commentaries, and, as far as I can tell, for the past 2000 years, the rabbis have regarded this list as a relatively random collection of miracles.
But I don’t think it's random.
What connects the items on this list is the stories they come from. And what connects the stories they come from is that they are stories of unending uncertainty and loss.
Each of these miraculous revelations appears in the midst of a seemingly unending experience of uncertainty.
Each one appears when the people involved in the story have lost hope that there will be a way through to the other side, a light at the end of the tunnel.
Perhaps it is helpful to imagine this teaching from Pirkei Avot as a question in Jeopardy. In Jeopardy, the questions are actually answers. And the game is to figure out what question we are answering.
This list from Pirkei Avot is the answer to our ancestors' question, which is the same as our question: How do we get through this?
This list of revelations was compiled by people living through unending uncertainty: the fall of Jerusalem, the destruction of the Temple, the beginning of exile.
We are the inheritors of their clarity. A clarity that is usually beyond the grasp of those in the midst of the experience.
Our study of their stories reveals to us the wisdom and insight that we need in order to live through our story with greater grace, calm, and even an inkling of clarity.
Our biblical stories are powerful not because they tell us what happened, but because they tell us what is always happening. [13]
Our collective story is a reminder that we have been here before and we will be here again.
These stories aren't history or mythology, they are paradigms. Now is a great time to study the paradigms we have inherited, to develop the skills we need to be able to navigate the uncertainty of our wilderness.
This pandemic, warming temperatures, rising sea levels, drought, and famine, coupled with restrictive voting rights and the rise of authoritarian governments around the globe...
Much like the Israelites, we don't know how long we are going to be here.
Now we have explored what revelation was possible for our ancestors in the midst of their unending uncertainty.
So what revelation is possible for us?
According to Maimonides [14],
Every miraculous thing that has ever been revealed
was programmed into creation,
integrated into the cosmos.
Which means that this list of 10 things that the Holy One created at twilight before the first Shabbat, like all lists, is not exhaustive.
It is representative.
The list of miraculous revelations in the wilderness exists to help us realize that the things we need are not only possible, but they are already here, even -- especially -- if we don't know what they are. They already exist.
The things we need already exist.
Sadly, I am not a prophet. I wish I could tell you what these things are. I can't. Trust me I've tried.
What I do know, is that whatever it is, it is available to us. It will appear when we need it most. And if Maimonides is right, then it is already here, within us and within our world.
To quote the agrarian poet Wendell Berry,
"Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here."
What we need is here!
Now if you are thinking, "Yeah, but what is it that's here? Give me something I can hold in the palm of my hand. Something of this world."
You are not alone.
That beloved list of the 10 things that the Holy One squeezed into creation in the last moments before the clock ran out just as the sun was beginning to set on the sixth day before Shabbat,
That list concludes with a bonus track.
It ends with the line:
וְיֵשׁ אוֹמְרִים
And some say,
אַף צְבָת בִּצְבָת עֲשׂוּיָה
And some say, even tongs that were used to make tongs were created in those final moments of creation.
Yes, you heard me, tongs!
Let me remind you, that the tongs we are talking about are not pressed out of aluminum like the ones I have right here. [Lifts up tiny tongs!]
They are forged. Which means that a person must hold white-hot iron and beat it with a hammer in order to to make it into tongs.
But to do so, you need to hold that hot iron with something, with tongs! But where did that first pair of tongs come from?
For which the answer this midrash offers is, of course, the final moments of creation!
And if we read the midrash closely we can see, it was not just tongs, but tongs that make other tongs.
Yes, you heard me, tongs!
Let me remind you, that the tongs we are talking about are not pressed out of aluminum like the ones I have right here. [Lifts up tiny tongs!]
They are forged. Which means that a person must hold white-hot iron and beat it with a hammer in order to to make it into tongs.
But to do so, you need to hold that hot iron with something, with tongs! But where did that first pair of tongs come from?
For which the answer this midrash offers is, of course, the final moments of creation!
And if we read the midrash closely we can see, it was not just tongs, but tongs that make other tongs.
צְבָת בִּצְבָת עֲשׂוּיָה
Woven into the fabric of creation was the ability to create the tools that we need to sustain ourselves.
To actually hold white-hot iron and forge it into something workable.
I am not literally suggesting that tongs are going to get us through climate collapse and a pandemic. Even though they are my favorite kitchen utensils!
Their presence on this list and in our world represents the tools we need to develop the resilience and creativity to survive this much uncertainty and loss.
Tongs represent the internal mechanism of human beings to create for ourselves what we need when we need it.
And to create a world that embodies real wholeness, a world that is wholly just, like maybe it never was before.
Hashiveinu adonai elecha v'nashuva
hadesh yameinu k'kedem.
Return us to you Holy One, and we will return
Renew our days, renew our world, k'kedem - like we long for it to be.
Uvtuvo mechadesh b'chol yom tamid ma'aseh v'reishit.
Every single day, including today, the world is renewed.
May the call of the shofar stir in us the courage to unclench our grip and trust that everything we need to get through this unsettling time is not in the heavens or in some far away place out beyond our reach.
Whatever it is, it is already here, in our hearts, in this room, in this community.
Anyada buena, dulce i alegre.
L'Shanah tovah tikateivu.
May we each be inscribed in the book of life.
To actually hold white-hot iron and forge it into something workable.
I am not literally suggesting that tongs are going to get us through climate collapse and a pandemic. Even though they are my favorite kitchen utensils!
Their presence on this list and in our world represents the tools we need to develop the resilience and creativity to survive this much uncertainty and loss.
Tongs represent the internal mechanism of human beings to create for ourselves what we need when we need it.
And to create a world that embodies real wholeness, a world that is wholly just, like maybe it never was before.
Hashiveinu adonai elecha v'nashuva
hadesh yameinu k'kedem.
Return us to you Holy One, and we will return
Renew our days, renew our world, k'kedem - like we long for it to be.
Uvtuvo mechadesh b'chol yom tamid ma'aseh v'reishit.
Every single day, including today, the world is renewed.
May the call of the shofar stir in us the courage to unclench our grip and trust that everything we need to get through this unsettling time is not in the heavens or in some far away place out beyond our reach.
Whatever it is, it is already here, in our hearts, in this room, in this community.
Anyada buena, dulce i alegre.
L'Shanah tovah tikateivu.
May we each be inscribed in the book of life.
[1] With gratitude to my hevrutas and editors on this sermon, Rabbi Benay Lappe, Rabbi Jordan Braunig, Rabbi Mónica Gomery, Abby McCartney, and Shosh Ruskin.
[2] Lamentations 5:21.
[3] To paraphrase Dr. Leon Kass.
[4] Exodus 32.
[5] Numbers 11:18.
[6] Genesis 9:15.
[7] Rabbi Avi Killip writes, "The story of the flood ends with a rainbow, which has been adopted as an image of hope in this pandemic, posted in windows [throughout our neighborhoods] as we seek universal ways to tell each other that 'everything will be okay.'...It reminds us that, no matter how hard the rain, there is always potential for the sun to return. And of course, rainbows appear before the water has completely dried."
[8] Exodus 32:1.
[9] See Rashi on Numbers 11:8.
[10] Numbers Rabbah 1:2.
[11] Pirkei Avot 5:6, see also B.T. Pesachim 54a.
[12] עֲשָׂרָה דְבָרִים נִבְרְאוּ בְּעֶרֶב שַׁבָּת בֵּין הַשְּׁמָשׁוֹת, וְאֵלּוּ הֵן, פִּי הָאָרֶץ, וּפִי הַבְּאֵר, וּפִי הָאָתוֹן, וְהַקֶּשֶׁת, וְהַמָּן, וְהַמַּטֶּה, וְהַשָּׁמִיר, וְהַכְּתָב, וְהַמִּכְתָּב, וְהַלּוּחוֹת. וְיֵשׁ אוֹמְרִים, אַף הַמַּזִּיקִין, וּקְבוּרָתוֹ שֶׁל משֶׁה, וְאֵילוֹ שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִינוּ. וְיֵשׁ אוֹמְרִים, אַף צְבָת בִּצְבָת עֲשׂוּיָה:
Ten things were created on the eve of the Sabbath at twilight, and these are they: [1] the mouth of the earth, [2] the mouth of the well, [3] the mouth of the donkey, [4] the rainbow, [5] the manna, [6] the staff [of Moses], [7] the shamir, [8] the letters, [9] the writing, [10] and the tablets. And some say: also the demons, the grave of Moses, and the ram of Abraham, our father. And some say: and also tongs, made with tongs.
[13] To paraphrase Dr. Leon Kass.
[14] See his commentary on Pirkei Avot 5:6.
[15] https://www.awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=2144.
[2] Lamentations 5:21.
[3] To paraphrase Dr. Leon Kass.
[4] Exodus 32.
[5] Numbers 11:18.
[6] Genesis 9:15.
[7] Rabbi Avi Killip writes, "The story of the flood ends with a rainbow, which has been adopted as an image of hope in this pandemic, posted in windows [throughout our neighborhoods] as we seek universal ways to tell each other that 'everything will be okay.'...It reminds us that, no matter how hard the rain, there is always potential for the sun to return. And of course, rainbows appear before the water has completely dried."
[8] Exodus 32:1.
[9] See Rashi on Numbers 11:8.
[10] Numbers Rabbah 1:2.
[11] Pirkei Avot 5:6, see also B.T. Pesachim 54a.
[12] עֲשָׂרָה דְבָרִים נִבְרְאוּ בְּעֶרֶב שַׁבָּת בֵּין הַשְּׁמָשׁוֹת, וְאֵלּוּ הֵן, פִּי הָאָרֶץ, וּפִי הַבְּאֵר, וּפִי הָאָתוֹן, וְהַקֶּשֶׁת, וְהַמָּן, וְהַמַּטֶּה, וְהַשָּׁמִיר, וְהַכְּתָב, וְהַמִּכְתָּב, וְהַלּוּחוֹת. וְיֵשׁ אוֹמְרִים, אַף הַמַּזִּיקִין, וּקְבוּרָתוֹ שֶׁל משֶׁה, וְאֵילוֹ שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִינוּ. וְיֵשׁ אוֹמְרִים, אַף צְבָת בִּצְבָת עֲשׂוּיָה:
Ten things were created on the eve of the Sabbath at twilight, and these are they: [1] the mouth of the earth, [2] the mouth of the well, [3] the mouth of the donkey, [4] the rainbow, [5] the manna, [6] the staff [of Moses], [7] the shamir, [8] the letters, [9] the writing, [10] and the tablets. And some say: also the demons, the grave of Moses, and the ram of Abraham, our father. And some say: and also tongs, made with tongs.
[13] To paraphrase Dr. Leon Kass.
[14] See his commentary on Pirkei Avot 5:6.
[15] https://www.awakin.org/read/view.php?tid=2144.