Shattered and Sheltering Myths
Erev Rosh Hashanah 5763
Rabbi Joseph R. Black
Congregation Albert, Albuquerque, NM
My Dear Friends,
Shabbat Shalom!
L’shanah Tovah!
It’s so good to see you hear tonight.
I want to begin this evening by telling you one of my favorite stories. Many of
you, I am sure have heard this story before, but it bears repeating. The story
is about two people – one of them was a baker named Yankel who had a reputation
that reached far and wide for his delicious challah. The other was a
impoverished tailor named shmulik – who had a large family – but could barely
keep enough food on the table.
The story begins at a Shabbat service. The Rabbi is giving a VERY long and VERY boring sermon (as some rabbis are wont to do….) that dealt with the intricacies of the 12 loaves of Challah that the priests were required to keep in the holy of holies. It was a brilliant sermon – it was so brilliant that no one understood it – and Yankel the baker, along with most of the congregation was lulled into a sleepy stupor.
After the Rabbi finished his sermon and the congregation awoke from their slumber, the baker went home to his wife for Shabbat lunch. “So what did the Rabbi talk about this morning?” she asked. Now Yankel had not been sleeping throughout the entire sermon. He heard little bits and pieces as he drifted in and out of consciousness. “I think,” he replied, “…that God wants me to put 12 loaves of Challah into the ark.” And so, being a pious Jew, and always doing what his Rabbi told him, the next Friday morning, he baked an additional dozen Challot, and brought them to the Synagogue in the afternoon – on the way home just before the beginning of Shabbat.
As Yankel walked into the empty sanctuary and stood in front of the ark with his sack of Challot, he had to admit to himself that he was feeling rather foolish. He opened the ark and prayed: “Ribono Shel Olam – Master of the Universe,” he said, “I am a simple man. I am a pious man. I never knew you liked challah – but if the rabbi says this is what I’m supposed to do – then I’ll do it. I hope you like it. Have a Gut Shabbes, God!” Then, the baker closed the ark and went home.
Not two minutes after Yankel left the synagogue, in walked Shmulik the poor tailor. Now this had been a particularly difficult week for Shmulik. His wife and 13 children were hungry. Whatever few coins he could scrabble together by sewing and mending did not begin to meet their basic needs. He was at wits end. Finally, in desperation, he went to the only place he could think of to find solace and comfort: the synagogue. He walked up to the ark and began to pray: “Ribono Shel Olam – Master of the Universe! I am a good Jew. I try my best to feed my family – but I just can’t make it anymore. God, I’m at wit’s end. I need Your help. I need a sign! Please God – help me!” And at that moment – he bumped the curtain of the ark and -- you guessed it, out fell a loaf of Challah... Shmulik quickly found the other 11 loaves - and with grateful prayers, he kissed the ark curtain – and went home to his family.
The next morning, at services, Yankel was very nervous. All night long he had wondered what would happen during the Torah service when they opened the ark. Would his Challot still be there? Was he a fool for thinking that the Rabbi told him to put Challah in the ark? The moment came. “Eyn Kamocha Va Elohim!” sang the Cantor. The doors open and... no challah! it was all gone! Not a crumb was left! God had accepted his offering! The baker was overjoyed. “Next week – cinnamon raisin!” he said - half out loud and half to himself.
The next week – at the same time – Yankel came with a dozen freshly baked cinnamon raisin Challot. He lovingly placed them into the ark, kissed the curtain and said: “God, I’m so glad you liked my challah. I promise: as long as You eat them – I’ll bake them.”
He left the synagogue and went home.
Five minutes later (you guessed it!) in walks Shmulik. He humbly approached the ark and prayed: “Ribono Shel Olam—Master of the Universe: Last week – You performed a miracle for me and my family. I took the Challahs home – I sold 8, gave 2 to Tzeddakah and had enough to feed my family for a week. Thank you, thank you! But You know God – things are still tough. Is there any chance you could perform another little miracle?” He opened the ark: “Cinnamon Raisin – My favorite!” said the tailor.
According to the story, this went on for 36 years. Every Friday afternoon, Yankel would bring the Challah, and just after he left the synagogue, Shmulik would come to claim it. Until one day – the Rabbi stayed just a little bit later than usual. And Yankel came a little bit early. You can imagine the Rabbi’s surprise when he heard a voice coming from the sanctuary. He peeked in and he saw the baker standing in front of the ark.
As he turned to leave, the Rabbi stepped out from behind the shadows:
They would have gone on arguing for several more minutes, except for the fact that they were interrupted by someone else entering the synagogue. The Rabbi and the Baker hid themselves so that they wouldn’t be seen. Shmulik walked in. He went up to the ark, and, before he opened the curtain he said:
He reached into the ark, and started loading his sack with the 12 freshly baked loaves of Challah.
And at that moment, the Baker, the Tailor and the Rabbi realized what had been happening every Shabbat afternoon for the past 36 years.
Now there are several endings to this story. The first ending is that Yankel and Shmulik were so embarrassed and so ashamed of the fact that they had been making fools of themselves, that they never set foot into the synagogue again.
The second ending, is that the Rabbi said to Yankel: “You thought you were baking Challah for God.” And then the Rabbi said to Shmulik: “You thought God was baking challah for YOU.” Now your task is to give it directly to each other.
Normally, when I tell this story, I use the second ending. It’s nice. It’s cute – it works for small children. But the truth is that the first ending is much more probable than the second. You see I told you this story tonight for a reason. This is a story about how we create worlds for ourselves – and the worlds that we create are often very fragile. They are held together by the slimmest of margins. All too often, when the slightest event occurs that was not planned for, everything can come crashing down at our feet. Among other things, this story is about the destruction of myths – of sacred truths that we try to hold on to at any cost – but all too often, they become destroyed through the efforts of those who, whether deliberately or through no fault of their own, tear them apart.
In his seminal book, Understanding Genesis: The Heritage of Biblical Israel, Dr. Nahum Sarna writes the following about the function of myth in our society:
Myths…. Have as their subjects the eternal problems of mankind communicated through the medium of highly imaginative language. A myth may be a vital cultural force. It can be a vehicle for the expression of ideas that activate human behavior, that reflect and validate the distinctive forms and qualities of a civilization that signify a dynamic attitude to the universe and embody a vision of society. (pp. 6-7)
Myths help us to understand that Truth is more than simply that which we can hold in our hands. Myths force us to understand that faith is an essential part of our humanity. To live in a society without myth is to live in a society without a soul. Most important, we can learn about the essence and values of a society simply by examining its myths.
5762 was a year where myths were torn apart
This past year was a time for bursting bubbles, destroying icons and deconstructing myth. It was a year when the veil was removed and, like the Wizard of Oz, we all seemed to be crying out: “pay no attention to the man behind the screen…” as we frantically tried to gain control of the situations that were rapidly spinning beyond our grasp. We paid many heavy prices this past year, chief among them were the destruction of some of our most sacred societal myths.
Now don’t get me wrong – over the years, the destruction of some cultural myths have made us stronger:
The myths of masculine superiority; of corporate infallibility; of racial segregation – all of these needed to be exploded in order for our society to continue to grow and move forward.
Some myths will not die – they cannot die -- no matter how hard we try to eradicate them. A perfect example of this was described to me last week by a hometown friend when, at the very last hour, the baseball strike was called off. The last possible baseball game of the day was set to take place at that sacred temple of America’s pastime – Wrigley Field – home of the Chicago Cubs.
Now, as a native Chicagoan, I know that to claim that you are a Cub fan is to acknowledge to the world that you have an active appreciation for the mythological – but that’s another sermon for another time…..
Up until the moment that the strike was averted, the newspapers and the airwaves were filled with the noise of angry and disgruntled baseball fans who vowed to never set foot in another stadium again. But, as soon as the strike was averted, those Chicago fans swarmed all over Waveland avenue – off of the El tracks and into the ballpark – to cheer on Sammy Sosa, eat hot dogs and watch another doomed season come to an end inside the ivy-covered hallowed confines of that Temple of frustration: Wrigley Field….. The Myth of the American Pastime is safe in Chicago.
A perfect example of how some myths cannot be destroyed can be found in the misguided lawsuit in the 9th Circuit Court in San Francisco that attempted to remove the words, “under God” from the Pledge of Allegiance.
Now, while I understand what the plaintiff was trying to accomplish in removing any mention of the Divinity from a loyalty oath to a sovereign state, his methods, if anything accomplished the opposite of his goal. He became the whipping boy of the religious and the political right. Why did he fail? What do the words “under God” really mean?
To some, they mean that our nation has achieved a prophetic status of invincibility. As long as we are “under God”, then God is on our side. A powerful concept. And it isn’t just ANY God that we are “under,” by the way. From this perspective, there’s no Allah, or Buddha or Krishna in the pledge of Allegiance. Ribono Shel Olam is also highly suspect.
Clearly this is not a concept that most of us here tonight can embrace.
And yet, the idea of being “under God” is worth exploring – and possibly even embracing on this Erev Rosh Ha-Shanah. What does the myth of being “under God” mean for us as Jews?
Recently, I participated in a discussion on this topic where my colleague, Rabbi Janet Mardur spoke of two ways that we, as Jews, might be able to embrace this concept.
The first is found throughout our liturgy on these High Holy Days – that of God as Sovereign of the Universe – in Hebrew: Ol Malchut Shamayim – the Yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven. The second, also a central theme of our liturgy and literature, is the concept of God as a Sheltering presence who protects us under the shadow of the Wings of the Divine Presence: Tachat Kanfei Ha-Shechina.
What do we mean when we proclaim God’s Sovereignty?
To understand God as Sovereign, all we have to do is recite a bracha – a blessing. Baruch Ahtah Adonai, Eloheynu Melech Ha-Olam: “Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, Sovereign of the Universe…..”
In the Shofar service that we will pray tomorrow there is an entire section devoted to God’s Sovereignty – called Malchuyot. In our Machzor we will read:
Our God and God of our ancestors, may You rule in glory over all the earth, and let Your grandeur be acclaimed throughout all the world. Reveal the splendor of Your majesty to all who dwell on earth that all Your works may know You as their Maker, and all the living acknowledge You as their Creator. Then all who breathe shall say: ‘Adonai, the God of Israel is the Sovereign whose dominion extends to all creation.’ Blessed is Adonai, Ruler of the Universe who hallows the Sabbath, the House of Israel and the Day of Remembrance.
Now some people may find this theology a little difficult to swallow. A God who “Rules over all Creation?” Isn’t that antiquated? Do we really believe that? Haven’t we progressed beyond such a primitive concept?
It all depends on how you look at it. Our tradition teaches that when we think of God as our Ruler we are stating that God has set up Rules that we need to follow. If God is our Sovereign, then God calls us to moral action. God is watching us, the Unetaneh Tokef prayer teaches. When our liturgy speaks of “who shall live and who shall die,” it means that God is measuring our actions in the Heavenly Court – not merely to give us a reward or punishment, but, rather, to let us know that our actions are going to be held up to scrutiny. What we do… here on earth…COUNTS!
In this context, then, to affirm that we are a nation “under God” is to assert that we are held accountable to universal and transcendent standards of right and wrong and that we are called to moral action:
To speak being “under God” in the context of perceiving God as a Sheltering presence who protects us under the shadow of the Wings of the Divine Presence -- Tachat Kanfei Ha-Shechina -- is to state that God not only exists, but that God cares about us and wants to protect us. But it also means that we are not the exclusive recipients of God’s care and love. All of Humanity is sheltered by God. In the book of Genesis we read that we are created in the Image of God. God’s shelter is a unifying factor. To state that we are a nation “under God” in this context, is not exclusive, but inclusive. We, like all of our brothers and sisters regardless of ethnic, religious or national origin, are sheltered by God’s grace and love.
My friends, we have seen that some myths are easily destroyed. Others, however, do not disappear so easily. The fact is, we need myth in our lives for, as Nahum Sarna has taught us, myth points the way to truth. Our sacred stories become the building blocks of our faith. They do not contradict reality. On the contrary – they provide us with a lens through which we can find meaning in a world which, all too often appears empty and without purpose.
A world without myth is a world without faith.
A world without faith is a world without meaning.
A world without meaning is a lonely place, indeed.
I want to return to our story of the baker and the tailor. I told you earlier about 2 possible endings. In fact, there is a third ending as well. After Yankel and Shmulik realize what had been happening all these years, they go home, dejected. And yet, the next Friday morning, Yankel the baker, out of habit, bakes an additional 12 loaves of Challah – as he had been doing for so long. He looks at the loaves and thinks to himself:
And so, as he had done for so many years, Yankel walked into that empty Sanctuary on that Friday afternoon and placed 12 freshly baked loaves of Challah into the ark. And then he prayed:
“Ribono Shel Olam: for 36 years I have come here to bring you the best that I had to offer. I believed that You took my gifts with love. God, I’m not ready to give up on You. I’m going to do this one more time. If, tomorrow, when we open the ark, the Challahs are still there, I’ll know that You don’t want them – I’ll be sad – but I’ll know. But maybe, just maybe, they’ll be gone.”
And Yankel kissed the ark curtain and he left.
The next morning, the 12 Challahs were gone.
And, as the story goes, Yankel and Shmulik, to the delight of God and all of the Angels in Heaven, continued giving and receiving Challah for another 36 years. They believed that the Challah was a gift to and from God.
They were right.
There are times in all of our lives when we come to this sacred place and feel that our prayers are only empty words. And yet, something keeps bringing us back – even if it’s only for the High Holy Days. That urge to return is a gift from God. For when we are here, if we allow ourselves to be truly open to the spiritual potential within us, we can experience moments of transcendence when we can almost taste God’s presence – and that taste is as sweet as freshly baked Challah.
It’s good to see you here. Come more often.
My friends, on this Rosh Hashanah – on this beginning of a New Year, my prayer is that all of us will learn to see the gifts that we can give to and receive from God. May we cherish the stories, the beliefs, the traditions and the myths that help us to see the holy in the Universe. And may the year 5763 be filled with wonder, with joy and with peace.
AMEN