My Dear Friends,

There is a story that I love to tell. Some of you may have heard me tell it recently, so I beg your indulgence if you have. It’s about a businessman who had some time to kill at a train station. Now this was not a particularly large station and, consequently, there was not a lot for him to do except wait for his train. While he was waiting, he noticed a scale with a sign that stated: "Your weight and fortune, 5 cents." He put in a nickel, and out came a card which read: "Your name is David Aaronson, you're Jewish and you weigh 189 pounds." He was astounded. He put in another nickel and the same card popped out: "Your name is David Aaronson, you're Jewish and you weigh 189 pounds." He couldn't believe that this was for real, so he ran up to one of the porters at the station and asked him to get up on the scale. He put in another nickel, and the card popped out, saying: "Your name is Samuel Cunningham, you're Catholic, and you weigh 187 pounds." Aaronson was astounded; moreover, he was getting angry. He was sure that someone was playing a trick on him. He happened to know that there was a Chinese/Mexican restaurant around the corner. He went in and asked a waiter to come with him to the train station, He put him up on the scale, and out came the card, which read: "Your name is Juan Chang, you're half-Mexican, half-Chinese and you weigh 158 pounds." Determined to fool the machine, Aaronson remembered that he knew of a friend of a friend who was 1/3 Hawaiian, 1/3 Russian, and 1/3 French, and moreover, had grown up in Saudi Arabia - being raised by the Bedouins in the Desert. He somehow managed to get this person to come to the train station and on to the scale. Out came the card which read: Your name is Muhammed Boris De-kaukaloa. You are 1/3 Hawaiian, 1/3 Russian, and 1/3 French, and you weigh 200 pounds. By this time, Aaronson was infuriated. He ran around the corner to a costume shop, bought a wig and a beard, filled his suitcase with rocks, put on sunglasses and got on the machine. Out came the card which read: "Your name is still David Aaronson, you’re still Jewish, you still weigh 189 pounds, and you just missed your train."

I love this story. I love telling and re-telling it because it speaks to us on so many levels. Tonight I share it with you because I believe it has a vitally important message. Many of us spend too much time running around – trying to figure out the hidden meanings behind things. All too often, we are so caught up in the minutia of our lives that we don’t take the time to sit back and reflect on the fact that life, itself is a gift – until it’s too late.

Since this is Erev Yom Kippur, I have a confession to make: I’ve never really understood the Kol Nidre prayer. Yes, it is a hauntingly beautiful melody. Yes, this prayer has a powerful history – reminding us of hidden Jews and broken promises; copious tears and sleepless nights of worry. And yet, despite it’s history and it’s centrality to our experience of Yom Kippur, if we unpack the Kol Nidre– we find that it is basically a legalistic formula that, at first glance, would appear to have little bearing on our lives today.

If you’d like to follow along on p. 252 please do…..
The text reads: “Let all the vows and oaths, all the promises we make and the obligations we incur to You, O God, between this Yom Kippur and the next, be null and void should we, after honest effort, find ourselves unable to fulfill them. Then may we be absolved of them.”

That’s it – short and sweet. Not that inspiring, is it? It’s a contract – a disclaimer – and not much more.

Truth be told, the Kol Nidre prayer was a cause of much misery for Jews over the Centuries. Anti Semites often used it as a pretext for incitement - stating that “you can’t trust those Jews – why every year they pray to their God to let them break their promises!” Even though this is a misinterpretation of the meaning of the prayer, these accusations often provoked a great deal of suffering for Jewish communities throughout the world.

And yet, with all of it’s theological, historical and philosophical problems, Kol Nidre still remains a central part of our tradition. It wouldn’t be Yom Kippur without the beautiful melody of Kol Nidre. This year, as I was preparing for Yom Kippur, I saw something in this prayer that I had never noticed before: suddenly seven simple words took on a whole different meaning:

“…mi-yom kippurim zeh ad yom kippurim ha-ba…”
“…between this Yom Kippur and the next…”

Basically, we’re asking God to forgive us for the promises we won’t be able to fulfill all of next year. Many commentators have written about the fact that the Kol Nidre prayer deals with our future acts—not those of the past or present. Last year I spoke of “real time” – about how we need to see the Kol Nidre as an admonition to let go of the obstacles of the past that prevent us from moving on with our lives in the future. This year, however, it suddenly struck me: the prayer assumes that we will BE here next Yom Kippur. Who’s to say that we will?

Think about it: we aren’t asking God to merely forgive us for vows we can’t keep, we’re asking God to keep us alive until next Yom Kippur. We kind of ‘slip’ the words “…mi-yom kippurim zeh ad yom kippurim ha-ba…” in the midst of our prayer for forgiveness.

It’s kinda sneaky.
It’s kinda chutzpadic.
I like it.

And each year – we repeat the same formula – asking God for another extension – another year to live.

The truth is, strip away the layers of all of the prayers, the fasting, the philosophy – if you want to know what Yom Kippur is all about I can sum it up in one sentence: “God –let us live another year – give us another chance to be more careful in the things we say and do to one another.”

Taken in this light, Kol Nidre is a prayer about the fragility of life. It is about our mortality. Our Rabbis taught: “repent one day before you die.” We can never know when that day will come so we must live our lives in a constant state of repentance – as though each day were our last. Kol Nidre teaches that life is precious and precarious. The fact that we are here – tonight – all together -- is because we are lucky enough to be alive right now.

M’yom kippurim zeh ad yom kippurim ha bah

A story is told by the Bratslaver Chasidim of three Rabbis who were traveling on a Friday afternoon through the countryside on their way to spend Shabbat in another city. It was getting late and the travelers were in a hurry to reach their destination before sunset – and the onset of the Sabbath. They were riding through a dark and dreary woodland that was known to be a perilous place because of robbers and wild animals. All of a sudden, through a thicket of trees the rabbis heard the sound of a child loudly singing. They stopped their wagon, and walked into the woods towards the sound. They came into a clearing and beheld the amazing sight of a young boy, dressed in rags – filthy, malnourished – dancing and singing at the top of his lungs. They gazed at this amazing sight for a few moments and then, one of the rabbis came up to the boy and said:

“Young boy – why are you so joyful?”
“Because I’m lost in the woods!” answered the boy at the top of his lungs – while he was singing and dancing.
“Why are you dancing?” asked another.
“Because I’m hungry and scared!” came the joyous reply.

Now, as you can imagine, the rabbis were very confused. Surely, any normal child who was lost and hungry in the woods would not be singing for joy but crying out in fear.

The young boy turned to the three esteemed rabbis and said: “My teachers, I have been lost in these woods for three days now – without food, braving the cold, the robbers and the wild animals. For the first two days I was very scared. I cried out in hunger and fear. And then, this morning, I woke up and thought to myself: ‘I’m hungry, I’m cold and I’m scared. But the fact that I can feel my hunger, my discomfort and my fear means that I can see, feel and participate in the world around me. What a gift! God created me with the ability to feel hunger, fear and pain – and it works. What a miracle. I’m alive!’”

And he started to dance and sing all over again.

The three rabbis looked at one another and realized that this was no ordinary young boy. They took him back to the city where he turned to be an exceptional student and teacher – eventually becoming known as the great Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav – the founder of the Bratslaver Chasidim.

This is a story I tell because it teaches us something simple and vital. Life is a gift. Even when we suffer – even when we question - even when we are afraid – the fact that we are here together is nothing short of miraculous.

And this, my friends, is my Kol Nidre message to you tonight:

Savor Each Moment that God Gives Us Because We Are Lucky to be Alive.

Simple.
Essential.

The traditions of Yom Kippur teach us how to best understand the power of this awareness. During the next 24 hours we remind ourselves of our mortality. Our tradition teaches that we dress in white – in a kittel – literally a burial shroud. We refrain from life–giving sustenance. We abstain from pleasure. We spend the entire day focusing on how we can better live our lives.

Tomorrow morning we will read the following from the torah: “Atem Nitzavim kulchem hayom lifnei Adonai Eloheychem” You are standing – all of you -- today – before Adonai your God.”

“Choose life” we are told.
Savor each moment…..
Make life holy because WE are holy….

M’yom kippurim zeh ad yom kippurim ha bah

Give us another year, God. We’ll do better this time – we promise.

So how do we do this? How do we choose life? How do we celebrate the holiness of everyday?
The answer, I believe, is found in the liturgy of these Yamim Noraim.

Following the Unetaneh Tokef– one of the scariest moments in the entire liturgy of the High Holidays; where we state that on Rosh Ha Shanah it is written, and on yom Kippur it is sealed who shall live and who shall die, we find the words: U’teshuvah, U’tefillah, Utseddakah Maavirim et roa ha-gezera – and repentance, prayer and charity temper the severity of God’s decree.

Teshuva, repentance or returning, teaches us that we live life to the fullest when we connect fully with those around us. Tomorrow, when we recite the full litany of confession in the Al Cheyt prayers, I want you to notice that we list only those sins we have committed against others – not sins we have committed against God. The essence of teshuva is the concept of reestablishing balance in our relationships. When we do teshuva we acknowledge the fact that we are all works in progress. We are aware that our actions impact others – that it is essential that we maintain the health of our relationships – with our loved ones, our friends, our colleagues.

Don’t put off telling those whom you love that you love them – you may never have another chance. Make amends. Speak to your estranged family and friends. Stop the useless fighting. Do Teshuvah – even more important – accept other’s teshuva and forgive them. The most painful words that I hear over and over again are “…if only…” I hear them said by children, spouses, siblings and friends sitting by a hospital bed or standing at the grave of a loved one: “If only I told him that I loved him more often……” “If only I wasn’t so stubborn….” “If only I spent more time….” “If only….”

M’yom kippurim zeh ad yom kippurim ha bah – give us another year, O God, so that we can truly do teshuva – so that we can ensure that all of our relationships are fulfilled

The next key element in living life to the fullest is Tefillah – prayer.
The word Tefillah comes from a Hebrew root that means self-reflection. When we engage in prayer – true prayer – we look deep into our selves and our souls and focus on the essential aspects of our character. When we pray we give thanks. We acknowledge that the good in our lives is a gift. We don’t create it – we merely experience it.

When we pray – truly pray – we reflect on the deepest hopes and the darkest fears in our hearts. We focus on those areas that are incomplete – that are in need of shalom – wholeness.

As Jews, most of our prayer is experienced in the context of Community. Sometimes when we come together to pray it’s hard to focus. We look at words printed on a page that are not our own -- that we might not even understand. So why bother? The answer, I believe, is that since so much prayer is communal – when we come together to pray we are also coming together to support one another. We need each other to pray. While I may not feel the need to pray on a certain Shabbat – I know that there are others desperately need to pray – and my presence is a way to support them. That is the essential character of the minyan – 10 Jewish adults that are necessary to say kaddish, to read torah, to say many other prayers as well. In this context, prayer helps us to live life to the fullest because it brings us together as a community.

M’yom kippurim zeh ad yom kippurim ha ba – give us another year, O God to understand that prayer links us to You and to one another.

And this leads us to our final element: Tzeddakah, righteousness. Tzeddakahis not merely charity, or helping others. Tzeddakahis the way that we acknowledge that not only is our own life a gift – but that every living creature is sacred. When we reach out to others we are doing more than a “good deed.” We are affirming our own holiness as it is reflected in the holiness of those around us. The concept of Tzeddakahteaches that we can’t only concern ourselves with our own needs and personal growth. As Jews, we understand that we are God’s partner. We cannot isolate our selves. Celebrating our lives means sharing the gifts that God gives us. Living life to the fullest means working to perfect the imperfect world which is our inheritance – and passing it on to the next generation.

M’yom kippurim zeh ad yom kippurim ha ba – from this Yom Kippur to the next, O God, help us to live – to savor the fact that we are alive – to celebrate our relationships, our holiness, our ability to work in partnership with You through Teshuvah, Tefilah and Tzeddakah.

The other day I was at a concert and I heard a song that I knew I would have to sing at the end of this sermon. It was written by Jerry Reed and it’s called, “Today Is Mine.”

Today Is Mine
© 1969 - Jerry Hubbard (Reed) - BMI

When the sun came up this morning
I took the time to watch it rise
And as its beauty struck the darkness
From the sky

I thought how small and unimportant
All my troubles seem to be
And how lucky another day
Belongs to me

And as the sleepy world around me
Woke up to greet the day
All its silent beauty
Seemed to say

So what, my friend, if all your dreams
You haven't realized
Just look around you
You've got a new day to try

Chorus:
Today is mine, today is mine
To do with what I will
Today is mine
My own special cup to fill
To die a little that I might learn to live
To take from life that I might learn to give
Today is mine

Like most men I curse the present
Void of peace of mind
And race my thoughts beyond tomorrow
Envision there a sweeter time

But as I view this day around me
I can see the fool I've been
For today's the only garden
That we can tend

G’mar Chatimah Tovah –may we all be sealed for a blessing in the book of life –

M’yom kippurim zeh ad yom kippurim ha ba – from this Yom Kippur to the next. AMEN