Kol Nidre 5767

The Ticket
Kol Nidre- 5767
Rabbi Joseph R. Black
Congregation Albert - Albuquerque, NM

My Dear Friends,

I received a letter on Thursday from the Albuquerque Police Department. It was a notice of a `Red Light Violation' that allegedly occurred on the corner of Montgomery and Wyoming. Supposedly, I was caught by one of those cameras that automatically snaps a picture when vehicles are in the middle of the intersection when the light is red. I was making a left-hand turn onto Wyoming going north. In the letter a saw a color picture of my car - with my license plate clearly identified. But I could not see a red light. As a matter of fact - it looked like the light was green. I knew that something was wrong. I was being accused of a crime I did not commit. I was framed! I'm a law-abiding citizen! This was a travesty. I was going to fight this.
I'm no criminal! And besides, the fine was $100.

I showed it to my kids, and then Ethan - who has much better eyesight than me - looked at the pictures and asked:

"Dad - were you making a turn?"

"Why yes," I answered.

"Isn't there a different traffic light for left turns that just going straight?"

"Of course!" I replied.

"Well," he said, "it looks like that light is red."

"No it isn't!" I said. "This is a huge mistake and someone's going to pay for it!"

But you know, after I calmed down and looked at the photograph, I realized that Ethan was right. I was running a red light in that picture.

I was wrong.

I paid the fine.

My first reaction to receiving the ticket was to deny that I did anything wrong. Then I got angry. How dare they issue me a ticket? Don't they know who I am? I'm an important member of this community! I've even served as a Chaplain on the police force. I could fight this - and probably win. I have friends in high places.

And then I looked at my kids. I asked myself, what behavior am I modeling here? What am I teaching my children? Am I above the law? Is anybody, really?

No matter how important you might think you are - that camera doesn't - or at least it shouldn't - recognize anything other than the fact that you ran a red light - and you have to pay a fine.

What an important lesson for me to learn just before Yom Kippur!

On this day, we are told, we stand in judgment before God. Everyone is equal on Yom Kippur. It doesn't matter what we do, who we are, what titles we hold, how much money we make.....all of us are mortal. All of us have sinned. Many of us have run red lights...... All of us need to go through the process of teshuvah - turning and repentance. And that's not easy. And that's why we're here tonight.

Yom Kippur is the day that levels the playing field.

On Yom Kippur, our tradition teaches, each of us comes to the Synagogue with our bag of sins - our collection of misdeeds from the past year. All year long to add to our bag. Some of us carry small little peckelach - little sacks. Others are carrying steamer trunks..... But we're all carrying something. We don't like to look at our baggage. Most of us avoid it at all costs..... and yet, at some point we need to open them up our bags, examine what's inside, fess up to what we've done and ask for forgiveness. We need to say "I'm sorry" - to God and to one another.

This business of apology has been in the headlines of late. From Mel Gibson's drunken anti-Semitic tirade to Senator George Allen's `Macaca' comments, to Pope Benedict's remarks about Islam, we have been saturated in recent weeks with public gaffes and demands for retraction and apologies. The question of the efficacy of or need for apologies in these and many other cases has been fodder for the media grist-mill. Recently, though, I came across a story about an apology that topped them all:

When I was a Rabbinic Student in Cincinnati, one of my favorite activities was going to Riverfront Stadium with my classmates to watch the Cincinnati Reds. During those halcyon days in the mid 80's Pete Rose was both managing and playing for the team. Although this was towards the end of his career, it was still a thrill to watch "Charlie Hustle" whip the crowd into a frenzy with his massive swing. For those who don't know much about Pete Rose, he was an amazing slugger: an All-Star and a Hall of Fame Shoe-In until his world fell apart as the result of a gambling scandal. Rose was found guilty of betting on baseball and other sports when he was managing the Reds. He was permanently banned from baseball as a result and denied his place in the Hall of Fame. He repeatedly denied his involvement in illegal gambling until finally, in 2004, he published a tell-all autobiography where he admitted his activities.

Today, Rose makes his living by peddling memorabilia on his website and the occasional personal appearance at trade shows and sports collecting events. This brings me to the news article. When I saw it, I had to read it several times to assure myself that it was not a joke. It read as follows:

"For $299, plus $4.99 shipping and handling, baseball fans can now order a baseball inscribed with the words: "I'm sorry I bet on baseball" signed by Pete Rose."1

Supposedly, Rose had signed thirty such balls and given them away as gifts a couple of years ago. When he heard that they would be coming up for auction, he decided to cash in on their collectability so he took out his pen, started signing more baseballs and put them up for sale on his website.

What drew me to this story in particular was the fact that Rose's action had nothing to do WHATSOVER with true apology. As a matter of fact, it was a repudiation of everything that true teshuvah is about. The words that he wrote on those baseballs have no real meaning beyond a slogan. They belie the fact that he has no qualms about what he did - he is laughing at the concept of repentance by profiting from his misdeeds.

Jewish tradition teaches that Teshuvah - repentance - is a process - it is not something that is done lightly, easily or, for that matter, for profit. The great medieval sage, Rambam - or Maimonides — articulates in Hilchot Teshuvah—the Laws of Repentance, the steps one must take in order to bring about full teshuva. Just as a twelve-step program for people with addictions can pave a path towards recovery, so too can a Maimonidean "five-step" program lead us along the way towards Teshuvah.

The first two steps in doing Teshuvah are recognitionon - admitting to ourselves that we did something wrong - and renunciation - resolving internally that we will never repeat what we have done.

These are the acts of looking into the mirror and facing ourselves as we really are - warts and all. They are often the most difficult of the steps in this process because they are so counterintuitive to what society teaches us. We tend to measure ourselves by external, rather than internal metrics. Admitting wrongdoing is seen as a weakness when we compare ourselves to others.

A story is told of a young boy who walked into a drugstore to use the phone. He dialed a number and asked to speak to Dr. Ginsberg. The boy said: "Hello, Dr. Ginsberg, how would you like to hire a boy to cut the grass and run errands for you? Oh, you already have someone? Are you satisfied? You are? OK. Goodbye." As the boy was about to leave, the owner of the store stopped him and said: "Listen, son, if you're looking for a job, you can work for me." "Thank you sir," the boy replied, "but I already have a job." "But didn't I hear you asking Dr. Ginsberg if he needed someone to work for him?" "Well, not exactly," replied the boy, "you see, I'm the boy who works for Dr. Ginsberg and I was just checking up on myself."2

So much of our time is spent comparing ourselves to othersrs! We want to know how we "measure up". We play this game in all areas of our lives: at work, at play. Even in our families. And all of this is fueled by the messages - the sales pitches - we receive every waking minute of every day. If we are to believe what we see on Television, what we read in the many "self-improvement" books that fill our bookshelves, what we hear from "experts" who have simple answers to life's complicated problems.... we can have perfect homes, perfect families, perfect jobs and perfect teeth. We can live in perfect communities where the roads are always free from repair, where crime is nonexistent and the air quality index is above average. We can drive the perfect car and wear perfect clothing on our perfect bodies.....All we have to do is find the right secret for success. And those secrets are within our grasp - for the right price.

As silly as it sounds, when our impossible dreams do not come true, our souls are in turmoil. We hide our true feelings, fears and frustrations. We also refuse to see that this inner turmoil is controlling us and forcing us to go to great lengths to compensate for them.

But when we own up to our actions and admit our faults and our frailties, we actually show our strength. That's why we teach our children that telling the truth about what they did is praiseworthy even if the deed itself was reprehensible or illegal (like running a red light....).

Once we have gone through the difficult process of looking deep into ourselves and our souls, Maimonides' next two steps teach us that we have to look outside of ourselves, publicly acknowledging our hurtful actions and actively asking for forgiveness.

I received an e-mail the other day. It was from someone I hadn't heard from in a long time. I was happy to hear from him - we had lost touch over the years. The heading on the message said: "L'Shanah Tovah." I opened the e-mail and saw that it was not only addressed to me - it was a mass-mailing sent to a group of friends and acquaintances. The text of the e-mail was as follows:

"In the spirit of Elul, if I have done anything in the past year which caused you any hurt, embarrassment, pain, or difficulty, or was offensive to you in any way, I humbly offer my apologies and ask for your forgiveness."

I must say, I was saddened when I read his e-mail. While the spirit of message may have been genuine, it was not a true act of Teshuvah. The fact that it was contained in a mass-mailing was bad enough, but the truth is, it didn't accomplish anything other than possibly allaying his personal guilt. To state: "If I have done anything that may have offended YOU....." puts the onus on the one who was offended - not the person asking forgiveness.

But there was something else about that e-mail that spoke to me. I have been guilty of doing the exact same thing - not in e-mail form, but in words that I have spoken. Before each High Holiday service, those who will be sitting on the Bema gather together in the Temple office for a short prayer. Just before we begin the prayer, I thank the participants for all that they do for Congregation Albert. And then I ask their forgiveness for anything that I may have done to hurt them over the course of the year. In reading my friend's mass-e-mail, I recognized my own words in his remarks. And so, I will try to enumerate those aspects of my own failings when I ask for forgiveness in the future.

And this brings us to the next step. Maimonides teaches that the third step of Teshuvah is putting into words exactly what we have done wrong. We acknowledge our misdeeds - first to a trusted friend, colleague or loved one - in order to find the proper words. But then, in the fourth step, we are required to go directly to the person we have wronged, acknowledge how we have wronged them, and ask them for forgiveness.

In other words, it's not enough to say, "If I have harmed you in any way, I didn't mean it...." We need to name our transgression and own up to it. We need to make ourselves vulnerable. We need to let down our guard and face those whom we have harmed.

True Teshuvah can have no ulterior motives.

True teshuvah must come from the heart - from an acknowledgement that we have hurt someone and we cannot move on until we address the fact that we have created that hurt.

True teshuvah involves risk. It means that we expose ourselves to the possibility of rejection. But nothing worth getting in life comes without some risk.

There are people we know who will do almost anything to avoid having to face the pain of their own inadequacies.

The Haftarah we will read tomorrow afternoon is one of the most powerful and confusing stories in the Bible - the book of Jonah. If you remember the story, God calls to Jonah and tells him to go to Nineveh and proclaim that the city will be destroyed if the Ninevites do not repent. Jonah decides to flee. He boards a ship and sets sail for Tarshish. A great storm shakes the boat and Jonah is thrown overboard. Immediately, the waters are calmed and Jonah is swallowed by a fish. For three days he remains in the depths of the fish until he is spewed forth on dry land - at Nineveh: the very place from which he was fleeing.

Why do we read this story on Yom Kippur afternoon? There are many reasons. Jonah, when first confronted by the size and scope of his task, flees in terror. The message of the story is that, try as he might, Jonah could not run away - for his problem was not that he had an onerous task to perform - no, his problem was that he was trying to run away from himself. The book of Jonah teaches us that, no matter how hard we try, eventually we are going to catch up with ourselves - and we are going to have to deal with our mistakes and missteps - it can't be avoided.

Another reason we run is that we are afraid that, if showing our true selves, we might become repulsive to those around us - especially those who love us. And this is the greatest mistake that anyone can make. Love is not based on perfection. It is based on acceptance.

Rabbi Harold Kushner writes the following:

To love is to accept with enthusiasm that which is less than perfect. It involves the willingness to accept imperfection and to accept it enthusiastically, not in a spirit of long suffering self-righteousness. Anybody can be stirred by perfection; you have to accept perfection because it makes an unassailable claim on you. You have to admire it, but you cannot love it. It is only by reaching out and accepting, without disdain, the less-than perfect that we show our capacity for love.

If everyone were perfect, we would have no need for Yom Kippur. We would have no need for prayer, for this synagogue, for community. We would all be complete. We would all be content with ourselves and nothing more - for what could perfection ever need from another person or institution, or idea. If we were all perfect, we would all be bored out of our minds. If we only associated with perfect people, there would be no one here at this service.

We are not perfect. We are flawed. For this reason we need Teshuvah. We need to be able to say "I'm sorry" - and mean it - really mean it.

We are not perfect - we are flawed. As a result, we also need to be able to forgive those who come to us - afraid, vulnerable, weakened by their own self-awareness, desperately needing our forgiveness.

Somewhere here tonight is a man who is painfully remembering how he deceived a partner in business, a parent, a child, a lover, a friend.....and that memory is slowly sapping him of any sense of self-worth that he might have.

Somewhere here tonight there is a wife who is so angry at her husband that she is ready to leave him. Somewhere a son is seething with resentment that his mother could treat him so badly. Somewhere a parent has written off a daughter for her misdeeds. Somewhere there is a friend who is deeply hurt by another. Somewhere, everywhere - we all have been wronged. For just as we have sinned, we have been sinned against by others.

Our task - on this Yom Kippur - is to find within ourselves the strength to ask for forgiveness - and the ability to forgive when we are asked.

Maimonides final step is resolution. What happens when we are confronted with the same opportunity to sin for which we have asked forgiveness? Will we succumb? Will we find the inner strength to resist the temptations that lie in wait for us? This is the final test of the process of teshuvah.

A story is told of a rabbi who on the eve of Yom Kippur asked his students, "How far is it from east to west?" One student eagerly responded, "Hundreds of miles!" Another shouted, "No, thousands!" A third proudly replied, "Twenty-two thousand! That's the circumference of the globe." The rabbi shaking his head then calmly spoke, "My children, the distance from east to west is just one step. Just put one foot forward and turn yourself around."

Tonight all of us are equal before God.

Tonight we need to pay the fines and move on.

Tonight we recognize, renounce, confess, apologize and resolve to change our deeds.

May we all find the strength within ourselves to take the necessary steps towards Teshuvah.

And may we learn to never run red lights again.

AMEN

G'mar Chatimah Tovah

(Footnotes)

2 Thanks to Rabbi Barton Lee for this story.