The Struggle Between
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In a year when all anyone could talk about, or argue about, was whether or not there should be a Mosque at the site of the 9-11 Towers, it was time to take a bold step to face some of our fears and decide how we might truly work together as one community.
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Rosh Hashanah Morning, 2010 / 5771
Temple Emanu-El, Edison, NJ
This morning we read one of the most riveting, disturbing, and yet awe-inspiring tales in our Torah – the Akedah, or Binding of Isaac. In this story, we can visualize as Abraham is being commanded by God to take his precious, long sought after son Isaac, who came to Abraham and Sarah so late in life, to the top of Mount Moriah, where Abraham is to offer Isaac as a burnt-offering.
Now, I’m not going to debate with you whether or not Abraham should have followed God’s command, for that would be a different sermon. Nor am I going to discuss with you where Sarah was in this whole story. Again – another sermon. But imagine for a moment the emotion that Sarah most have felt as she wished them good-bye and sent them off on their journey. Imagine the pain she must have had in her heart, thinking she would never see her son, her precious only child, ever again. And imagine the pain of Abraham – being the one to lead his son up the mountain, for the ultimate sacrifice. Any parent, any human being who cares about others, can only begin to imagine the emotion twisted into this act.
And yet, despite their emotions, Sarah sends the two up the mountain, and Abraham does as God commands him. In his mind, Abraham feels this is right, this is just. Perhaps he feels that this was Isaac’s purpose in life – I’m not sure. But I am certain that Abraham and Sarah must have been pulled between their hearts and their heads, and they ultimately followed their heads. They were put to the ultimate test, but in many ways, no different from the tests you and I are put to each and every day of our lives.
Making decisions is not easy for many of us. We are often pulled in so many directions. We balance the needs of others with the needs of ourselves. We balance the influences of strangers with the influences of family, friends, Judaism and our greater community. And we, too, like Abraham and Sarah, balance the pull of our hearts with the knowledge and information in our minds. How important it is for us to understand and recognize HOW we make our decisions.
As parents, teachers or friends, we know this scenario all too well. When our child does something that just makes us crazy, the same something he or she has done one-hundred times before, we either respond instantly, often from an emotional place, and sometimes need to go back and fix it later, or we take a deep breath, step away, and allow our heads to guide our hearts. Neither is necessarily better – but we must know that we will probably get to the same place in the end, and perhaps the later is easier to rectify.
* * *
As you all have come to know me over the past number of years, you know that I am rather transparent as a rabbi, and I like to share with you in a direct way. So I share with you this morning that I don’t remember the last time I struggled in such a way over a sermon. I have read, discussed, read some more, discussed some more, in preparation for this morning, and I, perhaps like Abraham and Sarah, am struggling to find the balance between the head and the heart, between the emotion and what I know to be right and just. This is not a political sermon – it applies to people of all sides, all backgrounds, and all circumstances. In my mind, this is the heart of who we are as Jews, and the struggle that comes with this connection for thousands of years. I ask of you this morning – try not to respond immediately. Listen to the stories, and the words, and the facts, and then find a way to let your heart meet your head in a comfortable place for you.
I want to share some thoughts with you this morning about the situation with the Mosque near Ground Zero, but really what I want to do is help us all to open our eyes and our ears to our feelings, and then help us make good decisions with what knowledge we have, as Jews and as Americans. I’m truly not interested in convincing you one way or the other as to whether or not there should be a Mosque near Ground Zero. You will gather from my comments that I, like the leadership of the Reform Jewish movement and many other religious leaders in our country, do support the building of this community center and Mosque. As was stated by Rabbis Yoffie and Saperstein on behalf of the Reform movement, “we strongly believe that Cordoba House’s presence will reflect our nations’ historic commitment to religious liberty.” [1] But I am more interested in talking about process, and the importance of separating out fact, from fiction, from emotion.
First, when analyzing any situation, especially one that we are taking a strong stand on, I hope we have done our research, and checked our facts. Many people are responding to the Mosque near Ground Zero with pure emotion, and that is understandable. We all remember where we were when we heard that the planes were going into the World Trade Center. I imagine each of us knows someone who died that day, either a first responder or someone who worked in the Towers. And our city, our country, and our world have never been the same since 9/11. The controversy over the Mosque near Ground Zero has ignited in many of us memories that perhaps we have tucked away, or feelings that have been dormant for the past nine years.
However, I have been shocked, a shock I have not felt in many years, by the intolerance and prejudice I have heard and witnessed in response to this situation. As Rabbi Yoffie, president of the URJ, put it so eloquently, “The orgy of hate that I witness all around me leaves me stunned, ashamed, and angry... The principle that, as equals before God, we are responsible for our own actions and not the sins of others is not only a religious value but an American value and a foundation of our democracy. I am not fooled by the rationales of those who speak the language of intolerance. Their real argument is that all Muslims, and Islam itself, bear responsibility for the events of 9/11. But this assertion is an outrage – an affront to our country, our religious traditions, and common decency...” [2]
We know, I hope, in our minds that all Muslims are not terrorists. We also know that there are many Muslims who died in the World Trade Center Attack, by the hand of Muslim extremists, Muslims who worked next to Jews and Christians and Buddhists alike, in this great place we call America. We know from our history as Jews that time helps to heal wounds, but the wounds never disappear.
Footnotes:
[1] Press Release, Religious Action Center, New York, August 4, 2010.
[2] From Responses to Jewels of Elul VI, Letters to Jihad Turk, www.craignco.com/jewels/jewels2010.elul15.php
For the rest of this sermon, please download below.
Temple Emanu-El, Edison, NJ
This morning we read one of the most riveting, disturbing, and yet awe-inspiring tales in our Torah – the Akedah, or Binding of Isaac. In this story, we can visualize as Abraham is being commanded by God to take his precious, long sought after son Isaac, who came to Abraham and Sarah so late in life, to the top of Mount Moriah, where Abraham is to offer Isaac as a burnt-offering.
Now, I’m not going to debate with you whether or not Abraham should have followed God’s command, for that would be a different sermon. Nor am I going to discuss with you where Sarah was in this whole story. Again – another sermon. But imagine for a moment the emotion that Sarah most have felt as she wished them good-bye and sent them off on their journey. Imagine the pain she must have had in her heart, thinking she would never see her son, her precious only child, ever again. And imagine the pain of Abraham – being the one to lead his son up the mountain, for the ultimate sacrifice. Any parent, any human being who cares about others, can only begin to imagine the emotion twisted into this act.
And yet, despite their emotions, Sarah sends the two up the mountain, and Abraham does as God commands him. In his mind, Abraham feels this is right, this is just. Perhaps he feels that this was Isaac’s purpose in life – I’m not sure. But I am certain that Abraham and Sarah must have been pulled between their hearts and their heads, and they ultimately followed their heads. They were put to the ultimate test, but in many ways, no different from the tests you and I are put to each and every day of our lives.
Making decisions is not easy for many of us. We are often pulled in so many directions. We balance the needs of others with the needs of ourselves. We balance the influences of strangers with the influences of family, friends, Judaism and our greater community. And we, too, like Abraham and Sarah, balance the pull of our hearts with the knowledge and information in our minds. How important it is for us to understand and recognize HOW we make our decisions.
As parents, teachers or friends, we know this scenario all too well. When our child does something that just makes us crazy, the same something he or she has done one-hundred times before, we either respond instantly, often from an emotional place, and sometimes need to go back and fix it later, or we take a deep breath, step away, and allow our heads to guide our hearts. Neither is necessarily better – but we must know that we will probably get to the same place in the end, and perhaps the later is easier to rectify.
* * *
As you all have come to know me over the past number of years, you know that I am rather transparent as a rabbi, and I like to share with you in a direct way. So I share with you this morning that I don’t remember the last time I struggled in such a way over a sermon. I have read, discussed, read some more, discussed some more, in preparation for this morning, and I, perhaps like Abraham and Sarah, am struggling to find the balance between the head and the heart, between the emotion and what I know to be right and just. This is not a political sermon – it applies to people of all sides, all backgrounds, and all circumstances. In my mind, this is the heart of who we are as Jews, and the struggle that comes with this connection for thousands of years. I ask of you this morning – try not to respond immediately. Listen to the stories, and the words, and the facts, and then find a way to let your heart meet your head in a comfortable place for you.
I want to share some thoughts with you this morning about the situation with the Mosque near Ground Zero, but really what I want to do is help us all to open our eyes and our ears to our feelings, and then help us make good decisions with what knowledge we have, as Jews and as Americans. I’m truly not interested in convincing you one way or the other as to whether or not there should be a Mosque near Ground Zero. You will gather from my comments that I, like the leadership of the Reform Jewish movement and many other religious leaders in our country, do support the building of this community center and Mosque. As was stated by Rabbis Yoffie and Saperstein on behalf of the Reform movement, “we strongly believe that Cordoba House’s presence will reflect our nations’ historic commitment to religious liberty.” [1] But I am more interested in talking about process, and the importance of separating out fact, from fiction, from emotion.
First, when analyzing any situation, especially one that we are taking a strong stand on, I hope we have done our research, and checked our facts. Many people are responding to the Mosque near Ground Zero with pure emotion, and that is understandable. We all remember where we were when we heard that the planes were going into the World Trade Center. I imagine each of us knows someone who died that day, either a first responder or someone who worked in the Towers. And our city, our country, and our world have never been the same since 9/11. The controversy over the Mosque near Ground Zero has ignited in many of us memories that perhaps we have tucked away, or feelings that have been dormant for the past nine years.
However, I have been shocked, a shock I have not felt in many years, by the intolerance and prejudice I have heard and witnessed in response to this situation. As Rabbi Yoffie, president of the URJ, put it so eloquently, “The orgy of hate that I witness all around me leaves me stunned, ashamed, and angry... The principle that, as equals before God, we are responsible for our own actions and not the sins of others is not only a religious value but an American value and a foundation of our democracy. I am not fooled by the rationales of those who speak the language of intolerance. Their real argument is that all Muslims, and Islam itself, bear responsibility for the events of 9/11. But this assertion is an outrage – an affront to our country, our religious traditions, and common decency...” [2]
We know, I hope, in our minds that all Muslims are not terrorists. We also know that there are many Muslims who died in the World Trade Center Attack, by the hand of Muslim extremists, Muslims who worked next to Jews and Christians and Buddhists alike, in this great place we call America. We know from our history as Jews that time helps to heal wounds, but the wounds never disappear.
Footnotes:
[1] Press Release, Religious Action Center, New York, August 4, 2010.
[2] From Responses to Jewels of Elul VI, Letters to Jihad Turk, www.craignco.com/jewels/jewels2010.elul15.php
For the rest of this sermon, please download below.
| the_struggle_between_our_hearts_and_our_minds.pdf |
