by Rabbi Peter S. Knobel
Kol Nidre 5763 - September 15, 2002

Rabbi Samuel Dresner reports that each evening before he went to sleep, it was the custom of Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev to do a cheshbon nefesh (to examine his thoughts and deeds) for that day. If he found a blemish in them, he would say to himself, Levi Yitzchak will not do that again. Then he would chide himself, Levi Yitzchak, you said the same thing yesterday. Then he would reply, Yesterday Levi Yitzchak did not speak the truth. Today he speaks the truth.

This little vignette reminds us that changing ourselves requires constant effort and incredible honesty. Self-assessment is not a yearly task, but a daily one. It is about behavior modification. It is hard to break old habits-to change long established patterns-to accept that a new way of doing or thinking is required. But this is what Yom Kippur is all about. We read at the beginning of the service, "for the sins against God, Yom Kippur atones, but for the sins against another person, Yom Kippur does not atone until we have made it right with the other person". We can straighten out ourselves with God more easily than we can with other people. It is easy to speak to God. We have a liturgy. We can repeat phrase after phrase. In fact, we confess a litany of sins and an alphabet of woes. This is not the hard work. What is difficult, is to confront the people with whom we are in relationship. What is difficult is to approach human suffering with the intention of doing something about it.

(As you heard from Rabbi London on Rosh HaShanah) Institutionally, Beth Emet discovered that no organization in our community feeds hungry, poor people on Wednesday night. A group of people from the Social Action Committee led by Jessie Macdonald said it is time to open our sacred space to the sacred task of feeding people. No longer will we merely serve in other people's sacred space but we will open our home and our hearts to the stranger who must be our kin.

The Social Action Committee brooked no excuses and would not be denied. The mitzvah spoke to them and they have asked us to join in. This is a break through. We have overcome fear and reticence. We have abandoned excuses and we have said yes to the mitzvah of feeding the hungry. By inviting the hungry into our sacred home, we have broken a taboo and admitted that the poor are our brother and sisters. Not only will we not turn them away but also we will engage them as human beings. This is a little thing and it is a big thing. I believe that this can be transformative for Beth Emet and it can be transformative for each of us. To love the stranger will no longer be an abstract mitzvah. Religious school children, if their parents bring them, will actually feed the hungry. I remember the itinerants who came to the back door of my home when I was a child and how my mother and grandmother fed them. They did it graciously. They were not afraid. I learned an important lesson that until we can eliminate hunger, we can alleviate it, one person at a time.

Our tradition teaches us that the Messiah lives among the downtrodden, waiting for acts of kindness, before he will reveal himself to the world. If, as the dominant metaphor of Yom Kippur suggests, our fate hangs in the balance, one sin or one mitzvah can tip the balance, maybe our soup kitchen will be just that mitzvah. And if not, at least we will have allowed some people to have a hot meal on Wednesday night and a sandwich for Thursday lunch and to see Beth Emet and its members, as people who care and this is no small matter. Some one told me recently, she never gave money to street people until she found out that she was in trouble financially.

Almost weekly, I become aware of members of Beth Emet who have lost their jobs. They are wonderful skilled and dedicated workers. Most are the victims of downsizing or re-engineering. (These are such wonderful terms!!) Often they are older, highly skilled and higher paid individuals. They know how to network. They take advantage of our placement service, the Jewish Employment Network, the Jewish Vocational Service and some seek out the synagogue as a place to network Some have now remained unemployed for months-some for more than a year. Over the years, I had a list of people who could open doors for others. The list has shrunk for many reasons. Tonight I appeal to any of you who have connections that may help another Beth Emet member to find a job, to contact me. Even if you do not have jobs you can offer, but are willing to network with people, please contact me or Rabbi London. If you are without a job and you want help, I encourage you to meet with me or Rabbi London. I am pleased to say that the other day a Beth Emet member e-mailed us that his company was looking for an administrative assistant.

A year ago, I mentioned that I want to start a Chevra Kaddisha, a Jewish burial society, to prepare the bodies of Beth Emet members who have died in a loving and respectful way, for burial. Robert Rooth, a relatively new member of the congregation who had been active in a Chevra Kaddisha in Indiana, responded immediately. For numerous reasons, last year slipped by without action from me. I am looking now for people to join me in taking on this sacred task. For those who have never been in the presence of death, this may seem a strange and even icky idea. But, in the chaos and disorder of death, sacred ritual can have a healing effect.

We have left the care of dear ones to large corporations. While the Jewish funeral homes do a wonderful job and they are staffed by fine people and I am not suggesting removing them from the picture, I want to restore the personal, loving response of a community which demonstrates its care not only in shouting Mazel tov at a simcha, but will, with tender affection, prepare the deceased for their final journey. This mitzvah will bring comfort to the families and will allow those who participate, to engage life and death in a sacred way.

We will study all about the Jewish way of death and mourning. We will observe the preparation of the body and then if we have a core group, learn to do it ourselves. We will need men to prepare men and women to prepare women. In this way, members of the community and not strangers can attend to our loved ones. To confront life and death in such an intimate manner, can teach the meaning of mortality with intimations of immortality.

As we have said so many times before, Yom Kippur is time for reflection and repentance. Tonight I want us to think about our relationships to our families, to our friends, to our community and to the people with whom we work. It is at this time of the year, that I'm very much aware of my shortcomings as a father, as a husband, as a friend and as a Rabbi. The holy day gives me an opportunity to think and to reflect back on what I hoped to be and to what I really have become. The hardest thing for a person to do-- the hardest thing for me to do, is to be really honest with myself. It is embarrassing to confess one's sins. That is one of the reasons we have written into the worship service a long litany of sins that we confess to, as a community. I often wondered what would happen if I invited members of the congregation to confess their sins publicly. I've often wondered what it would be like if we gave each other the opportunity to tell each other where we had failed them. The thought of it makes me terribly uncomfortable, but at the same time, I am aware that our silence often covers up a myriad of wounds that could be healed. Our tradition teaches us there is an art to reproof. We must do it in a way that a person can hear it. Our pain can awaken tenderness, love and understanding in another. Unexpressed pain is a wound that does not heal. It is a festering sore that can infect and destroy us and our relationships. Our goal in sharing our pain and disappointment should not be to engender pain, but to allow the soothing balm of repentance to relieve the pain and begin the healing. At the same time, I have wondered what would happen if we gave every one the opportunity to tell another person the wonderful things that he or she has done for us-to let others know how much we appreciate them. A kind word, a smile, a word of appreciation goes a long way. The other day, a person said to me "Thanks for listening". Another person said, "You mean so much to us". And when my grandchildren say to me in their innocence, "Poppa I love you more than any one in the world". Or they say: "Hugs and Kisses". Every struggle seems worth it.

Yom Kippur says to us each year, "The clock is ticking; time is passing; you are one year older". I am acutely aware of the fragility of life. The Unetana tokef prayer, who shall live and who shall die, is more poignant each year. Life is unpredictable. We move from blessing to curse and back again across a seamless divide. People make a difference in our lives. Relationships are the sum and substance of our existence. Joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure, pride and disappointment, are but a few of the contrasting experiences of our more intimate and causal interactions.

It says in our Mahzor:

There is much that I failed to do. There is also much that I wish I had not done. By many words and deeds, I have caused harm. It is not easy now to remember the details; and I tend to shut them out of my consciousness. But clearly or dimly, the regretted memories now come back to me. I have, in many ways, hurt my sisters and brothers; I betrayed their trust offended their sensibilities, damaged their self-respect. Sometimes, indeed, I have done harm from what seemed at the time, good motives. Sometimes my supposed love of others was in reality, only a desire to dominate them. And sometimes what I took to be righteous indignation was only uncontrolled anger or unforgiving vindictiveness.
(Gates of Repentance p.326)

What day better than today, to begin to repair the damage!! Let's take some time to really review this past year. What have we said or done to our spouse, our child, our sister, our brother, our in-law, our friend, or our co-worker that has caused hurt? Have we failed to listen carefully to what she or he has said? Do we interrupt her or him when they are speaking? Do we ask a question and do not really listen to the answer? Do we allow him or her to share in our successes and in our pain and failures? Do we offer helpful criticism or do we wield our words like a dagger into the heart of another's self-confidence or self-image? Do we make time for each other? Do we confuse making a living with living? Do we take the time to show affection and appreciation? A hug, a kiss, a "thank you", a "please", a "you are terrific", an "I love you", are these constant expressions in our daily repertoire of interactions?

Haim Ginnott, a psychologist whose work was popular years ago, taught us something very Jewish. What do we say to a child who brings home a failing grade on a math test? We say, "The failing grade upsets me, let's see how we can help you do better". How often have we heard a parent cry out in frustration when a child brings home a failing grade? "You are stupid. You are lazy. You will never learn". Such criticism attacks the person and offers no hope of improvement. Judaism teaches us that we attack the sin and not the sinner. We can change our behavior, but only if we feel that the sin is a wrong action and not who we are. What applies to our relationship with children, applies to our relationship with adults.

As we seek to analyze, repair and improve our relationships with others, we also need to do it with ourselves. All of us make errors; all of us do things that we regret. We wish we had spoken a kind word to someone who has subsequently died. We wish we had not waited so long to contact a long, lost friend. We could've would've, should've. We must learn to forgive ourselves and learn to do differently. We cannot turn back the clock. But today can be the first day of the rest of our lives. We need to forgive ourselves for not being perfect and to recognize that we are not required to be like Moses or Ruth, but we are only required to be the best we can be. To repair a broken relationship, to reach out to someone to whom we are estranged, can be a life changing experience. To learn the meaning of forgiveness, by forgiving or being forgiven, can lift a great burden.

Vicarious forgiveness can work as well. If we are angry with a person who is deceased, or if we hurt someone who is deceased, I found that a powerful way to deal with the situation, is to write a letter to the person and then read it at their grave, or quietly and privately in the sanctuary. We can seek out a close relative of the person and express our regrets. This is not perfect and it is not the same as doing it with the person, when they were alive, but it can allow us to move on and avoid the error in the future. It is a reminder not to wait.

It is not only seeking forgiveness, but also granting it, that is important. Holding on to old grievances embitters our souls. It blinds us and limits our ability to move forward. We waste time and energy holding grudges. In the simplest terms, if a person approaches us in sincere repentance, we are to forgive. If we are approached three times and fail to forgive, then the onus is on us. However, except in the most extreme cases, I believe we should try to forgive, even if not asked. I believe that most of the time, people who hurt us, are not aware of the impact of their words or actions. I believe perhaps naively, that most people do not intend to be hurtful. I have developed a concept of purposeful forgetfulness. I simply refuse to recall and relive the negative experience I have had with a person. I try to treat them as though the incident had never happened. I find that even when I believe that I am the aggrieved party, I can be the one who initiates the repair. Our tradition teaches us in an often-quoted statement. "Be like the disciples of Aaron, seeking peace and pursuing it". It is the one commandment that requires us to leave where we are and go to some other place, if necessary, to fulfill it. In our daily liturgy, in the list of those mitzvot, which are of inestimable value, we are called upon to be peace makers (havat shalom bein adam lechaveiro). We are called upon not only to repair our own relationships, but also to intervene and help others. Most of us believe we should mind our own business and we know that intervening can be difficult at best and disastrous at worst. Human interactions often require someone to take the risk to help the disputing parties to make the first move. We know this on a macro level. We remember the individual who stood in front of the tanks at Tiananmen Square. We constantly call on the United States, for example, to intervene in the Israeli-Palestinian situation, to be an honest broker. Mediation is a well-established and common practice in dispute resolution. Nothing less is required in personal relationships. There is much to celebrate in life. We must take a moment to count our blessing and thank those whose love, care, concern and presence, bring joy to our lives and whose smiles and tears are the meaning of our lives. There is much pain and hurt. Our tradition calls upon us to try to repair what is broken. A repentant sinner is closer to God, than one who has never sinned. A tear of repentance and a smile of forgiveness are the most precious gifts we can give and receive.

Rabbi Samuel Dresner reports: Each evening before he went to sleep, it was the custom of Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev to do a cheshbon nefesh (to examine his thoughts and deeds), for that day. If he found a blemish in them, he would say to himself, "Levi Yitzchak, will not do that again". Then he would chide himself, "Levi Yitzchak, you said the same thing yesterday." Then he would reply, "Yesterday Levi Yitzchak did not speak the truth. Today he speaks the truth".