By Rabbit Gail Fisher
ו יְהֹוָ֣ה | יְהֹוָ֔ה אֵ֥ל רַח֖וּם וְחַנּ֑וּן אֶ֥רֶךְ אַפַּ֖יִם וְרַב־חֶ֥סֶד וֶֽאֱמֶֽת
זנֹצֵ֥ר חֶ֨סֶד֙ לָֽאֲלָפִ֔ים נֹשֵׂ֥א עָוֹ֛ן וָפֶ֖שַׁע וְחַטָּאָ֑ה וְנַקֵּה֙
Adonai, Adonai, benevolent God, Who is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and abundant in loving kindness and truth, preserving loving kindness for thousands, forgiving iniquity and rebellion and sin.
My sermons this High Holyday period will be based primarily on two books I have studied this summer:
Judaism is About Love – Shai Held
The Amen Effect – Sharon Brous
They both focus on the theme you have heard me harping on nonstop up here – building a caring community, a world in which we treat one another with respect no matter which issues we agree or disagree on.
In my previous life before becoming a rabbi, I was an accountant. I was working for a firm but had the opportunity to go off and start my own practice with a friend. We were looking at a suite that we thought we might rent and went home to think about it with 24 hours to decide whether to sign a lease. My husband told me he was feeling back-burnered and I needed to choose between him and launching out into my own practice again. I called my proposed partner, and she said she is not the one who will be sitting at my bedside if I am sick, nor will any of my clients.
We are called upon to emulate God, as reflected in the 13 Attributes: caring for the sick, comforting mourners, and protecting the vulnerable—widows, orphans, the poor, strangers, and those with physical or mental challenges. As above, so below. We’re called to mirror that divine example. Such actions show compassion to those with greater needs than ours.
But have you ever stopped to think about who will care for you when you’re sick? Not your shiny new car or your online gaming buddies. Not even your demanding boss, who you don’t even respect very much, but who sees you for more waking hours than your partner. So why are we often kinder to coworkers and clients, and then come home and grumble at our loved ones? Let’s rethink our priorities and extend kindness to those who truly matter in our lives. I guess it’s easier because we can be ourselves with those who love us most. We aren’t as afraid that they will reject us. Doesn’t that seem backwards, though? Shouldn’t we be prioritizing those who are closest to us in our PERSONAL lives?
I have a friend who calls his wife “Saint Diane” (name changed to protect them both). She is active in her church and her community, always quick to lend a hand or to participate in an act of social justice. The world sees her as the ideal woman. But she doesn’t have time for her family at home. Her children are pacified by lavish gifts. Her husband sees very little of her alone, because their table is always filled with guests who need a boost of some sort. The outside world gets the benefit of her generosity. Not so much her own family.
We can view our relationships as a series of concentric circles, with those closest to us in the innermost circle and more distant connections in the outer rings. While we must help others—whether they are within our community or across the globe—this should not come at the expense of our own responsibilities, especially those to our families. Maimonides, in his Mishneh Torah, advises that we give at least a tenth of our assets to charity but cautions against giving more than a fifth, as we must also consider our own future needs.
So how does God exemplify these acts of lovingkindness in the Torah, which we are called to emulate? God begins by clothing Adam and Eve and ends by burying Moses, with many acts of kindness in between, such as visiting Abraham during his recovery from circumcision. These acts align with the 13 Attributes. As Shai Held says, “God’s call and challenge to us is to live lives of love manifested in acts of kindness.”
I have a friend named Jim, who often shares a wise expression: If somebody comes to you with a problem, ask them, “Do you want to be heard, helped, or hugged?” Sometimes, people just need to be listened to, without any attempt to solve their problems. Other times, they may need a bit more—a sign of support, whether a physical or virtual hug. Since we are not mindreaders, it’s important to ask them directly.
And so we are commanded to clothe the naked, visit the sick, comfort the mourner, bury the dead – our inclination might be to run in the other direction, because we are busy or overwhelmed with our own lives, but instead we should run TOWARD these mitzvot, just as God did. It is best to help others from a sense of compassion (one human being reaching out to another as a fellow suffering soul) and not of pity (one human being looking down on another).
In my chaplaincy training, I learned about the profound impact of ministry of presence. That’s what Sharon Brous’s book reminds me of – the importance of simply being with someone, rather than trying to find the perfect words to say. Presence is more powerful than solutions; it assures people they are not alone and that someone truly sees them. We can’t fix everything, and often, we shouldn’t even try. What matters most is staying present with those in need.
Jewish spirituality and Jewish ethics come together on this point. Our sacred texts teach us that loving God is inseparable from loving others. When we declare our love for God, God’s response is clear: love those who are suffering, for that is a true expression of loving the Divine. As the prophet Hosea reminds us, “For I desire lovingkindness and not sacrifice” (Hosea 6:6). Even though the Temple no longer stands and we can no longer atone for our sins by offering sacrifices, we can still atone—through acts of lovingkindness.
And so, the call to action is simple yet profound: Be present. Show up. Offer your love through deeds, not just words. In doing so, we fulfill our highest spiritual calling—one that binds us to God and to each other in a shared commitment to compassion and kindness.