By Rabbit Gail Fisher
I had a sermon all written for today, complete, up until a week ago. It was printed out, tucked into my machzor, read through a few times, ready to share with you. Then last Shabbat, I realized that it no longer reflects where my heart is right now and I decided to scrap it. Yes, a week before Yom Kippur! Rabbis traditionally start developing their holiday themes after Passover, so I didn’t allow myself much time. But I wanted to share my authentic self with you. As Rabbi Alan Lew would put it, in all my vulnerability, with my heart cracked open.
I know a woman who in many ways doesn’t stand out from the crowd. She is one of those you have in every class, on every committee: She takes up far more than her share of time with her comments. She so much needs to have those comments heard by all that she will make them even if somebody else has already said much the same thing before she was called on. And they almost never contribute anything of value to the discussion. I was growing increasingly frustrated with her frequent pronouncements. Just hearing her voice would set my teeth on edge.
Then one day I sat near her at a shiva visit. I was determined to get to know her better as a person. As we talked, I learned that she had buried both her husband and her daughter. Her pain was oozing rawly just beneath the surface.
Have you ever noticed how everybody around you seems to have it all together? Nobody has any insecurities except for you? And then over time, you approach one of these people and you get to know them and, as you get closer, you start to see their pain, their vulnerabilities. We all hold so much in our hearts that can’t be seen until somebody reaches out for it. It’s difficult to get close to somebody without experiencing the chasm of pain within.
And so it was with this woman. She suddenly became human to me. A ‘thou’ rather than an ‘it’. And seeing her that way, more three-dimensionally, I was able to be far more patient with her and even come to like her in some ways. Since then, I’ve made a conscious point to get to know people who rub me the wrong way. And it’s happened time after time – I like somebody so much better when they are human. When they aren’t perfect. When life is happening to them and it isn’t always such a good thing. I’ve always had trouble liking people who seemed to be so totally sure of themselves. It almost felt like self-righteousness to me. And I suspect I’m not the only one.
Yom Kippur invites us into shifting our perspective in this same way. Teshuva, return to the path we most want to be on. A press of the ‘reset’ button and a fresh start for a new year. Giving ourselves permission to be flawed human beings who can’t always control our own behavior, just the way God made us to be, while developing the compassion to give others the same latitude of being flawed human beings who are most of the time trying to do their best.
And then I think about prayer on this day. We are reading words written by people hundreds of years ago, all reading them at the same time, although our thoughts and feelings aren’t necessarily all aligned with these thoughts right in the moment. The words are said year after year and sometimes we just start reciting them by rote. Taken in that spirit, they don’t open our hearts. They don’t connect us to God. They don’t encourage us to become our better selves.
Prayer is not a performance. It is not about saying the right words perfectly. When God gave us the Torah, God was speaking to us. In prayer, we are speaking to God. We are opening up our hearts and sharing our innermost vulnerabilities with the One who made us. The words were crafted to evoke the mood that the writer in his or her time thought was most appropriate for Yom Kippur. But if you can take them as a springboard, a way to come clean with God and with yourself, a way to crack open your heart and let the pain and brokenness spill forth, you are doing the actual work that we are meant to be doing on this day.
I’m no longer trying to uplift you or to teach you anything. I’m standing before you today to share in your humanity, to embrace the imperfections and vulnerabilities in each of us. May this day be meaningful to you. Ken y’hi ratzon.