Rabbi's
Sermons
Yom Kippur Kol Nidre
Sinai Synagogue, Shabbat AM, October 2, 2006
When Lizzie and I lived in Appleton Wisconsin we had a huge open field behind our house which connected to the back of the Synagogue. I decided one year that I was going to start a garden even though I had no idea what I was doing. With the help of a neighbor who knew far more than I did about these things, I plotted a garden about 12 x 12 feet, put up a fence, tilled the soil and planted. I loved the early weeks of the garden just as the vegetables began to grow. It is so miraculous the first time you garden. You stick these little seeds in the ground, you water and wait. You wonder “How are these little black dots going to turn into a tomato?” But the life force is such a powerful energy in this world that you almost have to place obstacles in the way for these plants not to grow.
And all of nature understands this law of life energy far better than I do – they know when the plants are about to come up and get ready to eat. That is why we have fences - to keep out fellow wildlife. The fence that I put up was simple and did not do a great job of keeping out the neighbors. OK, basically it was a free pass to any animal who wanted lunch. But you learn as you go and I made the fence stronger. Except that one visitor, a rabbit, somehow got stuck inside the garden. Needless to say the rabbit ate more of the garden than the Friedland family did that year (thank God for supermarkets) and when I finally got around to opening a section of the fence he refused to leave. Why should he? He had a good thing going (he was so comfortable he actually constructed a little sun deck out there. Would sit with his sunglasses on when he wasn’t eating from the garden. When he asked me to make some lemonade though that really was the last straw).
I learned from the experience and improved on the garden over the next few years. Even though I still did not know exactly what I was doing, I liked it. It was worthwhile because gardening is a worthwhile experience.
My first years in the rabbinate in Appleton could be summed up in the same way. When I left the Seminary I was not really a very good Torah reader, I did not know many of the melodies, the nusahim, for davvening or if I knew them I did not know them well. I had studied the various life cycle rituals but had never overseen any. But every week I would put hours into learning the full Torah reading, or the special chant for a holiday reading, or learn the particular melody for a unique prayer. I was not very good at, I had no one to correct me, I just did the best I could. And that was okay because these particular chants, prayers and melodies came from our tradition and there was a value in bringing these traditions to the community. That the melody for Torah reading was different from the haftarah that was different from Purim that was different from Tisha B’av, were examples of how Jewish custom and ritual had developed specialized approaches to signify these unique moments. That I was not expert in chanting was not as important as sharing these experiences and, for many, introducing them to these religious experiences.
I could have said to myself, “I don’t know what I am doing and the congregation won’t know any different if I don’t do it this particular way” and saved myself many hours of practicing an art that I did mediocre at best. But I did not because to me there was a value, a holiness to maintaining these traditions even if they were done badly.
And this has become my mantra – which thanks to Cheryl Waldman I learned was expressed pithily by G. K. Chesterton “If something is worth doing it is worth doing badly”. Most of us are familiar with the obverse of this – if it is worth doing than it is worth doing right. This is a good approach too. We should always give 100% effort. We should work hard at expertise in areas of concern to us.
But I fear that in our achievement oriented society, which is particularly pernicious among us Jews, this overwhelming concern with “doing things perfectly” becomes an obstacle to doing those things that are important but in which we might not be skilled. We don’t want to try things even if we agree they are important because ‘Well I won’t get it right” or “I will look I don’t know what I am doing”.
Look, there are some things one must not try until one has it down perfectly. Brain surgery is not something to in which the practitioner should just “try your best”. People who dismantle bombs should not live by the principle, ‘If it is worth doing it is worth doing badly’.
But for most of us, regarding most of our endeavors, we can assess exactly in this way: “If it is worth doing it is worth doing badly”.
Judaism and Jewish life is worth doing. That is why we are here this evening. But how many of us here this evening have heard Kiddush made or havdalah made and have said “I wish I could do that” or “I would like to do it for my kids but I am embarrassed. I don’t want my kids to see how bad my Hebrew is”. Would it not be more impressive to your child to see that their father or mother is willing to struggle and learn as an adult? Is this not a model that would be far more valuable to your child or grandchild to take with them through life than to create the false impression that their parents never struggle or that they, the children, should never try things that they can’t do easily? And would not this send the most powerful message that we could send about the value of this Jewish ritual. “My son, even though I am not very competent at this, Kiddush or havdalah is so holy to recite that even badly one must do it”.
How many of us have listened to sermons about Kashrut, considered the value of living a life where even the most mundane activity in our day, feeding our hunger, is lifted up to an act of religious significance and spiritual meaning yet have squashed the desire because “I know I will screw it up, I’ll mix up the pots”. So what? You can kasher most pots. And you know what even if you don’t kasher the pots remember it is the kosher status of the food and the separation of meat and milk that is holy. That which is worth doing is worth doing badly.
And how many of us are unwilling to attempt to be a shaliah tzibbur, prayer leader, because “my Hebrew is not good enough”? If you can read Hebrew you can learn to be a shaliah tzibbur. Our community needs more individuals who can be called upon to lead worship services whether weekday or Shabbat or holidays. If it is worth doing, and davvening is worth doing, leading the community in worship is worth doing, it is worth doing badly. And as one practices and becomes more accustomed to the experience one improves.
The same can be said regarding haftarah and megillah chanting. It is true that Torah reading requires a greater proficiency in Hebrew because one has to read the Hebrew without vowels and must memorize the musical notations but even that can be done without a Phd in Hebrew. Why do you think we have gabbaim up here? – imperfection is built into the system. Thanks to modern technology it is so easy to make tapes of the various worship services, or home rituals or Bible chants, we have all of these available in the synagogue office. Make use of these.
Anything worth doing is worth doing badly. This of course is no less true on this day, this Yom Kippur. When we consider all the mistakes, all the wrongs, the transgressions and sins, the things we should not have done but did, the acts we should have done but did not, it can just be overwhelming. It is easy to rationalize our way out saying it is impossible for me to go and correct every little fault, it is not worth trying. But again teshuvah is worthwhile and if it is than it is worth doing even badly.
In the midrashic work called Pesikta Rabbati the rabbis tell a parable about a King whose son had gone astray from his father on a journey of a hundred days; his friends said to the prince, “Return to your father”. He said, “I cannot, it is too far”. Then his father sent word saying “Return as far as you can, and I will come to you the rest of the way”. So God says to us, “Return to me and I will return to you” (Jer 15:9). God’s nature is compassionate, God wants us to correct our ways so that God can forgive us. We need just make the effort.
In the midrash Pesikta D’Rav Kahana, Israel asked the Holy One: Master of Universe, if we do resolve upon repentance will you accept us (even though human nature being what it is our repentance may be imperfect)? God replied: Look I accepted Cain’s repentance. Cain stated from the outset, My sin is too great to bear, that is, to repent for, nevertheless I accepted his repentance. Shall I not then receive your repentance?
And let us not forget that even in human terms imperfect repentance can do great good. At a ceremony honoring him in Jerusalem years ago, a righteous gentile who acted bravely for our people during the Holocaust said this: “I did little, but if many had done their little it would have added up to much.”
One apology, even though you need to make five, can effect important change. One act of imperfect contrition can be very meaningful to the person who was wronged. One act of resolution not to continue perpetrating a transgression even though you know you said the same thing last year and you still did it again, might make a difference. Maybe this time you won’t repeat the mistake or you may come to understand better why you keep struggling with the same mistake.
In the Hineni prayer that the cantor recites before Musaf there is a pun that is the midrashic version of “Anything worth doing is worth doing badly”. Maybe GK Chesterton even got his aphorism from this midrash.
In the prayer the Hazzan recites the phrase ‘Veehee na dilugeynu alecha ahavah’. Which means “May you regard our omissions, our dilugim, with love – that is if we leave something out of our prayer please still accept it. However this may be corruption of a phrase found in Song of Songs – diglo alay ahavah. There in Song of Songs the beloved says that her lover has posted a degel, an emblem or flag of some kind over her as a sign of his love. In this context degel , could mean a rallying point. So if the phrase were really supposed to be not dilugeynu but digleynu it could mean “Accept our gathering together in love”. Based on this uncertainty, the midrash (Shir haShirim Rabbah 2:4) states: If a person makes a mistake in pronunciation and says Vi’ayavta instead of V’ahavta, that is “You should hate the Lord” instead of “You should love the Lord”, or if in the priestly blessing the priest errs and says Va’yishamedcha rather than Vayishmeracha – that is “May God destroy you” instead of “May God protect you” it does not matter. For if the person intended to say it properly but made the mistake, don’t worry, liglugo alay ahavah – another pun - liglugo (and not dilugo) I accept with love. What is liglugo? his stuttering, his fumbling I accept with love.
Anything worth doing is worth doing badly. If we stumble or stutter in our attempts to do that which is worthwhile or if we fumble in our attempts to say the right thing may God forgive us. But let us make the effort to do those good and decent and holy acts that are worth doing. And in doing so may our mistakes be accepted by God with love.
