Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Trifecta in the Dark - A Rosh Hashanah Morning Sermon - September 10, 2018

I don’t know about you, but one thing I look forward to during summer is some escape to the movies. Sometimes it’s more about sitting in air-conditioning for a few hours. Often, it’s a time for me to catch up on films I have missed during the busy Winter and Spring. Inevitably, I am also looking for inspiration for these Holy Days. While I saw a small handful of films in theatres over the summer, one night in late July I hit the trifecta: air conditioning on a very hot night; escape from the chaotic realities of our world; and inspiration. It all came together as I ran to catch the very last showing in Great Barrington, MA of a film so many had told me I had to see. As I left the theatre with a friend that night, we were both emotionally drained, and deep in thought as we were trying to wrap our minds around what we had just seen and its relevance for our time. I spent several weeks bouncing that thought around; as well as reading everything I could lay my hands on about the subject matter of the film. I saw the film a second time with my wife and youngest son just a few weeks ago. Its impact was the same. Yet by this time I knew where my soul was taking me.

The film was Morgan Neville’s moving portrayal of the message of Fred Rogers, better known to many of us as Mr. Rogers. The film was aptly entitled Won’t You Be My Neighbor? I entered the theatre thinking, “I know Mr. Rogers.” I know his work was admirable. For some reason, I couldn’t pinpoint why I did not know more than I did about him and his show. Shortly after the film began I quickly calculated, “Oh, I was already a teenager when his program first hit the national airwaves.” While I remembered the program from my own children’s early years, let’s face it, by then Sesame Street, Arthur, and other PBS offerings were more in vogue.

What was it about Won’t You Be My Neighbor? that hit me in the kischkes so dramatically?  A few things – one, I learned more than I had ever known about the gentle, soft-spoken man who touched generations of young children and their parents. I learned about his philosophy, his life and how he came to be the person we know as Mr. Rogers. I learned about how his program was designed to create a fictitious world and neighborhood which would deal with real-life and real-world issues in a manner that would leave children feeling safe. At the same time, this neighborhood would enable them to learn and grow up to be persons of character and value, who were not sheltered from some of life’s harsher realities. I learned that while a Presbyterian minister (something I had known), Fred 
Rogers had a wide-open ministry in which he sought to speak the language of many faiths as well as to those of no faith. I learned of Fred Rogers’ courage in speaking truth to power as he testified before a Congressional hearing which had all but predetermined that funding for educational programming would be eliminated. His genuine and honest testimony moved a Congressman to do a 180-degree turnabout and immediately concede that the mild-mannered man before him had single-handedly saved funding for Educational programming. It was his courage to face tough issues like racism, the equality of all people in God’s eyes, the harsh realities of war; of people with disabilities; and ultimately the humanity and rights of people whom today we would identify as part of the LGBTQ communities. It was his heart-rending PSA after the events of 9-11, for which he had been coaxed out of retirement. All these, and more turned me from a curious spectator into a person who left the theater thinking, “I need to know more about this man, his message, and his life’s work.” His show lacked the pizzazz of so much else in entertainment, and to hear him tell it, intentionally so. Yet, I believe his message and philosophy were right on for the work he was doing. And, against the backdrop of our noisy, cantankerous, bitterly divided nation and the world, I felt as if Fred Rogers was speaking with an honesty and directness that is as relevant today, if not more so than it was in his heyday. As I mentioned, I left the film and sought out whatever I could find to learn more about this man who’d appeared in my home from time to time. I found only a few books – mostly collections of short teachings from the man himself. But I read and listened. Ironically, a full biography of Fred Rogers was published just a week ago.  Perhaps it too will make its way to my reading list.

There are two things that I read and heard, which struck me as powerful messages for these Days of Awe. And they arise from our Torah readings over these Days of Rosh Hashanah. A short while ago we heard chapter 21 of Genesis, in which we read the news of Isaac’s birth, and at the very same time, of the expulsion of Abraham’s son Ishmael and his mother, Hagar. Tomorrow morning, we’ll read the next chapter, Genesis 22, which we know as Akeidat Yitzchak or the Binding of Isaac. At a very real level, these two chapters, on which we focus for our Torah lessons on two of the most joyous days of our Jewish year are about children – their preciousness, and in a mysterious way, the pains that can come with parenting children. In some ways, these are strange choices for our Torah readings on days which tradition tells us to commemorate Yom Harat Olam – the Day of the Birth of the World. But for this moment I want to pull on the common thread of children and the sons who are so prominent in these two chapters. In our reading this morning, the elder, with his servant mother, is expelled into the desert following the birth of his younger, half-sibling at the insistence of mother Sarah. God assures Abraham that Ishmael and his mother will be cared for. There is a harsh reality at the heart of this story of the expulsion of a young boy and his mother because they are different. It was in this that I found a connection from our portion to Fred Rogers and his “Torah” as I was listening to the audio recording of his book The World According to Mr. Rogers: Important Things to Remember when I heard these words: “Please think of the children first. If you ever have anything to do with their entertainment, their food, their toys, their custody, their day or night care, their health care, their education – listen to the children, learn about them, learn from them. Think of the children first.”   As I heard those words I could not help but think of the hundreds of children still separated from their families by our government in its execution of a drastic policy as regards illegal immigrants. To be sure immigration is one of the landmark debates of our time. It has been for too many years as our leaders, from all parts of the political spectrum seem to lack the vision and the will to break the logjam that holds much if not virtually all our public policy in gridlock.

Fred Rogers’ words reminded me that in the face of dramatic public and political pressure the administration was forced to reverse its policy of detaining illegal immigrants and separating parents and children. While many of the families detained during that time some months back have been reunited, there are still too many children, hundreds of children, who are still separated from their families. In many cases, their parents have been deported. In many, the record-keeping was so shoddy that our government is unable to make the connections which would allow reunification. This is simply unacceptable – on any level. Reflecting on our Torah portion over the summer, I could not help but see a link between Ishmael’s expulsion (and separation from his father Abraham) and the children whose lives have been changed forever by the cruelty inflicted upon them by these heinous policies and actions. Even one child cruelly ripped from the arms of his or her parents is wrong. That hundreds remain in such a state is beneath the dignity of what we like to think of as our American ethic and values.

The second lesson is a bit broader but also arises for me from our Torah readings for these days of Rosh Hashanah. In tomorrow’s reading, an angel will stay Abraham’s hand as he moves to sacrifice his son Isaac. (I’ll have more to say about it tomorrow) but for now, I read that stay as a reminder of a lesson core to our tradition – that every human life has value and meaning. Again, I am drawn to the words of Fred Rogers, when he says, “As human beings, our job in life is to help people realize how rare and valuable each one of us really is, that each of us has something that no one else has – or ever will have -something inside that is unique to all time. It’s our job to encourage each other to discover that uniqueness and to provide ways of developing its expression.” Whether Mr. Rogers knew it or not, in these words he was channeling a teaching of the Baal Shem Tov, the Founder of Modern Hasidism, wherein he taught of the infinite value of each person.

We stand on the cusp of a New Year. We spend these days reviewing our lives and asking for a fresh new page in Sefer HaHayyim, the Book of Life. We pray that we will be blessed with a productive, meaningful year. Hopefully, we will return a year from now and re-enact the process again. Undoubtedly, the time between now and then will be filled with imperfections and errors, even as it will I pray, be filled with good health, learning, challenges, successes, and blessings. For this too, Fred Rogers offers us some wisdom: “Little by little we human beings are confronted with situations that give us more and more clues that we aren’t perfect.”  Standing on the threshold of this New Year, with our imperfections and our ideals and values, may we stride forth into the year before us committed to doing our part in making this world the best it can be – perhaps by advocating for children – especially those whose lives have so cruelly been torn asunder; perhaps by reaching out to someone – family, friend, even a stranger, who can use to be reminded of their value – even as we remind ourselves during these Days of Awe of our own worth and potential. 

Oh, one more thing. The moment when my emotions burst forth while watching Won’t You Be My Neighbor? It was when I heard Fred Rogers say, “We are called to be Tikkun Olam.” And it happened the second time, just as it did the first, even though I knew it was coming.  It was for a host of reasons. Not the least of them was the reality that in a world as broken as ours, we truly are called to be Tikkun Olam and to do Tikkun Olam.  That must be a part of the year ahead.

Thank you, Mr. Rogers, for touching my soul and those of so many others.

L’shanah tovah tikateyvu- May you be inscribed for a good year!

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