A little boy was fussing in church. His mother gave him a pad of paper and a
pencil and said, "Listen to the preacher, and make a mark for every time he uses the word
and." About ten minutes later the mother noticed that the boy had not made a single
mark. "Why aren't you playing the game?" she asked. "I am," he replied, "But instead of
the word and I decided to wait until the preacher says the word amen."
And many of you are also waiting.
But if your goal today is just getting done, then you're missing the point.
Just think for a moment about where we are. In the presence of the Ner Tamid,
the eternal light, the symbol of the eternity of the Jewish people. Decide whether or not
you are doing your part to keep the flame of the Jewish people burning into the future.
You are sitting in the presence of the memorial plaques, representing the strength
of generations past. You are sitting in the presence of the Torah. How can you not be
moved by these powerful symbols?
Years ago, the late Helen Keller, in an essay called Three Days to See, wrote:
Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a
long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed. "Nothing
in particular," she replied. How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for
an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot
see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the
delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth
skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine.
And we sit in shul, in the presence of the Ner Tamid and the Torah, and we just
don't pay attention to their significance.
I love the crowd. I used to not be so sure about this, but now I'm convinced, the
big crowd is inspiring. I love the sound of 1000 of us singing together, and I love the
silence of the Amidah, shattered only by the blast of the shofar, which we will hear
tomorrow. I love listening to the heavenly music of the Cantor and Choir. You know
what else is truly a moving experience in shul--the chance to be a singer myself. I love to
sing. Who doesn't? But where does one get the chance? My children have reached the
age where they are embarrassed by my singing, at home or in the car. But in shul--I can
sing out loud.
Another reason I love to be in shul, especially on the High Holy Days, is that it
provides a real break. We all need a break. A recent Newsweek Special Report describes
the business office of the future. The report includes a picture of a man lying at the
beach, with the caption reading: Let Sam join in the meeting using his laptop and a small
videorecorder. He connects to the Internet wirelessly which speeds images and sounds to
his recliner. In the future, real vacations may become obsolete.
And I say, "no, we must not let this happen." We need time out. To escape from
work, school, home. We are entitled, if just for a while, to turn off the tv and radio, to
feel safe, free from terror, free from Wall Street. You might not realize it, but if you
approach it the right way, being in shul can be a mini-vacation; a real opportunity, if you
let it, to leave the stressful world, and just for a moment, to enter a more spiritual world.
Shul can be therapeutic.
Finally, why are we really here. The surroundings, the people, the singing, the
sanctuary, all well and done, but there is a central purpose in these days, in this service.
Let us not miss out on the real purpose.
I once received this humorous list of fines for inappropriate behavior in an
Orthodox shul. Fines ranged from $18-$72 for such infractions as:
Let's get back to the basics. If we truly stop to think about it, and I mean really
think about it, we've got a lot to say to God.
We need to express gratitude. How can one not be thankful for all of God's
blessings? Jews are supposed to offer one hundred blessings a day, and it's not difficult
to think of the reasons to do so. We ought to be grateful for food, health, the creation of
the world, the gift of the Torah--thankful for a structure by which to live our lives;
thankful for a moral code. We need to express thanks to God for the gift of the love of
other people.
In addition to all of the above, today we are grateful for the gift of a second
chance. Today we learn that God is forgiving, and therefore we need to be more
forgiving. Today we experience being judged, and we judge ourselves. That's what the
Hebrew word for prayer means--lehitpallel means to "judge oneself."
This is the true intent of the machzor and the High Holy Day services. If not
everyday of the year, then at least on these days.
Not to rush, nor to look at our watches or count the pages until it's over. But to
immerse ourselves in the experience of prayer. To allow the words of the machzor to
penetrate our very soul.
May the words of our mouths and the deep meditations of our hearts be
acceptable to You, O Lord. AMEN