Yom Kippur Evening 2018/5779 Abraham. Jonah. Esther. YOU!?

Rabbi Mark Cohn 

Yom Kippur Evening 5779/2018 

Be aware: Fire! What will YOU do? 

When there is a fire, there are those who run toward it and those who run away. 

Sometimes running from a fire will save your life – in fact, it often will. 

And sometimes running toward the fire will save other lives – but it’s a remarkably risky endeavor - certainly life-threatening.

There are those who run toward a fire out of selflessness, out of deep concern, out of deeper understanding. And when the fire is one of the megablazes like we have seen on the West Coast this summer (and increasingly over recent years), we want trained professionals to take themselves and their equipment and do what they can to prevent as much damage as possible. But as useful as those trained professionals are, the wrong people fighting a fire or people fighting with the wrong tools and decisions can only lead to greater disaster. 

It’s a delicate balance. Fighting or Fleeing. What kind of training do fire fighters have - and what kind of equipment do we give them to make sure they can save the maximum amount of lives, homes, hillsides, forests? 

I am not sure what I would do if I were confronted with a fire in my home or in this building - beyond calling 911 and pulling the fire alarm. If I were in this building, I would like to think my instinct would be to run to the ark and save the Torahs. But would or could or should I? 

If I were alone and I had a good shot at getting them, of course. 

But what if there were children or people who needed help?

I’d like to think I would help them first. New Torahs can be commissioned. 

Do you remember in the movie, “Frisco Kid” when Gene Wilder and Harrison Ford got captured by a Native American tribe? This is, in my estimation, one of Gene Wilder’s greatest films and a personal favorite. Go figure I would like this movie: a rabbi from Poland (played by Gene Wilder) in the 1850s is contracted to travel to San Francisco to the new congregation there. No one in the yeshiva wants to go - so they send Gene Wilder and it is one mishap after another and he befriends an outlaw (Harrison Ford) who winds up escorting him by horseback across the country. At one point, the Torah that Rabbi Avram Belinski has brought from Poland is in the hands of the Indian chief of the tribe that caught this mismatched duo. In order to get the Torah back, Gene Wilder’s character has to “purify his soul through fire”. Rabbi Avram Belinski was unwilling to give up the Torah and preferred to suffer the consequences of a literal trial by fire. His willingness to give up his life actually saved his life, saved the Torah, and enabled him to make it to the Golden State. 

That scene in Frisco Kid, with the klezmer music in the background as Rabbi Avram is being lowered toward the fire, is not unlike a midrash from the early Middle Ages, that presents Avraham Avinu, our patriarch Abraham, entering into a fiery furnace based on a battle with the King Nimrod. The point of that midrash, in part, shows Abraham’s allegiance to God but also God’s faith in Abraham. Abraham emerged alive, undeterred, whole after that trial by fire. So did Gene Wilder’s character. 

Abraham was a man who ran into the fire. And ten times, God tested him by a trial by fire - so to speak. And each time, it would seem that Abraham passed the test. Whether it was taking Hagar as a concubine or facing the kings who kidnapped his nephew Lot; the command to circumcise himself or bind his son for a sacrifice, Abraham goes and does what God asks - he jumps into the fire, metaphorically. 

Of course Abraham’s first test is perhaps the most famous - and contains a line we love to quote for anyone going on a journey, preparing to attempt something new or uncertain. 

“Lech lecha” go forth. Go find yourself. Go with faith in the Almighty who will show you your way to the promised land. Walk and know that God is with you and will bless you as you praise God. 

Our beloved Abraham answers the call of God, ultimately bringing about great blessing for our people. Abraham is the man on a mission who is our captain of civil discourse as displayed by how he handled the kings, how he stood up for the righteous - few though they were - in S’dom and G’morrah. We remind ourselves of Abraham’s tests because this is the stalk from which we come.  

He spoke compassionately with his son as his son queried why the journey. Abraham was dispassionate at times and he was reserving of judgment.

On Rosh HaShanah, I introduced a concept of civil discourse based on a definition by Kenneth Gergen who is a psychologist and professor who describes civil discourse as “the language of dispassionate objectivity”, and suggests that it “requires respect of the other participants, such as the reader. It neither diminishes the other’s moral worth, nor questions their good judgment; it avoids hostility, direct antagonism, or excessive persuasion; it requires modesty and an appreciation for the other participant’s experiences.”

Abraham does a reasonable job at upholding that behavior - in words and/or in deeds. 

And then, as we will read tomorrow afternoon: there was Jonah. 

Jonah is not Abraham. At all. 

Interesting that we read about Abraham on RH and Jonah on YK.

Abraham is our model to run into the fire - metaphorically and literally. 

Jonah is our model to run away from the fire. Not to save his life, mind you.

Jonah who runs away. To avoid God’s call - his responsibility as a trained fire-fighter.

Jonah is the guy who winds up in the belly of a big fish.

Jonah is us when we are afraid to say we’ve actually heard the call of God and are wiling to follow that call. 

Far more likely we hear the call and do what Jonah does: run, flee, find the lowest spot we can travel to - and get ourselves outward bound. We don’t like that God is asking us to do the right thing. Jonah doesn’t want the Ninevites to repent because he would rather see the excitement and even retribution of Nineveh (the capital of Israel’s enemy, Assyria) be overturned. Why go tell the people - your enemies - that if they turn from their evil, life - good life - can come? Wouldn’t it be better to see ruin come about for them? 

Serving as a prophet is hard work. Jonah had it much easier hanging out in Judaea or wherever he was near Jerusalem. Having to shlep to Nineveh was like 500 miles. But Jonah had the goods. He had the word and the promise of God. Repent and the city will be saved! If you have the answers, isn’t it better to share them with people??

Jonah much preferred to retreat into his media room, his man cave, his beer den. He preferred a little retail therapy and a soy latte in an effort to avoid God’s call. So he went down to Jaffa and hopped a ride on a ship headed to the most western port on the Mediterranean he could find.

The famed American psychologist Abraham Maslow, child of Jewish immigrants, coined the term “Jonah complex,” a condition in which an individual seeks “…to escape the vocation, calling, mission, or responsibilities that are theirs to realize.” The Book of Jonah, explains Jewish educator and author Erica Brown, is about Jonah’s failing to realize his calling.

Jonah’s flight was not just from Nineveh and not just from God. Jonah was fleeing from his responsibility as a Jew, as a descendant of Abraham; he was fleeing from himself! And it was there on the ocean floor, in the belly of that big fish, that Jonah hit rock bottom. He could run no more. But when Jonah did cry out to God, it wasn’t to do holy work, it was because Jonah was scared, and he wanted God to save him.

It’s interesting, when the storm hits, the sailors on Jonah’s boat … the SAILORS begin to pray. JONAH is sleeping down below and the sailors are trying to do something. The ship captain goes down to Jonah’s quarters tells him: koom-kra! Get up! Raise  your voice. What are you doing!!?? 

Interesting that God said to Abraham: lech!

The ship captain said to Jonah: koom!

Both involve direct, commanded, intentional action. Both involve the recipient of the command to go and do something. Both are being directed because they evidently need direction. And both rise to the occasion. Abraham journeys on to the land that God showed him. But dear Jonah. Jonah, who in the midst of a storm, with the sailors trying to save everyone, goes down not just to hide - but he is able to find a way to sleep deeply. And when the ship captain gets him to realize what is happening and the lot falls on Jonah so everyone knows his culpability, HE STILL avoids taking responsibility and he has the sailors throw him overboard. He couldn’t just throw himself into the sea - lest it seem like suicide or an accident - he forces his destiny to come true. He knows God is going to hold him responsible. But he does not want to indicate that he is willing to run into the fire - EVEN THOUGH he has God’s call and support. 

The sailors were more willing to engage with the elephant in the room than Jonah. 

The ship captain was more willing. 

And when he gets to Nineveh, the king and the people are actually all ready to repent. They are ready to engage and do what is needed to fix the situation … but not Jonah. He is a recalcitrant - not just reluctant - prophet. 

My question for you, for me, for us, for our world: 

Are you Abraham or are you Jonah? To what are you awake or asleep? 

Who are our Abrahams today and who are our Jonahs? 

The truth is - we have few Abrahams. And few of us will be Abraham as much as we may want to aspire to his forthrightness and faith. There may be moments in our lives when each of us hits Abraham-level running into the fire but it’s not an every day occurrence, typically. And hopefully we won’t have too many Jonahs as those who have the skills and abilities and backing need to rise when they are called to make a difference. 

Most of us, most of the time, are bystanders. Most of us are the people who won’t have a scroll written about us and then have our story put into the sacred literature of our people. But there is nothing small in being a bystander. And as Bachya ibn Pakuda (11th century, Spain) wrote, ‘Days are scrolls, be careful what you put in them.’ 

The rabbis have a term for a bystander. He is the beinoni - the in-between guy. He’s neither here nor there. But he is a little of both simultaneously. It is a status and potentially a critical one, or an unfortunate one, or one that isn’t terribly impressive, or could make all the difference. 

In this metaphor of the fire that is ablaze, I think there are different kinds of bystanders. There is the woman who is helping clear the street for the fire trucks to get in and then there is the woman who is screaming for her child who is stuck in the burning house. There is the man fighting the flashbacks he has from earlier in his life when he lost his home to fire and then there is the man who is on the street corner taking pictures to update his facebook page or instagram about what is happening on his block. And then there is the bystander who saw that the fire was caused because some kids were causing trouble but doesn’t bother reporting that to anyone.

And how many of us stand as bystanders … some kind of beinoni (in-between)? And because the majority of us will be that in-between status … what kind of beinoni will we be? What kind of bystander will we be because the person who cleared the street so the fire truck could get through ALLOWED the fire truck to get through and bring help. Critical help. 

It is okay to be a bystander. And we need not be Abraham. And we shouldn’t be Jonah. 

Truth is - while staying in the bible for a moment - there is a wonderful beinonit. Her name is Esther. And she, like her name, can be drashed as meaning hidden. 

Esther was just one of the girls. Yeah. She was beautiful - one of the most beautiful in the land and as a result wound up in the king’s harem. His court of many women. We can discuss that concept fully another time because I am sure that entire system was full of #metoo stories. I want to direct us to that critical moment upon which the whole saving of the Jewish people hinged. Esther is in the king’s harem, hidden as a Jew, and life seems to be pretty good for her - but for the Jews outside, destruction looms. She’s not so sure she wants to cause any waves or call out that she indeed is different, as a Jew. 

Mordechai comes to her - well via a messenger - and says, essentially: Esther, if this edict goes through, the Jews will not go passively and if we rise up against the Palace and you are there in the Palace, don’t think you will be so safe. You are in a position to make a difference. You are there perhaps for this exact reason and this exact moment. YOU COULD BE OUR SALVATION! You have a relationship with king. THE king. The king is the only one who can turn this around and if you don’t do something salvation will come from somewhere else. (It’s kind of Mordechai’s way of saying - the King of kings will save us.) 

And so Esther puts her life on the line. She knows she could lose not just her job but her life.

Esther rises. She was opened to being challenged and she allowed Mordechai to push her to her best self. Are we open? Are we willing to being agents to change? Are we willing to listen and to speak? 

Esther takes her beinonit/bystander status and lifts it up and visits the king, stands up for herself and her people, and darkness turns to light, sorrow turned to joy, and Mordechai got a seat next to the king, because, well, we are still back in the 5th century BCE. 

But Esther got the scroll named for her. 

The scroll is not Mordechai’s scroll. 

And it’s not Ahasherus’ scroll. 

IT’S Esther’s scroll. 

Because she spoke out. 

Because she did what was right.

Because she went to a really hard place in a hard time in a hard culture. 

Because she was a Jonah and she became an Abraham but she made it her own and she was Esther. She was an in-betweener/a bystander and didn’t stand by any longer when she needed to stand up.

And she broke from tradition. From a tradition of silence. 

And like her Hebrew name, Hadassah, the myrtle tree, she stood as a proud and beautiful and courageous and bold woman and as a Jew. 

Sometimes, we need encouraging. 

Sometimes, we need a reminder of what to do. 

Sometimes, we need to dig deep into what is right. 

Abraham seemed to have that strength inside him from the get-go. God said ‘lech’ and he went. We are much more inclined to be like Esther. Hesitant. Afraid. Comfortable in our cushy living rooms. We even succumb to being like Jonah - falling asleep while there is a storm all around us. It’s scary out there. What if we go and try to advocate for something and it doesn’t work out? What if we go and there is a famine in the land? What if we get rejected or fail? 

It turns out we don’t really have the luxury of not trying. 

You see. We need to be smart. 

Esther was really smart how she played the story. 

She never demeaned herself in bringing the story forward and she involved the critical players. Her facts checked out and it was entirely clear to the king what had happened. And Haman showed his truest colors for even the king to see. 

Abraham. Jonah. Esther. 

#metoo. The environment. Israel. Racial injustice.

Their model. The metaphor of the fire. 

We can apply it to a whole host of issues. 

On what topics are you ready to take a stand? And from what topics do you flee? 

And presuming most of us are in-betweeners or bystanders most of the time: where are you in between? and why? 

Because on every issue - our position matters. Our stance matters. 

Israel has you concerned - great. I’m concerned too. Want to come with us to Israel at the beginning of March? Or join 18,000 people with AIPAC in DC in the spring? 

The environment is your issue. Great, it’s mine too. My colors are blue and white, but I bleed green. So you are getting rid of plastic straws - fabulous. How about eliminating plastic and styrofoam cups?

You’re a man. Great, so am I. Are you ready to tell your sons and daughters what is proper behavior and what is not? And most importantly, men: act accordingly?

You’re a woman. Great, I’m not. Are you ready to tell your story if it needs telling and help men understand where we are in the wrong and in the right? 

Racial Injustice. On the micro-level, we can find all sorts of good relationships among people of color and whites. But on the macro-level racism still plagues our country. And society needs an Abraham. Society needs an Esther. Many Esthers. 

Yom Kippur is the moment when we recognize how we have missed the mark in the last year.   It is that moment when we note how we ran from the fire to save ourselves but we failed to see why there was a fire in the first place. WE have failed ourselves and we have failed God. When we run from the fire without realizing we can be safe from the fire and simultaneously help put the fire out, we leave God out of the story and out of having efficacy. This moment of repentance is about bringing God into helping us repair our wrong-doing and into recognizing and supporting our potential for change. This moment is for us to acknowledge where we have stood by, where we have acted positively, where we have acted negatively, and who we want to be in our new year ahead. 

Rabbi JJ Schacter once shared the words of one of the characters in a novel by the late Alan Paton, “When I shall ascend to heaven, [which I certainly intend to do] I will be asked, ‘Where are your wounds?’ When I will say, ‘I haven’t any,’ I will be asked, ‘Was there nothing worth fighting for?’ and that is a question that I do not want to have to answer.” (In Sidney Greenberg, ed. A Treasury of Favorite Sermons by Leading American Rabbis pp 226-7.)

To take a quote a bit out of context but actually fitting - from Harry Belafonte, whose grandfather knew from Yom Kippur … We come from the fire, livin’ in the fire, go back to the fire, turn the world around. Oh, oh so is life. 

In so doing, we will find ourselves, save ourselves, and one another at the same time.