Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelekh 5766

This morning I feel a little like a coach standing in the locker room with his team just before the big game begins.

This is the quiet before the storm and the calm before the war. There’s a palpable sense of anticipation in synagogue as we get ready for the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe.

Next week our synagogue will be unrecognizable. There will be hundreds and hundreds of people here, most of whom will be at a loss as to what they’re supposed to do or how they’re supposed to behave. They’ll come, however, with great expectation and even a deep sense of yearning. They want to be strengthened and inspired and they hope to experience something holy. But they will come late, leave early, and sit impatiently through most of the services. Is it any wonder most rabbis find this to be a dreadful time of year?

But we know the truth. This is both a dreadful and important time of year. This season is dreadful because we know that we rabbis feel that we are being judged and it is an important time of year because we recognize that this is our ONE BIG CHANCE to reach the members of our community.

Still, there’s something extraordinary about this season. If we look beyond “the big show” that takes place on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in most congregations, what we find is something profoundly important. Each year, we devote a full six weeks to self reflection, repentance, and meditation. From the beginning of Elul until the end of Yom Kippur, and even beyond Yom Kippur until the final days of Sukkot, we’re supposed to spend our time being honest with ourselves, trying to improve our behavior, and trying to change who we are. A full six weeks of our lives are devoted to self transformation.

Not that we refrain from self renewal and change the rest of the year. Rabbi Eliezer aught his students, "Repent one day before your death." When his disciples asked, "Does a person know what day he will die," the teacher replied: "All the more reason that one repent today. For should he die tomorrow, one’s entire life will have been spent in repentance. One could argue that all of Judaism is about change and self improvement, not to mention Tikkun Olam, changing the world. But this season is especially devoted to this program of self renewal. In this season of judgment we are especially aware of the need to change and take ownership for our fault and failures.

What is so important about these six weeks, then? According to tradition, after breaking the first set of the Ten Commandments, Moses ascended Mount Sinai a second time on Rosh Hodesh Elul and he descended on Yom Kippur with the second set of tablets. In other words the people of Israel lived for these six weeks in a state of anxiety and anticipation. Would God forgive them for having worshipped the golden calf? It was only on Yom Kippur that they knew that they had been forgiven.

Whatever the reason for the special tone of this season of the year, it all comes down to one word: Teshuvah.

We usually translate Teshuvah as “repentance” but it means so much more. Teshuvah comes from the Hebrew root laShuv, to turn around or to turn away. In our chapter 30 of today’s Torah portion, the root word shuv appears seven times in ten verses, anticipating the importance of this mitzvah during this season of the year. We read:

“You shall return unto the Lord your God.”

“You shall return and obey the voice of the Lord.”

“And you shall return to the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul.”

Interestingly, the turning goes in two directions. Not only are we supposed to turn to God, but God is supposed to turn to us as well.

“Then the Lord your God will turn your captivity and have compassion upon you.

“For the Lord your God will turn again and rejoice over you.”

What a wonderful idea this is! The month of Elul and the ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is not only a season when we come looking for God. It is also a time of year when God comes looking for us. Teshuvah is necessary not only on our part but on God’s part as well. Unless we are willing to turn to one another we can never find each other!

So how do we go about turning to one another at this time of year? I’d like to share two stories with you this morning that I think might be helpful as we begin this season of turning. One is about making soap, and the other can teach us where our turn begins.

First, let me tell you the story about making soap. Once there was a rabbi who was good friends with the local soap maker. One day the soap maker came to his friend and complained, “I don’t understand. For thousands of years Jews have been studying and teaching Torah. Yet if we look at the world it is no better now than it was before. All we see is meanness, apathy and violence. Why hasn’t our knowledge of Torah helped us do teshuvah – change our lives for the better?

As the two strolled along the street they came upon a young boy who covered with mud from head to toe. The rabbi turned to the soap maker and said: “What is the use of the soap that you make? Soap has been around for years and years, and yet look how dirty this boy is. Why hasn’t your soap helped to make him clean and neat?”

The soap maker replied: “Rabbi – soap is no good unless you use it!”

“Aha,” said the rabbi, “So it is with Torah. Unless we apply it to our daily lives and use it to cleanse our souls, it is of no use at all. Even worse – unless we use it we loose it! The shmutz becomes so ingrained that we can never remove it.”

Now before you tell me that change is no easy matter, let me tell you how just how easy it really is to at least begin the process of teshuvah. Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk once asked his students if they knew how far it is from east to west. The students shouted out answers hoping to impress their teacher. One yelled out “A thousand miles.” Another called out, “a million miles.” Yet another said, “The distance between east and west is infinite since east and west never meet.”

Rabbi Menachem Mendel answered his students. “You’re all wrong; the distance between East and West is Ein Klain Dray, it’s one little turn. If you are going east and you want to go west all you have to do is turn around.

But it is even simpler than that. Unlike all the other mitzvot in the Torah, to do teshuvah one doesn’t have to do anything other than begin with a thought. Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi, the editor of the Mishnah, once said “The power of teshuvah is so great that, as soon as a person thinks about doing teshuvah, his thought soars up at once [straight to God]. It soars up to a height not of ten mil, nor of twenty, nor of a hundred, but to a height that would require a journey of five hundred years to accomplish -- soaring not merely to the first heaven but all the way to the seventh heaven…until his thought stands before the throne of glory itself.”
Of course it takes more than just a thought to do teshuvah but real teshuvah begins with thoughtful reflection and meditation. Maybe that’s why this coming holiday is called Rosh Hashanah and not Reshit Hashanah or Hatchalat Hashanah. Rosh Hashanah begins with the Rosh, the head. Until we take the time to reflect on our lives, we cannot change, and we cannot turn.
So let us remember: Unless we take advantage of this coming season, we will loose the opportunities it offers us. We are given only a limited number of Roshei Hashanah in our life time – each one offers us a grand opportunity to turn around, to change the course of our life, to turn to God and to turn to one another. A lost opportunity to say “I’m sorry” can never be regained. So let us use these opportunities while we can.

That, my friends, is my pep talk before the ‘game’ begins. Now let’s get out there and make this Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur the most meaningful one ever. And be sure to hit one for the gipper!

Shabbat Shalom and Shanah Tova