You know I think I’ve been here before. There’s something strangely familiar about this setting. _______________ is sitting in the third row just like she always does every year. And ______ ____________ is standing in the back of the shul in his usual spot. I haven’t changed my seat in the past eight years. To paraphrase the immortal words of Yogi Berra, “The High Holy Days have arrived and its deja vous all over again!”

A few weeks ago I told a favorite story of mine from the Bimah but since there weren’t very many people in Shul I am going to repeat it. It’s about a rabbi who gave the same sermon every year on the High Holy Days. Now this particular rabbi was especially beloved in his congregation so no one ever questioned him about this. But after several years of hearing the same sermon, the board worked up the courage to approach their dear rabbi and ask him to prepare a new sermon for the Yamim Noraim. So as not to embarrass him they waited until Chanukah to confront the rabbi about his repetitiveness.

Chanukah came and the executive officers paid the rabbi a visit at home. After a pleasant cup of tea, the president said, “Rabbi you know how much we love you. Our only problem is that you’ve been giving the same sermon on Rosh Hashanah for fifteen years. Don’t you think you it’s time for a new one?”

The rabbi thought for a moment and then said, “Of course, I’d be glad to give a new sermon. By the way, what did I speak about this past year on Rosh Hashanah?” There was a long embarrassed pause. Then the rabbi said, “You seem to have forgotten. I’ll tell you what. I’ll give the sermon one more time so you’ll remember it and then I’ll prepare a new one!”

Now I certainly hope I don’t sound like this Rabbi on the holidays or any other time for that matter. I pride myself in not re-using my old sermons. I work hard at coming up with something original to say to our congregation. But the truth of the matter is, there are really only five sermons that any rabbi has to deliver in his life time. And everything he says is basically a repetition of those same five sermons.

That’s right – there are only five sermons. We each come up with clever ways to deliver our message and inspire our congregation each week; we combine these messages and come up with various permutations. But the five sermons are basically the same:
1. Be good
2. Have faith
3. Love one another
4. Do Mitzvot
5. Learn Torah

The first lesson we all try to teach is “Be good.” It’s that simple. And we have been teaching it for a very long time. When a gentile came to Hillel and asked the great sage to teach him the whole Torah while standing on one foot, Hillel answered: “What is hateful to you don’t do to others.” That’s a lesson that everyone can understand. Goodness begins by not inflicting pain on others. That doesn’t make us a Tzaddik, a righteous person, but at least it insures that we’re not criminals. So the first thing a rabbi must teach his congregation (and himself) is to avoid causing pain to others and strive to live by a modicum of justice and fairness.

The second lesson we try to teach is, “Have faith.” For us as Jews this begins with the words of the Sh’ma – “Hear O Israel: Adonai is our God, Adonai is one.” But faith is more than just a numerical equation. Faith is a way of seeing the world. To have faith means that you believe that life has some larger meaning and purpose, that your presence in this world is more than just some cosmic accident, and that there is goodness in the universe. It means that you believe that there is a transcendent source of right and wrong – that the Ten Commandments are not opinions. To have faith is also to reject the false idols of this world. Or as someone once put it: It is not whether or not we worship God but what we choose to worship that counts in the end. If we reject God, chances are we will invent other objects of worship for ourselves.

The third sermon every rabbi must give is, “Love one another.” It’s not enough just to be good. As I said, all that means is that you’re not a criminal. It doesn’t mean you have ever helped another person in need or that you’ve done anything to make a difference in the world. Judaism expects much more of us. Beyond goodness, there is love. Over the ark here in our sanctuary are the words “V’ahavta lire’akha kamocha, Love your neighbor as yourself.” And as the sages taught us: “Zeh klal gadol ba-torah” – this is the great principle in the Torah.

The fourth sermon that every rabbi gives is, “Do Mitzvot!” Faith and love mean nothing if they are not acted out in our daily lives. The Torah offers us 613 opportunities not only to feel love and express our faith but to do love and live faith through our day to day actions.

And finally, the fifth sermon is “Learn Torah.” In Pirke Avot we are taught that an ignorant person can not be a God fearing person. Faith has no place in an empty mind. Words of Torah challenges us and we must challenge it. Judaism challenges us – the more Torah we learn, the more we are capable of making informed and sensitive decisions in our lives.

That is why this holiday is called Rosh Hashanah, literally, “the head” of the year. Why do we begin the year with the head? Because hakol holekh achar ha’rosh, everything follows the head in life. And an empty head will lead to an empty life.

So there you have it. Five sermons. I’ve now given all my sermons so I guess I can sit down and really enjoy the rest of the holidays. These sermons are so simple. The real challenge is that we have to learn to translate these lessons into life. And these sermons must come from the heart in order to enter the hearts of those who are hearing them.

The Talmud tells us that Rabbi Akiva was an illiterate shepherd until the age of 40. One day he was sitting by a pond when he noticed that there was a large stone with a hollow indentation in it. He wondered how such a stone could have been worn away. And then he noticed that there was water dripping down on the stone from above and that the water had worn a hole in the stone.

Rabbi Akiva said. If water can wear away the hardest of substances then surely there are words of Torah can penetrate my mind. I’ll go to the Beit Midrash, the house of learning, and begin studying Torah.

I hope that these simple lessons can penetrate our minds and hearts as we begin a new year. Be good. Have faith. Love one another. Do Mitzvot. Learn Torah. There is so much to learn and do in life, but if we can begin with these lessons we will have a truly sweet year.