First Day Rosh Hashanah 5772
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Second Day of Rosh Hashanah 5772
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Kol Nidrei 5772: Owning Up
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Yom Kippur Morning 5772: Remembering
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Rabbi Levin's Groundbreaking Sermon!
November 15, 2009 // 28 Heshvan 5770
About four years ago, I slipped a bookmark into a new book. The note on the bookmark said “a great source for groundbreaking.” I’ve picked up that book a number of times over the course of the years, and each time, I’ve said to myself: I am going to get to share this with everybody, I know it.”
As we’ll see in a little while, breaking ground involves digging into the earth. That’s what has inspired me to bring this midrash to you today: A midrash is a rabbinic verbal image, an interpretation of a biblical verse or verses that has sparked the imagination of a rabbi about 1700 or so years ago. The verse is from Psalms: You plucked up a vine. You cleared a place for it, it took deep root and filled the land.”
On this verse an antique rabbinic voice asked: “Why is Israel compared to a grapevine? Just as when a grapevine’s owners want to make it more beautiful, they uproot it from one place and plant it in another place and it becomes more beautiful, so when the Holy One wanted to make Israel known to the world, the Holy One uprooted them and brought them to a new place where they began to flourish.” (Shmot rabba 44:1)
There’s a lot to unpack in this rabbinic teaching: Our people have been plucked up, uprooted and replanted endlessly from the moment that God instructed Abraham and Sarah to leave the land of their birth to journey to a new place where they did, indeed, flourish. This pattern of laying new roots and flourishing in a new place should fill us with optimism and inspire us as we gather yards from the beautiful site of our new synagogue building.
We have some gifted gardeners in our congregation, and I imagine they can explain to us how uprooting and replanting can revitalize a plant. My ancient predecessor used this image in answering why Israel is compared to a grapevine because he (yes, I’m going to assume that in the 3rd century my colleague was male!) because he knew that this would be a well-understood and well-known phenomenon to his contemporary listeners.
Uprooting is unsettling, of course. Once we’re settled in, once the new becomes the familiar, once the familiar becomes infused with powerful personal memories, once the roots have dug deep it takes a lot less energy to stay than to go. But if you pull a plant out of a pot when it’s been in that pot too long, you find that the roots have thinned and grown to bind each other in a knot . . . they’ve lost the room and the air to grow with vitality.
When we’re unsettled we are vulnerable to uncertainties that we did not need to cope with before. We’re surrounded by a blank slate of walls, with no memories or associations. The only certainty we have is that things are going to change. That change can be like the repotted plant whose roots suddenly find new nutrients, new air and new ground to grasp and make its own.
And that is where the promise of the midrash comes to encourage us: “…when a grapevine’s owners want to make it more beautiful, they uproot it from one place and plant it in another place and it becomes more beautiful…”
So the grapevine’s owners want to make it more beautiful . . . it is beautiful already. And Torat Yisrael is beautiful already: we have beautiful, intimate, friendly services, we have beautiful teams of people making our congregation green, supporting two local food support programs, cooking for the Rhode Island Family shelter and more, we have beautiful , engaging adult learning groups, we have a beautiful, burgeoning school around the corner and we have a beautiful sense of community.
And when we are planted in this new, beautiful place we are going to become even more beautiful! Invigorated and inspired by potential, our beautiful congregation will flourish on our new land.
There’s a very fine Hebrew word for giving thanks for a moment like this: הללויה which means praise God! You’ve received a little piece of paper with the words of a song based around this word, and I’d like to ask you to join me in singing it now as we contemplate the many blessings awaiting us in this beautiful piece of land in this lovely, welcoming town:
Halleluyah
Halleluyah to the world, everyone will sing
In one single word the heart is full of thanks
And also beats “what a wonderful world!”
Halleluyah with the song, for a day that shines
Halleluyah for all that has been
and for all that will be – halleluyah!
Halleluyah la'olam, halleluyah yashiru kulam
bemila achat bodeda halev male behamon toda
veholem gam hu - eze olam nifla.
Halleluyah im hashir, halleluyah al yom sheme'ir ,
Halleluyah al ma shehayah,
umah she'od lo hayah - halleluyah
As we’ll see in a little while, breaking ground involves digging into the earth. That’s what has inspired me to bring this midrash to you today: A midrash is a rabbinic verbal image, an interpretation of a biblical verse or verses that has sparked the imagination of a rabbi about 1700 or so years ago. The verse is from Psalms: You plucked up a vine. You cleared a place for it, it took deep root and filled the land.”
On this verse an antique rabbinic voice asked: “Why is Israel compared to a grapevine? Just as when a grapevine’s owners want to make it more beautiful, they uproot it from one place and plant it in another place and it becomes more beautiful, so when the Holy One wanted to make Israel known to the world, the Holy One uprooted them and brought them to a new place where they began to flourish.” (Shmot rabba 44:1)
There’s a lot to unpack in this rabbinic teaching: Our people have been plucked up, uprooted and replanted endlessly from the moment that God instructed Abraham and Sarah to leave the land of their birth to journey to a new place where they did, indeed, flourish. This pattern of laying new roots and flourishing in a new place should fill us with optimism and inspire us as we gather yards from the beautiful site of our new synagogue building.
We have some gifted gardeners in our congregation, and I imagine they can explain to us how uprooting and replanting can revitalize a plant. My ancient predecessor used this image in answering why Israel is compared to a grapevine because he (yes, I’m going to assume that in the 3rd century my colleague was male!) because he knew that this would be a well-understood and well-known phenomenon to his contemporary listeners.
Uprooting is unsettling, of course. Once we’re settled in, once the new becomes the familiar, once the familiar becomes infused with powerful personal memories, once the roots have dug deep it takes a lot less energy to stay than to go. But if you pull a plant out of a pot when it’s been in that pot too long, you find that the roots have thinned and grown to bind each other in a knot . . . they’ve lost the room and the air to grow with vitality.
When we’re unsettled we are vulnerable to uncertainties that we did not need to cope with before. We’re surrounded by a blank slate of walls, with no memories or associations. The only certainty we have is that things are going to change. That change can be like the repotted plant whose roots suddenly find new nutrients, new air and new ground to grasp and make its own.
And that is where the promise of the midrash comes to encourage us: “…when a grapevine’s owners want to make it more beautiful, they uproot it from one place and plant it in another place and it becomes more beautiful…”
So the grapevine’s owners want to make it more beautiful . . . it is beautiful already. And Torat Yisrael is beautiful already: we have beautiful, intimate, friendly services, we have beautiful teams of people making our congregation green, supporting two local food support programs, cooking for the Rhode Island Family shelter and more, we have beautiful , engaging adult learning groups, we have a beautiful, burgeoning school around the corner and we have a beautiful sense of community.
And when we are planted in this new, beautiful place we are going to become even more beautiful! Invigorated and inspired by potential, our beautiful congregation will flourish on our new land.
There’s a very fine Hebrew word for giving thanks for a moment like this: הללויה which means praise God! You’ve received a little piece of paper with the words of a song based around this word, and I’d like to ask you to join me in singing it now as we contemplate the many blessings awaiting us in this beautiful piece of land in this lovely, welcoming town:
Halleluyah
Halleluyah to the world, everyone will sing
In one single word the heart is full of thanks
And also beats “what a wonderful world!”
Halleluyah with the song, for a day that shines
Halleluyah for all that has been
and for all that will be – halleluyah!
Halleluyah la'olam, halleluyah yashiru kulam
bemila achat bodeda halev male behamon toda
veholem gam hu - eze olam nifla.
Halleluyah im hashir, halleluyah al yom sheme'ir ,
Halleluyah al ma shehayah,
umah she'od lo hayah - halleluyah