It is by a group called Bering Strait which has an interesting story which you might have seen on 60 minutes or heard on NPR earlier this year . Bering Strait is a group of young musicians from a small town in Russia who fell in love with American country and bluegrass music from recordings. After a while, they perfected the accents and the melodies and rhythms and eventually came to Nashville where they were able to hit the big time.

While I was preparing for the holidays, I heard a line in one of their songs which struck me as describing, perfectly, the role of the Holy Days in our lives.

"In spite of all the dreams and all the best laid plans, sometimes you start over back where you began".

And so, we come back tonight, where one year ago, we began a journey into an unknown world which lay ahead, full of hopes and dreams, promises and commitments. And our road has brought us back where we began to look back and to look ahead and to try again.

And that is a good part of what I want to speak about tonight, what it means to come back to where we began.

Shortly after Yom Kippur� last year, I read an essay� in the New York Times written by a professor at NYU, Douglas Rushkoff. His piece: "Don�t Judge Judaism by the Numbers" was, I thought, an exquisite and brilliant piece of writing, especially since some of what he wrote was exactly what I had said to this Congregation a few weeks before on the first day of Rosh Hashana last year.

Our point of agreement was that the portrayal of Jews as an endangered species and our attempts to rally our children�s commitment to Judaism on the basis of fighting anti-Semitism and preserving the precious remnant was not enough and was doomed to failure. We had to stand for something more than merely numbers. We had to recognize that Judaism is a way of life and a faith and not merely a nation existing for its own sake.

Up to this point, we agreed. But there were statements in his article that I did not agree with and likewise with Rushkoff�s subsequent book: Nothing Sacred. The more I read the book and the more I gave him the benefit of the doubt and the less I disagreed but some of what he said can not go by without a response. My sermon tonight is intended as a response to one of those statements in particular but I assure you it is not intended to be a book review. It is an interesting, thought provoking book. It is worth reading and worth struggling with as I have been doing. Tonight, I want to comment on one subject he raises. I want to talk about our myths as Jews.

Rushkoff�s point as he states at it the beginning of the book is that Judaism needs to be completely reinvented to be more faithful to its founding goals. He says that Judaism has become too mired in myth and ideas set in stone. He says: "We must crack the code, penetrate the myths, squash the superstitions and retire the beliefs that have mired Judaism in protectionism and paranoia. We must shatter the walls surrounding this religion in order to rediscover the core beliefs those walls were meant to protect."

Rushkoff claims that there is a Jewish trinity: iconoclasm, monotheism and social Justice. He claims that just as Abraham smashed idols to begin us on our paths, we must be willing to continually smash the idols that we ourselves have built up over the centuries and not allow Judaism to become set in stone in any way.

His idea is valid but only up to a point. It is true that we must continually reinvigorate our people with new ideas and new thoughts and new priorities. It is true too much of Judaism has been covered with superstition and with trivial matters elevated to the status of dogma. We should look at what we stand for and be active participants in creating a Judaism for the times. But, and here I disagree with Rushkoff, we can�t leave the myths� behind for we do so at a price.

For example, I too believe that social justice is important and must be a part of every synagogue�s agenda and the life of every Jew. But, to reduce Judaism to only a mechanism for social justice robs Judaism of what it really can be and dilutes the reason for our commitment to tikkun olam in the first place.

There has to be something more. There has to be a myth: something deep in our souls that causes us to engage in tikkun olam and I believe that there is. Unfortunately, it is that something, that myth, that Rushkoff makes his strongest statement against: a belief in God. Although he claims that monotheism is one of the elements of the Jewish trinity, he says this must be an abstract monotheism without a belief in any specific representation or image of God. So far, so good. But then, he writes: "Abstract monotheism is not the process by which a people find the one true God, but the path through which they get over their need for him."

I don�t know if he meant the statement as strongly as I read it but giving the author the benefit of the doubt can only go so far and if he himself didn�t mean it, there are plenty of others that I meet who would say it unequivocally. I disagreed with no statement that I read this year as strongly as I disagreed with this. In fact, I really ought to credit the author for saying this because it touched me so deeply, I found that every educational program I planned and every sermon that I wrote from July through tonight focused in some way on theology and on working with our thoughts and beliefs about God. Wait until you hear my Yizkor sermon tomorrow.

I believe that there is no more vital myth for our people than our belief in a God who creates, who reveals divine presence and divine wisdom, who cares for and will eventually redeem the world when we are worthy of such redemption.

I�m sure some bristle at the idea of my calling belief in God a myth. Let me assure you, I call it a myth not because it is not objectively true but because it doesn�t matter whether it is objectively true or not. We can find the proof we want in the sunrises and sunsets that come on time, in the unique ability of human beings to sense something greater in their existence, in the awe-inspiring history of our people, in the beauty of holy text, art or music or in the eyes of the one we love. But, in the end the proof is only there if we want it to be. Even the Midrash admitted that it is we who decide when God judges us. Even our tradition knew that almost everything we say and believe about God, comes from within. Even our greatest philosophers knew that there are so many ways to imagine God or to feel God�s presence that it can�t possibly be the same for me as for you or for the person next to you. But, it must be there. It must be there or we lose our sense of who we are as a people.

I don�t care how literally a Jew believes in God. I don�t even care if a Jew says they don�t believe in God. What I care about is that we buy into the principles that a belief in God is supposed to be about: the recognition of our greatness and yet our limitations, the search for something more meaningful in our lives, the common bond we share with all other human beings. Call that whatever name you want but realize that when I speak about God, that is what I am referring to. The fact that I believe in God in more concrete ways than some and less concrete ways than others is immaterial. Through all of our debates, through all of our differences, through all of our doubts and all of our questions, it is that idea, that myth that binds us together.

For why else would we be here this evening?

There are so many centers of our Jewish world that reflect the foundational myths of our people. Places of tzedaka which reflect our concern for reaching out to others in need and repairing the world. The Jewish home in which the ideas that our family life can be sacred and our home a sanctuary. Jewish summer camps which teach that Judaism is best lived in a community shared by those with a common vision. And, of course, the two most vital places of myth: the State of Israel and the synagogue.

Israel is a testimony to the foundational myth that our leaving Egypt was leaving to someplace, not just leaving from someplace. It is a testimony to the reality that we need a place in which we can be secure and that that place holds for us a special meaning and special connection. It is a testimony to the principle that we must all be ready to do everything we can for the survival of our people. Despite my agreement with Rushkoff�s thoughts concerning numbers,� our people do face threats to our existence and the State of Israel provides not only a haven to those who have no other place but a place of inspiration for all of us.

As Israel faces difficult times, it is essential that we rally behind her to insure her survival as a Jewish state. Insuring the survival of the Jewish State is among the greatest responsibilities our generation has as a Jewish people and we owe it to untold numbers of generations who came before: who never had the opportunity to hear Hebrew spoken freely on a street, to harvest produce from the promised land, to pray at the Western Wall and most importantly to know that there was a place to which they could always go and always be welcomed� to do all that we can for Israel�s survival.

But, as we believe about our own lives as evidenced by our gathering here tonight: physical survival, physical existence, is not enough.

There is another foundational principle that Israel has based itself on over the years and even in the aftermath of yesterday�s tragedy, even as Israel responds as is appropriate to the absolutely unjustifiable and evil acts of suicide bombing, even as it seeks to protect the lives of its citizens from terrorism, this founding principle needs to be remembered, honored and lived. Israel claimed it would always be a light unto the nations, not as a claim of moral superiority but as a solid commitment to justice, fairness and morality in its actions. This belief guided many of Israel�s policies through its formative years in the way it waged war when necessary and reacted to enemies and the way it treated all of its citizens in times of quiet

Today, even as Israel seeks to insure its physical survival,� that foundational reality must be revived. Israel�s soul must be saved as well. And like our souls, Israel�s soul will not be saved through prayer or observance of the mitzvot alone, it will be saved by the willingness to examine the moral and ethical issues which can no longer be ignored. It will be saved by listening to and learning from the voices of conscience of those who truly love her who envision a better time.

Absolutely, physical survival must come first but survival must have a purpose and that purpose comes when the vision of a just society, one who treats its own people and its neighbors with justice and respect is achieved.��

We are absolutely right in rejecting those who deny Israel�s legitimacy, who blame only Israel for the conflict in the regions and who believe that the world would be better served without a Jewish state. You know that there are those even among our Jewish community who say that. Some have even taken their cause to the streets outside of Beth Israel. We must reject that opinion loudly and clearly with our voices, with travel to Israel, with support of our brothers and sisters.�

But� we must have a conscience� and we must have visions of a better time for all and therefore, even more so in light of tragedies like the Haifa bombing, we must hope for, encourage and advocate an approach which seeks Israel�s economic, demographic and, just as importantly, its moral and spiritual future by finding a way to withdraw from the territories as soon as is possible, ending the occupation and� living alongside a viable Palestinian state with leaders who accept the existence and security of the Jewish state of Israel.

The solution to the conflict is not Israel�s responsibility alone but both sides must do everything possible to create the atmosphere by which this can happen. This may be a dream. It may seem impossible to achieve but there is no other way. And, if it seems like a dream, as Theodore Herzl said: Im tirtsu ayn zo agada, If you will it, it is not a dream.

And that takes us back to the synagogue. For this ultimately� is a place of dreams. There is no place as essential as this place to the continuation not only of our people but of the ideas and the principles that hold us together.

How dare anyone imply that we outgrow the need for a belief in God? How can anyone imply that as people grow older their lives become more secure, the answers more clear, the sense of vulnerability to the forces of the world lessened, the desire to find something of meaning in our existence less important? As our people grow and as we grow, we need God even more.

Of course, we are entitled to our moments or years of cynicism against organized religion. I know the harm organized religion can do as well as you do, better probably. But, I refuse to allow those who use organized religion and belief in God to the detriment of the world, to take away from me and from our community the vision that such belief can give.

Of course, we are entitled to despair of a belief in God when our world is shattered by unfairness but it might be precisely at those times that we most need to believe in something beyond ourselves which cares and comforts.

Of course, we�re all intelligent, academic individuals but we need� to believe in a world of purpose and order, of human beings precariously balanced between promise and limitation, of times in our lives when we need to be comforted and when we need to be challenged. Call it God or call it by some other name. That is what defines us as human beings and it is a big part of what must define us as Jews.

And that is why this building, this institution, is the one you keep coming back to after all the dreams and all the best laid plans. It is the place you come back to in order to start over again. Not only on Yom Kippur but, God forbid, after a death, or lihavdeel, when a child is born or when you start out a married life. In the face of the highs and lows of life, you come here, for it is here where you find the reality that we choose to call God. And that is what started it all when, inspired by thoughts of a world which had a purpose, of a world which allowed for greater and finer vision, of a world in which people learned and taught texts and followed traditions which elevated their lives to a place of deeper meaning, Abraham took a hammer and smashed an idol or two and began the Jewish people.

So, I would say to those who would argue that we haven�t kept up with the times: I agree. We have to do some work on our myths to keep them current. We need to reinvigorate Judaism for the 21st century. But when we turn back to Abraham, let us seek to emulate his goals not his methods. When we want to challenge our myths, let us use a gentle chisel, not a hammer because the core must remain.

It is, after all, that core: those accents, melodies and rhythm that we have fallen in love with generation after generation and strive so hard to pass along to our children and that bring us back to this place to express our dreams and best laid plans each and every year.

Robert Dobrusin, Rabbi
Copyright © 2003, Robert Dobrusin.
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This message was originally posted on October 15, 2003.

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