This story was well
illustrated by Nik Wallenda during his recent walk high across the Grand Canyon
on a tightrope. Over the course of his 22 minute
highwire trek, he used his faith to provide himself with focus, giving thanks
for each step that he took along the way. His successful and daring feat was televised
worldwide. I am sure that, even now, over two months later, people still marvel
at his amazing abilities to maintain his concentration and his balance.
A famous mentor in one of the most widely-watched movies of all time
affirmed for his new student, named Luke, the importance of concentration and
dedication: “Ready are you? What know you of ready? For eight hundred years
have I trained Jedi….A Jedi must have the deepest commitment, the most serious
mind. This one a long time have I watched. All his life has he looked away...
to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was. Hmm? What he was
doing. Hmph. Adventure. (Heh.) Excitement. (Heh.) A Jedi craves not these
things.”
I
imagine that we don’t have any aerialists in our congregation, although I know
of members with pilot licenses and there may be some former gymnasts among
us. I am 100% certain that we have
no real Jedi Knights.
And still, there are times in our lives when we feel that we are walking
on a tightrope, high above the ground, or even facing a dialoblical adversary,
with only our self-confidence, creativity, ingenuity and concentration keeping
us from falling or failing.
When we face tests and
trials in our lives, we don’t choose to undergo those experiences for
publicity. Such challenges are usually
unplanned, especially in terms of their timing. When Rhonda and I traveled to St. Louis this summer to
help her mother settle into new surroundings, we had the opportunity to speak
to other people whose parents had made the same move. We discovered that whether from across town or from a
great distance, an adult child wants to know that his or her parent is safe and
receiving excellent care every moment of the day.
And some of us have likely been the parent picking up a child at school
who has been hurt or has suddenly become ill. The parental response in that moment is one of focus and
commitment to provide a safety net of protection and comfort by dropping
everything and being present.
We had that experience once when our son Adam was in seventh grade. I was called to leave work to join him
in the school nurse’s office until his severe asthma attack subsided. It was scary for him and for me –
and for his mom who wasn’t there.
For any parent who has been there for his or her child in that way, there
is a great likelihood that, one day, that child will be doing the same for you,
turning aside from his or her own tasks to be of help.
The image of a lone individual
walking on a tightrope represents only one part of the story of our lives. Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav offered yet another
interpretation of the journeys we take with this well-known saying: KOL HAOLAM
KULO GESHER TZAR M’OD – The entire world is a narrow bridge; V’HA-IKAR LO
L’FACHEID K’LAL – the most important and underlying principle of our lives is
not to be afraid.”
Sometimes we aren’t only like tightrope artists working alone. We are walking across a narrow
bridge with other family members, or friends, or community members.
I have been thinking about some of the journeys
and marches in which I have participated this year. Walking with the local NAACP chapter on a Sunday
in January connected everyone present with the ideals and dreams of Dr. Martin
Luther King, Jr. I offered this
impromptu prayer to begin that march: “Eternal God,
Creator and Sustainer of us all, we thank you for this opportunity to come
together. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, ‘Darkness cannot drive out
darkness- only light can do that. Hatred cannot drive out hatred- only love can
do that.’ May the steps we take today bring light and love to our community.”
I have met with people over the last year
facing foreclosure of their home, deportation, serious illness, loss of a job
or a living wage, and too many types of discrimination. At the National Leadership Training of
the PICO Community Organizing Network,
some of my fellow participants spoke about unending gang violence in
their communities. A Muslim woman
there told me about instances when she and her family faced stereotyping and
profiling.
When a difficult situation can’t be resolved, we
feel as if we are walking on a tightrope with nothing below to catch us. It is only when other
people are present to show us concern that we feel that we are crossing a
narrow bridge and we are not alone.
In
recent months, we have heard about people across the world whose narrow bridge
seems to lead nowhere, even though they are members of a community. There are
Coptic Christians in Egypt who are the victims of violence at the hand of some
fellow Muslim citizens. There are
members of Christian communities in Israel whose churches have been attacked by
the TAG M’CHIR –Price Tag – group that begrudges their presence in the Jewish
State. There are people in
Syria who have no security in the midst of that raging conflict. There are Jews
all over the world facing threats to their well-being due to prejudice and
hatred that has emerged from religious beliefs, cultural misconceptions and
extremist political ideologies.
Living in an Israeli town that is within reach of rocket attacks from
across the border is a trial that we hope will end once there is peace.
To successfully overcome any of these
trials and challenges takes more than one person walking on a tightrope. It requires that people join
together to make a difficult crossing by first overcoming fear and then by
moving forward with confidence and resolve. The images of the tightrope and the bridge both relate
to AKEDAT YITZCHAK, the story of the binding of Isaac, our Torah reading for
this Rosh Hashanah morning.
This tale raises so many questions. Was Abraham alone in this trial? Was Isaac truly a partner in this test? How does this story apply to us,
given that we likely won’t hear a similar call from God? Or….will we?
Rabbi Bradley Artson’s new
book, Passing Life’s Tests, offers many levels of interpretation of this tale of
the binding of Isaac. When
speaking about God in the AKEDAH, Artson distinguished between the two words
used for God in the story.
The command to take Isaac came from ELOHIM. Rabbi Artson suggested that ELOHIM signifies God’s
attribute of strict justice.
ELOHIM may also point to the reality of random events that occur in our
lives. Death, suffering, and evil
are a part of life and creation.
They make us feel that the world is a place of chaos that only causes us
despair and elicits fear in our hearts and souls. How do we get beyond that fear? The name for God in the last part of the tale is
YUD-HAY-VAV-HAY, ADONAI, the One who is Eternal, who causes all of creation to
exist. This name represents God’s
mercy, compassion, support and comfort. It is the ANGEL of ADONAI that stops Abraham from
taking this test of faith to its inevitable end. At the conclusion of this passage, Abraham named the
site of this test ADONAI YIR’EH – the God of mercy will see, not ELOHIM YIR’EH
– the God of randomness and strict justice will see. This interpretation is echoed in the Talmud. The rabbis suggested that God prays. What is God’s prayer? “May it be that my attribute of strict
justice will be overcome and overtaken by my attribute of mercy.” As it is with God, so it
should be with us. Yet, there are
times when we, as individuals, as parents, employers, employees, or friends,
may put someone else to a test to see how he or she responds. Or we may be the one who is
tested. In fact, the tests and
trials never end. What is
important is how we act at that moment.
It is crucial for us to hear the voice not only of pure objectivity and
strict justice but also the still, small voice that leads us to mercy and even
forgiveness of others and of ourselves.
The story of the binding of
Isaac is a tale of faith and, ultimately,
of love. And while there is
almost no dialogue between father and son along this journey, there is so much
in between this story’s beginning and end.
In the context of this tale, Rabbi Bradley
Artson defined faith as the ability to view every encounter as a test of our
integrity. We have the power to
choose how we are going to act when we face an unexpected divergence from our
normal path. Faith
offers connection and trust, but faith doesn’t mean that we will get a better
deal because of our piety.
It means that we have to be up to the challenge at hand. Abraham was asked to do something
unimaginable to him or to any of us. Take away the content of his trial, the command to
sacrifice his son, and we can begin to relate to Abraham. We are often called to give up
something. The sacrifice may
be precious moments that we thought we could devote to family, or friends, or a
project we needed to complete, but we were, on the spur of the moment, called
to fulfill another purpose. Such an experience puts us in Abraham’s
position.
Rabbi Artson explained that
“life's tests come unannounced and unlabeled. Recognizing that a challenge or
a tragedy is also an opportunity for community, faith or personal growth is the
first step in passing the test.” Life’s interruptions, both major and minor, can
teach us new lessons about ourselves, our beliefs and our character. What may seem to take us off of our
planned itinerary may actually lead us to our true destination, including a
deeper understanding of ourselves.
This will only happen if we accept the duty of the moment. The command LECH-LECHA, go forth, can
mean “go for yourself” – take this path so that you will grow in a way you
never expected. It may be a
walk on a tightrope, all by yourself, or you may end up on a bridge with
traveling companions who will make you see yourself in a new light.
In this
case, Abraham’s traveling partners were Isaac and two servants. Some commentators claim that
Isaac could have refused to go with his father in the first place, or that he
could have stopped the test as soon as he was bound on the altar. Isaac may have been acting in
solidarity with Abraham, based in trust and in love. This passage marks the first time that the word AHAVAH,
love, is used in the Torah.
As soon as Abraham raised the knife to complete the test, a voice called
out his name: “ABRAHAM! ABRAHAM!” The first call was to the Abraham who acted solely out
of faith. The second call
was to the Abraham who had gained a new spirit, a fresh understanding of
himself. He realized that he could
go the distance in a difficult trial, but he also recognized that he didn’t
have to finish what he had started.
He remembered that there was a component of faith and trust that hadn’t
occurred to him until that crucial moment: LOVE - AHAVAH. The cry of the Angel of
Adonai reached the loving father, who put down the knife. And what new insight did God gain
from this test? Rabbi Artson
asserted that God learned not to test love. God pulled back from the demand that we offer exclusive
devotion to a higher cause by setting aside everything else. God recognizes
that we each do the best we can, balancing busy schedules, multiple
relationships and separate commitments. And it may be that the tests of our lives, the most
difficult situations we face, will deepen our character so that everyone around
us will benefit. At that point, we
will join our family and community, walking across the narrow bridge of life,
without fear.
So what
do we learn about Judaism and Jewish life from this tale? One of Rabbi Artson’s concluding
statements in PASSING LIFE’S TESTS was this: “Religion is true when it can
produce godliness among its practitioners, justice among its disciples, and a
deep sense of belonging and peace.” Producing godliness, justice,
belonging and peace requires us, at times, to set aside our plans to take on
tasks that will benefit our community and from which we will grow. And when we work for godliness,
justice, belonging and peace, our children will see and learn from us. When we strive for those ideals, are we
not doing it for the children of our world, wherever they may live, so that
they will have a secure future, just as Abraham hoped for his son Isaac? In Rabbi Artson’s words: “Our
children are our still, small voice. They summon us to put down our
plans, set aside our studies, attend, and live.” Seeing our future in the eyes and smiles of children can
give us hope, resolve, courage, focus and balance in the present and in the
days and years to come.
A local
church recently put this message on their congregational sign: “Prayer is the bridge between panic and
peace.” For Abraham and Isaac, it
was their bonds of faith and love that took them to their destination and
through their shared trial, from panic and uncertainty across a bridge to peace
and hope for the generations to come.
At
this time of year, we think of our own challenges, our tests, our trials, and
our triumphs. We consider where we
have been and where we have to go. We hear the sound of the shofar that calls us to
turn all that we have done into a foundation for the future that will lead to our
own personal improvement and to the betterment of our world.
In this New Year of
5774, may we continue to walk across the narrow bridge of life, together,
without fear, journeying towards the place where ADONAI YIREH: where God will
see and where we will see, as well, that we CAN make real the best that we can
be. So may we do and let us
say amen.
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