Article in LAS CRUCES BULLETIN (our local weekly) ... 10/21/2016
Be careful because you cannot take back hurtful words
A Jewish folktale, set in 19th century Eastern Europe, tells of a man who went through a small community slandering the local rabbi. One day, feeling suddenly remorseful, he begged the rabbi for forgiveness and offered to undergo any form of penance to make amends.
The rabbi told him to take a feather pillow from his home, cut it open, scatter the feathers to the wind. The man did as he was told and returned to the rabbi.
He asked, “Am I now forgiven?”
“Almost,” came the rabbi’s response. “You just have to perform one last task: Go and gather all the feathers.”
“But that’s impossible,” the man protested, “for the wind has already scattered them.”
“Precisely,” the rabbi answered.
Rabbi Joseph Telushkin cited this classic story in his book “Words That Hurt, Words That Heal.” More than 20 years ago, Telushkin took his campaign to encourage appropriate speech to the greater community.
There was good reason for such a campaign then and now.
Technology spreads our words quickly. It is next to impossible to “go gather all the feathers,” that is, to take back any misleading or inaccurate statements we may have made.
I have heard people say recently, “Well, those were only words, not actions, so it doesn’t matter.”
Rabbi Telushkin’s point in writing a book about speech was that words DO matter.
Jews around the world observed the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, on the evenings of Oct. 11 and 12.
On that day, Jews fasted and recited prayers of confession during worship. In those meditations on misguided human action, statements about speech are pervasive. One prayer admits that we, as members of humanity, cause harm through our words, make insincere promises, lie, engage in offensive speech, engage in gossip (share true information when we don’t need to) and spread rumors (which are often unconfirmed).
Reciting those words on Yom Kippur this year reminded me of Rabbi Telushkin’s efforts to take our “ethics of speech” in a more positive direction.
In 1995, he pushed for a national “Speak No Evil” day that was embodied in a United States Senate Resolution. That declaration called on Americans to eliminate all hurtful and unfair talk for 24 hours for one day a year; to transmit negative information only when necessary; to monitor and regulate how they speak to others; to strive to keep anger under control; to argue fairly, and not allow disputes to degenerate into namecalling or other forms of verbal abuse; and to speak about others with the same kindness and fairness that they wish others to exercise when speaking about them. In his book on speech, Rabbi Telushkin added that we should try to focus conversations about people on their good qualities, not on their flaws, and that we should try to give criticism in private, using reassuring and non-threatening words. He cited the important teaching that embarrassing another person in public iscruel and inadvisable.
Do these goals for what we say (and do) sound impossible to achieve?
Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to keep our words positive and constructive.
If we are careful with what we say, we will, unlike the man in the story, have no need to gather “scattered feathers” or to lament our inability to take back words we wished we hadn’t shared.
Rabbi Larry Karol has been with Temple Beth-El in Las Cruces since 2011.
Such was one response, at my recent 50th high school reunion, to my summary of my rabbinic career.
Yes, I did.
More correctly, we did.
I have been ruminating a bit on the comment.
Likely, I have been perseverating on those words.
I have learned (it was from a Star Trek: The Next Generation episode, among other sources) that pulling on even one thread on your life’s tapestry, as it has come to be, can cause everything to unravel.
We make choices based on the opportunities set before us.
We work hard to make the best of those decisions, to create joyous moments, to foster friendships, and to extend our networks of personal connections.
Sometimes the path veers in a different direction because of circumstances beyond our control.
And so, we search for a new venue in which to serve and grow, and, if we are fortunate, we find one and continue our work.
Yes, we moved around a lot.
We met different types of people.
We touched the lives of community members of all ages in many places.
We met individuals who changed our lives in ways we did not expect.
We have lived near rivers, oceans, and deserts.
We have had a place to call home.
And many ties persist to people we have known all along the way.
Yes, we moved around a lot.
And we hope that moving, as this journey continues, even if we stay in one geographical location,
Will bring us new wisdom, health, hope and contentment.
Sermon and Song for Shabbat Shuvah/Sabbath of Return at The Temple, Congregation B’nai Jehudah on September 30, 2022
Text and Video
Many thanks to Rabbi Stephanie Kramer for this special opportunity to speak at my home congregation, and to Michelle Cox, TTCBJ music director, for adding her exquisite and special touches on keyboard to the song.
I don’t know about you, but in our home, I hear the word “perseverate” a
lot. My wife Rhonda tells me not to perseverate at least once a week, but probably more often than that. Unfortunately, I am really good at it.
So, for those of you whose inquiring minds want to know, perseverate means “to repeat or prolong an action, thought, or utterance after the stimulus that prompted it has ceased long ago.”
I believe that perseverating is human. It can, however, be a burden. Sometimes we do hold on way too long to our feelings and thoughts that resulted from something someone said or did to us, and we just can’t seem to let go.
If I had been asked to contribute to Mishkan Hanefesh, the new High Holy Day prayerbook of the Reform movement, the confessional prayers would have had this entry:
“We ask forgiveness for the ways we have wronged you, Eternal God, by perseverating over small or large matters in our lives, and for the harm we have caused by not healing ourselves through granting forgiveness to others.”
Every morning, I receive a daily email entitled “Inspiring Quotes,” which shares statements from a wide variety of sources. Paul Lewis Boese, who owned a Dairy Queen franchise in Newton, Kansas for many years, began writing down, some 60 years ago, his own pearls of wisdom in a special notebook he always kept nearby. He was a regular contributor to Quote Magazine in the 1960s. This insightful thought was one of his offerings from 1967: “Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.” This explanation accompanied the quote in the email message: “When we are hurt, forgiving the people at fault can be incredibly difficult; we’re wired to keep defenses up to protect ourselves from more pain. But anger, resentment, and hatred are damaging emotions to hold onto, and a source of pain in themselves. Forgiving someone doesn’t have to mean reconciliation - it doesn’t change or condone the wrongs that were done - but it does help us let go of that negativity to make room to heal and move on. It ‘enlarges the future,’ as Paul Boese wrote in 1967. He reminds us that forgiveness isn’t an eraser; it’s a blank page, and a chance to write a happier future.”
When we recite the prayers of the High Holy Days, they are mostly stated in the plural. They say “We,” not “I.” We do need to begin the path to change within ourselves, but we are responsible as members of a community to help the people around us to be brave enough to enlarge their future, so that we will all find benefit, together.
In the summer of 2008, I was studying one of the Torah readings that described the pillar of cloud and the pillar of fire that accompanied the Israelites along their journeys in the wilderness on the way to the Promised Land. When the pillar would lift, the people would move forward, and when it came down to rest, the people stayed in one place. I began to wonder if we, in our own lives, have a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night that guides us. And, if we do, what form does it take?
Around that time in 2008, I had attended a session at a convention at which we discussed the themes of the High Holy Days: forgiveness, repentance, atonement, and change. We spoke about how we need to let go of the past in order to move forward, just as the Israelites forged ahead when the pillar of cloud and fire gave them the appropriate signal.
I believe that we too, have signals at our disposal, especially at this time of year, that can morally and spiritually set us on our way. The teachings of our tradition and the prayers of the High Holy Days can inspire us to offer mutual support to one another, to forgive, and to change.
Rhonda once found this quote on a Lipton tea bag: “Courage is the power to let go of the familiar.” It is so easy not to change, and we do, all too often, hold on to the past in ways that probably don’t serve our souls or our character very well. Granting forgiveness and addressing how we can grow as a result might be challenging, and even difficult, but those pursuits can create renewed space in our souls. It takes courage to answer the call to leave the familiar surroundings of our comfort zone, the place where some interpersonal conflicts may remain unresolved. It is that movement, that leaving, that can open up for us the possibility to truly enlarge our future.
From the intersection of these themes, the pillar of cloud and fire, and the signs we receive during the High Holy Days to step forward into positive personal growth, a song emerged for me during that summer of 2008. The long title is “Why do we hold on to what we should leave behind?” I wrote the lyrics in the form of a conversation with God, and also as a prayer. For me, these words sent a strong message not to perseverate. For all of us, they can remind us to find in the wisdom of our prayers and our heritage the pillars of confidence we need to move forward, both individually and as a community.
My first cousin Eileen Dunnell, who lived in Overland Park for the last 15 years, died in late August at the age of 94. Rhonda and I feel fortunate to have been able to visit with Eileen in person several times since our move to town last year and to speak with her on the phone from time to time. One of the family stories she told us teaches a crucial lesson about forgiveness which is fitting for this Shabbat Shuvah, this Sabbath of Return. My brother, Rabbi Steve Karol, included this anecdote in his book, EMBRACING THE SUPERNATURAL IN JUDAISM. Here is the story in Eileen’s words as told to me and to my brother:
“Sometime in the early 1960’s (note: it was 1961), your mother and I had a falling-out and did not speak for several months. I cannot remember the exact reason, but I think it might have been when Temple Beth El did not renew the rabbi’s contract, and your parents left Beth El and joined B’nai Jehudah. My family stayed at Beth El. After a while, I had a very vivid dream in which our grandmother Pearl, who had died in 1952, came to me and said that this ill will was very disturbing to her. The next day, I called your mother, and we resumed our close connection.”
I present this song “Why Do We Hold On” as a beacon for the year to come. Dreams that can lead to reconciliation, treasured teachings, and wise insights from many sources can serve as pillars of strength as we step forward on our own, and as we move ahead into this new year, as one community, side-by-side, always together.
Why do we hold on? (L. Karol)
Based on Psalm 25, High Holy Day Prayers and Parashat B’ha-alot’cha
I can see where You’re going, will You let me follow?
There hasn’t been a time when You’ve led me astray
Can I trust how You tell me not dwell upon the past
To look ahead without regret to make tomorrow a better day
to make tomorrow a better day
CHORUS:
Why do we hold on to what we should leave behind?
Why do we choose our pain
over peace that we could find?
Forgiveness can lift a broken soul
and ease a worried mind
Why do we hold on, hold on,
why do we hold on to what we should leave behind?
There are signs all around us telling us to stay
To rest inside the goodness that guides us on our way
There’s a fire that is burning, giving light when darkness falls
