A Sermon In A Synagogue!

I actually posted this on Facebook. It’s more of a Facebook-type story since I really didn’t intend for this blog to be about me. On the other hand, it is part of a larger story about how people from very different backgrounds intersect at points in life that lead to some unexpected lessons. Besides, we’re absolutely consumed these days with the process – selling a house, buying a house, moving ourselves, our animals and our stuff of life thousands of miles away. It’s exhausting! There’s not time to write about, much less research the craft of storytelling as it relates to production. So enjoy this post and let me know if you like it.

For those not familiar with it, you will see that I use the characters, “G-d” for the name of The Divine. This is out of respect for my Jewish friends who have great respect for The Name, especially when used in such a transient medium as the internet. No offense is meant to Christians who go ahead and spell it out, but this message was meant for a Jewish congregation. I share it here in hopes that it might lead to greater appreciation and understanding.

The Jewish Identity – A Gift to the World

When Rabbi Winnick asked me to provide the message for this morning he said he wanted me to do more than just say thanks and goodbye to the community. He said, “Here are the Torah readings, go study them and tell us what you find.” Let me make a confession before this body and tell you that it’s not easy for this gentile to come up with a message for a Jewish congregation out of Leviticus 6-8 with its directives on how to prepare and offer sacrifices on the holy alter. There’s plenty there, but I don’t feel qualified to tell you how it can be interpreted.

Of course our second reading has to do with the celebration of Purim, where the Torah connects us to story of Esther by reminding the Children of Israel to never forget what Amelek did to them as they left Egypt. Since he and his forces were ruthless in their attack on Israel, future generations of the nation are instructed to “wipe Amelek’s name from the Earth.” That would eventually include the antagonist in the story of Purim, Haman. Again, a tough bit of scripture to launch a goodbye message.

But in a larger sense, I do believe both readings touch on a theme I had in mind for today. The first deals with a few of the mysterious instructions from G-d that define the Jewish nation. The second is connected to a seminal moment in Jewish history that centers on what happens when a single person recognizes and responds to the call of their true identity as a Jew.

For those of you who don’t know our story, I won’t bore you with details, but you need to know my wife and I are not Jewish, nor are we in the process of converting. We are gentile Christians, with no blood connection to Israel that we know of. In fact, what brought us to Little Rock was employment with a Christian ministry, and a few years ago we were both on staff with a growing church as I was beginning studies for the Anglican priesthood. We’re not your typical attendees to services at the synagogue, yet there we were for most of the past eight or nine years, davaning with the Jewish faithful on Saturday, and worshiping with the Christians on Sunday.

Do you want to know what drew us here? At first, it was about connecting to the roots of our Christian faith, which we take pretty seriously. We could do that in many ways, but nothing has been more meaningful or effective than actually attending Sabbath services. Of course that requires you have a congregation willing to put up with you. To our great joy, we found that at Agudath Achim.

Eventually, after extended exposure to you folks we came to find just about everything associated with Jewish life and culture to be flat out fun and fascinating. As a result, with nearly every chance we got to learn more and connect more we just dove in: From sitting in small group Torah studies, to helping out at the Jewish food festival, to playing Shabbat mahjong – well, Susan did, not me.

One thing we learned as we were drawn deeper into the Jewish community was that it probably seemed a lot stranger to us than to the people of this congregation.

You see, Judaism, almost by definition is very diverse. I mean really, is there any people group more diverse than the Jews? You have Jews from Europe, from Africa, from South America, from Asia, from everywhere. We’re talking blood relatives, not just people who believe the same thing. In fact, out of all this diversity of culture comes extraordinary diversity of thought and yet somehow it is all held together because of a fundamental belief that Judaism matters.

A friend in this congregation who was undergoing conversion once told me that in his preparation he would look for “the answer” to some question about Jewish belief. He eventually decided that if you’re looking for “the answer” in Judaism, you’re not going to find it. I agree. In fact, three words I never use together anymore are, “Most Jews believe…”

But that is part of what has made our experience with this congregation so wonderful. The chance to get to know people who see the world in so many ways, yet who can all work together to somehow heal this world – or in your terminology, participate in Tikkun Olam.

Another story: When we began to come to Sabbath services, Susan and I would corner Jeff Baskin during the Kiddush luncheon. We’d pepper him with questions about Judaism and make our own comparisons to Christianity.

One of the lessons from Jeff was in the classic Jewish form of a question: Who was more righteous, Noah or Abraham? The scripture says Noah was more righteous than anyone else alive at his time. On the other hand, Abraham is singled out to be the father of G-d’s Chosen People. The reason may be why he is considered the more righteous of the two in Jewish tradition. When it really mattered, Abraham was willing to argue with G-d on behalf of His people.

When Noah was told the world would be flooded and that he should build an ark to save himself and a host of other living creatures, he didn’t ask questions. He just got to work and let G-d do His thing. In his defense, he did warn the people of what was to come, but he made no effort to stop G-d from carrying out the great destruction.

In contrast to that, when G-d was about to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham respectfully argues with Him trying to cut a deal down to some acceptable number of righteous people that could warrant saving the cities. He was saying something like, “Now G-d, you are known to be fair and righteous and if you want people to keep believing that, surely you wouldn’t want to destroy this place if there were X number of good people in it.” I’ve come up with a saying for that: Chutzpah, thy name is Abraham.

We have a saying in Christianity that you’re never closer to the heart of G-d than when you forgive. Based on what I have learned from Judaism, I would go a step further and say, you’re never closer to the heart of G-d than when you forgive, and when you stand up on behalf of others who don’t deserve it, asking G-d to forgive them. The example Abraham provides is followed by other heroes in scripture, most notably Moses, who argues with G-d not to destroy the Children of Israel in the desert and says, “Take me instead.” In fact, at its most basic level, that’s the central message of Christianity, the offer of substitutionary atonement – but that’s another discussion for another day.

Here’s the point I want to make this morning: the greatest gift we have received from our Jewish friends is something I believe the world can’t do without… your Jewishness. What do I mean by that? At its finest, it’s an enthusiasm to walk in the truth as best you know and understand it, and a willingness to wrestle with G-d when you have an honest question. After all, it is part of your name – Israel, by one interpretation means wrestles with God, from the story where Jacob wrestled all night with the man of G-d and came out of the fight with greater understanding, a new name, and a permanent limp that helped him remember how he got that name.

But perhaps more importantly, the Jewish community, at its best, is a place that encourages people to wrestle with G-d, where people are patient with its members while they are in the middle of their own fight, and it’s a place that accepts those who have wrestled and come out limping in some way different than how everyone else walks.

As I noted earlier, the celebration of Purim is an example of what can happen when Jewish people live out their identity. It also points to what “might be” when they don’t. Take it from two people who have been blessed beyond measure in our association with you – it’s a very good thing when you live into your identity as Jewish people. The Torah says you need it for your survival, but we know that the world needs it too.