Yom Kippur - Kol Nidrei - 2017 - download printable PDF.
So here’s a story for you. In around the year 1020, the then king of England, Denmark and Norway, Canute, planted his throne at the seashore, sat down on it and commanded the waves and tides not to wet his feet. Resolutely and with all majesty and dignity, he demanded the waters to obey his command, respect his regal position and submit to his sovereignty. As one might expect, his feet got wet.
Now there are two glosses on this story. In the elder, which dates from about 1200, Canute stood there in the water, turned to his courtiers and said, “Let all men know how empty and worthless is the power of kings, for there is none worthy of the name King, but He whom heaven, earth and sea obey by eternal laws”. Canute, in this interpretation, was recognizing, emphasising and modestly displaying his powerlessness compared to the forces of nature.
In the more modern, 20th century interpretation of the story, Canute is portrayed as a presumptuous, self-important dictator surprised by his failure to calm the waves. The story has thus become a metaphor for the limits of political power.
In one case it is a demonstration of modesty. In the other it is a punishment for hubris. Key to my point here today is the fact that in both interpretations his feet got wet.
Never before, in my experience, has the president and executive of this shul and this community seemed to sit so precariously on the shore facing waves and tides of apparently unsolvable problems, than I and we do at this time. Never before have seemingly implacable forces so threatened to overspill their confines and drown us. Never before has the ongoing viability of Beth Jacob seemed so at risk.
Like Canute and his courtiers, in my nightmares I feel myself and this congregation standing in front of implacable forces beyond our control, heedless of our demands to cease and retract, and relentless in their destructive advances.
Everywhere we see threats: demographic aging and shrinking of the community without refreshment by an equal or larger number of new, younger members; lack of funds; the building relentlessly deteriorating; lack of attendance at services; competition from other forms of expression of Judaism; competition from other forms of social service; competition from apathy and lethargy; and on and on it goes.
These waves we face may seem as implacable and as irresistible and inevitable as those faced by Canute. But I think we have the chance to grab an outcome which Canute didn’t consider. We can do better.
Canute was content to get his feet wet to make a point or because he was too stupid to see reality. We have another choice. We cannot immediately reverse demographics. We cannot immediately stop the deterioration of the building. We cannot immediately conjure up two dozen new high-dues paying members. We cannot immediately produce dozens of tuition paying Talmud Torah students.
But we can decide how to react to the problems we face.
Will we continue as in the past? Will we try the same old, same old over and over again? Will we allow complacency, apathy and lethargy to guide us? Will we walk away from our traditions, from our people, from our souls; all the while claiming to be “good Jews” or simply not caring? Will we fail to realize that Beth Jacob is the one place where one can have one’s cake and eat it too?
I’ve sometimes said – and only in a half-joking way – that pessimism is a more practical world outlook than optimism because if a pessimist is disappointed in the way things turned out, it is because something good happened. If an optimist is disappointed in the way things turned out, it is because something bad happened.
Any person, optimist, pessimist or realist with eyes open must see many problematic issues. I’ve already talked about perilous finances. I’ve already referred to how the broad mass of membership votes with their feet not to attend services except once, twice or three times a year – and then only for short periods. It is impossible to miss how many of our members who do show up for Yizkor, for example, show up only for Yizkor.
But there’s more we have to see. We have to see members using cell-phones in the shul on Shabbat. We have to see members simply refusing to take token steps in order to acknowledge the validity and importance and relevance of our traditions. We have to see that the executive is, for the most part (and I especially include myself) made up of retreads, and members who are there because nobody challenged them for the position. We have to see quick we are to say “somebody must do something” and how reluctant many are to do anything.
We have to think carefully about why it is that as of the beginning of September, about 40% of the congregation had not exerted the effort to vote on whether or not women should be entitled to become president of the shul. Maybe, as is constitutionally the case, those 40% were against the idea and knew that a non-vote was a no vote. Or, maybe they just see the shul and congregation as irrelevant and unimportant. It is hard to say. What I can say is that as a result of a lot of effort that number has been significantly reduced this month. But we’re still not there. And much of the work was done by the Rabbi.
So I want to be as blunt as I possibly can: Whether Beth Jacob will survive is very much in issue. But the reason for Beth Jacob’s disappearance will not be purely demographics or purely finances or even a combination of those and other external factors – the waves and tides I referred to earlier.
The reason Beth Jacob will disappear, if it happens G-d forbid, will be because of our Canute-like failure to get out of the water. It will be because of our apathy, our neglect, our selfishness, our distraction.
And if that is correct, then Beth Jacob’s disappearance is not inevitable. We don’t have to be apathetic, negligent, selfish or distracted. We can become engaged, become active, become worthy of membership in a one hundred plus year old manifestation of an almost 3 thousand year old tradition. We can come to shul. We can donate more. We can put more effort into programming, adult education, and other events by helping with the organization and by attending. We can show we care by caring to show.
And, again to be as blunt as I can: when I say “we” I don’t mean we in a collective, “somebody else should do something” sense. I mean “we” as in “you”. I mean, each one of us needs to ask: Do I come to shul – whether I like it or not – as often as I could? Do I give the congregation anything, or as much as I could? Do I object to aspects of the way the congregation is run but refuse or neglect to do anything about it? Do I apply the “my way or the highway” school of selfishness to the congregation and the shul? Think very carefully about these questions and the obvious others.
Choosing to do nothing or less than you could may seem the appropriate choice for you but for heaven’s sake, for Beth Jacob’s sake, for the sake of a Jewish future in KW, don’t consider yourself a good member of this community until you give your all. Realize that by abstaining, you are doing nothing to arrest the apparently inevitable demise of this community. Search in yourself for the most dangerous part of the wave: apathy, indifference and selfishness.
I want you to note that I have said nothing about keeping kosher, believing in God or the prayers or similar matters. I’m not suggesting anybody has to become nouveau-frum. These issues lie in your conscience and, providing you behave appropriately in the building, are your concern alone. One of the glories of Beth Jacob is its ability to welcome people who have a very wide range of traditional and non-traditional behaviours at home. All that is required is commitment to the community.
So I am saying to you now, today, on this day where for at least once a year we stand up to be counted, that the time for decision is upon us. Each one of us must ask ourselves, “just how important is this congregation to me”? “What, if any, sacrifices will I make for it?”
Our parents – and here I am speaking explicitly of the parents of the generation to which I belong, those parents predating the boomers, called “the greatest generation” for a reason – they made huge sacrifices of the personal good for the greater good of the family, the nation, the world.
They built on, and cemented, the foundation of this congregation out of a spirit of obligation and community and tradition. And they left it all to a series of generations each of which has been more individual-centred, hedonistic and disengaged than the last, as each became wealthier, healthier, better educated and more secure than the last. You can see it in the lack of attendance. You can see it in the demands that the shul bend religiously to the will of members not willing to play by the most liberal interpretation of the tradition possible. You can see it in the use of cell phones in the building on Shabbat, and not only by children though even they should have been taught better. You can see it in the failure to vote unless pushed on the issue of permitting women to serve as president. You can see it in the demands that things get done – provided they are done by others. You can see it in late payments or non-payment of dues. You can see it in choosing anything over Talmud Torah.
And the tragedy is that we’re so fixed in our attitudes, so internally oriented, so fixated on liberty and self-fulfilment and self-expression that many of us don’t even see our own responsibility for the current situation and ascribe it to immutable forces beyond our control. Everybody was prepared to nod when I talk about external waves over which we have no control. Things get more uncomfortable when I argue that, instead, everything seems to be pointing to an impending demise through apathy, neglect and selfishness.
Well, as the poet once said, “it ain’t necessarily so”. And there are two reasons it ain’t necessarily so. First and most importantly, there are shining examples within this community of people ready, willing and able to get their hands dirty doing what needs to be done. That this place has survived to this point is largely due to their efforts. You know who you are – you pillars of support – we thank you and beg you not to give up.
The second reason why it “ain’t necessarily so” is that we still have more members than the small group of very active ones. We have enough people in what might be called the silent majority to generate the energy, bodies and money we need to continue as a community. Maybe we’ll have to change what the community looks like. Maybe we’ll not have a building, or we’ll have a different building or a smaller portion of this building. Maybe our relationship with the congregation’s Rabbi will be quite different from what we’ve enjoyed in the past. Whatever. The fact is that if you – the silent majority – get on board and if you – those who are already active – row the boat a bit more, we can float above the flood; we can not defeat, but we can defy, the waves.
Canute was a putz with wet feet. Are we going to join him? Are we going to sink or are we going to swim? Only you can decide.
I hope Beth Jacob survives for many years. This city needs a Jewish institution. Jews need a Jewish focus. We all need something to belong to. We need tradition. We need to express tradition to the extent we can and be challenged to go that next step further. We can do it. We can survive. We can grow. Herzl said it best: If you will it, it is not a dream. And as Kennedy might have said had he been born to different parents: Ask not what your shul can do for you, ask what you can do for your shul.
I’m asking you, tonight, to pledge a special donation to Beth Jacob. Beth Jacob has always needed money – admittedly now more than ever. But at this time, in this year, Beth Jacob also needs your activity, your commitment, your support. Beth Jacob needs you to show your intent by giving generously. Do not count on your neighbour. You are now responsible for the state of Beth Jacob.
The bottom line is this, to paraphrase a tradition: the future success of Beth Jacob does not lie over the skies that you should ask who can fly there to bring it to me; the future success of Beth Jacob does not lie over the mountains that you should say who can climb there to fetch it to me; the future success of Beth Jacob does not lie in quantum physics that you should say who can explain it to me. The future success of Beth Jacob is in your heart and in your mind. If you will it, it is not a dream.
I truly hope that this will be a year of health, happiness, economic and political stability, a year of spiritual growth and a year in which we begin the process of floating above, instead of giving into, our troubles. Maybe, I dare to hope, we won’t just float, we won’t even swim, maybe we’ll surf on, on upwards and ever upwards.
L’shana tova u’metuka v’hatima tova.
