This morning we heard the chanting of our tradition’s Rosh Hashanah Torah reading, the Akeda, the binding of Isaac. I say, “our tradition’s” because other movements will be chanting the chapter before, Genesis 21, the story of the birth of Isaac. Genesis 22, which features the story of Abraham’s near sacrifice of his son, was traditionally read on the second day of Rosh Hashanah. When our movement, as well as some others, did away with the second day service, we had a choice: to read only Genesis 21, and lose the reading of Genesis 22, or keep what we felt was the more important Torah reading. The Reform Movement chose the latter so that we would not lose the opportunity to hear one of the most powerful and troubling events in our Torah: the test of faith, and near human sacrifice. To many of us, the story of the binding of Isaac is a story about the power of faith in God, trusting that God will provide us with the proper way, and that if we provide undeterred faith in God’s words, we will not only prove our loyalty, but no harm will come to us or our family. It is no wonder why, at the New Year, this was chosen as the reading. In reader the Akeda, we are reminded to begin the New Year with such unrelenting faith.
There are, however, other incredibly powerful lessons to take from this story. For example, to Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, the Akeda, the binding of Isaac, took on a whole new meaning that ultimately led to an incredible foundation not only for Reform Judaism but to Jews across movements. For most of you, Rabbi Heschel should be familiar because of his connection to the Civil Rights Movement. He was famously photographed, on more than one occasion, marching side by side next to the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. in Selma. He is also, however, the author of many books on Jewish mysticism and ethics. Born in Warsaw and educated at the University of Berlin, Heschel became the head of adult Jewish education in Germany until his deportation by the Nazis. In 1940, when Heschel came to the United States, he taught at our Reform Seminary, Hebrew Union College, and then at the Conservative Seminary in New York, the Jewish Theological Seminary. Among other things, Heschel emphasized the idea of tikkun olam, the restoration of the world, based upon the roots of the Hasidic dynasty. Heschel believed that this charge, tikkun olam, “obligated each Jew to participate in this world’s affairs through what he labeled, in an inspired phrase paraphrasing Kierkegaard, a ‘leap of action.’”
In contrast to other Jewish thinkers at the time, Heschel felt that Judaism should get involved in politics, rather than stay away from it, and that the political arena was the perfect place to fulfill this duty. This, undoubtedly, led Heschel to participate in civil rights activism, protests against the Vietnam War, against Nuclear proliferation, and in awareness of the Holocaust and the safety of the State of Israel. It was in the face of possible nuclear war that Heschel, like so many during his time, started to wonder if humanity was “up to the task” to repair the world, or if it faced total annihilation. During this time, Heschel wrote in his autobiography a recollection of the story of the Akeda, of the binding of Isaac:
Isaac was on his way his way to Mount Moriah with his father; then he lay on the alter bound, waiting to be sacrificed. My heart began to beat even faster; it actually sobbed in pity for Isaac. Behold, Abraham now lifted the knife. And now my heart froze within me with fright. Suddenly the voice of the angel was heard: “Abraham, lay not thy hand upon the lad, for now I know that thou fearest God.” And here I, crying, broke out in tears. “Why are you crying?” asked the rabbi. “You know that Isaac was not killed.”
And I said to him, still weeping, “But Rabbi, supposing the angel had come a second too late?” The rabbi comforted me and calmed me, saying that an angel cannot come late.”
A nice moment, but Heschel concluded this story in his autobiography with the realization that: “An angel cannot be late, but man, made of flesh and blood, may be.”
Angels in the classic understanding are extensions of God’s wishes; beings that can only obey the word of God, and when an angel comes, it comes when God says so, and thus cannot be late. But as Heschel noted, humanity—you and me—when it comes to doing the right thing—saving each other from poverty, violence, hunger, discrimination, intimidation—too often we come late. Too often we don’t hear what Heschel called the “call to action.” As Rabbi David Ellenson writes, “For Heschel, responsibility is not some abstract commitment. It is an urgent and relentless call, and if it remains unheeded, the implications are ominous indeed.”
Now, one could hardly call Abraham Joshua Heschel a Reform Jew. In ritual and in practice, he associated with the Conservative and Orthodox movements, despite having been a professor at our seminary. But many of his thoughts and actions were parallel with the core of Reform Judaism, the call to action of social justice. This was something that set him apart from his colleagues in the other movements, but brought him ever closer to ours. When Heschel was marching with Dr. Martin Luther King for civil rights, Reform Jewish leaders marched as well, and many were arrested with King in St. Augustine, Florida. And not long after, the 1964 Civil Rights Act and the 1965 Voting Rights Act were drafted in our buildings, in the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism in Washington, DC. When Heschel was protesting against the Vietnam War, the very first national organizations to come out publicly against the war were the Union for Reform Judaism, then called the UAHC, and the Central Conference of American Rabbis.
The Reform Movement took on Heschel’s words about the urgency of the call, making sure that Reform Jews were never late. It’s a commitment that continues and has only gotten stronger. In 2015, I attended the Union for Reform Judaism’s Biennial conference in Orlando, Florida and sat in a room where then Vice-President Joe Biden had come to speak to us. Among the many wonderful things he said that evening, the following is most relevant tonight. Addressing the 5,000 Reform Jewish leaders in the building, he said:
“You don’t forget. That’s what I love about you; you do not forget. Back in 2012, when I said on Meet the Press that I supported marriage equality, you were the only group other than the LGBT community that uniformly reached out and supported me.”
The former Vice-President was right: we don’t forget. We don’t forget how it felt for our parents and grandparents to be made to feel like “the other.” We don’t forget that our people experienced genocide, and that laws were written in countries in order to limit our accessibility and humanity. We don’t forget that we were immigrants, we were strangers, we were slaves. That we have been hunted, dehumanized. We don’t forget that for us, when the knife came down on the altar, humanity was late too many times. Even our Bible reminds us of our days oppression and, as Rabbi Jill Jacobs tell us, “sets a precedent that history imposes obligations.”
Thus, the Reform Movement vowed to never be late for others who find themselves in our position. It is an obligation based upon our history. I want us to really hear Heschel’s words, that “angels can’t be late, but man, made of flesh and blood, may be.” This is the why behind what we do as a movement.
Does this mean that you, individually, have to agree with everything the URJ, CCAR, or the RAC publishes? Of course not. No one in our congregations is bound by these views. Everyone knows the old joke of two Jews, three opinions. The diversity in our thoughts are our strength. Dating back to the Mishnah and Talmud, it’s discussion— respectful discourse—that leads to our decisions as a people. But, the Religious Action Center calls the work we do, quite rightly, the act of “fulfilling our prophetic mandate. Reform Judaism stands for certain principles, and those who join our congregations take pride in our long history of ‘speaking truth to power.’” Our prophetic mandate.
As Heschel explains, the prophets provide “a primary model for authentic spirituality.” In our sacred texts, it is the prophets who always defended the poor and powerless, and they, above all, became the model for our work. The prophets were never silent in the face of injustice. Quite the opposite, they screamed from street corners and spoke into the ears of kings. It was Isaiah who said, “All who are thirsty, Come for water, Even if you have no money; Come, buy food and eat: Buy food without money, Wine and milk without cost.”
It was Amos who said, “let justice well up like water, Righteousness like an unfailing stream.”
It was Ezekiel who declared, “if a person is righteous and does what is just and right… if he has not wronged anyone… if he has abstained from wrongdoing and executed true justice between humanity…such a person will live.”
And one can hardly forget Moses’ charge to us, “Justice, justice shall you seek.” Moses says the word “justice” twice to make sure we heard it right. Justice is what we pursue.
Heschel, like the leaders of the Reform Movement, taught that Jews should involve themselves in the needs of the greater community, doing justice work as volunteers and organizers, to embody the words of our holy text. Therefore, you will see that Jews are disproportionately represented in secular organizations and movements all over the world. So the question raised by many, including Rabbi Jill Jacobs, is if we are already so well represented in those organizations, why should Jews do justice work through synagogues and Temples as well? Rabbi Jacobs acknowledges that “perhaps Jewish institutions should be places of refuge, where members can pray, learn, explore culture, and build community without engaging with the troubles of the world.” That’s a fair statement, but Rabbi Jacobs goes on to tell us that “doing justice work through our synagogues, schools, and communal organizations has the potential to be more effective and meaningful than work done by individual Jews in secular contexts.” In her book, Where Justice Dwells, Rabbi Jacobs gives five ways as to why we, as members of Temple Israel, members of a synagogue, should engage in the justice work modeled by our leaders and Heschel.
First, “engaging our institutions in justice work creates a space in which we can live full and integrated Jewish lives. Our prayers sustain and inspire our actions, and our actions take prayers and texts off the page into real life.”
Second, “justice work builds community. Through engaging in a collective project that draws on individuals’ passions and talents, community members become more deeply involved in one another’s lives. They celebrate victories-both communal and personal-together, and mourn personal and collective losses as one.”
Third, “religious institutions have power. When private individuals or community groups speak, public officials sometimes pay attention but often do not. Few public officials, however, will outright ignore prominent religious institutions or coalitions of congregations.”
Fourth, “through our institutions, we show up publicly as Jews…when an identifiably Jewish institution takes on an issue, it is clear that this action is a Jewish response. Such institutional action helps to build relationships with non-Jewish partners, to raise the profile of the Jewish community as one dedicated to social justice, and to define issues important to our communities as ‘Jewish issues.’”
And fifth, “through being public Jews, we can bring Jewish wisdom into the public discourse. The centuries of Jewish discussion about interpersonal relations, the creation of a just society, and the responsibilities of the individual and the community to one another include significant wisdom about creating a better world. As Jews, we can contribute this wisdom to the public discourse, while also learning from the best of the wisdom of other religions and of secular thinkers.”
In other words, we have work to do. Important work. Rosh Hashanah is the beginning of a new year, and you have a new rabbi. Your synagogue leadership has new dreams and new goals. And wouldn’t you know it, we even have some new members. But the views presented today on social justice by your new rabbi are not new, they’re not unique, and they’re not radical. In fact, as Rabbi Jacobs so eloquently puts it, “The connections between Judaism and justice are not vague or ill-defined. Rather, the Jewish tradition includes specific historical, halakhic, messianic, and utilitarian imperatives to contribute to building a more equitable world.” My views—our views—follow the teachings of some of the most prominent modern teachers of Judaism through all movement’s, they echo the words from thousands of years ago by the prophets in our Tanakh, and they continue the discussions between the ancient and medieval rabbis.
It is my hope, then, that this year, when you read the news, local or national, and see injustice, see suffering, see disaster in our world, that you come knock on my door to ask my what we as a congregation can do about it. I want you, as you take in the world around you, to remember what Heschel believed—that the pursuit of justice is our urgent and relentless call, and that if it remains unheeded, the implications are ominous; that “An angel cannot be late, but man, made of flesh and blood, may be.” So, as we begin this New Year, 5778, let’s get to work, and let’s show up on time.