Clergy Sermons

Yom Kippur 5785 – Emerging from the Whale’s Belly

I felt a connection with the prophet Jonah in a way I never have before this year.  Jonah provides a window a window to my soul and experience in the past year – reminding me who I am and who I might be. As I teach about him, I think you too will find pieces of yourself.  Jonah is us.

Jonah tries to run away from reality.  We too, have sometimes wanted to close our eyes and escape.

Jonah finds himself in the belly of a whale – a dark, confining, confusing uncomfortable place.  We too have felt overwhelmed by the darkness of the world.

Jonah emerges into a world that didn’t make sense to him. Who has not felt assumptions turned on their head this year? 

 Jonah also has more power than he knows as he struggles with change.  We too may have more power than we know.

Let’s begin with the desire to run away. God says, “Kum – Get up! Lech -Go! to Ninevah. Jonah gets up and goes the other way – utterly disregarding God!  We don’t yet know why he is running away – but we understand the desire to escape.  The world feels bleak.  We too have had moments where we want to close our eyes and put our fingers in our ears. 

The story paints a picture of physical descent – mirroring Jonah’s psychological descent.  He goes down, down, down yarad, yarad, yarad – from Jaffa to the ship, from the ship to the bowels to a deep sleep – va’yei’radem - with the scene getting more and more narrow each time the word is repeated.  You can feel the walls closing in. I have felt that this year.

Jonah ends up in the belly of a big fish for 3 days. What must it have been like in the fish’s belly?  I imagine dark, eerie, constrained, smelly, unpleasant place.

This year we feel like Jonah in that dark place - abandoned by people we thought were friends, amidst staggering and unfathomable antisemitism. We are witnessing the celebration of evil.  At Stanford Mall this week, there were chants calling for Israel’s destruction and justifying the murder of Israelis. Where is the outrage at this blatant antisemitism?  All of this amidst intra-communal rift, polarization, hostages still held after a year, people displaced from their homes. It feels so dark.  On Rosh Hashanah, I spoke about sharing pain as a community.  Yet the darkness of these times cannot be written off so easily.  It feels non-stop and never-ending. We are exhausted, angry, anxious, unsteady.  It plays out in our own and others behaviors. We are in the belly of the whale.

It is easy to get stuck in this dark place. Yet we must leave it. We can’t stay in the whale’s belly.  There is too much to do. Let’s name our pain – it is the beginning of finding bits of comfort.  Let’s help to gently pull ourselves and others out of that darkness by compassion - being present and patient.

The belly of the whale might be seen differently.  It can also be seen as a place of transition where we reflect on who we are and what might be. There is a Midrash about Jonah that imagines the whale’s eyes being like windows of glass bringing light to Jonah and showing him crucial moments from our history. From those windows, Jonah looked out and saw the Reed Sea through which Israelites passed. He remembered that we emerged from a dark, narrow place of slavery to a new beginning. He saw the stone upon which Jerusalem was built and remembered what we accomplished and who we are. He saw the children of Korach, the rebel, leading songs at the Temple. These children were not defined by their father’s rebellion, but by their own choices. He saw what was and that allowed him to imagine what might be. 

Midrash teaches that history opens doors. The Midrash imagines Jonah’s encounter with history as giving perspective, wisdom and insight. We are Jonah and need to re-awaken to history.  We thought we could step out of the history of persistent antisemitism – that the State of Israel and realities of American Judaism brought us to a new place.  But they haven’t.  Israelis thought that Zionism would be the end of Jewish powerlessness and that the days of Jewish vulnerability to horrible evil would cease.  We learned that borders, army, sophisticated technology could not protect Israeli homes or lives. And for all that Israel is strong – as demonstrated by the past few weeks - hostages remain in Gaza, rocket attacks have not ceased, and uncertainty is palpable. Similarly, American Jews thought that history of insecurity as Jews was a piece of the past. We told ourselves, “We are safe here. America is different.  Yes - there have been some terrible acts of hate – but our secure Jewish community would remain so.” But we were wrong. Columnist Bret Stephens put it this way: “We were aware. But unless we had been directly affected by it, the antisemitism didn’t feel personal.  The calls were in the news, but not quite in our lives.”  Now it is real, undeniable and painfully present.

History teaches us to open our eyes to the past. Stephens writes: “We should no longer expect reciprocity from supposed allies who we stood with over the years.”  He reminds us that “antisemitism is a shape-shifting virus, which has persisted over centuries and across cultures and political systems because it is able to attach itself to the reigning convictions of the day. Zionism as colonialism that we are guilty of is the new norm. Our illusion that history has changed has been shattered.”  The antisemitism of our past is painfully real. It is at the highest levels of power and in places we find ourselves daily.  We see it in hateful graffiti at Manny’s, an Israeli owned restaurant in San Francisco, in protests not about policies – but about Israel’s right to exist; directed in hatred at us as Jews.  We experience it in our children feeling unsafe in their schools and at elite universities.  Jonah saw history and learned lessons.  We are Jonah, reawakening to the history that we must see. This is not meant to make us cower or retreat in fear. With eyes open, we find our footing and courage.  We proudly affirm who we are and stand tall and strong. We speak out, inform, educate and advocate. We find the right allies – and they are there.  We fight wherever the evil of antisemitism appears – from school curricula which labels us colonizers, to local government and workplaces demanding they not acquiesce to intimidation and false narratives. We are emboldened to act.

As much as history recurs – ideas evolve -creating openings where light trickles through.  Jonah emerges from the whale’s belly into a world where new ideas have emerged. That is our story, too.

Let’s go back to the question: Why was Jonah depressed and run away?  He did not like the message God told him to deliver! When his message succeeds in changing the Assyrian behavior and God renounces punishment, the text says: “He was greatly displeased and grieved.”  He says to God: “I know that You are compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness, renouncing punishment.” This should b a good thing – he has succeeded in his calling! But it is not how Jonah understood God.    Throughout the Torah, God does not renounce punishment, but in fact visiting the sins of the parents on children and children on parents for generations.  Jonah likes the God who punishes. Justice demands punishment! For Jonah, religion is where guilty are held accountable.  When Adam and Eve sin they are thrown out of the garden.  There are no do-overs after eating the apple. When Cain kills Abel – he is punished and sent into exile.  People in Noah’s time sinned – a destructive flood occurs.  There is not a theology of repenting meaning forgiveness.  Sin results in punishment – that is the God and world-view Jonah believes in.

Notice! Things have changed by the time of Jonah. Now God nichem al ha’ra’a – renounces punishment when people change. Jonah doesn’t like it!

Our Jewish story is one of constant change and adaptation. That has helped us face and even bend the arc of history.  The story of Jonah is honest about how difficult change can be.  A God capable of change, or maybe a people who now understand God differently, was disconcerting and disorienting to Jonah.  We, like Jonah, struggle to accommodate new realities and the book subtly instructs us that we must.   We cannot run away.

We must adapt and embrace change. Imagine. Create. Re-create.  That is our call post October 7.  It is who we have always been. We are already encountering new thoughts, new rituals, creativity, poetry and imagination. We are re-thinking politically, socially and religiously.

It will take time and demands humility. The change of theology in the book of Jonah took place over generations, The development of rabbinic Judaism – a radical and new way to understand Judaism, followed the destruction of the Temple. It also took time to develop.  Our greatest movements and developments have emerged from the depths – from the belly of the whale. We will stumble and at times fail. Great plans may not work – they often don’t.  But we will walk in the footsteps of ancestors who adapted and changed – knowing that is a key piece to who we are.

As we emerge from the whale’s belly, let’s imagine what might be and act to bring out vision to fruition.  This moment is an opening to renew Jewish life. On Rosh Hashana I called for investing in our own and our children’s Jewish literacy.  I want to go farther today.  This is a moment of awakening where profound change can occur.  People are thirsting for a moral axis to the universe, where mitzva brings holiness and meaning to life.  Let’s build on the surge of connections to Judaism that we are witnessing and devote our best minds and resources to creating a renaissance of literacy, observance and connection.  Each of us individually helps create new realities.

Let’s strengthen our ties to Israel.  Israel is our home - brothers, sisters, siblings. Let’s strengthen these bonds of heart.  New paradigms of Israeli politics are emerging. Let’s learn, envision and partner with inspiring groups and individuals. Micha Goodman, a scholar at the Hartman Institute posited that the reservists serving in the army are bringing about a shift in the political landscape.  He writes: “More the 300,000 Israelis were called up to the reserves. They convened in units and companies, where Israelis with different opinions and identities rubbed shoulders in the most intensive way imaginable, face-to-face without digital mediation over a long period of time.  Unwittingly, they underwent a detoxification workshop [from anger polarization that has defined Israel]. The result was clear and hopeful: In the reserve forces hatred was wiped out and replaced with comradery, heroism and solidarity.”  New realities are emerging.

He envisions an Israeli polity which unites people with a sense of collectivism. He calls for a new narrative of collectivism blended with individualism, rather than a binary skewing into opposing camps. Yossi Klein Halevi puts it this way: “From the depths of our divisiveness, we reclaim the instincts of peoplehood.”  Let’s partner in this vision.

Whatever emerges will be rooted in the ethical imperatives that have guided us throughout the generations. Driven by kindness, caring for those in need, fighting injustice, pursuing peace – we will begin to rebuild, recreate and reimagine new roads.  In coming days and months we will imagine together and work with many others to bring about change that might at the moment seem impossible. But we can make it happen.

We are Jonah – experiencing the darkness of the whale’s belly and emerging to new realities.  We mourn amidst great pain and at the same time imagine what might be - double vision.   Let’s look through the eyes of the whale to build on our understanding of history in order to create what might be and be part of an awakening.   I conclude with the last stanza of Rabbi Rachel Barenblatt’s poem, We Are Jonah:

Now we’re in the belly of the whale,

Someplace deep and strange.

God calls us to awareness:

To stand our ground

In the place where we are,

To do the work which needs doing.

To bring kindess and mercy

Even to those who are unlike us.

Are we listening?

Gmar Tov