Yom Kippur Sermon
Rabbi Arturo L. Kalfus

The Boulder in our Life

 Thinking about this past year, one can become quite frustrated and sad. Hopes for a better world, hopes for a peaceful Israel, hopes for an economic recovery at home, hopes for feeling more secure, …all these hopes and more have not materialized. We are in the middle of a tunnel, and there seems to be no light at the end of it.

 Friendships, which were broken or estranged, relatives who died in this past year, the frustrations of daily life that makes us yell Gevalt! Our personal aspirations, which may have been dashed, our passions subdued, our capacity to love kept at a minimum, what a year we have had! Much of what we aspired to, did not come to fruition.

This gap between what we aspire to, and the frustrating reality that happens around us reminds me of the classic Greek myth of Sisyphus, which parallels Chapter 1 of our own Ecclesiastes.

 Sisyphus is a character from Greek mythology that was condemned by the Gods to an eternity of rolling a huge rock up the side of a mountain, only to have it roll back down. Sisyphus would push the boulder almost until the mountain peak was attained. And no matter how great his efforts, the boulder would invariably slip from his hands and roll back down. At that point, he would turn and start walking down the hill. As soon as he reached the bottom he would pick up the rock and would begin his upward journey again.

 This legend is one of the most enduring ones from antiquity. Sisyphus touches something profoundly sensitive within us. And although we would try to dismiss it, saying very instinctively, nice story about the futility of life, the meaninglessness of our efforts, but Rabbi, it certainly does not apply to me! To that challenge I would respond: Myths do survive the passing of time because in a moment of truth, we acknowledge that it does speak to each one of us.

A few contemporary examples:

First in Israel:

The illusion of  Sheket, of some quiet time, was shattered once more in Israel yesterday.-Just yesterday another suicide attack occurred in Haifa. 19 dead, 50 injured. After 3 years of Intifada and more than 100 suicide attacks, the circle of agony continues for both peoples; a suicide bomb, retaliation, another suicide bomb, closure, retaliation. The circle seems unbreakable. The boulder goes down, and we must begin to push again.

Another example from Israel:

- Israel is now negotiating the release of perhaps hundreds of prisoners with the Hisballah of Lebanon in exchange for a few Israeli prisoners and the recovery of dead Israeli soldier’s bodies. Israel has done this in the past.  But now, Israel is contemplating the release of Palestinian prisoners unrelated to the Hisballah in Lebanon, thus legitimizing an outside party, for the first time, and giving them a say in the Palestinian-Israeli conflict

So after tremendous efforts made by Israel to capture Palestinian extremists and thus prevent further acts of terrorism, Israel again might be confronted soon by a similar difficult moral dilemma. Israel makes tremendous efforts to capture terrorists, only to possibly liberate them again. We have pushed the boulder slowly up the hill, we have made some progress, only to see it go down again.

A personal example:

-As a Rabbi, I often find myself in the aftermath of death.  Occasionally, a survivor is unable to cope with the death of a loved one, and is totally paralyzed. The burden seems too much to bear. They simply do not have the internal resources to overcome such a tragic event.  Being able to stand up again after a fall, and begin to push ahead with life, is not always an option that should be taken for granted

 At times, life appears to be an endless struggle to push up the rock to the mountaintop where we hope to find some peace, only to see it roll down again. Maybe this morning was great, but this evening will be terrible. Business was great in the previous months but a disaster today. That’s how it goes. Success in our professional life is sometimes counterbalanced with setbacks in our private lives. Joy is followed by grief, a good day by a bad one.

For most of our lives we could be locked in jobs just to make money, while our talents whither away. We retire, after pushing the boulder up the hill, just to find out, that all that we postponed during our working years is not attainable now.

 If we want to be honest, most of us do not live a life of complete satisfaction and purpose. Many times we are frustrated. We struggle and struggle to achieve fulfillment, rarely to find it. We clock in, every day, we go home to our families or to our lonely apartments, we consume endless amounts of new goods, food and drinks, films, computer games, but we do not get a long lasting joy from them. We want the quickest way up the mountain to lasting pleasure.

 But for a brief, fleeting, but real moment, each one of us pauses, before again putting face to the stone.  We contemplate the significance of the moment, and decide that yes,  life is good, hope lies just over the mountaintop and yes, the struggle is worth the effort. 

 U bacharrta ba chaim, and You should choose Life, says our Torah despite of its recurring difficulties.

 We need to decide to see the good in life. We need to see the positives in our choice to ascend the mountain again, thanking God for the personal renewal that comes from this journey. Recurring patterns in our lives are not, and should not be seen, only, in a negative light.

Every year we read the same Torah. The narrative is the same. But despite this repetitive pattern, we discover new meanings in it. We have been given the gift of renewing ourselves through the reading and the living of the Torah in our lives. We have been given the gift of Yom Kippur, so that we can go back, not to repeat what is wrong, but to repent and turn for the better. Perhaps, we made the mistake to see our burdens only in a negative light. What we choose to see, can be framed in a different light. Our journey’s up the hill can renew our life. They can be seen as real gifts that will bring to us, depth, more sensitivity and the gift of love.

 Hear a different and more nuanced response from Prof. Edmund Sass to our myth. Try to appreciate how he changes his views and at the end, is so hopeful.

 “In my darkest and most cynical moments, I see Sisyphus plight as the perfect metaphor for so much of what I do as a college professor… I contemplate the myriad meetings, the mindless administration, the absurd paper work, the futile and meaningless tasks assigned by the bureaucracy and know they will encumber me and slicken my slope. Yet somehow, the inertia is always overcome. The rock rolls, and, as I inch my way toward the summit, seeking to unravel the mountain’s many mysteries as I go, I lose myself in the journey and discover the slope is neither as steep nor as slippery as it first appeared…I realize the struggle towards the heights is not all that fills my heart. I take comfort from my conviction that not all my rocks roll back down the mountain. In fact, I choose to believe that most will remain at the top, and many will eventually move up other mountains…And the realization sinks in, that no matter how many obstacles still lie ahead, nothing can stop me…It is these thoughts, this sense of accomplishment that makes my journey worthwhile and sustain and renew me over the summer.”

 What a different retelling of the myth! How much more hopeful it is! We can choose to believe that we can achieve the mountaintop and remain there, at least for a while. Crafting our future, influencing it.

This past summer, while I was in Israel I drove up to the tallest Israeli mountain, the Hermon, in the north bordering Syria. In a very sunny day, it was quite cold at the top. It was not easy to get there. Israeli soldiers tried to dissuade me from going to the very top, where sophisticated radar stations work day and night to protect Israel. But I persevered. After getting special permits from 2 army stations, I was the only person at the very top of this mountain. What did I see? Beautiful extensions of land, gorgeous scenery on both sides of the border. A very peaceful view. On that moment, I imagined a lasting peace between the two countries. But as I began to descend, it became very clear to me that the dreams one has at mountaintops rarely become true without much effort, sweat, tears and perseverance. As one descends, we need to think of strategies to arrive there. And do the tough work. We inch towards our goals bit by bit. The ascent in life is slow, but it can be done.

 We all have our boulders to push up the hill of life…our work, family, relationships, our past, our fears. Each one of us has a mountain to climb.

 One of the students of R. Nachman of Brazlav, Rav Noson of Bratzlav wrote in a letter of advice:

“No matter how you may feel about yourself, before God, every good motion, even the slightest movement you make, to remove yourself from bad and move yourself toward good, is extremely precious…”The main thing is for you to have the belief in yourself, like my belief in you, that you can still make a new start now.”

 Rav Noson of Bratslav is telling us something we should take to heart; “even the slightest movement you make…is extremely precious…”

Contrasting the Greek myth, Rav Noson of Bratslav is saying to us that there is a realistic hope that we can move from where we are today. Even though the movement might be small, it will be tremendously significant to accomplish it.

 In the Talmud it is written, Lo alecha ha melacha ligmor, ve lo ata ben chorin lehibatel mimenah, “ It is not upon you to complete the task, nor are you free to desist from it.” We might not be able to become a totally new human being this Yom Kippur, but an improvement in at least one important area in our lives is expected of us.

 A simple but beautiful story:

A young girl was walking along the beach where thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean. She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl, why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can’t save all these starfish. You can’t make a difference!”

The girl seemed surprised and deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean. Then she looked up at the man and replied, “Well, I made a difference to that one.”

 It is the movement, the sweaty, backbreaking labor of pushing upward that is the challenge and the hope of life.  It is the belief, not matter how small and weary it may be, that perhaps this time, this time my boulder will make it to the top of the mountain.  It is there, in the pause between the pushing, in the realization that we may not desist from the labor, that we may find our God.

 On this sacred day of  Teshuva, of Repentance, we might want to learn all over again how to scrutinize the shore of life. How to be attentive and really present, to be able to save one starfish at a time.

I realize that the struggle towards the heights is neither as steep nor as slippery as it first appeared. And I take comfort in my conviction that on this Yom Kippur, we will be able to overcome the obstacles that still lie ahead.

 We have our boulders to push up the hill of life. And like Moses, each one of us, has a mountain to climb.

 Ken Yehi Ratzon, May this be God’s will.

Amen.