Rabbi Rafi Kaiserblueth - Kol Nidrei 2019 Sermon – Answering the deepest call of all

Rabbi Rafi Kaiserblueth
Kol Nidrei 2019 Sermon

Answering the deepest call of all

A few months ago, I watched the program Chernobyl. It’s a 5-part miniseries that tells the story of the Nuclear Disaster that occurred in 1986 in the Former Soviet Union. One of the things that really struck me was not only the relative historical accuracy of certain details, but the realism of the human conflicts and conversations between the characters. Yes, it is a dramatized version of a historical event that even the creator Craig Mazin admitted certain liberties were taken for dramatic license. However, there was one scene in particular that encapsulated a very human moment.

The series spends quite a lot of the run time as a searing indictment of the Soviet System, especially the secretive nature and the repression of truth in favour of political ideology. In one seemingly simple but powerful scene, 2 of the main characters, Valery Legasov a scientist, and Boris Shcherbina the party man, are in a helicopter on their way to inspect the site. Legasov is convinced that a major disaster has occurred, while Shcherbina towing the party line, is still not willing to accept what the mounting evidence is saying, unable to conceive that the system he believes in, the system he serves and has dedicated his entire life to, could possibly ever be at fault, much less cause a major catastrophe. There is a moment where, as they are flying, after a long silence, that Shcherbina asks Legasov, “Tell me, how does a nuclear reactor work?” It is a simple question, but marks an almost unbelievable change in Shcherbina’s character. From that point forward, after the quiet contemplation on the flight, it is manifestly clear that Shcherbina has become open to the possibility that perhaps something other than what he has been told has happened at Chernobyl.

That incredible moment is the ultimate humanising moment for the audience, not because Shcherbina has realised the error of his ways, or has had a sudden change of mind. Those types of sudden changes really only happen in movies and fantasy. No, it is the moment of soul searching that is, for me, one of the most powerful in the entire series. It is that moment, where someone, captured completely by his own thoughts and experiences, becomes more, grows beyond, actualises his human potential. He begins to be open to the possibility.

Where does that potential reside? And how does one access it? In this season of the High Holidays, one of the additional psalms that are added in to the liturgy is Psalm 121 – “Esa Ainai…I lift up my eyes to the mountains, from where will my help come?”

Why do we say this psalm, specifically now during this time period? Are we simply crying out in despair for where the help will come from? You might come to that conclusion if you only read the first line. Continuing on, “My help comes from God.” It is a reminder, to look not to the heavens, the mountains, or anywhere else, but inward, into our very souls, for the help that we need. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel writes powerfully about this very verse:

“Lift up your eyes and see. How does a man lift up his eyes to see a little higher than himself? The grand premise of religion is that man is able to surpass himself; that man who is part of this world may enter into a relationship with Him who is greater than the world; that man may lift up his mind and be attached to the absolute; that man who is conditioned by a multiplicity of factors is capable of living with demands that are unconditioned. How does one rise above the horizon of the mind? How does one free oneself from the perspectives of ego, group, earth, and age? How does one find a way in this world that would lead to an awareness of Him who is beyond this world?”

We see, many times in our tradition, of people taking the time to pause and reflect, of seeking to be more than they are. Indeed, tomorrow we will read the story of Jonah, in which Jonah, after running away from Niniveh, is given some good long quiet time to reflect in the belly of the fish. Reading this story, I often wondered what it was that brought Jonah to a point of being able to reconsider his actions and choices. Or what of Judah being confronted by Tamar? Or Moses pushing God to reconsider destroying the Israelites? Or Saul finally hearing and believing David? In each of these interactions, there is a pause, a moment, where the character can go one way or the other; will Judah burn Tamar at the stake, or accept responsibility for his actions; will God destroy the Israelites after their sin of the Golden Calf or allow them to live; will Saul continue pursuing David or trust his word.

Any one of us could see how easy it would have been for any of those characters to have made a different decision. Judah to protect his pride and save face, God consumed with rage at the Israelites, Saul raging with jealousy. However, the true humanity of those moments is not in the choice, but the process one must go through. That inward searching, that moment of making oneself open to possibilities that had not been considered.

It is through this lens that I begin to fully understand the process of Teshuva. The return to, not of changing my mind, or behaving differently, but accepting and returning to the simple truth of my existence, that I am a human, and I must always be moving forward. To slightly paraphrase Heschel, the grand premise of our Judaism, and our Humanity, so the grand premise that we can surpass ourselves.

In this hyperpartisan, hypervitriolic world, where any admission or change is seen as wavering, Me-Ayin Yavo Ezri?

In the world where being set and firm is confused with conviction, Me-Ayin Yavo Ezri?

In this world of either/or, Me-Ayin Yavo Ezri?

We have this gift of teshuva. Not just repentance, but return, to reconcile, to reanalyse our lives. Not to be satisfied with yourself. If you are just a human, then you are less than a human. If that requires changing, adapting, then the real human is the one who is able to recognise that and change. That is real teshuva. The challenge before us, not just today, or this season, but simply the state of our being, is to continually challenge ourselves, to never stand still, to also seek to surpass ourselves. May that be the truest sense of Teshuva, to return inward, to answer the deepest call of all, our humanity, and give ourselves the chance to exceed.