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Bigger Than All
of Us We recently stayed in a place overlooking the spectacular scenery of the Olympic Range in Washington state. The view was consistently stupendous, but the great moments occurred when the rim of cloud that sat on the peaks of the mountains cleared momentarily. Then, rising almost literally from the blue sea, the gorgeous white crested summits seemed to soar out of banks of soft clouds, and our spirits would soar. It was enough, by itself, to make you believe that God had created a magnificent world, and that simply by being alive you were part of something fantastic. One of the fundamental human needs is the desire to feel connnected to something greater than ourselves. We all want to be part of a greater whole, linked to people, ideas, and causes beyond our own lives. In a society like America, deeply dedicated to individuality, this would seem to be a paradox. Interestingly, it is not. Instead of diminishing our individuality, this quest for connection becomes a kind of fulfillment of it instead, enlarging our own identity by connecting it with bigger, deeper, more eternal causes. We see this everywhere around us, in trivial and profound ways. When you cheer for a particular sports team--say, Wildcats' basketball, or the Diamondbacks--and allow its fortunes to influence your happiness, you are seeking, and finding, a connection to something greater than yourself, in whatever small way you can. When your teenage son or daughter or grandchild wears a t-shirt from a rock band, or insists on wearing her or his hair in the style of a lead singer, the same "quest" is being fulfilled, however temporarily. When you become passionate about a political cause or candidate, not for what he or it can do for your own bank accounts but for what you think they--and you--stand for, again you are choosing to connect to something that seems greater, even more noble than your own smallish life. Religion provides just such a connection for us, but in a way both more real and much greater. By accepting certain beliefs, and by assisting in certain charities or projects, we can feel connected, even valuable, to a greater cause. If you come to services, or study with others in a group setting, or if you join and work on a committee, you can feel connected and even important. Religion offers to link you with a long tradition that has both a history and a future. For many of us, this meets at least part of the great need we feel to belong, as well as fulfilling the need to connect to something greater and more powerful than ourselves. Judaism has a curious way of fulfilling this need. It says that our connection to God, and to other human beings, is dependent on how much we do for them. The notion of Tikun Olam, "the perfecting of the world" or, more accurately, "repairing the world" is that we can, by our own actions, bring holiness and connection. We do this by committing to doing primary, fundamental Jewish actions regularly: performing social action work systematically, praying and studying--and helping others to pray and study--consistently, performing the holy work of visiting the sick, comforting mourners, assisting the elderly, and teaching children as part of our everyday lives. When you do these things--when you choose to do mitzvot consistently--you will find that you are connected to something beyond yourself, something holy and good and eternal. And then you will find that the clouds, which can obscure even the great mountaintops, will clear, and you may glimpse just how magnificent, and holy, life can be. As this Jewish year ends, won't you seek some of that connection, and meaning, for yourself here at Temple? L'shalom v'reiut, in peace and friendship, |
