Clergy Sermons

Kol Nidre - Confronting Mortality

My mother of blessed memory, who we all called Bubbe, used to share her concerns: “Nat, you’re working too hard!”

I would protest: “I’m balancing things fairly well, Mom. Really.”.

She didn’t buy it. Mothers know. She had a solution: “You know, you have files full of good sermons. No one will know if you repeat one.” When mom would visit, she helped me organize piles of papers into neat, orderly files. She knew about the file drawer.

“Thanks mom. But an old sermon does not have the heart that sermons need. My thoughts and ideas change and grow. I can’t just re-give an old sermon.”

Bubbe let it go for that moment – but I knew that was not the end of it. Somehow – “You know Nat….” would find its way back into the conversation.

Since her death, Bubbe continues to talk to me: “Nat, there’s too much on your plate….” Somehow, this year, I found myself leafing through those files. And as I looked through the files, a sermon from one of my first years here kept pulling me. It was about how the High Holidays ask us to confront mortality - and that awareness can change us for the better. So, tonight I revisit my sermon from thirty years ago – with different thoughts and ideas- as indeed, years have changed me. But I begin by saying, “Mom, I’m listening.”

I wonder if a piece of Bubbe pushing me to look at the files was more than just easing my load – but knowing that revisiting the past reveals new truths that point to where we have been and where we might go - and that is the essence of the High Holidays.

My sermon thirty years ago focused on how confronting mortality realigns and re-prioritizes behavior – and that remains true. I looked at all the ways Yom Kippur prayers and practices confront mortality. We re-enact death: no food, water, washing or physical intimacy – for that is the state of death. We wear a kittel – a symbol of purity, but also that which we wear when we die. We recite Vidui - which is the confessional prayers mirroring words said before death. The Unetane Tokef graphically describes ways people die and reminds us that all we can control is our response. We say Yizkor prayers – where we remember loved ones. Confronting mortality recurs throughout the day.

My sermon 30 years ago taught that confronting mortality jolts us to live differently and with more intention. Facing life’s fragility and brevity, we strip away our masks, confronting life’s essential questions: “Who am I? Am I living my values? What do I want to do? I shared that this confrontation is not meant to be morbid or depressing – but to shake us out of routine and denial to really think about our character, values, relationships. Life is too short to push away the inner voice reminding us who we can be. This part of the thirty-year-old sermon has stood the test of time.

What I did not fully appreciate or write about then, was the emotions that accompanied confronting mortality. The emotions are powerful and sometimes painful. Confronting mortality can be scary. It is a call to humility in light of all we don’t know – including the mystery of life and death. I now understand that confronting mortality allows emotions of this moment to lift up. The past few years dating back to COVID, moving through October 7 and the ongoing war in Israel we have literally lived with the reality of death and loss. It is painful and sad. I know that many of you come tonight with your own personal pain – losses, illnesses, difficult things going on in life. You hear the theme confronting mortality and things might feel raw and too real. I understand and a piece of comfort is that we sit together amidst all of these emotions. Being together can bring strength.

Lift up whatever emotion you may experience. That is one way I understand prayer - a pouring out of heart. I believe God hears that pain - but even if I didn’t believe that – peeling back layers of heart and expressing it – even in silence can change us. It creates space for acceptance and beginnings of healing. There is wisdom in allowing ourselves to feel, to cry, to be vulnerable, to face pain. Tonight let prayer be the pouring out of that which is in our hearts.

What I did not fully understand in my thirties – and in fact tried to push away – is that there is so much over which I have no control. Having experienced health scares – both myself and my family, painful loss – personally, with you and as a society, I know we have little control or power over so much in life. That is hard for me! Acknowledging lack of control, rather than denying and pushing it away may be one of the most important lessons of confronting mortality..

The famous prayer Unetane Tokef graphically lists the different ways people die reminds us that we cannot control our fate. It can be grueling to read the terrible things can happen. The prayer reminds us that terrible things can happen – not caused by God – they just happen. It is not punishment or causal with behavior. While we cannot control fate – we can control our response. The line: u’teshuvah, u’tefillah u’tzedakah ma’avirin et ro’ah ha’gezerah – Teshuvah, Tefilla and Tzedakah mitigate the severity of the decree. I need Unetane Tokef this year as I think of how to respond difficult fate. The prayer teaches to re-orient to our best selves: teshuvah. Cry out – tefilla. Reach out and make our world better – tzedakah. It is through caring, kindness, empathy that we find who we are. The time we spend thinking about how we respond to moments of no control change and empowers us. How will you respond to painful fate through teshuvah? Often those difficult moments cause us to live differently – let’s be mindful of what that might be. What tefilla – prayer needs to pour out from your heart? How will you do tzedakah?

Unatene Tokef makes me things about control – what can I control or not control? My wife Mimi, a social worker, often talks to her clients and students about circles of control. These is a circle where we have control, and dictate our own fate. There is a circle where we have limited control. And there is a circle over which we have no control other than our response – that is the Unetane Tokef circle.

Think about what we can and cannot control. Question what you have put into each category. Might we have have pieces of control we had not realized? Start with the Unetane Tokef situation – that which we cannot control. What is on that list for you? We cannot control the cost of food at the grocery store, decisions politicians make, whether or not we get sick. All we can control is our response: how we budget, advocate, take care of ourselves. There are things over which we have some control – our schedules, who comes into our lives. And there are some things over which we have full control - our boundaries, our habits, how we treat others. Discerning what is in my circle of control and what is not helps bring out my best me.

Let’s go back to areas where we feel no control – the Unetane Tokef category – for it feels like it has grown. For me, there is an anxious, unsettling feeling that amidst polarized anger I cannot hold our community together the way I used to. Using the circles of control paradigm, I have to accept that I have far less control than I thought I had. That lack of control can be painful, sad and disorienting. It needs to be felt and given voice to. Similarly, many have shared that sense of powerless to make a difference in a country and world which feels like it is careening down the wrong path. How painful!

And yet – do I really have no control? I dig deeper and consider that I might have small but significant pieces of control when it comes to holding community and people together, or even impacting our world. I can teach, influence, act, ally, find platforms and have impact that ripples. There are amazing people in this community committed to helping hold community together – multiple voices, one community. We have found some success. Push yourself to explore bits of control you might actually possess. Ask yourself: Where am I feeling loss of control in important areas? How can I accept new realities and explore what I might in fact possess some control? And how can I respond with the tools of teshuvah, tefilla and tzedakah when I truly have no control?

There is another reason the theme of confronting mortality tugged at my heart this year. Confronting mortality brings us face to face and heart to heart with those no longer with us. We cannot but think of those not written in the book of life. We may not want to think about it – but it is always there in our hearts and thoughts. Of course, I was pulled to the sermon with this topic – my mom died 15 months ago. I think of her all the time. It is not only the emotions I spoke about earlier, but also the influence she had on me. In the face of mortality, we are invited to cling to those memories and influences. My mom is right here - whispering, cajoling, laughing and making strong suggestions. Her devotion to others, determination, love of Yiddishkeit are the gifts she has left me. She lives through me. I feel her presence. Who will you remember and what was their impact? How will your life build on theirs as you confront mortality?

On his deathbed, Rabbi Zusya of Hanipol cried bitter tears. His students who surrounded him asked why he was crying – after all he led a righteous life and was learned and beloved. He shared his fear that if standing before his Maker, and God asks, “Zusya – why were you not Moses? Why were you not Abraham?” he would have an answer – that is not who he was. But if God asked: “Why were you not Zusya?” he would not know how to reply – thus his tears. Zusya is like so many of us – not living his authentic truth – and it took confronting mortality for him to realize this too late – only on his deathbed. Confronting mortality and life’s brevity allows us to avoid that fate – and to reflect on finding our unique purpose; and to live with intention and honesty. Take the themes and rituals of confronting mortality and allow them to help you dig deep into who you are and who you are meant to be. Who am I? What is my life? If my mom were here, she would say: “Nat, who you are is not in the file cabinet - it is in your heart waiting for you to listen. Know I am always with you, proud of you, full of love, and worrying that you are taking care of yourself.”

I’m trying to listen mom.

Gmar Chatimah Tovah.