We have arrived at the final long day of the aseret y’mei t’shuvah, the ‘ten days of returning’. It has become commonplace to use the metaphor of journeying. In the context of this most sacred season of the Jewish year, it is completely appropriate. We began nine days ago, summoned by the blasts of the shofar to wake up to our deeds of the past year, examine our lives and our relationships and resolve to make amends and return to the true path of our lives. And now we are here, in this sanctuary together. But we are not only here together. We are here as individuals. We have taken different journeys to reach this day – and now, we will accompany each other as we take our own journeys through the day.

The metaphor of the journey continues to resonate because we recognise that it has a depth of meaning very different from alternative words in the lexicon, like ‘travel’ or ‘transport’, both of which summon up thoughts of the practical aspects of getting from A to B. Think of people travelling on their daily commute, being transported by car or train; the experience of being on a journey completely undercut by the vagaries of traffic jams and signal failures. Do you remember the huge power cut on August 9^th that caused such chaos on the railway network?

By contrast, the journey of Yom Kippur held within the fragile frame of a single day is more profoundly, a journey into eternity beyond time. The day is orchestrated by a series of services, which gives the impression of a clear itinerary. But each service is more like a galaxy in the vast universe. We journey through light years in 25 hours – and yet all the while, the movement we make is entirely internal.

So, where are we going? For each of us, individually, in our own ways, the destination is the New Year and what we will make of it; what we will do with our lives; how we will contribute to the lives of others, to the society in which we live and to the world around us. The Jewish year is marked by sacred moments in time, but each of these moments is rooted in tangible material existence. Tomorrow morning, we will read from chapter 58 of the Book of Isaiah, and be reminded that the rituals of Yom Kippur are not an end in themselves:

Is not this the fast I look for: to release the shackles of injustice, to undo the fetters of bondage, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every cruel chain? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house? When you see the naked, to clothe them, never to hide yourself from your own kin?

We are called to act. And at this very moment in our lives and in the life of the world, we know that the future of Life itself is at stake. And so, to our other responsibilities – towards the persecuted and oppressed, the marginal and the vulnerable, the poor and destitute – we must add, our responsibilities towards all that lives on this planet, and to the very existence of planet Earth.

It may seem that the notion of our human responsibility for the planet reflects a contemporary pre-preoccupation, but in fact, it’s very old – certainly within Jewish teaching. We read in a collection of midrashim – rabbinic commentary – on the Book of Kohelet, Ecclesiastes, dated between the 6^th and 8^th centuries:^[1]

After creating the first human, the Holy One Who is Blessed, took them round all the trees of the garden, and said to them: ‘See how lovely and excellent my works are; I have created them all for you. Take care not to spoil and destroy My world, for if you spoil it there will be no one to repair it after you.’

In his commentary on Psalm 115, verse 6, the 12^th century mediaeval Spanish biblical commentator, Abraham Ibn Ezra, but the challenge more positively:^[2]

‘The heavens belong to the Eternal One, but God has given the earth to humankind.’ This means that we are like God’s stewards on earth, charged to exercise responsibility in God’s name for all that exists.

Ibn Ezra’s comment reflects his understanding of the creation narratives in the Torah. In the first creation story, human beings created on the ‘sixth day’ are presented as the pinnacle of creation, with a licence to exercise ‘dominion’ over all the other creatures of the earth.^[3] In the second narrative by contrast, absolute mastery is circumscribed and transformed into guardianship.^[4] We read:^[5]

The Eternal God formed the human [ha-adam] – dust from the ground [‘afar min-ha-adamah] – and breathed into its nostrils the breath of life [nishmat chayyim], so the human became a living being [nefesh chayyah] / ………. The Eternal God took the human [ha-adam], placing (the human) in the garden of Eden to serve it and to keep it [l’ovdah u’l’shomrah].’

To serve it and to keep it – l’ovdah u’l’shomrah. Let’s ponder for a moment on that pairing. In a sense, since the development of agriculture 10,000 years ago, humans have worked the earth to death, clearing forests to make way for animal husbandry and the planting of crops. And now, biodiversity that is so essential to the well-being of the planet is threatened further by mass cultivation – in particular, the planting of single crops. But have we ‘served’ the earth? Most of us have only recently become aware of how many different products – including, non-food products – contain palm oil as we’ve learnt of huge areas of forest across the globe being replaced by oil palm trees.^[6] So, it’s not enough to work the earth, we must also serve the earth and take seriously our responsibility for ‘keeping’ it – for maintaining, guarding and protecting it.

As it happens, the responsibility for planting trees is central to Jewish teaching. We read in a 3^rd century collection of rabbinic wisdom called Avot d’Rabbi Natan:^[7]

If you hold a sapling, ready for planting, in your hand, and they tell you, ‘The Messiah has come!’, Go ahead and plant a sapling, and then go to greet the Messiah.

For the early rabbis, the coming of the Messiah would herald in the future time of peace. This teaching from Avot d’Rabbi Natan reminds us rather that we must continue the task of planting every day because we are responsible for creating the future. A story in the collection of midrashim, Va-yikra (Leviticus) Rabbah, edited between the 5^th and 7^th centuries, underlines the imperative of tree-planting for the sake of tomorrow:^[8]

Once, when the Roman Emperor Hadrian was walking along one of the paths that lead to Tiberius, he saw an old man digging trenches to plant saplings of fig trees. ‘How old are you?’ The Emperor asked him, and he answered; ‘A hundred years.’ ‘You are a hundred years old’, said Hadrian, ‘yet you are digging trenches to plant saplings of fig trees! Do ever hope to eat of them?’ Then the old man replied: ‘If I’m worthy I shall eat; but even if not – as my ancestors worked for my benefit, so I will work for the benefit of my children.

We will recall the despotic tyranny of Emperor Hadrian during the Yom Kippur Musaf, ‘additional’ service, when we will remember the rabbinic leaders murdered by the Romans following the crushing of the Bar Kochba revolt against Rome in the year 135 CE. In that context, the plucky determination of this centenarian planter of fig-trees takes on even more significance.

The importance of tree-planting for the early rabbis is also reflected in halakhah, Jewish law. The very first paragraph of the tractate Rosh Ha-Shanah in the Mishnah,^[9] the first rabbinic code of law edited around the year 200 CE, mentions the New Year for Trees – Rosh Ha-Shanah l’Ilanot – alongside other New Years, including the new year for the festivals commencing with the first month of the Jewish year, Nisan, and the New Year for years on the first day of Tishri. The passage references a debate between the Schools of Shammai and Hillel about the actual date of the New Year for Trees. According to the School of Shammai, it should it be the 1^st of Sh’vat. The School of Hillel preferred the 15^th. As with many debates recorded in the Mishnah, the ruling of Hillel prevailed – hence: Tu Bishvat; the 15^th day of the month of Sh’vat.

Tu Bishvat: a date in the Jewish calendar, celebrated each year with the planting of trees – and, since the 16^th century, following the practice of the students of the great teacher of Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism, Isaac Luria, with the additional practice of a Seder to celebrate the fruits of the land.^[10] So, as we witness the horror of mass deforestation, we have a ready-made festival to spur us on as we consider our responsibility to plant trees on a massive scale. A few weeks ago, one of my God-Sons, Elliot Cohen-Gold, contacted me, asking me to support a new project he had initiated with his older brother, Aaron, to plant one million trees by Tu Bishvat, which will fall this year on 9^th February 2020. On their crowdfunding site, they explain the rationale behind the project:^[11]

– Reforestation has been identified as the #1 most effective and affordable solution for climate mitigation in a peer-reviewed study by scientists in over 15 institutions around the world.

– Trees clean the air we breathe and the water we drink. They also contribute to a stable climate and overall health, support wildlife and biodiversity, and provide a positive social impact.

– Deforestation has increased dramatically around the world. In 2017 alone, the Earth lost 40 football fields worth of forests every SECOND – due to logging, mining, cattle grazing, forest fires, and poor forest management practices. We can’t undo all of that, but we can help in the work of restoration.

– We love trees! They are the pillars of our outdoor adventures, fill us with inspiration, and create stunning landscapes we want to enjoy for many years to come.

As I mentioned in my Rosh Ha-Shanah morning sermon, young people are leading the way as we confront the threat of irreversible climate change and environmental catastrophe. So, I urge you to join the campaign to plant one million trees by Tu Bishvat. You can also make a contribution to planting trees by switching from Google to Ecosia, an Internet search-engine based in Berlin, Germany that donates 80% or more of its profits to non-profit organisations that focus on reforestation.^[12] When I looked on the site as I was writing this sermon last week, the number of trees planted was 69,442,008 – and rising every half second.

Planting trees is essential. Hopefully, this day out of the routine of our daily lives will give us the perspective we need to prioritise our responsibility for the planet. This year marks the 50^th anniversary of Woodstock, the music festival held from August 15-18, 1969 at a dairy farm in Bethel, New York state, 43 miles south-west of Woodstock. Taking place at the height of resistance to the Vietnam War, the festival was billed as ‘An Aquarian Exposition: 3 Days of Peace & Music.’^[13] To mark the anniversary, BBC 4 screened a documentary, entitled, ‘Woodstock – Three days that Defined a Generation.’^[14] The documentary revealed how many Jews were involved in setting up the festival – and also that Yasgur’s farm was owned and run by Jewish dairy-farming couple, Max and Miriam Yasgur. Half a million revellers descended on the farm, and when the food ran out, locals raided their fridges and larders to feed the young people. And then, on Sunday morning, the Yasgurs supplied milk, so everyone had porridge. Max Yasgur also addressed the crowd saying how good it was that young people had come together for music and to enjoy themselves.

Those three days on Yasgur’s Farm that brought hundreds of thousands of young people out of cities and towns and into the countryside were much more than an anti-war protest. I remember going to see the film of the festival in the early 1970s with my mum, brother and sister. I’ll never forget the performances of Joe Cocker and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. But there were a few conspicuous absences in the line-up – several acts simply couldn’t get there because of the roads blocked with cars. One of the performers, who didn’t make it was Joni Mitchell. Watching the festival on TV, she was inspired to write a song, which she premiered a few months later at a concert in Worcester Massachusetts on December 12^th. Joni Mitchell’s song, ‘Woodstock’, captures an essential element of what drew 500,000 young people ‘to camp out on the land’. As the chorus puts it: ‘We are stardust / We are golden / And we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden.’^[15]

‘We’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden.’ But not ‘back’, exactly. We cannot go back – we can only go forwards. And we must act now. We must take responsibility for our unique task as humans to be the guardians of the Earth. I would like to close by inviting you to sing ‘Woodstock’ with me.^[16] May the lyrics and our voices lifted in song, inspire us to liberate ourselves from ‘the devil’s bargain’ and do everything in our power to repair the world. And let us say: Amen.

I came upon a child of God

He was walking along the road

And I asked him where are you going

And this he told me

I’m going on down to Yasgur’s farm

I’m going to join in a rock ‘n’ roll band

I’m going to camp out on the land

I’m going to try an’ get my soul free 

We are stardust

We are golden

And we’ve got to get ourselves

Back to the garden

Then can I walk beside you

I have come here to lose the smog

And I feel to be a cog in something turning

Well maybe it is just the time of year

Or maybe it’s the time of man

I don’t know who I am

But you know life is for learning

We are stardust

We are golden

And we’ve got to get ourselves

Back to the garden

By the time we got to Woodstock

We were half a million strong

And everywhere there was song and celebration

And I dreamed I saw the bombers

Riding shotgun in the sky

And they were turning into butterflies

Above our nation

We are stardust

Billion year old carbon

We are golden

Caught in the devil’s bargain

And we’ve got to get ourselves

back to the garden

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue

Erev Yom Kippur 5780 –8^th October 2019

1. Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) Rabbah 7:13. ↑

2. Abraham Ibn Ezra (1089-1164, Spain). ↑

3. B’reishit, Genesis 1:26-30. ↑

4. For an examination of the two creation stories, see chapter 1 of my book, Trouble-Making Judaism (David Paul Books, 2012) ↑

5. Gen. 2: 7; 15. ↑

6. https://www.iucn.org/resources/issues-briefs/palm-oil-and-biodiversity ↑

7. Avot d’Rabbi Natan version B, chapter 31 (3^rd century CE). This text is similar to Pirkei Avot, the ‘Chapters of the Sages’ appended to the Mishnah (3^rd century CE). ↑

8. Va-yikra (Leviticus) Rabbah 25:5. ↑

9. Mishnah Rosh Ha-Shanah 1:1 (3^rd century CE). ↑

10. https://jewcology.org/resources/what-is-the-tu-b-shvat-seder/

    Isaac ben Solomon Luria Ashkenazi (1534 – 25th July 1572). Known as Ha-Ari, meaning, ‘The Lion’. See: Physician of the Soul, Healer of the Cosmos: Isaac Luria and his Kabbalistic Fellowship (Stanford University, CA, 2003.

    https://jewcology.org/resources/what-is-the-tu-b-shvat-seder/ ↑

11. https://www.classy.org/team/250434 ↑

12. https://www.ecosia.org/ ↑

13. https://www.woodstock.com/ ↑

14. 16^th August. https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m0007n24 ↑

15. https://jonimitchell.com/music/song.cfm?id=75 ↑

16. ‘Woodstock’ by Joni Mitchell © 1969; Siquomb Publishing Company. ↑

During the past year, there has been much to cause us dismay – even despair – from the ongoing Brexit shenanigans through our growing awareness of the threat of environmental catastrophe. But there have been signs of hope, too. Hope has come in the form of young people taking to the streets to demand action, determined to ensure their future and the future of the planet. 16-year-old Greta Thunberg showed us that, as the title of her collection of speeches puts it, ‘No One is Too Small to Make a Difference’.^[1] And she has made a difference already to our sense of responsibility. Greta Thunberg has spoken to all of us and for all of us with a single clear message: We must act now.

Greta Thunberg and those young people abandoning their classrooms for the streets have been our leaders over the past year – leading the way. And yet, look at how we continue to treat children: the ongoing stories of sexual and physical abuse, including within the family, of female genital mutilation and forced marriages, of child labourers and sex-trafficked teenagers.

There are many complex reasons why many children still endure unbearable suffering, even in an enlightened society, like Britain. Significantly, the two Torah portions set aside for reading on Rosh Ha-Shanah, both tell tales of the powerlessness of children and their suffering. There are two portions because, according to the rabbinic calendar, Rosh Ha-Shanah is observed for two days. So, traditionally, Genesis chapter 21 is read on first day Rosh Ha-Shanah and Genesis chapter 22 is read on the second day. Liberal Judaism only observes one day, but as the machzor, the High Holy Day prayer book indicates, Liberal congregations can choose which portion to read. Here at BHPS, we read them in alternate years. This year, it’s the turn of Genesis 21.

So, what we find in Genesis 21 and 22 and why are these chapters read on Rosh Ha-Shanah? I will begin by responding to the second part of the question. The rabbinic calendar assigns Genesis 21 to the first day because it begins with the birth of Isaac, Sarah’s son with Abraham. Genesis 22 follows on the second day because it focuses on how Abraham’s faith in God was tested when the Eternal told him to sacrifice Isaac – and he passed the test by proving that he was prepared to do it.

But Genesis 21 is not just about Isaac. We read that after Isaac was weaned Sarah, concerned to ensure that Isaac was not displaced by his older brother, Ishmael, urged Abraham to expel Ishmael and his mother, Hagar from the household. Abraham was not happy about it, but he did do it.^[2] And Genesis 22 is not just about Abraham. Isaac had already lost his older brother. How did he feel as he walked alongside his father to the place of sacrifice?^[3] Did he trust that his father would not offer him up to his God? These succeeding chapters in the saga of the first family of the Jewish people – incidentally, also the first family for Muslims and Christians – are terrible and terrifying tales. In both, parents make decisions that have a devastating impact on their children and change their lives forever. Ishmael lost his father and his brother. Isaac lost himself. That’s what subsequent stories about him seem to suggest. Why else was Isaac found wandering in a field at twilight when Rebekah arrived to become his wife?^[4] Why else, having been comforted for the death of his mother by Rebekah’s presence^[5], did he favour his venison-hunting son, Esau, who comforted him with his stews,^[6] and then fail to recognise that Jacob was impersonating his twin when the time arrived for Isaac to give Esau the blessing due to the firstborn?^[7] The text tells us that Isaac was old and his eyes were dim^[8], but it seems that the light went out of his life years earlier when bound on the altar, his father raised his knife ready to kill him.

Tales from the distant past. And yet, children are still thrown out by their parents, children are still subjected to their parents’ absolutist religious convictions. So, is there anything we can learn from the Torah portions set aside for reading on Rosh Ha-Shanah? After all, surely, at the very least, they offer negative lessons in how not to parent.

Let’s begin with that – those negative lessons. A family is experiencing unbearable strain because it is a composite family, involving ‘step’ parents and children. How might the tensions be resolved? Perhaps, as with Ishmael and Isaac, separation is seen as necessary? But who thinks this is the answer? The parents or the children? How would we know – unless the children are consulted. So, what do the children want? Maybe they want different things. But maybe, like Ishmael and Isaac, they have developed a relationship and want to stay together. The point at which Sarah tells Abraham to throw out ‘the slave woman and her son’ because ‘the son of that slave woman is not going to share in the inheritance with my son Isaac’, is when she sees Ishmael ‘playing’ – m’tzacheik.^[9] The verb m’tzacheik is an intensive form of the Hebrew root Tzadi Cheit Kuf to ‘laugh’ which is the meaning of Isaac’s name, Yitzchak, ‘he shall laugh’. What a tragic irony that just when, having been weaned, Isaac could enjoy ‘playing’ with his older brother, Ishmael was expelled, and Isaac was robbed of his laughter.

And what of the second family scenario? A devout man is consumed with his religious convictions to the extent that he is prepared to sacrifice his son to prove his faith in God. We might think that this is very rare. But how many people – in particular, men – are so certain of their political and/or religious beliefs that they will sacrifice their children to ‘the cause’? They might not actually kill them, but they will ensure that the lives of their children are utterly subjected. There are obvious examples: family life amongst religious fundamentalists of all persuasions; family life amongst political radicals and revolutionaries. And there are less-extreme versions of these families, that are nevertheless pernicious. When families demonstrate outside primary schools because they object to their children learning about diverse family structures, including those where the parents are two women or two men.^[10] When families insist on sending their children to denominational schools that teach ‘Creationism’ – the belief that the world was created in six days – and only focus on the teachings and values of their particular faith.^[11] How can one help children in these situations, when their parents have total control over their lives?

Good parenting begins with putting children and their needs first. In fact, in every setting where children are involved – a school, a congregation – for them to thrive, acknowledging and responding to their needs must be our primary concern.

In the past year, an unprecedented number of young people have celebrated their b’nei mitzvah at the synagogue – nine individuals in all. And I’m using the word ‘individuals’ deliberately. The sacred rites associated with becoming b’nei mitzvah may be the same for everyone, but each individual approaches this milestone in their lives completely differently and, importantly, we celebrate each individual as an individual, not as part of a group. In the past year, as we prepared to update our ‘Rough Guide’ to b’nei mitzvah for parents, the education committee made the decision – endorsed by the synagogue council – to include b’ mitzvah as a gender neutral option alongside bar mitzvah and bat mitzvah, so that each young person would know that we were treating them as an individual.

But expanding language is not enough. And so, each individual who goes on the journey towards becoming b’nei mitzvah is empowered to choose which section of the weekly Torah portion they wish to study and is enabled to learn and explore for themselves – both the portion, and what it means for them to be Jewish, to celebrate their b’nei mitzvah, to be part of the synagogue, to leave their childhood behind and to think about embarking on the journey towards adulthood. It is always very heart-warming to find out what young people at the end of their b’nei mitzvah journey feel they want to do in the future to make the world a better place. I could quote from every single b’nei mitzvah student who has addressed that question during the almost 19 years since I became the congregation’s rabbi. But lack of time permits me to quote from just one young person, so here’s what the first b’nei mitzvah student of the year, Leah Churchill, had to say in preparation for celebrating her bat mitzvah almost a year ago on 6^th October 2018, when she read from the first portion of the Torah, B’reishit:

I really care about justice, equality and fairness. I hope that I can contribute to making the world a better place to live in for everyone. I also think consideration for the environment and how we use – and damage – the world is something that’s becoming a more and more vital to think about. I want to join the efforts to make thinking about the environment a part of daily life, so that we connect that we all have a direct impact on the world, and therefore a clear responsibility.

I am grateful to all our young people for their thoughtfulness and commitment. One of the assumptions of traditional societies is that increasing age is associated with wisdom. Of course, it’s important to value older people – particularly, after they cease to be productive members of the society. But it is also essential that we recognise the gifts of young people. They may lack experience, but if enabled to develop their potential, lacking the experience of being worn down by life, their uncontaminated sense of justice and uncomplicated integrity can be a powerful force for good. We have seen this during the past year. We have heard the powerful voice of justice and integrity expressed by Greta Thunberg speaking into the ears of the powerful and articulating the demands of the young, as she addressed numerous fora, including the Climate March in Stockholm on 8^th September 2018, the UN Climate Change conference in Katowice in Poland on 15^th December, the World Economic Forum in Davos on 22^nd and 25^th January 2019,^[12] and most recently, the General Assembly of the United Nations, just last week.^[13] Let’s hear her plea to the adults of the world on behalf of the world’s children, a plea that shines with the clear-eyed perspective of a 16-year-old – the closing words of her address to the UK Houses of Parliament on 23^rd April:^[14]

We children are not sacrificing our education and our childhood for you to tell us what you consider is politically possible in a society that you have created. We have not taken to the streets for you to take selfies with us and tell us you really admire what we do.

We children are doing this to wake the adults up. We children are doing this for you to put your differences aside and start acting as you would in a crisis. We children are doing this because we want our hopes and our dreams back.

The impending climate catastrophe apart, so many children increasingly come of age with little prospect of a worthwhile job and decent housing. We must put their needs first. As we read in the Prophet Joel^[15]: ‘Your old shall dream dreams, your young shall see visions’. ‘The old’ tend to ‘dream dreams’ of the past. Surely, the time has come to confront the global mess we are in and set on repairing the world, so that instead of being overwhelmed by visions of doom, the young can be free to generate much-needed visions of hope. And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Brighton & Hove Progressive Synagogue

Rosh Ha-Shanah Shacharit 5780 – 30^th September 2019

1. Penguin Random House, UK, 2019 ↑

2. Va-yeira, Genesis 21:9-11. ↑

3. Ibid. Gen. 22: 6, 8. ↑

4. Chayyei Sarah, Gen. 24:64-65. ↑

5. Ibid. 24:67. ↑

6. Tol’dot, Genesis 25:28. ↑

7. Ibid. 27:18-29. ↑

8. Ibid. 27:14. ↑

9. Va-yeira, Gen. 21:9-10. ↑

10. https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2019/may/26/birmingham-anderton-park-primary-muslim-protests-lgbt-teaching-rights ↑

11. https://www.theguardian.com/education/2012/jul/17/creationist-groups-approval-free-schools ↑

12. The book of Greta Thunberg’s speeches, No One is Too Small to Make a Difference, also includes addresses to Extinction Rebellion’s ‘Declaration of Rebellion’ in Parliament Square in London on 31^st October, the European Economic and Social committee on Civil society for reEUnaissance in Brussels on 21^st February, the Goldene Kamera Film and TV Awards in Berlin on 30^th March, the European Parliament in Strasbourg on 16^th April, the Extinction Rebellion rally at Marble Arch in London on 23^rd April and the UK Houses of Parliament also on the same day. ↑

13. https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2019/sep/23/greta-thunberg-speech-un-2019-address https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pXywZ8mLaRY ↑

14. See No One is Too Small to Make a Difference, pp. 67-68. ↑

15. 3:1b ↑

As the sun set this evening, the Hebrew year ended – and also a decade came to a close: the 5770s. This evening, a new decade begins with the year 5780. As many of us are aware, the Hebrew year date reflects the chronology in the Torah going back to Creation. We know that the world wasn’t created 5780 years ago, but the date reminds us to consider the world, this planet Earth.

In Hebrew, the date is represented by Hebrew consonants. The consonant for ‘80’ is the 17^th letter of the 22-letter Hebrew alphabet: a Peh. Interestingly, Peh also means ‘mouth’. If you look at the letter Peh you will see that it looks like the profile of a face, with a nose and a mouth and a dagesh; a ‘dot’ for an eye.

Thinking of the decade of the 70s that has just ended, the consonant for ‘70’ is an Ayin, which means ‘eye’. So, from an ‘eye’ decade to a ‘mouth’ decade. Before I say more about that, let’s stay for a moment with Peh, the mouth – because the mouth is the most essential practical feature of our bodies – and not just for our human bodies. For babies, human and animal alike, life begins with our mouths; our wide-open mouths: crying out as we come into this world, then sucking hard on the breast for nourishment. And this is true, even for babies that are born blind or deaf and who grow up unable to speak.

The fact that 70 is represented by the letter Ayin, meaning, ‘eye’, and 80 is represented by the letter Peh, meaning ‘mouth’ is not significant in itself. But human beings are meaning-makers, and the change of decade invites us to make meaning as we face the unknown future. And so, this evening as a new year and a new decade begins, I would like to invite us to reflect on the Ayin and the Peh.

Let’s begin with the Ayin, with the eye and what it beholds. A decade ago, in my Rosh Ha-Shanah morning sermon for 5770, on 19 September 2009, I spoke about visiting the Eden Project in Cornwall and what I saw there. Already, ten years ago – and long before that – scientists had seen the extent of climate change and the impact on the planet. The Eden Project and other similar initiatives urged us to see, too: to open our eyes. Since then, surely, we have had a surfeit of seeing. We have watched news reports of extreme weather events around the globe – including, in this country, where just this past July, the UK recorded its hottest day since records began, and there were also flash floods across northern England, where a reservoir dam was even damaged, causing a widespread evacuation.^[1] We have watched David Attenborough’s ‘Blue Planet’ documentaries and seen the plastic waste polluting the oceans and killing the fish. And then, we have gone to the supermarket, and seen, as if for the first time, our shopping trolley pileup with items wrapped in plastic.

What more do we need to see before we are convinced of the need for change? Eighty years ago, a new century in the Hebrew calendar dawned at Rosh Ha-Shanah: 5700 – less than two weeks after the Second World War broke out.^[2] What haven’t people witnessed during the past 80 years? The loss of life and utter devastation caused by that war. The murder of one third of the world Jewish population and the destruction of tens of thousands of Jewish communities in the course of a few short years. Stalin’s purges and Pol Pot’s massacres. Biafra. Bosnia. Rwanda. Each place a watchword for unfathomable horrors. War after war. Genocide after genocide. Terrorism gone global. Meanwhile, the relentless exploitation and despoliation of the planet.

So now: 5780. The decade of Peh, the mouth. As for some of the other letters of the Hebrew alphabet, Peh has a final form, used at the end of a word.^[3] This final form is known as sophit meaning ‘end’. Will the decade of Peh mark the beginning of the end? This past year, the climate scientists gave us just twelve years to take radical action to reduce our impact on the planet before climate change becomes irreversible.^[4]

It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed. We can feel helpless. Powerless. And yet, we have power; a power within us, imperceptible and yet strong. We can begin to acknowledge that power by pausing and breathing; breathing slowly and deeply, so that we are aware of nishmat chayyim, the breath of life within us that fills our mouths. We read in Psalm 81 (:10):

I am the Eternal your God Who lifted you out of Egypt. Widen your mouth and I will fill it.

In parashat Yitro, the Torah portion that includes the Revelation at Mount Sinai, we are presented in Exodus 19 with a captivating image of the Eternal lifting the Israelites out of Egypt on Eagle’s wings.^[5] But what of the concluding phrase of this verse: ‘Widen your mouth and I will fill it’? I mentioned a few moments earlier the wide-open mouths of babies. Maybe, some of us long to be babies again; well- cared-for babies with mouths open wide to receive nourishment. As it is, as we enter the decade of Peh, the ‘mouth’, we find ourselves in a world where ranting populist leaders would fill our mouths with their malevolence. What is worse: President Trump spewing his stupidities, or hearing the crowds he incites roaring their hatred in unison? Trumped-up narcissistic leaders who exploit their power are bad enough. What’s going on when people avidly drink in their falsehoods, with mouths open wide to receive the venom and spread the poison? The era of ‘fake news’ is a time when lying has become a vicious virtue, toxic and all-pervading. Even the visual evidence – like the paltry attendance at Presidents Trump’s inauguration in January 2017 – can be annihilated by lies. And, of course, we don’t have to look across the pond. We have our own tamer version right here in the ongoing Brexit fiasco. Lies. Lies. And more lies. The country is split, and each side demonises the other. Meanwhile, an Eton and Oxford-educated egoist, fond of spouting classical allusions, spins his fantasies of reclaimed sovereignty and future greatness, and people desperate to be revived and find new hope gulp up the dubiously concocted cocktail.

So, what to do? Like the Israelites who cried out from their bondage, let us widen our mouths to protest fake news and xenophobia and the destruction of our beautiful blue planet. But more than this, let us ensure that our cry of despair becomes a call to action. This past Shabbat, the Torah portion was Nitzavim. Nitzavim begins at Deuteronomy chapter 29, verse 9 with the remaking of the covenant with the descendants of the slaves at the end of the forty years of wilderness wandering. It includes this marvellous passage, which we will read again on Yom Kippur (30:11-14):

For this commandment, which I command you today is not too wonderful for you, nor too remote. / It is not in heaven that you need to say: ‘Who will go up to heaven for us, and fetch it for us, that we may hear it and do it?’ / Neither is it across the sea that you need to say: ‘Who will cross the sea for us and fetch it for us, that we may hear it and do it?’ For the matter is very near you, in your mouth and in your heart to do it – ki-karov eilecha ha-davar m’od; b’ficha u’vilva’vcha la’asoto.

The matter is very near to us in our mouths and in our hearts to do it. But before we consider what we must do, let us pause for a moment to reflect on the perspective offered to us in this evocative passage: the perspective from heaven and from across the sea. Hinneinu – here we are in this synagogue, in this city, on this island between heaven and sea. All life came from the sea and now, incrementally, we are destroying life in the sea. We inhabit a planet that revolves around a sun in a solar system that is a tiny particle in a galaxy that is an infinitesimally small speck in the vast universe. July marked the 50^th anniversary of the moon-landing that culminated in Apollo 11 Commander Neil Armstrong and Lunar Module pilot, Buzz Aldrin walking on the moon on 21 July 1969 and collecting 47.5 pounds of lunar material to bring back to earth.^[6]

Maybe, one day, scientists will build bases on the moon out of moon-dust and launch rockets from the moon to Mars and settle there, too. But the solutions to our problems here on Earth do not lie out there. Again: ‘The matter is very near to you, in your mouth and in your heart to do it.’

And we can do it. If we work together. Let me quote from another Psalm – Psalm 90, verse 10;

The years of our life are seventy, or even with strength, eighty; yet their span is toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.

What are we alive for, if not to struggle to make the brief span of our lives as meaningful and worthwhile as possible – for own sakes and for the sake of our precious planet? A passage on the human lifespan in Pirkei Avot, the Chapters of the Sages, appended to the Mishnah, quoting this verse, identifies eighty as the year of ‘strength’ – g’vurah.^[7] An individual needs strength to live to eighty and to live beyond eighty. In this year of 5780, in the decade of Peh – the mouth – that lies ahead, may we all find the strength, individually and collectively, to speak out and take action to repair our broken world. And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Brighton & Hove Progressive Synagogue – Adat Shalom Verei’ut

Erev Rosh Ha-Shanah 5780 – 29^th September 2019

1. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/whaley-bridge-dam-collapse-flooding-live-toodbrook-reservoir-weather-evacuation-a9033146.html ↑

2. Erev Rosh Ha-Shanah in 1939 was on 14 September. WWII began on 3 September. ↑

3. The other Hebrew consonants that have a form used at the end of the word are: Kaf, Mem, Nun and Tzadi. ↑

4. https://www.vox.com/2018/10/8/17948832/climate-change-global-warming-un-ipcc-report

   http://www.blue-growth.org/Climate_Change.htm

   https://www.theccc.org.uk/tackling-climate-change/the-science-of-climate-change/ ↑

5. Exodus 19:4. ↑

6. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apollo_11 ↑

7. Pirkei Avot 5:24. The Mishnah was edited around the year 200 CE. ↑