The Magic Word ... Please

I have always felt that Rosh Hashanah had a magical element to it. As a child, I remember seeing the rabbi and cantor of my youth sashaying into the worship space in their wizard gowns, preparing to lead us in incantations that would somehow bring about a good year.  As I’ve grown, a little bit of that anticipation and hope has stuck with me - not rationally, mind you, just kind of a feeling I get when I hear those high holiday notes and tunes. And lo and behold, now I am the one wearing said robe . . .

I assure you, I am no wizard. (Though, just saying, in the two years since Rachel and I and our girls came to town, the Cubs made the playoffs and then won the World Series .... Just saying...) And though I do not honestly take credit for such things, with all that is going on around us in the world, I certainly wish I had a magic formula that I could say that would just make things better, helping our world to have a good new year. Especially now, as we have experienced a year that has pushed so many of us to question the direction our society is heading, a year in which the use of nuclear weapons is being mentioned flippantly and with insults, a year in which we have seen an increase in Anti-Semitism, recent weeks in which we have seen devastating storms in Texas, Florida and throughout the Caribbean, and even yesterday terrible earthquake and another major hurricane. There is SO much happening in our world for us to discuss - and believe me, we will over the course of our time together during these holidays. But for this moment, I just wish there could be some way to find some magic within our holiday. <Pause>

Well, maybe there IS a magic word that can help. THE magic word, actually - the word that we were prompted with as children when asking for what we wanted. [inflected like prompting of a parent to a child] “What’s the magic wo-o-rd?”  “Please.”

Sure, “please” adds a layer of kindness and politeness to our discourse, which is not to be taken lightly. It has the potential to be the difference between getting our way and not, especially when it is said by an adorable little toddling person with huge eyes that are staring at you with hope and anticipation and excitement. (Not that that ever happens in my house). . . But this is not the “please” that puts the magic into the next 10 days of awe.  

No, I’m talking about the gutteral, rooted “please” that comes from the deepest yearnings of our souls, the “please” that is a plea and a prayer. The, “Please” that is the focus of the first prayer recorded in our Torah … It is not until the book of Numbers, the fourth book of our Torah, that we encounter the first words that our rabbis identify as words of prayer. The words come from the mouth of Moses. In the middle of leading the Israelites in their wandering in the desert, Moses discovered that his sister was ill, stricken with leprosy. So he stopped and prayed … his prayer had no Baruch Atahs, no responsive readings. What was the prayer? Simply the five words, “El Na, Refah na, lah.”  “Please, God, please heal her.” It was his soul’s expression of what he needed to say most - his deepest hopes and his fears mixed together into an emotive statement that was 40%, “please.”

So, did Moses’ prayer work? Did his “please” heal his sister? Or was it that his plea of “please” informed what Moses did next. He led the entire camp of Israelites to pause there. For seven days, they encamped - our rabbinic commentary mentions that the fire and smoke of God that had been leading the way kept moving forward, but Moses stopped. He made a choice and he kept the people together in one place, enough time for Miriam to have the rest and care to heal up.

Perhaps, our Torah is showing us that her healing did not come purely from the utterance of “please,” but more importantly, from the actions that came following the magic words. By identifying and even saying out loud his “please,” Moses found clarity in what he needed to do next.  

This is the invitation that our High Holy Days offer us, to feel, to emote, to pour out our hearts about that which is truly most important to each of us.

To find the “please” that expresses our vision for what the world could be.

To find the “please” that is our soul’s yearning for justice, our heart’s plea for compassion, our moral compass that can help us to live with meaning and purpose and offer us the strength to a source of light and hope even in dark times for those who need us - even to ourselves, if we are the ones who need ourselves most.

And if we have been too ensconced in the busy-ness of life, then this is our time to re-discover what is so important to us that we would be willing to stop and re-align our priorities, if needed.  To get involved differently in the world around us, and to play a role in shaping that world... This is the essence of prayer, and this is the heart of our High Holy Day season.

Unfortunately, that’s the magic trick that I cannot do, our wonderful choir and amazing cantorial presence in Laurie - we cannot do this for you. It is in each of our hands, in each of our hearts, to reach inside and drag forth the “please” that is tugging at us, urging us to change course and make this year different than the last.

But that is only the first step of prayer, once we have expressed what we need and want and believe, then we have to bring our “pleases” with us. To let them direct our focus, our actions, our time and our attention, and most importantly, help us create a path of hope for this next year.

Such a “please” is seen in the rabbinic story that used to explain why the great Temple in Jerusalem was built in on what we now call the Temple Mount, on Mount Moriah.

Story

In ancient days, there lived two brothers on either side of a mountain. They shared a field filled with produce, and got along incredibly well. One of the brothers got married and soon had a whole brood of children at home to feed. The other brother, he lived happily and quietly with his spouse, and they did not choose to bring new lives into their home. One year, while their crops were doing okay, the brother who had no children found his thoughts turning  one night to his sibling with all the mouths to feed. He thought, “Wow, it must be so hard for them right now - “please,” I wish there was some way to make things better for them.” And so, he designed a plan - he’d take some of his flour and grains, sneak across the mountain and deliver it on his brother’s doorstep in the middle of the night, as if it was a magical gift from God.

But wouldn’t you know it, that same night, the brother with all of the kids in his family thought of his sibling. He said to himself, “Wow, it must be so hard for my brother to make flour and bread and product from all that we harvest with no children to help him. We are so blessed with such great helpers, please, God, please help him?”  So, he devised a plan, similar to his brother’s, since, well, these things run in the family, and sure enough, he too snuck out in the middle of the night to deliver some flour and cakes and bread to his brother. The next morning, each brother awoke to this incredible blessing of food and supplies. Each was astonished, to find an incredible gift from God. And each thought, “Great! Wow, this will help my brother even more! - and so they shipped the extra bags over to the other’s home.  But in the middle of that night . . . the moon was out, and they left at just the right times - they met on top of the mountain in the light of the moon. They realized what had happened, they embraced there on top of the mountain, filling one another with way more than their food supplies could - with love and hope. And that spot where they embraced is what our tradition teaches is where the Temple in Jerusalem was built.

These two brothers discovered how to say “please” and mean it … to go beyond politeness and let it inform action. The brothers stopped, they turned from their ordinary path to do something good and kind - and in doing so, they brought additional hope and peace to this world.  This story reminds us that we do not pray just to pray, but in order to use our prayers to act.

This is the rabbinic formula of t’shuvah, of return - awakening our hearts to our brothers and sisters, to the plight of others, to our connections to the world around us, and being moved to examine our own stories and what we want them to become. This is our not-so-magical process that can make this year better than the last. We must first figure out the magical “please” that lies within us, but to also know that words alone will not make miracles or move mountains. It is what WE do with our “pleases” that will shape our experience of this next year.

And so I invite you, during these High Holy Days - not to sit and read responsively, but find a way to say PLEASE from the innermost place in our souls. To lay our hearts bare and make ourselves vulnerable. . . but then to take our prayers with us, and let our “pleases” become the forefront of our vision, the hope for a better year, the why behind the what of what we choose to do and become in this next year. It may not always turn out like we planned, just as the brothers discovered, but going on that journey might even lead us somewhere higher.  <Pause>

We have all seen the images on our TV screens of the hurricanes that have devastated our world of late. It is upon us to make sure that we pause to say, “Please, God, please heal them” . . .  And then go do something about it, don’t just shrug and move on. It’s why we have places for donations to relief funds through the local Jewish United Fund, it’s why our movement, the Union for Reform Judaism, has set up funds to support those on the ground, making an impact for those who need to be lifted up.

When we see stories of white supremacists marching, it is upon us to say, “Please, God, Please heal us.” . . . And then to go and do something about it. Be moved and go move. Donate to groups that are educating and fighting bigotry, volunteer in a school, stand up against a bigoted word or phrase in an otherwise seemingly casual conversation, no matter the source … it’s not magic that our world needs. It’s us. Our caring hearts, our engagement in the world, not our removal from it.  

In a time where some of us may feel hope is thin, it is up to each of us to be that hope. And if we do not see enough hopeful examples around us, then let us stand up, together, to be our own sources of hope. I know from the many conversations I’ve had in recent months, that if you feel this way, then you are not alone. And that is also why we are here, together, to know that we are all here seeking and creating the hope for our next year.  

So, together, let us heed the call of our shofar - whether it is the music or the readings and words of our prayers, the wordless blast of the shofar, let us use this contemplative space to allow us to tap-in to what we care about most, this is our time to feel. To move ourselves so that we can go forth and move and heal the world around us, shaping the year that we hope to see.

Please, God, Please heal us. PLEASE from the bottom of my heart, PLEASE make this a good year... And now, let's do something about it. Let’s take this please and move one another towards bringing a year of justice, a year of love, a year of hope and honor and legacy and good fate. Know that I am here and your community is here to help join with you in moving our “pleases” into action. Together, we can bring healing to our world, at least more healing than there would be without us. L’shanah Tovah.

(Rosh Hashanah Sermon 5778 by Rabbi Ari Margolis, delivered at Congregation Or Shalom - please email rabbimargolis@gmail.com if you wish to cite material)