November 8th: Lech Lecha
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
This week, we share Rabbi Ostrich’s Kol Nidre D’var Torah, Awareness and Teshuvah (and Willie Nelson Songs)
One of the problems in my line of work is that I may hear theological discussions where they are not intended. It was like that one day when I was listening to some country songs and heard Willie Nelson singing, You Were Always On My Mind.
“Maybe I didn’t love you quite as often as I could have.
Maybe I didn’t treat you quite as good as I should have.
If I made you fell second best, Girl, I’m sorry I was blind,
But you were always on my mind; you were always on my mind.”
Like I say, I hear theological discussions where they may not be intended. So, when my mind jumped to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, was it a total digression, or is this not just the kind of thing we Jews say to God? After a year of relative neglect, now, all of a sudden, we’re thinking about our religion and God.
In the case of Willie Nelson’s imagined singer and his abandoned lover, was she really “always on his mind,” or is this just a poetic way of saying that he wishes she had been? Or was she “on his mind,” but buried below other concerns and interests? This song speaks to a moment of reflection—of thinking about his priorities and choices and realizing that he has absented himself from something of great importance.
Many of us have a kind of ambivalence about God and religion. Whether we have theological doubts or a lack of connection to the rituals, or we just do not get around to doing them on a regular basis, the fact is that many of us do not feel attracted enough to Jewish practices to make them a regular part of our lives. We pick and choose—“dosing ourselves” with enough Jewishness, but not “too much.” Theoretically, this may make sense, but, is it enough? Is our current dosage of Judaism sufficient to keep our relationship with God healthy?
“You were always on my mind, O God, but I didn’t always let you know.”
Sometimes, reflection and regret comprise a kind of fleeting self-awareness, a moment that comes and goes. Other times, however, we turn reflection into resolution and fix ourselves. I wonder if Willie Nelson’s singer ever made this transition, recognizing that “always on his mind” is not enough. Did he ever see the void he had created in his life and try to improve?
The same goes for us. When we reflect on our religious yearnings and perhaps regret the void in our lives due to absenting ourselves from Judaism and Jewishness and God, do we make the move to teshuvah? Do we try to be more attentive, to fill in the spiritual void, and re-engage the Divine?
Anyway, back to country songs and my next probably unintended theological discussion. It arose when Willie Nelson joined Waylon Jennings for A Good Hearted Woman in Love With a Good Timing Man. It is a raucous song—a live recording where the audience breaks into hoots and hollers every time the singer says, “good timin’ man,” but I think I hear the singer having a moment of reflection.
“She’s a good hearted woman in love with a good timin’ man.
She loves me in spite of my wicked ways that she don’t understand.”
Though he ignores her, abandons her, and probably does things that are not usually considered part of marital fidelity, he knows that,
“…when the party’s all over, she’ll welcome him back home again.”
Grace, in Hebrew חֵן, is a wonderful thing, and we are comforted knowing that some people’s love for us is not dependent on our behavior. However, grace does not protect them from the hurt that we cause. If we really love someone, why would it be okay to hurt them again and again? Does the singer just feel fortunate to have a “good hearted woman,” or does he ever consider being more attentive and present? Can Willie, Waylon, or any of the raucous partiers turn this moment of somber reflection into teshuvah?
One may be surprised by this discussion of popular love songs on the High Holy Days, but there is an emotional energy in these songs that strikes a chord in our hearts, and I think that this chord may be worth strumming to motivate us in our current introspection and repentance. Moreover, there is ancient precedent. The same kind of romantic trouble is found in the Biblical Song of Songs, Shir HaShirim, presumedly written by King Solomon himself. It tells the story of a king who loves a peasant woman and figures that his wealth, power, good looks, and ability to speak in incredible love poetry make him irresistible. The peasant woman is intrigued and attracted, but she also has eyes for a peasant man. He too is very desirable, and she has a hard time deciding between the two. Shir haShirim speaks of the King’s courtship—in which he appeals to the maiden with florid poetry. It is a love triangle with all the drama of a good country song because both are about humans.
In any event, this ancient work turned out to be a controversial addition to the Bible. Many of the Sages believed that it did not belong in the midst of the Torah’s laws and the Prophets’ exhortations for moral and spiritual purity. Some objected to its suggestive poetry and less-than-holy story of an ancient love triangle, but Rabbi Akiva insisted on its inclusion in the canon. Why? He saw the story as much more than mere love poetry. To him, it is an allegory about Israel’s relationship with God. The King in the story is God, the peasant woman Israel, and the peasant man the pagan and idolatrous religions. We, the peasant woman, should be delighted by the love of God and be faithful to our Divine Love, but we keep getting distracted by the lures of paganism and idolatry. The story begs us to realize the wisdom of loving God—and resisting and rejecting the temptations that keep turning our heads.
In other words, the metaphor compares our relationship with God with romantic relationships between humans and thus makes modern love songs potentially relevant. Willie Nelson is not King Solomon, but they do both approach the same topics. Why do we take love for granted? Why are we distracted from the people who really matter to us? Why do we allow ourselves to continue patterns of behavior that hurt the ones we love?
We are taught that God yearns for an active and continuing relationship with us, and, just as our neglect can hurt the people we love, ignoring the Divine can hurt and diminish God.
God may be all-powerful, but God’s feelings can be hurt by us, and I would hate to think that God feels the same way about us that Patsy Cline felt when she sang Willie Nelson’s first hit:
“Crazy, I’m crazy for feeling so lonely.
I’m crazy, crazy for feeling so blue.
I knew you’d love me as long as you wanted
And then someday you’d leave me for somebody new.
I’m crazy for thinking that my love could hold you,
I’m crazy for trying and crazy for crying, and I’m crazy for loving you.”
While the singers in the first two songs seem aware of their bad behavior and how it hurts the ones they love, the singer in Crazy reminds us how sad, forlorn, and hopeless those loved ones feel. Our misbehavior is not a victimless crime. As both Shir HaShirim and the Kabbalah teach, our attention matters to God, and our lack of attention damages the Presence of God in the world. Conversely, when we pay attention to God and do the work of the Divine, we can help God and increase God’s Presence and Influence in the world. What we do matters.
Perhaps one of the things that prevents us from turning moments of reflection into teshuvah is our faith in God—our belief that God loves us and that God will always forgive us. Like the “good timin’ man” who knows that his “good-hearted woman” will always welcome him back again, we Jews look at the Yom Kippur prayer book and its assurances of forgiveness. While we are supposed to be begging for forgiveness in Kol Nidre, we can turn the page and see that God is going to forgive us.
וַיֹאמֶר ה': "סָלַֽחְתִי כִּדְבָרֶֽךָ."
And the Lord said, “I do forgive you when you ask.”
Later in the Machzor, we praise God for the promise of continuing forgiveness.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה', מֶֽלֶךְ מוֹחֵל וְסוֹלֵחַ לַעֲוֹנוֹתֵֽינוּ...וּמַעֲבִיר אַשְׁמוֹתֵֽינוּ בְּכָל־שָׁנָה וְשָׁנָה...
We praise You, O Lord, Who year by year sweeps away our transgressions and misdeeds...
and annuls our trespasses...
Would perhaps a little more drama make us take it more seriously?
Or perhaps we could consider a paradigm shift. We often look at religion as an obligation—an onerous burden. Bolstered by terms like Brit/Covenant, the mitzvot/ commandments, and Ol Malchut Hashamayim / the Yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven, we may focus on the weight of religion. We may also feel a sense of obligation to our families—our parents, grandparents, and forebears who believed so strongly and who expected us to continue Judaism. However, this is not the only paradigm of religiosity, and the Song of Songs and other passages point to a different and more uplifting approach. Our relationship with God can be based on love. It is in every evening service:
אַהֲבַת עוֹלָם בֵּית יִשְׁרָאֵל עַמְּךָ אָהָֽבְתָּ,
God loves us with an eternal love.
And it is in every morning service:
אַהֲבָה רַבָּה אֲהַבְתָּֽנוּ,
God loves us with a great love.
And, as we all know that we are urged to return that love:
וְאָהַבְתָּ אֵת ה' אֱלֹהֶיךָ, בְּכָל־לְבָֽבְךָ, וּבְכָל־נַפְשְׁךָ, וּבְכָל־מְאֹדֶֽךָ.
“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,
with all your soul, and with all your might.”
It can be a loving relationship, and, like any loving relationship that grows apart, repairing the relationship, re-entering the relationship, and enjoying anew the company of the loved one can be a pleasure and a blessing.
Just as Willie Nelson’s characters in the songs have the opportunity to transform moments of reflection into changes that can reconnect them with their loves, so do we Jews sitting in reflection on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur have the opportunity to re-engage God and Judaism. By increasing our dosage of Torah and Good Deeds, we can work on our relationship with the Divine and find joy in this renewed closeness.
It is not at all uncommon for someone—for various reasons—to re-engage with Jewishness and then report to me, almost with surprise, how much they like it: how much fun it is, or how meaningful it is, or how close it makes them feel to their pious ancestors. Whether it is more frequent Torah study, reading Jewish books, re-engaging in congregational life, or renewed dedication to Tikkun Olam, upping the Jewish content of our lives can bring joy and meaning and holiness. We can transform ourselves and re-engage the holy. We can transform ourselves and re-engage the holy.