Rosh Hashanah Evening -- September 12, 2007 / 1 Tishrei 5768

Shanah Tovah! 

A warm welcome to those of you who traveled from afar to be here with family and friends.   Welcome to our guests who are sharing this holiday with us.  And welcome to members of Chaverim, from the original founders to those who this year celebrate the holidays with us for the first time.   

Rosh Hashanah is a holiday of excitement and anticipation.  We are celebrating the birthday of the world.  We are looking forward to hearing the shofar tomorrow morning.  But for all the excitement and energy that comes from gathering once again on Rosh Hashanah, there is a serious side to this holiday as well.

Rosh Hashanah is the beginning of a ten-day period of introspection.  We begin by reviewing the past year, being grateful for all our blessings, but also looking truthfully at ways we have missed the mark.  We ask:  What mistakes have I made?  Whom have I hurt?  To whom do I owe an apology? 

We also ask:  What gives my life meaning?  Is the path I am on the right path for me?

We are able to ask these questions and to face the answers bravely because Judaism teaches that change is possible.  Old hurts can be healed.  Forgiveness can be asked for and given.  Destructive habits can be transformed.  We can, indeed, be a better person in the year ahead.  We can, indeed, find meaning, change our path.  This is the time of year when we identify what our intentions are for our life.  To a great degree, the changes that we long for will come about through our intention to make them happen. 

Tonight I would like us to begin thinking about those intentions that will guide us forward in the new year.

To begin, I have a question for us to explore together.  It’s a simple question that we each ask of ourselves.  The question is:  “Who am I?”  Another way of putting it is:  What are my essential soul traits?  What special gifts do I bring to the world?  Who am I?

To answer that question we begin with the notion of humility.  Some years ago a friend asserted that humility was an important Jewish value.  I disagreed, saying I didn’t think so at all.  I was thinking of our culture’s use of this word:   to be “humble” is to be meek, unassuming, self-effacing.  At that time I thought of humility almost as negating oneself, as in “I’m nobody, who are you?  Are you nobody too?”

That is not the Jewish understanding of humility.  And I have come to see that my friend was right:  humility is indeed a valued Jewish trait, but we define it quite differently. 

In Judaism, humility is not the opposite of arrogance or conceit.  Rather, humility is a middle ground.  Arrogance is on one extreme and self-abasement, meekness, self-effacing is at the other.  Humility is a balanced place in the middle.  It is based on self-esteem, and on speaking the truth.  Humility is a truthful realization of who we are and what our gifts are. 

We are told that Moses was the most humble of men.  Surely the Torah did not mean to imply that he was meek or self-effacing.  After all, he stood up to Pharaoh, to the rebellious Israelites, even to God.  No, Moses was humble, but he was not meek.    

On this Rosh Hashanah evening, as we enter the Ten Days of Awe, I am inviting each of us to begin to answer truthfully for ourselves the question “Who am I?”  “What are my special gifts?  What are those talents that I was born with, that are simply a part of what makes me special?  What do I bring into the world?”

We are not talking about what we are good at, like cooking, or writing, or gardening.  We are talking about soul traits, our inner essence.

Answering this question can be challenging for some.  An acquaintance of mine said that when she was growing up, any time she said something positive about herself, her mother would tell her to stop bragging.  Another friend recalls her parents telling her, “If you are a good person, you don’t need to sell your wares.  People will find out for themselves.” 

We internalize social messages like this, so that it becomes difficult to articulate even to ourselves those things that are our essence, our special gifts. 

Several weeks ago I asked a few close friends these questions that I’m posing tonight.  I asked:  “What are your special gifts, the unique traits that you bring to the world?”  It took most of them a little time to move through their embarrassment in order to say aloud the truth about themselves.  Finally one said:  “I am caring, creative, and risk-taking.”  And that is so true about her; we all knew it immediately.  Caring, creative, risk-taking. 

Another friend said, “I am a compassionate listener.” 

Yet another said, “I bring calm and love to those around me.”

These people spoke with true humility:  they told the truth and claimed who they are, without bragging or arrogance.    

I have a proposal for us during these High Holy Days as we reflect on the past year and begin to look toward the new.  I propose that we begin by answering the question “Who am I?”  This is, after all, a time for looking honestly at our lives, for telling the truth about where we have been and where we are going.  Part of that self-scrutiny is claiming with full awareness--not pride but awareness-- what we bring to the world around us.  This is for the kids as well as the adults.  I am inviting all of us to think about and to answer the question, “Who am I?”  It is a conversation that I hope parents will have with their children, a conversation that spouses and friends can have with one another, or that we have privately with ourselves.  Exploring this question and formulating an answer can be our spiritual work during these days between now and Yom Kippur.

Our answers to this question will help each of us more clearly make decisions and set direction for our lives.  Given the answer to “Who am I?” we can then ask:  “How am I going to express this specifically, tangibly, in the year to come?”  But that question is for later, when we meet again on Yom Kippur.  For now, I am inviting us to enter a period of self-exploration and honesty, as we enter these Days of Awe.  With humility, at a place between self-abasement and self-aggrandizement, let us name and claim our special gifts, those soul traits that we have to offer the world.   

I look forward to Yom Kippur when we will consider how we will actually use our gifts for the betterment of the world and for the enhancement of our own lives. 

Amen