Constructing a Life of Meaning, Introduction
Rosh HaShanah: September 26, 2003/5764
Rabbi Jeffrey Summit

I want to begin by telling you a story. It's a true story and I told it a few years ago in another context. I was talking with a great student, she was actually the co-chair of the United Jewish Appeal Campaign on campus, and in the course of conversation, she said, "Rabbi, you know, I don't think of myself as a very good Jew." She really caught me by surprise. I said, "What do you mean you're not a good Jew? You run the tzedukah charity drive, you have a strong sense of your Jewish identity. How can you say that?" She said, "Well, when I was younger, I used to be really involved. I've totally stopped lighting Shabbat candles and sometimes I come to Shabbat dinner at Hillel but I usually time it to miss services. I guess it's the old Jewish guilt but I just don't feel like I'm such a good Jew."

I actually hear this quite a bit. When many Jews think of those words "a good Jew," they get a picture in the head of a bearded old man davening at the Wall in Jerusalem or a woman in a babushka lighting Shabbos candles. Sometimes they think of their rabbi or cantor. And in fact, when many Jews think about religion, they tend to focus on customs and traditions: Shabbat candles, eating Hallah, lighting the Hanukah menorah, an important life event like a bar or bat mitzvah, occasionally going to synagogue. That's what being Jewish means to them. In truth, most people's Judaism is totally compartmentalized from the rest of their lives. It's something that happens in the synagogue or on holidays, in a time or place separate from their lives in their dorm, their work, their relationships, the classroom or in the community.

It didn't used to be like this. I believe that the power, the strength, the beauty of Judaism is that it was never compartmentalized. Over the past 3000 years, Judaism functioned as a way of life that informed every part of how a person lived. Jewish concepts and laws helped structure and bring meaning to how people ate, how they worked, how they treated their parents, their relationship with their spouse and children, their communal and civic responsibilities, and what happened when my ox gored your ox (i.e., if you back into my car in the parking lot). In the Jewish tradition, religion was about doing the right thing and all situations were informed by the wisdom of the tradition. Regular, everyday interactions were seen as opportunities for ordinary people to bring holiness into their lives.

Many people find it daunting to hear that religion should "bring holiness" into their life. We are neither saints nor holy people. What do I mean by bringing holiness into life? I'll tell you a story about a woman I knew in Jerusalem. She was an older Jewish woman originally from Yemen who decided that her special mitzvah, her special connection to Judaism, was to help poor brides and grooms get married. She didn't have a lot of money but she was a good cook and had a lot of energy. She would find couples in her neighborhood who had very little, or came from big families without much support and she would basically help them make a wedding. She would shop for them, cook for them, organize so that they could afford it and things would be nice. People spoke about her as a tzadeket, a righteous, holy woman but she would just say, "it teaches in the Talmud that it's a mitzvah to help someone get married." And the Talmud does say that there are certain things you can do (helping someone get married is one of them) where you are rewarded both in this life and in the world to come. But the point of the story is not that she was doing a "nice thing," or a "good deed." She was doing a Jewish act because it was part of her tradition and that act brought tremendous meaning to her life.

In fact, there is a section of the morning prayers, birchot hashahar, that praises God who "clothes the naked, frees the captive, gives strength to the weary." The rabbis were very clear: when we do those things ourselves, we are God's eyes and hands in the world, bringing holiness not only in other's lives but in our own as well. But bringing holiness into everyday life isn't just about doing good things in society; it's about bringing Jewish values into your life in more personal ways as well.

I meet many students at Tufts who are quick to tell me that they are "not religious." Yet, when I talk with them at greater length, I am struck by the extent to which they are deeply interested in exploring religious questions: what's really important in life? What is the best way for me to make a contribution to society? How do I take care of myself as an individual while as the same time, being connected to a larger community? How do I structure time so that I can live a life with some balance between work, friends and family? If, or when, I get married, what do I want my home to be like?

I think that part of the answer to what it means to be a "good Jew" is a willingness to address those questions and consider how our tradition has discussed those questions over time. You don't have to give the tradition a veto over how you live your life but you should at least give it a vote. In fact, I believe that is the meaning of the term "the chosen people." It doesn't mean that we are better than other people, it doesn't mean that we consider ourselves to be superior. It does mean that, over the past 3000 years, we have elected to do something incredibly difficult and important. We have elected to fill everyday life with holiness. We have insisted that there has to be a way to live where justice is avidly pursued, where learning is a primary value, where justice and compassion have to be the basis of society. Many Jews think that the concept of monotheism is about believing in one God, like the bearded guy on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel rather than the pantheon of Greek and Roman gods. It's much more than that. Saying "Adoshem ehad" is about something so much more profound: It's acknowledging that there is an essential oneness and connection between all life. Saying "Adoshem ehad" means God is about oneness. If there are people who are hungry, or hurting or wrongly imprisoned, I can't be fully at peace or at ease with my life. The Torah tells us, more times that any other commandment, remember what it means to be an outsider, a stranger, because we used to be strangers and slaves in Egypt. This concept of oneness means that what effects you, effects me and injustice in our society will eventually come around and bite us from behind. That's the message about oneness that the Jewish people has been chosen to live and model and teach. Have you every stopped to think, why it is that Jews were so disproportionately represented in the struggle for civil rights and among Nobel prize winners. It's not because we're so smart; there are lots of people who are smart. I believe it's because we have a 3000 year old history that says we have to be engaged finding ways everyday to bring life to a higher level, in religious language, to bring holiness into life. And that was one of the reasons that Jews have been singled out and persecuted over the years because trying to really live that way and being vocal about it, and refusing to give up that special mission, makes other people uncomfortable. Sometimes, it makes them very uncomfortable.

I want to clarify something important. When I'm talking about holiness, I am not necessarily talking about piety. That's not the style and connotation I mean. Being pious seems to mean walking around with your hands neatly folded, being in awe of God and afraid to make too much noise about it. By developing an appreciation of holiness, I mean that we are fully engaged as we joyously go through our day; appreciate the laughter of friends, how fortunate we are to have good food, and the good sense to stop in front of the most beautiful maple tree on campus. It's knowing when to hug someone to express your warmth, being open to feel outrage when we see people in our own neighborhoods without a place to sleep or enough to eat. That's what I mean by creating a life of holiness. The point is to see Judaism as a way of walking, not a way of talking.

Over these holidays, I've decided to talk about three essential areas of our lives: Food, Love and Money. Tomorrow, the first day of Rosh Hashana, I'm going to talk about food. I'm convinced that the whole concept of keeping kosher should be as much about how we eat as what we eat. On Kol Nidre, I'm talking about Jewish approaches to love and Yom Kippur day I want to consider some lessons our tradition might offer on our relationship with money.

A story is told where a Jew went to his rabbi to ask advice. (I learned this story from my friend, Rabbi Irv Wise.) The man had been in poor health and he had been reviewing his life and his deeds. The man approached the rabbi with anticipation and asked, "Rabbi, what do I have to do to make sure that I die a good Jew? I care about my religion but my life has been taken up with so many other things. Tell me. I'll do anything that you say." The rabbi thought for a moment, considered the man and his request and then replied, "It's easy. If you want to die a good Jew, all you have to do is to live as a good Jew."

I hope that this New Year will be an opportunity for us all to go deeper in our lives, to integrate Jewish values into our thinking and practice in a way where they transform our lives into lives of meaning. Shabbat Shalom, Shanah tovah and wishes for a sweet, fulfilling New Year.