Taking Responsibility
Sermon, October 7, 2005
Rabbi Bruce Kadden
This is the season of t’shuvah, of repentance, of saying I
am sorry, of asking for forgiveness for the sins we have committed. And it is
also the season for taking responsibility. For unless we take responsibility
for our actions, unless we acknowledge that we are accountable for what we do,
we will not be able to begin the process of t’shuvah.
The need to take responsibility is one of the first lessons
the Torah teaches. You recall the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.
When God creates Adam, God tells God tells him that he may eat from every tree
in the Garden, except for the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.
We know the rest of the story, how the serpent tempts Eve,
saying, “Did God really say, ‘You may not eat of any tree in the Garden?’” And
how Eve responds by saying that God has permitted them to eat of the fruit from
any try in the Garden except for the tree in the middle of the Garden, adding,
“God said you shall not eat of it, nor shall you touch it lest you die.”
So Eve does eat of it and offers some to Adam, who also
eats it; their eyes are opened and the world has not been the same since.
After making clothes to hide their newly discovered
nakedness, they hide from God, who asks “Where are you?” Now, of course, God
knows where they are. The purpose of God’s question is to give Adam and Eve and
chance to take responsibility for what they have done and ask God’s forgiveness.
However, they do nothing of the sort. When God asks Adam
if he ate of the forbidden fruit, he says, “The woman whom You gave me, she gave
me the fruit of the tree, so I ate.” And when God asks Eve what she has done,
she says “The serpent tricked me, so I ate.”
Adam and Eve’s first sin was eating from the Tree of
Knowledge of Good and Evil, but their second and more significant sin was
refusing to accept responsibility for what they have done. Adam blames it on
Eve, and also on God who made Eve for him, and Eve blames it on the serpent.
The blame game has begun.
The issue of taking responsibility is also at the core of
the story of Cain and Abel. After Cain kills Abel, God again asks a question:
“Where is your brother Abel?” Just as with his question to Adam and Eve, this
question gives Cain the opportunity to own up to what he has done, to accept
responsibility and ask for forgiveness.
But he does nothing of the sort. First he says, “I do not
know” and then he adds a line that has become the mantra of avoidance of
responsibility: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Saying that he does not know is an
outright lie and bad enough, but adding “Am I my brother’s keeper?” adds insult
to injury. For it is one thing to lie about what we do, a much more serious
thing to deny our responsibility for our fellow human being.
This question of responsibility comes up time and again
throughout the Tanach. It is raised most explicitly, for example, in the book
of Esther, when Mordecai tells Esther that she must go to the king “to make
supplication to him and to entreat him on behalf of her people.”
Esther is reluctant. After all, to enter the presence of
the king without being summoned is a crime punishable by death. But Mordecai
confronts her: “Do not think in your heart that you, of all the Jews, will
escape because you are in the king’s house. For if you remain completely silent
at this time, relief and deliverance will come to the Jews from another place,
but you and your father’s house will be destroyed!” Esther accepts her
responsibility and saves the Jewish people.
The rabbis, as I mentioned on Rosh Hashanah, taught “Kol
Yisrael areivim zeh bazeh/All Israel is responsible one for the other.”
That has been a teaching that has served us well throughout history. We have
always been willing to reach out and help fellow Jews, whether around the
corner, or around the world.
The Talmud also teaches “When the community is in trouble,
a person should not say, ‘I will go to my house and I will eat and drink and be
at peace with myself.’” To ignore what is happening in the community, to turn
away from what is happening in the world is not an acceptable option for a Jew.
Elie Wiesel has said that with regard to the Holocaust he
can understand the victims as well as the perpetrators, but he was never able to
understand the bystanders, those who watched what was happening, but did
nothing. In his Jewish world, it was impossible to fathom such a response. We
are called upon to act, to take a stand, to get involved, to do something.
The Talmud teaches, “Whoever can stop . . . the people of
one’s city from sinning, but does not . . . is held responsible for the sins of
the people of one’s city. If one can stop the whole world from sinning and does
not, one is held responsible for the sins of the whole world.”
If one looks at the significant political movements that
emerged in the second half of the 20th century, from the civil rights
movement to the women’s movement, to more recently the movement for equality for
gays and lesbians, a disproportionate number of Jews have been involved in both
leadership and grass roots. Even many Jews who are highly assimilated have
learned this important Jewish value and practiced it in their lives.
It always gives me great pride when members of our
community are involved with organizations which reach out and help others,
either professionally or as volunteers. Indeed, it reflects well on our
community and on our people. Some might claim that their involvement has
nothing to do with their being Jewish, they are reaching out as one human being
to another, but they are only deluding themselves. It has everything to do with
being a Jew and the values that are often internalized.
The Jews are the only identifiable group that politically
votes against its pocketbook, supporting those candidates that are perceived to
be more compassionate and caring and who support government programs to help the
poor, oppressed and disenfranchised. Our core values are important and we will
not abandon them, even when it might be to our financial benefit.
There is a wonderful story from the midrash of two people
sitting in a boat, when one of them takes out a drill and begins boring a hole
under his seat.
“What are you doing?” the other asks.
“Mind your own business,” the first responds,
“What has this to do with you? Am I not boring the hole under my own seat?”
In this new year, may we recognize that we are indeed
responsible for our fellow Jews and our fellow human beings.
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