The Image Within

In relating the story of creation, the rabbis tell of God’s plan to create humanity in the divine image. Having heard God’s intent, the angels grew jealous and sought to foil God’s plan by hiding God’s image from humanity. One angel suggested that God’s image be hidden at the bottom of the sea, where no person will ever find it. Another angel countered that God’s image should be placed at the top of the highest mountain peak, safe from prying humankind. Hearing these ideas, the wisest of angels responded: “There may come a day that humans learn to plumb the depths of the deepest ocean. So too, humans may learn to climb the highest mountain. So let us hide God’s image in the safest place of all; let us place it within the human soul itself, for that is the one place that they will never think to look.”

It is a religious insight of the highest order to realize that the very thing for which we search throughout our lives is, all the while, embedded within us. From the moment Adam and Eve left the garden, through the wilderness wanderings of the Israelites, the tale of our people has been a perpetual search for a truth, an Eden, a promised land – ever elusive – existing just beyond our grasp. And like the man in the Hasidic fable who travels the world seeking a treasure that he ultimately discovers buried beneath his own home, we find that the prize we seek most is not to be found by way of some unknown frontier, but rather by way of a journey inward. Within each of us sits our better self, our higher purpose, and our inner truth. We exist in a state of self-alienation, strangers to our very selves. We live our lives seeking to be like someone else, like this one or that one, forgetting that in the final accounting the question we will be asked is not whether we were Moses, Abraham, or Sarah, but whether we were that one person we were actually created to be. The most rewarding and adventurous and arduous and necessary spiritual pilgrimage a person can make is that of self-discovery. As Hermann Hesse wrote: “Each person [has] only one vocation – to find the way to himself.”

Tonight’s festival of Shavuot celebrates God’s revelation at Mount Sinai and the opportunity for each and every one of us to hear God’s voice and reaffirm our commitment to a life of mitzvot. The conventional image is top down, a booming voice from the heavens, followed and filled by God’s commandments. And yet an alternative and equally authoritative midrash suggests otherwise: that not the entire Torah, not the 613 commandments, not even the Ten Commandments were given by God at Mount Sinai. This midrash explains that only the first sound – the first vowel of the first word of the first commandment – was spoken by God, an utterance to which the entire Israelite community responded with the full content of what we know as Torah. By this telling, God’s revelation was not top down. It was akin to, if not exactly like, the parent’s approach to the fourth child at the seder table, the one who knows not even how to ask. At p’tach lo, “You shall open that child.” The parent’s obligation is not to pour in content, but to prompt that child to find his or her voice in the narrative of our people. Under this formulation, a life of Torah is a process of self-actualization, an articulation of the “Torah within.” The revelation we celebrate today is thus self-revelation – an opportunity to give full voice to the sounds of Sinai as spoken by Israel on this very day, so many years ago.

If this is so, if the human condition is one of self-alienation, and revelation is but the opportunity to hear the voice of God within each of us, then the true nature of religious longing snaps into place. First and foremost is music. There is a sublime feeling that I hope we can all reference, whereby the combination of words, melody, and the cantor’s voice tap into the pintele yid within each of us, cracking open our souls to release the song of our hearts. It could be the first time or the fiftieth time we have heard a prayer. What a feeling it is, when a hazzan is able to give expression to another place – a place within our hearts and souls – as our voices are stirred and unlocked.

So too with words of Torah. The secret of a great sermon is that the listener should not feel they are being told something new, rather that the preacher has given voice to a truth that we have known all along to be the case but have never had the courage or the tools to articulate. We all have had such an experience, when a rabbi has been speaking of Israel or Torah or the human condition, and we feel like we are being spoken to directly. “How did the rabbi know,” we wonder, “what is going on in my life?” And in that moment, that rabbi has fulfilled his or her task of religious leadership, not telling us something new, but drawing out the “Torah within,” the Torah that we knew all along.

Of late, I have thought long and hard about the vocation of religious leadership. I am increasingly of the opinion that the role of clergy or any Jewish educator is a form of spiritual mentoring. From a parenting perspective and from a managerial perspective, I am totally convinced of this. Lives can be molded, skills can be honed, and we are all ever works in progress, but the great “win” we seek is that those around us are nurtured and nudged forward in their quest towards finding the best version of their true selves. One cannot seek to make anyone – a child, an employee, or a student – someone they are not. Such a project will inevitably lead to failure and frustration on both sides. The task of religious mentoring is one of empowerment towards the goal of self-knowledge. To help an individual find the keys to his or her own soul, to find that image of God implanted deep within, and let that person give expression to his or her distinctive voice amidst the chorus of humanity.

Cantor Ben Ellerin and Rabbi Leah Loeterman, to the degree that Cantor Schwartz and I have been able, we have sought to provide each of you with a road map to your best selves, now newly ordained clergy for the Jewish people. You have served our community with distinction as interns, and on behalf of the entire congregation, we thank you, applaud your contributions, and wish you every success in the journey ahead. We have tried our best to provide you with the tools towards self-actualization. The goal has not been to make you “mini-Azis” or “mini-Elliots.” Rather we hope that we have given you the support, the community, and the mentoring to enable you to find your distinct voice as a cantor and as a rabbi.

Cantor Ellerin, by virtue of my vocal abilities (or lack thereof), I am forever one step removed from the music department. But what a joy it has been to see you lead our community. Whether you were conducting the Congregational Singers or working with our youth choir, I have admired your ability to draw out the song of every Jew with whom you work. The quality of your voice, the creativity and precision of your musicianship – you have led us so ably. Be it your Ahavah rabbah or Birkat ha-hodesh – staples of our synagogue and undoubtedly others – you have, in the best tradition of the cantorate, renewed classical compositions for a new generation.

Rabbi Loeterman, on more occasions than I can count, your leadership at Park Avenue Synagogue has drawn out Jewish souls no matter how hidden they may be: from the teens at the food pantry, bnei mitzvah students, families in a moment of loss, a classroom of students enraptured by your presence. Our community will not soon forget the Women’s Network Shabbat last December, when you, in partnership with Cantor Lissek, prompted countless women to consider the mitzvah of tallit. It is not just that you are gifted with a distinctive voice of rabbinic leadership, but your rabbinic leadership has enabled so many of our community to find themselves in the tapestry of our tradition. And if you will allow me a moment of personal indulgence, in your presence I find myself seeking to be the best version of my own self, as a rabbi, mentor and friend. For that, I will be ever grateful.

Both you, Cantor Ellerin, and you, Rabbi Loeterman, have impacted this community in ways we could not have imagined when you first entered our lives. We are so grateful to you for your leadership, but most importantly, for revealing to us the possibilities within us all. May you know only success in the coming chapters of your lives and may you always know the ongoing support of our community.

In the Torah reading of the week ahead, we will encounter the priestly blessing, the most ancient benediction on record for our people. It does, of course, call on God to bless us and be gracious unto us. But the radiance it bestows is not only external. It is a radiance that emanates from within, that sacred moment when God’s image is brought into full relief in our countenance and in our deeds. Ben and Leah, Cantor Ellerin and Rabbi Loeterman, as we thank you, as we send you on your way and as we bless you going forward, may the fullness of God’s presence always shine forth, and may each of you, in your journey ahead, cause Torah to shine forth from all those lucky enough to be drawn into the circle of your embrace.