Debbie Young: Teshuva, Tefilla and Tzedaka
Neilah sermon: Neilah is the closing service—the last of five services on Yom Kippur, the Day for Atonement.
In Memory of my Esty, 1982—2006
I must begin with an apology. I am aware that my sermons have not been on the happiest of themes, and I am afraid, this sermon will not be the one to break that mould, and a warning, this may be emotional. As I am sure you already have gathered, last Wednesday, at 10.30 am, my best friend and soul mate, Ester, zichronah livracha, died. It may seem a cliché, but it is absolutely true that a light has been lost from the world. You have graciously welcomed me into your midst for the last two chagim, and for Yom Kippur today, I hope you will feel able to forgive my indulgence at this time, and see what Ester had to teach us all. Every time I have tried to express how much she contributed to the world, and how to meet her was to love her, it seems I am just speaking as any would of the dead, but she was a truly remarkable young woman, who shone with wisdom, wit, and a wonderful view of the world, and who did more in her 24 years than many of us will ever achieve. I would like to dedicate this sermon to her, as I feel she really can be a model for us as we begin to prepare ourselves to re-enter the world out there. On Yom Kippur we talk about Teshuva, return, Tefilla, prayer, and Tzedaka, charity and justice. I would like to show how Ester was a wonderful model in these areas, and what she had to teach us.
Let me begin with Tefilla. Prayer. When Ester prayed, or led prayer, her voice led the way. She worshipped in song, and her whole being seemed involved in the act. She could bring a whole room with her, and one really felt her song could carry everyone’s words to heaven. But even though her voice was beautiful, one had to join in with her. The act was so joyous that you just had to be a part of it. I would like us all to consider our own tefilla, particularly after a day so full of it. How often do we allow ourselves to be carried along by the community, or the leader? How often do we say empty words in English? Or words we simply don’t understand in Hebrew? How often do we put off learning until tomorrow, forgetting that tomorrow may never come? If we empower ourselves to fully participate, and explore readings and learn tunes so that we can really be involved in the proceedings, the experience will be more joyous for each of us as individuals, and as a consequence, the prayer of the community will be fuller and richer and will naturally be something you want to be a part of. Unfortunately most of us need more help than Ester did to achieve kavannah, real feeling, in prayer, but we must not assume it is not there, we must perhaps just look for it and work for it that bit harder.
Tzedakah. This could be a 20-minute piece on its own! Ester was outraged by the daily injustices she saw around her, as I know we all are. But while Ester was outraged, she didn’t sit around complaining about it, she acted. She had to do something. She had to try to make a difference, and what a difference she made. Even as a four year old, after her parents had explained the situation to her that many Jews in the Soviet Union lived under, being bullied, picked on, and worst of all for Ester, having to sing songs quietly so that neighbours couldn’t hear, she responded by saying ‘ah, you mean they are living like in Pharoah’s place!’ It then became her mission to pester her parents not to buy her the latest toy, but to take a trip to Russia, which they finally did, smuggling in many essentials for the refuseniks, a number of which could be disguised as children’s toys. Even without really knowing it, she had begun to make a difference. Whilst at university, she spent two summers not on holiday with her friends on beaches, but in Ghana working with Tzedek, a Jewish charity which sends volunteers to third world countries to work in overseas development projects. Her first summer was spent researching potential projects with which Tzedek could work. She then returned the next summer, having learnt enough of the local language, to lead a team of volunteers into the projects she had investigated. She had been outraged by the imbalance between the West and Africa, and she had done something practical, and made a real difference on the ground.
Back in the UK she volunteered for a refugee absorption centre, as well as a drop in centre and helpline, before finally being appointed (and therefore paid) to be project co-ordinator for a refugee project this summer. She felt very strongly that as a Jew her history made it an absolute imperative that she do something, and that she make a difference for those who arrived as our ancestors did before us, as strangers in the strange land of England. She was outraged by the injustices she saw, and she acted. Every homeless person on the Kilburn High Road where she lived knew her, and had at one time or another received food from her. She would never waste a thing. When she left a lecture at Cardiff University to find a skip being filled up with out of date computers, she sat down and cried. She couldn’t stop them, and she could think of so many places that could use them. This senseless waste outraged her, and in her home everything that could be was recycled, and she never threw anything away.
She was also involved in interfaith dialogue, but sometimes had the feeling that talking just wasn’t enough, so she got herself involved in an interfaith theatre project, where she worked every week with Muslims and Jews to produce theatre and dialogue that was meaningful to all, and that showed they could work together to achieve something. And as if that didn’t keep her busy enough, she also volunteered with charities such as Focus, working with children with special needs.
In 24 years, she volunteered and put her energy into more things than many would manage in their full three score years and ten. Tzedakah was not an abstract concept to her, and while she rarely had much money to spare, she gave of her time as freely as she could. While she always managed to find time to see friends and be with the people that were important to her, making a difference to others just came naturally to Esty, and she never thought twice to do what she could. I do not know how much time and money each of you can and do give, but in the pursuit of justice incumbent upon us today and every day as Jews, I know that I personally could do more, and I am humbled by Ester and her generosity, and forced to reconsider how I will spend my time and money in 5767.
This last part, Teshuva, return, is the hardest part. Ester was wonderful, but she was not a saint. She was very good at giving, and at loving others. But she was not always so good at loving herself. As we make teshuva, and attempt to examine ourselves, we must also remember to make time for ourselves. We cannot give without receiving, and we must know our own strengths and beauties if we are to be able to continue giving as fully as we should. In making our repentance and return to God, we must remember the sins we commit against ourselves. This neglect will come back to bite us in the end, and we must be wary of it. None of us is perfect, but none of us is wholly bad either. As I said this morning, we have both good and bad, spiritual and material in us, and it is in finding the right balance between these opposites that Judaism teaches we will best contribute to the world which at this time seems to me to be even more broken than usual.
My friend is gone, but those who were touched by her are not. All those we have loved and lost in years past have left their marks on us, and as we remember them tonight, let us think of what we would like our legacy to be in this world. As Jacob P. Rudin writes in the Reform Machzor: "When we are dead, and people weep for us and grieve, let it be because we touched their lives with beauty and simplicity. Let it not be said that life was good to us, but, rather, that we were good to life"
This year let us not be paralysed by despair, or outrage, apathy, or self hatred, let us remember the good that those we have loved and lost did for us, and for our communities. Let us make their memories a blessing by continuing to work towards a world that will be better for those who will come to remember us, and hope that we may have achieved a fraction of what Ester Gluck did.
Venomar Amen.
In Memory of my Esty, 1982—2006
I must begin with an apology. I am aware that my sermons have not been on the happiest of themes, and I am afraid, this sermon will not be the one to break that mould, and a warning, this may be emotional. As I am sure you already have gathered, last Wednesday, at 10.30 am, my best friend and soul mate, Ester, zichronah livracha, died. It may seem a cliché, but it is absolutely true that a light has been lost from the world. You have graciously welcomed me into your midst for the last two chagim, and for Yom Kippur today, I hope you will feel able to forgive my indulgence at this time, and see what Ester had to teach us all. Every time I have tried to express how much she contributed to the world, and how to meet her was to love her, it seems I am just speaking as any would of the dead, but she was a truly remarkable young woman, who shone with wisdom, wit, and a wonderful view of the world, and who did more in her 24 years than many of us will ever achieve. I would like to dedicate this sermon to her, as I feel she really can be a model for us as we begin to prepare ourselves to re-enter the world out there. On Yom Kippur we talk about Teshuva, return, Tefilla, prayer, and Tzedaka, charity and justice. I would like to show how Ester was a wonderful model in these areas, and what she had to teach us.
Let me begin with Tefilla. Prayer. When Ester prayed, or led prayer, her voice led the way. She worshipped in song, and her whole being seemed involved in the act. She could bring a whole room with her, and one really felt her song could carry everyone’s words to heaven. But even though her voice was beautiful, one had to join in with her. The act was so joyous that you just had to be a part of it. I would like us all to consider our own tefilla, particularly after a day so full of it. How often do we allow ourselves to be carried along by the community, or the leader? How often do we say empty words in English? Or words we simply don’t understand in Hebrew? How often do we put off learning until tomorrow, forgetting that tomorrow may never come? If we empower ourselves to fully participate, and explore readings and learn tunes so that we can really be involved in the proceedings, the experience will be more joyous for each of us as individuals, and as a consequence, the prayer of the community will be fuller and richer and will naturally be something you want to be a part of. Unfortunately most of us need more help than Ester did to achieve kavannah, real feeling, in prayer, but we must not assume it is not there, we must perhaps just look for it and work for it that bit harder.
Tzedakah. This could be a 20-minute piece on its own! Ester was outraged by the daily injustices she saw around her, as I know we all are. But while Ester was outraged, she didn’t sit around complaining about it, she acted. She had to do something. She had to try to make a difference, and what a difference she made. Even as a four year old, after her parents had explained the situation to her that many Jews in the Soviet Union lived under, being bullied, picked on, and worst of all for Ester, having to sing songs quietly so that neighbours couldn’t hear, she responded by saying ‘ah, you mean they are living like in Pharoah’s place!’ It then became her mission to pester her parents not to buy her the latest toy, but to take a trip to Russia, which they finally did, smuggling in many essentials for the refuseniks, a number of which could be disguised as children’s toys. Even without really knowing it, she had begun to make a difference. Whilst at university, she spent two summers not on holiday with her friends on beaches, but in Ghana working with Tzedek, a Jewish charity which sends volunteers to third world countries to work in overseas development projects. Her first summer was spent researching potential projects with which Tzedek could work. She then returned the next summer, having learnt enough of the local language, to lead a team of volunteers into the projects she had investigated. She had been outraged by the imbalance between the West and Africa, and she had done something practical, and made a real difference on the ground.
Back in the UK she volunteered for a refugee absorption centre, as well as a drop in centre and helpline, before finally being appointed (and therefore paid) to be project co-ordinator for a refugee project this summer. She felt very strongly that as a Jew her history made it an absolute imperative that she do something, and that she make a difference for those who arrived as our ancestors did before us, as strangers in the strange land of England. She was outraged by the injustices she saw, and she acted. Every homeless person on the Kilburn High Road where she lived knew her, and had at one time or another received food from her. She would never waste a thing. When she left a lecture at Cardiff University to find a skip being filled up with out of date computers, she sat down and cried. She couldn’t stop them, and she could think of so many places that could use them. This senseless waste outraged her, and in her home everything that could be was recycled, and she never threw anything away.
She was also involved in interfaith dialogue, but sometimes had the feeling that talking just wasn’t enough, so she got herself involved in an interfaith theatre project, where she worked every week with Muslims and Jews to produce theatre and dialogue that was meaningful to all, and that showed they could work together to achieve something. And as if that didn’t keep her busy enough, she also volunteered with charities such as Focus, working with children with special needs.
In 24 years, she volunteered and put her energy into more things than many would manage in their full three score years and ten. Tzedakah was not an abstract concept to her, and while she rarely had much money to spare, she gave of her time as freely as she could. While she always managed to find time to see friends and be with the people that were important to her, making a difference to others just came naturally to Esty, and she never thought twice to do what she could. I do not know how much time and money each of you can and do give, but in the pursuit of justice incumbent upon us today and every day as Jews, I know that I personally could do more, and I am humbled by Ester and her generosity, and forced to reconsider how I will spend my time and money in 5767.
This last part, Teshuva, return, is the hardest part. Ester was wonderful, but she was not a saint. She was very good at giving, and at loving others. But she was not always so good at loving herself. As we make teshuva, and attempt to examine ourselves, we must also remember to make time for ourselves. We cannot give without receiving, and we must know our own strengths and beauties if we are to be able to continue giving as fully as we should. In making our repentance and return to God, we must remember the sins we commit against ourselves. This neglect will come back to bite us in the end, and we must be wary of it. None of us is perfect, but none of us is wholly bad either. As I said this morning, we have both good and bad, spiritual and material in us, and it is in finding the right balance between these opposites that Judaism teaches we will best contribute to the world which at this time seems to me to be even more broken than usual.
My friend is gone, but those who were touched by her are not. All those we have loved and lost in years past have left their marks on us, and as we remember them tonight, let us think of what we would like our legacy to be in this world. As Jacob P. Rudin writes in the Reform Machzor: "When we are dead, and people weep for us and grieve, let it be because we touched their lives with beauty and simplicity. Let it not be said that life was good to us, but, rather, that we were good to life"
This year let us not be paralysed by despair, or outrage, apathy, or self hatred, let us remember the good that those we have loved and lost did for us, and for our communities. Let us make their memories a blessing by continuing to work towards a world that will be better for those who will come to remember us, and hope that we may have achieved a fraction of what Ester Gluck did.
Venomar Amen.
posted by Ester memories at 4:52 pm
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