SHABBAT SERVICE 2006
delivered by Rabbi Henry Jay Karp
Temple Emanuel, Davenport, Iowa
"THE JEW AS JUGGLER"
April 21, 2006
Nisan 24, 5766 

First off, let me thank you for your indulgence this evening in suffering my poetry and prose.  When I first proposed this service to the Ritual Committee, I envisioned it more as being a combination of my favorite readings and songs.  But as I considered it further, I realized that what I really wanted was to have this service be a labor of love, and not just some cut-and-paste job.  I wanted it to flow from my soul, hopefully to yours.

I suspect some of you are surprised by the poetry.  Over the past 20 years, you have read and heard my prose a plenty.  Well, for the poetry, you can thank Louise Hilfman Goldman, of blessed memory.  As those of you who knew Louise probably remember, she was quite the poet.  Several year ago, I approached her about heading up an effort to create a service of poetry for our annual Union Thanksgiving celebration with Edwards Congregational and the Unitarian churches.  Well, she was not going to let me off the hook that easily.  She insisted that I, along with Reverends Schmiechen and Saleska, write some of the poems.  I told her that I don’t write poetry, but she wasn’t buying.  So I wrote one, probably more to my surprise than that of anyone else.  She told me I should write more, but you know how those things go.  So, for several years my poetry lie dormant.

Then a few years back, I was invited to participate in a service celebrating the 20^th anniversary of my pre­vious congregation.  They asked all their past rabbis to write creative versions of the some of the prayers.  My assignment was the “Geulah” and the “Hashkiveinu.”  Much to my surprise, as I sat down to write, I found myself writing poetry rather than prose.  It was then that I discovered that it was poetry that more readily opened the door to my spiritual self.  Whether or not it is good poetry, that I do not know, nor do I actually care.  What I do know, and do care about, is that it has offered me an avenue to share some of my soul with you.

That having been said, now let me get to the subject at hand - or as Duane Thompson is fond of saying, my second sermon within a sermon.

I thought that this occasion would be a good opportunity for me to share with you my perspectives on what makes a good Jew.  People use that term all the time - “I’m a good Jew.   I’m not a good Jew” - but what does that mean, being a good Jew.

For those of you who have attended some of my adult education classes over the years, what I have to say tonight will not be new.  I have been saying it in one form or another for quite some time.  But as I contemplated what I wanted to talk about tonight, I realized that I have never really set these thoughts down to paper and this would be a good opportunity to do so.

There is a Hasidic story about how one day an acrobat came to the town of Krasny and announced that he would cross the river on a rope stretched from bank to bank.  Rabbi Hayyim Krasner, a disciple of the Baal Shem Tov, stood and intently watched the performance.  Noticing his deep preoccupation, his stu­dents asked him what interested him so.  The rabbi answered: “I was thinking of the acrobat’s readiness to submit his life to danger.  You may say he does so for the money which the admiring crowd will shower on him.  But this is not true, for if he thought of the reward, he would surely tumble into the wa­ter.  His entire thinking must be concentrated on one idea only, namely to maintain his balance, to prevent his body from inclining a hair’s breadth to one side.  His safety depends upon his determination to keep upright without thought of reward.”

Like the acrobat, to successfully live a Jewish life is to maintain one’s balance.  “What balance is that?”, you might ask.  Well, our Jewish tradition teaches us about several different types of balance.

First of all, there is the balance of moderation.  Moderation is a key element in Jewish ideology.  Histori­cally, Judaism has called upon us to resist the temptations to swing to one extreme or another.  For the Jew, the middle ground is sacred.  We see this commitment to moderation demonstrated in such matters as the Jewish approaches to alcohol and sex.  While many faiths view them as inherently sinful, and there­fore to be avoided, Judaism not only views them as neutral but also as containing the potential of sanctity.  Do we not sanctify Shabbat by drinking wine, which we call our “symbol of joy”?  And who here has not heard of one of the great Shabbat fun facts that it is considered a double mitzvah for husband and wife to have sexual relations on Shabbat?  Imagine, sanctifying Shabbat through sex!  The key here is that there is nothing inherently sinful in anything God created.  There is only potential; potential for both great good or great evil.  The difference comes from within us.  It is how we choose to use these things.  There is more opportunity to encounter sin if we choose either the path of abstinence or excess.  Abstinence be­cause we deny ourselves the gifts God gave us, and by so doing, in a way deny God.  Excess because we abuse the God’s gifts.  Extremism, in all its forms, is toxic according to the Jewish perspective.  There­fore, the best path is the path of moderation; maintaining the balance in order to make the most proper use of God’s gifts.

There is also the balance which we as Jews must maintain between universalism and particularism.  Let me define these terms.  Universalism is our sense of connection with all of God’s creation, especially with all human beings.  Particularism, on the other hand, is our sense of connection with our particular group, the Jewish people.  The successful Jewish life is one that keeps these two in balance.  It is one in which at times we feel concern for the well being of all humanity and we strive to fulfill our responsibility to the world at large.  And then, at times, we feel concern for the well being of the Jewish people and our own Jewish selves and we strive to act in uniquely Jewish ways.  It is in this spirit that at times a good Jew feels compelled to perform such acts as walking in the CROP Walk Against World Hunger or attending this Sunday evening’s rally on behalf of the victims in Darfur.  And then, at other times, a good Jew feels compelled to join a synagogue, attend Shabbat services, engage in Jewish study, advocate on behalf of Israel or in support of church-state separation.

Perhaps there is no better example of this balance between universalism and particularism than Shabbat itself.  We see in the text of the Kiddush that there are two reasons for observing Shabbat.  These two reasons reflect the two different versions of the Shabbat commandment as found in the Torah.  In the book of EXODUS we are told that Shabbat is a remembrance of Creation, for God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh.  While in the book of DEUTERONOMY we are told that Shabbat is a reminder of our liberation from the slavery of Egypt.  In other words, Shabbat celebrates both Creation, which is universal, indeed the birth of the universe, and the Liberation from Egypt, which is particular, indeed the birth of the Jewish people as a people unique on the earth.