You're So Vain, You Probably Think This Sermon's About You
By Ben Scolnic
Once upon a time, people thought that the sun revolved around the earth. They thought that the sun and the moon were created to give light to the earth. Indeed, this was common sense. But then we learned that, on the contrary, the earth revolves around the sun, and our beliefs were not only erroneous, but also very vain.
You're so vain; I bet you think this sermon's about you. Vanity has huge implications for the way that we think about Judaism. You're so vain that you think that if you don't believe in G-d, G-d doesn't exist. You're so vain you think that you can decide whether you're going to be Jewish or not, that you will decide whether to throw thousands of years of tradition right out the window. You're so vain that if you want to eat pork on Yom Kippur with a milkshake chaser, that's what you're going to do. You're so vain that if you have friends who start getting more religious, you have the audacity to question them or criticize them.
I want to talk about vanity and how we can fight the tendency toward self-centeredness within ourselves. I don't know about you, but I always watch the Oscars. My favorite goes to two people who are in front of the camera, Best Actor and Actress in Supporting Roles. I love the idea that a performance that is not the main role is important enough to get an award.
I love it when a marquee actor takes a lesser role; like Frank Sinatra in "From Here to Eternity" or Ingrid Bergman in "Murder on the Orient Express." I like the idea that an actor can sometimes get the top billing and other times willingly and happily take a lesser role. I like the idea of actors who are not so vain that they think every movie has to revolve around them.
Now let's talk about the character in the Bible who on Rosh Hashanah gets the award for Best Performance in a Supporting Role--Isaac. Let me tell you about Isaac. Imagine being Isaac.
You're born to two parents who are old enough to be your great grandparents. You have an older half-brother, Ishmael, who leaves home with his mother when you're a little boy. Your father takes you on a trip. You climb a mountain and at the top he puts you on an altar like he's going to sacrifice you to G-d. At the last minute, when you think he's going to do it, he stops and you go home. Your mother dies and you're really upset. Your father sends his assistant to get you a wife from the old country. You love her and you are comforted for the loss of your mother. Your father has more children but they, like your older brother, are sent away. This leaves the field clear for you to inherit everything, and when your father dies you become the head of the clan. You follow in your father's footsteps. You drink from the wells he dug. You go to the places he went to. You get out of bad situations the same way that he did. You have two boys, Esau and Jacob. Esau is going to be your heir and you just think he's the venison in your stew. He's big and a man's man and a hunter, and he's an all-star outfielder. And he loves you and you love him. His younger twin, Jacob, well, he's not Esau, let's put it that way. He stays home and reads and gets straight A's and stays home and cooks. It's clear that Esau is the man, the one who will lead the clan into the future.
You are prosperous and very wealthy. Everything you touch turns to gold. You clearly have G-d's blessing, just like your father Abraham did.
But then you get very old and you go blind and you spend what turns out to be many years on your deathbed. Your son Jacob dresses up as Esau and gets your blessing. You give Esau another, lesser blessing, but the deception is horrible for you. You were betrayed by your son Jacob and your wife Rebekah.
Throughout most of your life, you are in a supporting role. You are the child taken up the mountain to be sacrificed. You are the son who is given a wife. You follow in your father's footsteps. You are betrayed by your family. You are never the main actor in any of the stories--you are always in a supporting role.
That's Isaac's life - a good man in a supporting role. But here's the striking thing: Every time that we say the central prayer of every service, the Amidah, the Silent Devotion, we mention Isaac. Now, of course we would talk about G-d as the G-d of Abraham. Abraham was the first Jewish person, the iconoclast who believed in one G-d. And of course we would talk about G-d as the G-d of Jacob. We are all the descendants of Jacob, whose name became Israel. We are all the Children of Israel.
We say the G-d of Abraham, the G-d of Isaac, and the G-d of Jacob. We understand why we say the G-d of Abraham and the G-d of Jacob. But Isaac? Why should we say "the G-d of Isaac?"
Answer: Because G-d is not only the G-d of Abrahams and the Jacobs. He is also the G-d of the Isaacs. Of course, G-d is the G-d of the people in the starring roles; what is not as obvious is how He blesses those who support those in the main roles.
Now let's think about our own lives. To what extent are we in the title roles of our lives and to what extent are we in supporting roles? And how happy are we to play the roles we play?
A friend of mine told me a story that I have never gotten out of my mind. It's about Rabbi Abba Hillel Silver, one of the great figures of modern Judaism. He was a great Zionist. He was one of the reasons that the State of Israel was re-created in our time.
My friend was a young rabbi in Philadelphia and he was asked to pick Silver up at the train station. He was very honored to do so, and found Silver, towards the end of his life, to be charming and bright and attentive. But Silver's heyday was over, and only a group of twenty or so came to hear the man who had once roused the crowds. After the speech, my friend took Silver back to the train station. They had some time before the train came. The train station was empty. It was a cold, bleak winter night. And so my friend asked, "Rabbi Silver, I only mean you respect with this question. Why are you here? It's almost insulting for you, at this point, to spend your day speaking as you just did to such a small group. You should be at home, relaxing, you shouldn't be here in this station on this winter night. And Silver looked at him and said, "I thank you for your caring. But remember Moses. When G-d told him that he could not go to the Promised Land, Moses asked if he could go as a foot soldier. He knew that he could no longer be the leader of the Israelites, that he was older and burned-out and that the Israelites needed a new leader to conquer the Promised Land. But he wanted to go, and he was content to go any way he could, even as a common foot-soldier. And so that, my young friend, is why I'm here; I'm a foot soldier now. And I'm happy to play this role."
Abba Hillel Silver had played a leading role; now he was willing to play a supporting role. I would have expected the great Rabbi Abba Hillel Silver to see that little trip to Philly as a comedown, as beneath him, as a blow to his pride. But he wasn't that vain. He mentioned Moses. Moses was the greatest figure in human history, and he was, according to the Torah, the humblest of men.
Imagine yourself standing on the stage, receiving an Oscar. Who would you thank? Who are the people who have played the supporting roles in your life? Who should you thank, right now, for the important contributions they've made to your life? Wouldn't you say that they were important to you? Then why can't you play those kinds of roles for others?
If you admit to your vanity, think about life as a series of supporting roles. You can revolve around the sun; you can receive your light and warmth from others. The sun does not need to rise and set on you.
We all want to feel important, that we have had meaningful lives. But we do not need to take top billing to achieve our goals. For G-d is not only the G-d of Abraham and Jacob; He is also the G-d of us Isaacs who build our lives by supporting others.
We have to look in that mirror and say: The highest tribute that I can receive in life is if another human being will say that I should get an award for playing a supporting role in their life.
Rabbi Benjamin Edidin Scolnic is the spiritual leader of Temple Beth Sholom, Hamden, Ct. and the author of books and articles including, most recently Chronology and Papponymy: A List of Judean High Priests in the Persian Period.
|
|
||