Rabbi Gleason Divrei Torah

“All that you touch

You change.

All that you Change

Changes you.

The only lasting truth is Change.

God is Change.”

These words do not come from our machzor, or from our Torah - but rather from a fictional book by Octavia Butler called “The Parable of the Sower.” These words are the words of Lauren, a young Black woman, a teenage girl living in a dystopic future in which armed gated communities are the only place left where one can hope to be safe from violence over scarce resources, in a scorched and blighted California. It’s a California wildfire that sends Lauren as a displaced person, trying to build a new future for herself and her kin. Written in 1993, this book is set in the future year of….2024. 

And, here we are, on the precipice of 5784 - which contains in it the beginning of the year 2024. And we can look around at our world, and see - if our eyes are open - that the world we live in now is characterized by the extremes of individualism and greed, characterized by gun violence, and characterized by climate disaster and wildfires - that Butler’s predictions were indeed prophetic. And the character Lauren, in turn, presents us with a workable theology for this time. And although these words are not from our prayer book, I believe that we can find a theology of change within the Yamim Noraim, the days of awe. 

It seems a little bit counterintuitive. Isn’t God the one constant? The one unchanging force in the universe? The unmoveable mover, according to Maimonides? In our liturgy, we say that God is rishon and God is acharon - God is first and God is last. So how can we say that God is change itself?

Let us look at our own experience during this time of year. 

Rosh HaShana is a touchpoint. As we sit here in the expanded sanctuary with the folding chairs, hearing these special melodies of Avinu Malkeinu, we remember where we were the last time that we had these things, one year ago. And I invite you now - to think back: Where were you a year ago? What had just happened? What was preoccupying you? What did you dearly wish for, that you now have? Or what bothered you so then, that you have come to accept? What have you grown patient with? What goals did you reach and what new goals popped up in their place? What could you not have imagined that has now transpired? And who was there who is no longer here? 

We don’t all have huge changes every year, but I’ll say for myself since it is true for me, that last year at this time, I couldn’t have imagined the exact shape of this sanctuary which I have and will come to know intimately. I didn’t know Beth David, or the fabric of the community that I’m now so lucky to find myself in. I couldn’t have imagined it one year ago. It’s also a change to have a new rabbi in your community too - and I feel honored to serve this community and look forward to meeting you if I haven’t had the chance yet, and to hearing your connection to this special community.

All of this is a reminder that we do not know what will happen one year from now. But even in years where less change happens, less dramatic change perhaps, some change is always at the heart of our lives. And we have a choice, whether to resist it, or whether to embrace. Whether to align ourselves with it. 

As Jews, I believe, our response to change is twofold, and both aspects are central to the Yamim Noraim. Our response to change is embracing and accepting God’s will, on the one hand, and on the other hand, it is in celebrating the ability to change ourselves. To change our behavior. Which is to say - teshuvah. As Unetane Tokef says, Teshuvah, changing ourselves, is a key ingredient towards changing God’s decree. Throughout the day we cycle through these competing messages: affirming on the one hand, that human beings are capable of so much change, and affirming, on the other hand, that so much is out of our control. There’s a paradox here - that at the same time we accept God as total sovereign, we say - but we can change. We have agency. 

I want to look at the story that we just read from the book of Genesis, the story of Hagar and Sarah, for a profound illustration of this theology of both surrender and agency . 

We just read in the Torah reading that Sarah casts out her slave, Hagar, because she is jealous of Hagar’s son with Abraham, Ishmael, in his competition with her own son with Abraham, Isaac. So she orders Abraham to cast them out. And God says, Abraham, listen to her. Abraham, Hagar, and Ishmael all seem resigned to accepting God’s will and Sarah’s will and simply throwing up their arms in defeat in the face of rapid change.

And then something profound happens. After they are cast out, Hagar and Ishmael run out of water, and start crying in the desert. And God --- responds.

 וַיִּשְׁמַ֣ע אֱל-הִים֮ אֶת־ק֣וֹל הַנַּ֒עַר֒ וַיִּקְרָא֩ מַלְאַ֨ךְ אֱלֹ-הִ֤ים ׀ אֶל־הָגָר֙ מִן־הַשָּׁמַ֔יִם וַיֹּ֥אמֶר לָ֖הּ מַה־לָּ֣ךְ הָגָ֑ר

 אַל־תִּ֣ירְאִ֔י כִּֽי־שָׁמַ֧ע אֱלֹהִ֛ים אֶל־ק֥וֹל הַנַּ֖עַר בַּאֲשֶׁ֥ר הוּא־שָֽׁם׃

God heard the cry of the boy, and a messenger of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, “What troubles you, Hagar? Don’t be afraid, for God has heeded the cry of the boy where he is.”

What troubles you, Hagar?

The malach elohim - the messenger of God - addresses Hagar directly by name - and this is a sign of prophecy. Think of who else is addressed directly by name by God - Avraham, Moshe - Hagar is among the prophets. And if we read this story allegorically, I want to look at what does Hagar’s name really mean? It’s very close to the word for stranger, HaGer. Hagar, in this sense, is the prototypical stranger, the immigrant, the oppressed worker. 

The secondary meaning of Hagar is connected to that same three letter Hebrew root that is part of the word - Ger - stranger - which is “Gar” - meaning to live or to dwell. Hagar is also simply - the one who dwells, or the one who lives somewhere. The dweller. The one who accepts her lot. She is where she is.

And then, what happens next? The angel tells her not to worry and NOT to be afraid- 

Ki Shama elohim el kol hana’ar basher hu sham. God heard the Voice of the Ishmael - b'asher hu sham, exactly where he was.

The Torah could have just said, God heard Ishamel’s cry. But no. The Torah says that God heard Ishmael’s voice Basher hu sham. Exactly where he was. And where he was was in a horrible situation.Where he was was on the margin of the margin. Where he was was cast off from the one who had already been cast off. 

And this! Of allll the stories in the Torah - this was what the rabbis wanted us to read on the very first day of the year, when everyone would be in shul -- The story of God listening to an oppressed woman and her son. And part of the message is - if we want prophecy in a horrible situation such as the one that the world finds ourselves in often - we should turn to Hagar, HaGer - the stranger and the immigrant. We should turn to the person on the margin, not the center. The margin is what grants us perspective. And Ishmael is the one who is truly listened to - where he is - at the margin of the margin - he is cast off from the one who is already cast off. That is where God shows up! 

And what does the Malach say next? 

ק֚וּמִי שְׂאִ֣י אֶת־הַנַּ֔עַר וְהַחֲזִ֥יקִי אֶת־יָדֵ֖ךְ בּ֑וֹ כִּֽי־לְג֥וֹי גָּד֖וֹל אֲשִׂימֶֽנּוּ׃

Come, lift up the boy and hold him by the hand, for I will make a great nation of him.”

וַיִּפְקַ֤ח אֱלֹהִים֙ אֶת־עֵינֶ֔יהָ וַתֵּ֖רֶא בְּאֵ֣ר מָ֑יִם וַתֵּ֜לֶךְ וַתְּמַלֵּ֤א אֶת־הַחֵ֙מֶת֙ מַ֔יִם וַתַּ֖שְׁקְ אֶת־הַנָּֽעַר׃

Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. She went and filled the skin with water, and let the boy drink.

‘Finally, Hagar gathers herself and decides that she does have agency. 

This is a story about accepting God’s will, while also taking matters into your own hands. This is a story about accepting the changes that happen - even the worst circumstance, of being cast out into the desert with no water. But it is also about having the sekhel - the common sense - to open your eyes, and see that there is water - and to drink! This is a story about finding God’s presence - basher anachnu sham. Where we are. And this is also a story about the prophecy of the margin. It is not a coincidence that in Butler’s work, Lauren, the prophet, is a teenage girl, experiencing racism and misogyny. Her prophecy, like Hagar’s, is coming from her experience of marginality. 

The root of the word Shana is Shin, nun, hey. It means year, as in Rosh Hashana - the new year, or Shana tova --  and it also means - l’shanot - to change. And it also means lishnot -- to repeat. And, because the way people used to learn was by memorizing the Torah and sayings of rabbis through repetition, it also means to learn and to teach! As in the Mishnah. Shin nun hey. This is actually an incredible word. So think about the profound meaning in this Hebrew word for year - that it means year, it means change, it means repetition, and it means teaching and learning. That when we say Shana tova -- contained in there is also the meaning that we will learn - through this repetition, through this change. Through this spiraling through time in which we mark each year. That Rosh Hashana is also rosh hashinui - the beginning of change.

It’s quite natural to resist change. It’s quite terrifying. But it will happen whether we resist it or embrace it. And the wisdom of this holiday is that we can embrace it. We can also look at the burning world and say: it’s possible to change. We can turn to those on the margins and listen, and we will hear that it is vitally necessary to change if we are going to live. To listen to the native residents of Lahaina in Maui whose homes were destroyed by wildfire and do not have the resources to relocate elsewhere. To listen to the voices of climate refugees around the world, who insist that we must change if we are going to live. 

One of the many things that is prophetic about The Parable of the Sower, I believe, is that the solutions are not some technical civilization that has evolved beyond the need for religion or God. Rather, the hope of the future relies on an evolved understanding of religion and God, which are a central part of the new society in which people take care of each other, and listen to each other, and accept all that has changed while affirming that they, too, can change reality. 

So I challenge us, this year, to open our eyes - to see that there is a well of water, and to drink from it. But like Hagar, it is we who must take each other by the hand - as Hagar is told - וְהַחֲזִ֥יקִי אֶת־יָדֵ֖ךְ בּ֑וֹ - take him by the hand, and lift him. In understanding what needs to change, I challenge us to look not only within ourselves, or within our small community, but to look to the margins of our community, and listen to the prophetic voices of those who are most cast out - and look to the margins of our society and listen to the voices who are cast off from the cast off - as Ishmael was - that we can be like God in listening to the voice basher hu sham - where it is found. The only lasting truth is change. Let us embrace this shanah - lishanot - to change - in all the changes that it brings, remembering that we too change all that we touch, as it changes us. And we are called to responsibility to accept God’s will but never to make the mistake of believing that we have no power. Let us take each other by the hand and be fearless.