domingo, 2 de septiembre de 2007

Rab. Mario Karpuj - Rosh Hashanah 5765

Two weeks ago I took Tamy and Adina for three days to Chile in order to attend the brit milah of my nephew, Ariel Haim, the son of my sister.

As you probably know, it turned out to be an unforgettable trip. For the two or three of you that haven't heard the story yet, here it is.

We're living in the U.S. with a visa that allows us to live and to work in this country.
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The visa was issued in Chile four years ago before we moved to Atlanta. In the meantime, the passports in which the visa was stamped expired. That means that every time we leave the country we have to take with us, our current passport and the old expired passport with the visa stamped on it.

In the case of my trip two weeks ago, that meant I had to take six passports - two for myself, two for Tamy and two for Adina.

I took five…

So there I was, trying to come back home, with a missing visa. And while I was trying to get a new visa at the American Consulate in Santiago, Analia was trying to mail the old one, only to find out that the consulate couldn't issue it in less than 10 days and nobody could assure Analia that the missing passport with the visa would be delivered in less than 72 hours.

That meant that the visa would arrive in Chile on Friday afternoon, making it impossible for us to be here for Shabbat, and opening a question mark about our ability to be here on that Sunday in which we had to participate in three weddings ceremonies.

The story ended with Analia taking a nine hour flight to Chile with the much needed visa, spending 12 hours there, and flying back to Atlanta the next night.

Why I am telling you this story on this day of Rosh Hashanah?

Because it seems to me that there is a connection between this story and the topic of the High Holidays in general and Rosh Hashanah in particular.

After all, the main theme of these days is no other than getting a visa to stay in this world for another year.

My passport reads in its first page:

"In the name of the Argentine Republic Government, the authority who issues this passport requests all those whom it may concern, to let the holder pass freely and render him the necessary assistance and protection. "

Aren't we coming on these days of Rosh Hashanah to request from the highest authority in the Universe the same thing? To let us pass freely to this year 5765, and to render us the necessary assistance and protection to have a good and sweet year.

Think about the prayers we add during these days:
Zochrenu l'hayim meleh chafetz b'haym…
"Remember us for life, O Sovereign who delights in life;
Inscribe us in the book of life, for your sake, O God of life."

And we add at the end of every Amidah:
"Uh k'tov l'hayim tovim kol b'nei britecha"
"Inscribe all the children of Your covenant for a good life."

"Be sefer hayim bracha v'shalom … nizaher v'nikatev lefanecha…"
"In the book of life and blessing, may we and all Your people, the House of Israel, be inscribed for a good and peaceful life."

This is our motto during these holidays' tefillot. "O Lord, inscribe us in the book of life, please, God, we beg you, renew our visas…"

So we know that we want our visas renewed. Does anybody ask the question about what is the purpose of having it?

You may think this is a silly question. After all what is at stake here is our own life.
But let us think for a minute about this. What do you want your visa for?

I remember in the mid 80's when a friend called me to suggest that I urgently go to the American Consulate in Buenos Aires. What was the reason? They were issuing tourist visas with no expiration date.

I told him that I was not planning any trip to America any time soon.

He insisted: "It's not about doing anything with it; it's just about having that visa in your passport"

I go back to my previous question.

Is there a purpose for it? Or is it just about having it in your life passport?
What are you planning with the time and the possibilities that you'll be granted?

One of the outcomes of my turbulent trip to Chile, was that I came back really wanting to watch a movie I missed during the summer, Steven Spielberg's last movie, The Terminal.

The only little problem is that the movie hasn't been out long enough to be at Blockbuster, but it has been out long enough not to be in any movie theater near Sandy Springs.
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So I went last week to the only place it was being screened in the metro area - Kennesaw at 10:10 pm…

This is the story of Victor Navorski, a man from a fictitious country in Eastern Europe caught in a very unique situation.

While he is flying to New York, a revolution unfolds in his country starting a war.

Victor arrives in JFK to find out that both his visa and passport have been frozen, meaning he can not enter America, nor can he fly back to his country.

The rest of the movie tells the story of his life in the international terminal at Kennedy Airport for nine months.

How he survives with no money (the only money he has is from his country and it has lost its value) and at the same time he finds the strength to make friends, helps people and tries to make the best out of his situation.

Does he forget about his visa? Not for a single day. He keeps going and asking for one.

But in the meantime, he tries to change the little world around him to make of it a better one and he reviews the purpose of his life and his mission on this world. In other words he commits himself to a process of Teshuva.

And when I say Teshuva in this context, I'm not speaking about repentance primarily.

This is only one of the possible translations of this Hebrew word. I believe that only after you explore the other meanings of Teshuva can you engage in this aspect of repentance which is the most common translation of Teshuva.

Teshuva also means to return and to turn. To return to where? To turn to whom?

First and foremost, to yourself, specifically to your inner self; to the most pure version of who you really are. What's your mission, where are you heading to, where do you really want to go in this journey we call life?

Back to the movie. Only by the end of it, do we find out what brought him to New York.

He is here to get an autograph from a jazz player in order to complete a collection of autographs from renowned musicians that belonged to his recently deceased Father.

For more than forty years his Father wrote letters to different artists he admired and every single one had answered him by sending his autograph, except one. And he made this trip to complete the collection.

It doesn't look like the most important mission at first.
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It is, however, a huge one. When his girlfriend looks at him in disbelief, he explains that this was something very important to his Father and that he would love to think that his Father would do the same for him in a similar situation. It's not anymore about an autograph; it's about honoring your ancestor's values and teachings.

During these days of Yamim Noraim, we are all Victor Navorski. You are in this huge terminal called Aseret Iemei Teshuva, the ten days of Teshuva, waiting for a visa. You cannot go back to 5764; you are not quite sure you'll receive the visa to stay in 5765.
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He spent nine months in the terminal; you have nine days until Yom HaKippurim. What are you planning to do with the time you have in your hands?

Are you planning to just sit and wait in line for the visa, or would you engage yourself in a process of Teshuva to make of this time you have a meaningful one?

A good question to ask ourselves as we plunge into the process of Teshuva on Rosh Hashanah is this: What would we read about ourselves if those who are closer to us wrote a book about who we were?

I'll tell you a name. Think about the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear it. Alfred Nobel. I guess that the first thing that came to most of you was the Nobel Prize.
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Do you know how the Nobel Prize was born? In 1888 Alfred Nobel's brother Ludvig died while staying in Cannes, France. The French newspapers reported Ludvig's death but confused him with Alfred.

The next morning, Alfred Nobel had the very unique experience to read in the newspapers his own obituary. The inventor of dynamite witnessed how one paper sported the headline "Le marchand de la mort est mort" ("The merchant of death is dead.") "Dr. Alfred Nobel, who became rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever before, died yesterday", the obituary began.

That day, Alfred Nobel decided to establish the prizes to avoid precisely the sort of posthumous reputation suggested by this premature obituary.

A great philosopher of the XI century, Bachya Ibn Pakuda wrote:

"Days are scrolls. Write in them only what you want remembered."

By the end of the movie, Victor Naborski can finally go to New York to accomplish the mission that brought him there from a distant land.

But in the meantime, he had become some kind of hero to those who are part of the Terminal. He become one by touching the lives of those he met, by inspiring them and sharing with them the most important mission. The one we like to call Tikkun Olam.
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"Avinu Malkeynu, kotvenu b'sefer hayim tovim"

Yes, sure we pray to be inscribed in the book of life, of course we want our visa renewed.

But let us not stop there. Let us also pray:

Avinu Malkeynu, awaken our Jewish consciousness to recognize those who need us,
And also awaken our Jewish consciousness to make a difference in the process of Tikun Olam.

Avinu Malkeynu, keep us mindful of our littleness, so that we may strive for true greatness.

Avinu Malkeynu, help us build a better society, based on pillars of justice, truth and peace.

Avinu Malkeynu, send us a new light to renew this year as a meaningful one.
L'Shana tova tikateivu v'tekhateimu.

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