Living Without Masks

Shakespeare’s words in Hamlet, “This above all: to thine own self be true,” have particular resonance as we begin our Day of Atonement, of  “At-one-ment,” of seeking to bring an inner unity, cohesion, integrity to our lives. 

 The biblical word for Yom Kippur is Yom Hakippurim, the day of atonements, notice the plural.  A long time ago rabbis came up with a strange pun.  They said that Yom Hakippurim is yom k’Purim, the day that is like Purim. 

 This comparison may seem more than weird.  Could two Jewish observances be more different than Yom Kippur and Purim?  One is a day of fasting; the other is a day of feasting.  One is a day for introspection, meditation and repentance; the other is a day for clowning and having a good time.  One is a day considered to be the holiest of Holy Days; the other is considered a minor, somewhat disreputable event.  What could these two days conceivably share?  Why would the rabbis make such a strange pun?  What they share is a focus on masks:  on Purim we put on masks; on Yom Hakippurim we take them off.  For the 24 hours that begin now we seek to face ourselves as we really are, without pretense and without cover-up. 

 We all wear many masks.  We wear them so much that they become part of us.  Yom Kippur is a day when we try to get back to being our inner rather than our outer selves: 

Sometimes we may wear the mask of confidence to cover up our anxieties or feelings of inadequacy.  

 Sometimes we may play the part of a nice guy who gets on with everyone, as a way of covering up our fears of taking a stand and being disliked.

 Sometimes we may pompously hide behind the mannerisms or jargon of our particular professions in order to avoid the awareness of being vulnerable that may accompany the everyday interactions of family life.

 Sometimes we say much and do little.

 Comparing Purim and the Day of Atonement forcefully brings home the dichotomy between external appearances and inner reality, a dichotomy we all struggle with.  As Americans, as Reform Jews, and always as individuals there is real value in reminding ourselves of who we are and what we stand for, so that we can do better in the future than we have in the past.

 As citizens of the United States seeking to face a new world while remaining true to our enduring American values and ideals, we should note President Bush’s powerful and important statement which appeared in the Post and Courier this last Wednesday, the anniversary of last year’s horrific attack.

 He stated then that

 “The terrible illumination of these events has also brought new clarity to America’s role in the world…

 America’s greatest opportunity is to create a balance of world power that favors human freedom.  We will use our position of unparalleled strength and influence to build an atmosphere of international order and openness in which progress and liberty can flourish in many nations.

 A peaceful world of growing freedom serves American long-term interests, reflects enduring American ideals and unites America’s allies.  We defend this peace by opposing and preventing violence by terrorists and outlaw regimes.  We preserve this peace by building good relations among the world’s great powers and we extend this peace by encouraging free and open societies on every continent.” 

 This is not a statement that could have been made in 1776, 1865 or 1945.  But, in the changed circumstances of our modern world, such sentiments point us to a future that is appropriately activist, yet also integrally related to the American past.

 As a congregation Reform Jews in a sea of change we remind ourselves that there is no monopoly of knowledge, and that our task is not to judge one another or moralize at one another, but rather to welcome, support and comfort one another in our fallibility, our loneliness and our pain; to celebrate, enjoy and have fun with one another in our fresh starts and noteworthy achievements; and simply to be with one another as we experience life’s wonders.  Our task is not to pretend to be a congregation in Miami, Chicago or Jerusalem, but to be, here in Charleston, a caring and involved community of individuals and families who show our deepest religious commitments by not imposing our personal positions on others but warmly finding an honored place for those with whom we differ.    For, while a democracy, that is a political structure built on the rights of individuals, makes decisions on the basis of majority vote, Reform Judaism as a religious community built on the rights of individuals has to leave matters of truth and goodness within the sanctuary of individual thought and conscience. This acceptance of diversity may frequently be linked to social action, but always assumes the legitimacy of those who disagree with the majority, and the valued place within our community of those who are different.

 Furthermore, as a congregation, it is always important that our words and our actions be closely connected.  What we do as a religious community must not only be legal, but must be ethical and seen to be ethical: in our relationship to our members, and in the way we handle our finances.  Especially for a religious community, there must be an unmistakable unity between what we say and what we do. 

 Tonight we seek to remove the masks, to return ourselves to who we most truly wish to be.  A well known Chasidic story about Rabbi Zusya makes the same point.  In this story, Rabbi Zusya on his deathbed has a terrifying dream which he shares with his disciples who are gathered around him:

  “I dreamt that I had died and gone to heaven. 

I was not asked, “Why were you not Moses?”  I was not asked “Why were you not David?”  

I was asked, “Why were you not Zusya?”  And I did not have an answer.  

As we come together on the night that begins this Day of Atonement, may we all renew our sense of who we are and who we wish to be, so that we live our lives with personal authenticity, honor and great meaning.

 Amen.