Word, Deed and Craft
Yom
Kippur Morning Sermon
October
2, 200
Rabbi
Anthony D. Holz
Today we observe Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, (at-one-ment), of being one with ourselves and our world, the time when personal integrity is reinforced as our highest goal, a goal that is achievable if we work at it. To illustrate the point, let us turn to an old story:
A troop of soldiers were standing rigidly at attention while their Colonel inspected them. After the inspection was over, the Colonel asked the soldiers: “Is there a tailor among you?”
An eager new recruit readily raised his hand, saying,” I’m a Taylor, sir.”
The Colonel indicated that the soldier should follow him into headquarters. With the door shut, the Colonel took off his jacket and handed it to the mystified recruit, saying: “The seam on my jacket is split. Please mend it for me.”
“But sir,” stammered the soldier, “I don’t know how to sew.” The officer reminded the young man that he had said he was a tailor.
Most apologetically the young man now told his officer: “Sir, I’m not a tailor by training; my name is Taylor.”
In this story of a simple misunderstanding, we can find an important point. Our soldier was assumed to know the craft of tailoring, but he only had the name. The words we use for ourselves may be empty of meaning, or with much effort, training and skill, they may have larger meaning and value. Being free, human and Jewish may be words without real content, or they may be full of rich possibilities: the difference is largely one of training and preparation, of craft. Let us this morning take a fresh look at what it means to have a craft.
A craft may be understood as a manual or “hands-on” activity that requires special skill. Our Bible mentions a wide variety of crafts, including: carpentry, furniture making, boat building, wood carving, carving in ivory, ebony and alabaster, working as a smith in gold, silver and bronze, weaving, tanning, leather work, tent making, carpet making, rope making, basket weaving, dying, sculpting, glass work, pottery, lamp making, and so on (Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible I, page 724 – 5).
From Bible times until the modern period, most such crafts were practiced by both men and women, young and old. In Greek times, a writer called Aristeas approvingly described Jerusalem as “A city rich in crafts.” And we also have the words of the Jewish writer Ben Sira who wrote approvingly of craftsmen and women: “All these are deft with their hands, and each is wise in his handiwork. Without them a city cannot be inhabited, and wherever they dwell, they hunger not.”
For thousands of years members of Jewish communities practiced a variety of crafts. Some Jewish last names remind us of this connection, names such as: Goldschmidt or Goldsmith, and Krawcheck, the Polish word for tailor. Until the middle of the twentieth century, there were long-standing and close connections between the Jewish community and many such crafts. But after the second world war, the percentage of Jews working in such crafts declined precipitously, precisely at the same time when we Jews, especially in the United States, became affluent and often less involved in daily communal Jewish concerns and interests. Is there a connection between mastering a craft and the strength of our Jewish commitment?
Some fifteen hundred years ago the rabbis of the Talmud wrote that parents who do not teach their children a craft are “teaching them to be brigands,” in other words, people who play a destructive role in society. In our post 9/11 world, most of us are aware that many angry young people who resort to violence and terrorism, do so because they are without any adequate training or realistic possibility of employment: They know no significant craft. Their families, their communities and their societies have not supplied them with the tools they need for constructive engagement in the work of our time. Finding employment that is satisfying and rewarding for young people who grow up in failing families, communities and societies has to be a major part of the war on terrorism.
In the globalized early twenty-first century, we simply cannot turn to the old crafts and assume that they will provide the same income or social status that they once had. Crafts, like other human activities, usually reflect the needs and concerns of the particular society in which the people live. So, it is unlikely, in today’s world, that wood carving, tent making and basket weaving will be of any widespread or long-term significance for most of us.
But there are skills we can learn and things we can constructively do in our modern world which have much in common with the old craft-making traditions. We who are American and Jewish can benefit greatly by paying close and imaginative attention to three areas, giving them the same loving attentiveness we once gave to the ancient craft work. These three areas are our freedom, our humanity and our Jewishness.
We who live in a free society, frequently forget how much training and preparation we all here have had, and continue to give to our children. It is not merely that “eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.” Rather, we live with uncertainty and are basically prepared for uncertainty. Those who come to this country from a totalitarian society may easily be overwhelmed by the choices and complexities that we live with all the time: Which political candidate do I support? Where do I go for health care? How shall I spend my income? Choices may sometimes be quite painful, but they are much less so when one grows up having learned to live with uncertainty. Part of the turmoil and violence of our modern world reflects the reality that large numbers of human beings have no adequate training in handling choice and uncertainty.
We in America are generally more fortunate and better prepared than people who have long lived under the rule of dictators. We should remind ourselves that being free is not merely something that happens to one, but has to be worked at over time and with great attention to detail. We raise our children with love and the values of an open society so that they will grow up ready for the world in which we live. We want our children to grow up to be themselves, think for themselves, fulfill themselves. We teach our children that they do not have to agree with us, and our children grow up as we have taught them. Most of them have learned their craft well. At times, a new generation may drive their elders crazy but with small and unimportant details that mark the new generation as being different from those who came before them, the young people grow up to be women and men with values and outlook very much like that of their parents and grandparents. Most young people in our society will find productive work, forge lasting human relationships, and raise fresh generations of individuals who in turn are likely at times to drive their parents crazy. And so we know that everything is going well.
Beyond personal freedom, we can also note that being a mensch, a decent human being, a humane and ethical person is also a craft, something to be carefully learned, values to be lovingly applied. In Yiddish a person who has not yet learned how to behave is called a “wilde chaye,” a wild animal. This is a good description. If we do not learn and learn well what it is be human, we will remain capable of the greatest insensitivity, cruelty and viciousness. In our daily lives, we all interact with a large number of people: Our spouses, our children, our friends, our neighbors, work associates and many more. We affect their lives by what we say and how we say it. Given personal freedom, the question is how to use rather than abuse it. And here the concept of mensch is central, the notion of a person of integrity and honor. Do we look out only for our own pleasures and self-gratification, or do we have genuine interest in and concern for others?
In a world of uncertainty, there can be no absolute standards of what is ethical or not ethical, humane or not humane, sensitive or insensitive. We are not asked to be perfect saints (if such a viewpoint even exists in the Jewish community) but to do better, to do the best we can in our time and in our place, much as the Biblical Noah who, we are told, was “righteous in his generation.” He may have had limited capacities. But in the time he lived, he was a mensch; he did what he could to save human and animal life.
Neither being free nor being truly human simply happens. To become either makes rigorous demands on all involved. But, with care, time and application we are able to become skilled in strengthening our freedom and that of others, our humanity and that of others. And here we can note that being a parent is similarly a craft that has to be learned.
And so too, being Jewish does not just happen. Most of us are born Jews; some acquire the name by choice. In all cases being Jewish is nothing more than a potential. It may add little to our lives and the lives of our families, or it may add something central, a dimension of vital truth, of rootedness and a larger vision for a better world. The difference between the untapped potential and a fulfilling Jewish existence is largely defined by what we do or do not do. Being Jewish is also a craft, although we do not usually think of it in those terms.
Yet, most of know that in contrast to being a Christian, being Jewish is more a way of life than a faith, more a matter of deed than creed. It includes many personal, family and communal involvements. As with other crafts, being Jewish carries with it certain responsibilities. The craft of being Jewish requires a balance between the private and the communal, between what I get out of my Jewish existence and what I give to the Jewish community. It is good to treasure our memorable Jewish past, but we need to ensure the present and future health and strength of the congregation and community of which we are always a part. The kind of action we take will vary. But, whether we give of our time, our best efforts or our personal finances, to a large extent, as we help others we find rewards beyond measure.
Let us remember that we are children of Abraham and Sarah, the founders of the Jewish community, and that Abraham received the divine call: Go forth from your native land and from your parental home to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation and I will bless you: “I will make your name great and you shall be a blessing…all the families of the earth shall bless themselves by you.”
We who have been trained in the crafts of freedom, humanity and Jewishness are challenged by a call that goes back to our earliest beginnings. At the same time we are invited into a better world for all of us. But, as with any craft, the results we get will largely depend on the actions that we take. Will words like free, mensch and Jewish simply be empty names or will they become so full of meaning for ourselves and for all those around us that we truly become a blessing to ourselves and to all the families. It is our mastering of the crafts, the actions that we take, that make the difference. Amen