Opening Day

Rabbi Joel Fleekop

Erev Rosh HaShanah 5766 - Monday, October 3, 2005

Tomorrow morning the major league playoffs begin. Eight teams will continue their quest to win the World Series, and there is sure to be wonderful baseball played during October and into November. But for twenty-two teams, the season ended with the month of September after a one hundred and sixty two game season. During those numerous games and the many months of the season certain realities became apparent. Some teams just didn’t have enough starting pitching, power in their lineup, or depth in the bullpen to make the post season. And so come tomorrow morning only of few of the teams that missed the playoffs will really be disappointed, most having long ago accepted their fate.

But such was not always the case. If we can go back those one hundred and sixty two games, to the first day of the year, to opening day, we’d find almost all the clubhouses, and definitely all the stands, full of hope. Of individuals who believed that this year was they year their team would take the next step, have a winning record, maybe even win the pennant.

Opening day in the Major Leagues was a day full of hope, and so was opening day for the year 5765, Rosh Hashanah one year ago. Like a ball player in spring training, we had each set individual goals for ourselves, resolutions we were sure we would be able to keep. This was the year we were going to lower our blood pressure, spend more time with our families, and go to synagogue at least one Shabbat a month.

Our individual goals seemed attainable, but what’s more, it looked like this was the year our team was going to take the next step. The year the economy was going to turn around and prosperity return. 5765 was the year peace would come to Iraq and the year, many here tonight hoped the emotional and fun loving manager from Texas would be replaced by the cerebral skipper from Massachusetts.

We he had high hopes for the season, but not everything turned out as we planned. I haven’t kept track of your stats and so I can’t tell whether or not you reached your personal goals. I’ll leave that up to you to figure out over the next ten days. What I do know is that as the year drew to a close we were left with more questions than answers.

One of those questions is Iraq. In January, despite violence and threats of terror, over 8 million Iraqis participated in a democratic election. A draft constitution has been written and later this month it will be voted on by the Iraqi public. If approved, more elections will be held. It seems like on a governmental level democracy is taking root in this corner of the Middle East. But what is happening on the streets? In the cafes and hookah bars of Baghdad are they talking about democracy or simply praying for peace? We hear a lot about progress, but everyday Iraqi civilians and American soldiers are killed. And so we are left to wonder, is this the year when the mission will be accomplished and our soldiers will come home, or is this just the beginning of an intractable military stalemate.

Questions about the economy also persist. Nation wide four million jobs have been created in the last year and a half, and the unemployment rate is at its lowest point since before September 11, 2001. But we don’t know how many of those jobs pay a competitive wage and we don’t know how many people have simply stopped looking for work.

Closer to home the technology indexes are a mixed bag. Startups are again being created, but this summer HP announced a series of layoffs and I know not everyone here has been able to find work. At the height of the tech boom morning traffic was an indicator of the strong economy. Will it, and the record prosperity, return this year?

And there are other questions as well. Will the withdrawal from Gaza bring peace to Israel or spark renewed violence? How will this summer’s changes to the Supreme Court affect our freedoms and understanding of the constitution? What does the future have in store for the residents of the Gulf Coast?

We have been left with so many questions, but perhaps more troubling, the year has left many of us feeling as though we are outside the decision making process.

Last year Rosh Hashanah came only a few months before a presidential election. Foreign policy, the economy, and social issues were discussed at card games and coffee shops around the country. Not only were we talking about these issues, but we felt like our voices were being heard, that we had a role in shaping the answers to the questions confronting us, our nation, and the world.

But that was a year ago. This year many of us sense that our voices have been muted. The questions remain but we feel remote and removed from their solution. Like Isaac bound on Mount Moriah, we feel tied down and unable to control our future. Helpless, or, in the words of the sports page, stuck in a rebuilding phase.

But some franchises refuse to use the word rebuilding. Year after year they insist that they are in a position to contend for the pennant, to control their own destiny. They assert that the things they do have power over are enough to make a difference. Judaism is one such franchise.

As Thomas Cahill points out in his popular work, the Gift of the Jews, Judaism is about history and progress. It is the belief that things can change, and that we can be instruments of that change.

In the ancient world people thought of themselves as runners in a never ending game of pickle. Going back and forth from one base to the next, never hoping to advance. Judaism refutes this idea and asserts we are participants in a full game of baseball. Obligated with the responsibilities of fielding our position, sometimes prone to making a costly error, but also capable of driving in the game winning run.

This High Holy Day season we will say a hundred if not a thousand prayers asserting God’s malchuyot, God’s power and sovereignty over the world. But while we declare God’s power, we also affirm our own. The power we have to change ourselves and to change the world in which we live. The power we have to make tshuvah and to do acts of tikkun olam.

When they get to the majors, almost every player has a part of the game they struggle with. Some are poor base runners and others have inaccurate throwing arms. Almost everyone struggles. But those that really want to improve spend the off season working on the weak parts of their game. They do drills, lift weights, and see sports psychologists all in hopes of correcting what they do wrong or poorly.

Like many a ball player, we make the same errors season after season. We still can’t kick our smoking habit, can’t stop yelling at the kids, can’t seem to find a way to include the gym into our busy schedules.

Breaking old habits and changing one’s lifestyle is difficult. It doesn’t happen simply by making a resolution; it takes time and hard work.

In Echa Rabba the Rabbis teach that the gates of repentance are always open. They are always open not only so we can pray for forgiveness, but because if we are to avoid making the same mistakes again, we have to engage in the process of repentance, of changing our ways not only on the ten days from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur, but all year long.

Change is hard. And along the way there are sure to be setbacks. After all, even gold glove winners make a few errors. But Rosh Hashanah reminds us it can be done. If we want it enough, if we are willing to work for it, we have the power to change.

We have the power to change our own lives, but also the power to make a difference in the lives of others.

In baseball it is the center fielder’s job to back up the right fielder because every once in a while he will lose the ball in the sun, take the wrong angle, or simply stumble. In life people also find themselves blinded, on the wrong path, or loosing their balance. You and I have the power and the responsibility to pick them up, help them find the ball and get them back in the game.

It is our responsibility, but one that is not always met. And so as we read through the High Holy Day liturgy, with its listing of sins and mistakes, we are forced to admit that all too often we fail our obligation to the needy.

We fail not because we don’t want to help, but because we don’t know how to help.

Just thinking about the needs of those left homeless by last month’s devastating hurricanes, and the needs of the less fortunate right here in Silicon Valley, can be overwhelming. There is so much that they need. So much that needs to be done.

Beleaguered by the size of the task, many of us throw up our hands and walk away, thinking that the help they need is beyond what you or I can offer. And we are right. Neither you nor I have the ability to fix all their problems. No matter how hard we try, no matter how generously we give, it is simply beyond our power. It is beyond our power but we are not powerless.

In the Talmud we read, “Rabbi Tarfon Omer, Lo Alecha ham’lacha ligmor v’lo atah ven chorine l’hibateil mi-menah.”

Rabbi Tarfon said, “You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.”

This year Congregation Shir Hadash’s social action committee will be holding blood drives, feeding the homeless, and making holiday baskets for the frail and elderly. None of these actions will solve the world’s problems, but for those helped they will make a world of difference.

Rosh Hashanah reminds us that our participation in these and other social action projects has the power to change the life of another human being, and the potential to change our lives as well.

One hundred and sixty two games ago, as they lined up for the national anthem on opening day every team had unanswered questions. How will the rookie pitcher do? Will the free agent slugger get a 100 R.B.I.s? Will everyone stay healthy?

Every team had unanswered questions. But the 8 teams that begin the playoffs tomorrow are the ones that were not paralyzed by those questions. They are the teams that focused on the things they could control.

Rosh Hashanah is our opening day, the start of a new season. As we come together tonight we too have unanswered questions, questions of policy and governance, questions about the world and our nation. How these questions are resolved is sure to affect our lives and we must do all we can to shape their answers. But Rosh Hashanah reminds us that we must also not forget the other questions; the questions whose answers are within our control. Will this be the year I make it to my daughter’s soccer games? The year I slow down and watch the sunset? The year I stop and help the family who lives under the freeway? More than anything, it is how we answer these questions that determine whether this will be a winning season.

Shanah Tovah