Pluto and Changing Definitions

Rabbi Joel Fleekop

Erev Rosh HaShanah - Friday, September 22, 2006

In the Disney film “Chain Gang” Mickey Mouse appeared with a new companion, a pet dog. Unlike other Disney characters, including the dog “Goofy,” Mickey’s dog lacked the ability to speak. Nevertheless, Mickey’s pet proved popular and the following year it was deemed necessary to give him a name. Drawing from the headlines, the writers at Disney decided to name Mickey’s pet Pluto, after our solar system’s ninth planet, discovered the previous year.

The “planet” Pluto made a big splash when it was discovered in 1930, one rivaled in its history only by the attention it received this summer. Pluto was back in the headlines this August as scientists debated its future. It seems that as we have learned more about the universe it became clear that Pluto, physically located near the edge of our solar system, also sat precariously close to the limit of what scientists consider a planet.

The discovery of new celestial bodies forced the scientific community to define the term planet, a task undertaken this summer at a special conference in Prague.

For more than a week different definitions were debated. At first an inclusive definition was favored, one which would have added 3 more names to the list of planets and opened the door to more than a dozen potential planets.

Ultimately, however, the conference accepted a more limiting definition.

On August 24th it was announced that our solar system has only eight planets, Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune. Pluto will forever more be the paradigmatic example of a “dwarf planet.”

Aside from the astronomers in the congregation, and all the kids who will have to find a new mnemonic device to replace, “My very excellent mother just served us nine pizzas,” the announcement that Pluto is no longer a planet will likely have no affect on our lives.

Nevertheless, the debate of Pluto’s future struck a nerve with many who might otherwise show a great deal of indifference to the science of astronomy. As a survey of the blogosphere and editorial pages reveals, we are just not comfortable with people changing a “fact” we learned during childhood.

In contrast, scientists, even some who did not agree with the outcome, praised the process. After all, the idea that things should be re-examined in light of new information, that old truths should not simply be accepted, is a fundamental part of science. As Alden Tombaugh, the son of the astronomer who discovered Pluto recently said, “the scientific method guided my father all of his life, and that if reason now dictates Pluto's reclassification as a planetary dwarf then he would have been all for it.''

But should we be all for it? Should we support not only the reclassification of Pluto, but more importantly, the questioning of other facts and truths we have accepted since childhood?

According to Judaism the answer is yes. And the time to do it is now.

Just as the conference in Prague provided a forum for scientists to debate the definition of a planet, Rosh Hashanah and the High Holy Days provide us with a forum, an opportunity to question the supposed facts that we accept about ourselves and the world in which we live.

During the years we spent in school we learned not only the names of the planets, but also a lot about who we are as individuals. We absorbed this information in the classroom, at recess, on the bus, and in a million other places.

Some of what we learned is true and timeless. For example, my sixth grade teacher declared that I cannot sing, a proclamation that has remained true to this day and probably will for the rest of my life. But other supposed truths we learned about ourselves might not stand up to the test of time any better than Pluto’s planetary status.

As we read the Book of Jonah on Yom Kippur afteroon, we will be reminded that the world and the people that fill are not static. According to the story, in the three days time it took Jonah to walk from one side of the city to the other, the people of the Nineveh were able to repent and change so dramatically that God annulled the decision to destroy the city.

If the people of Nineveh could change that much in three days, think about how much you may have changed over the past three, thirteen, or thirty years?

Is it possible that while at a younger age you eschewed the social scene, you are now happiest surrounded by friends? That your childhood disdain of PE has morphed into actually enjoying the gym? Could it be that that the younger version of you who was happy just getting through the day unnoticed now craves a leadership role? Or that the kid who demanded bribes from his or her parents to go to synagogue, now finds the experience of worshipping with friends reward enough?

The only way to know is to test the definition of yourself that you so long ago accepted.

In the oft-repeated story, a young boy goes to the circus and sees a mighty elephant being held not by a giant cage or even a metal chain, but a simple rope staked to the ground.

The boy sees a trainer nearby and asks why these beautiful, magnificent animals just stood there and made no attempt to get away.

"Well," the trainer explains, "when they are very young and much smaller we use the same size rope to tie them and, at that age, it's enough to hold them. As they grow up, they are conditioned to believe they cannot break away. They believe the rope can still hold them, so they never try to break free."

The image we have of who we have always been is our rope. It keeps us tethered to the past and prevents us from breaking free, from going to the places and reaching the heights that we are capable of achieving.

But the High Holy Day season, with its challenge to live a better life than we did in the previous year, is our reminder to keep testing the rope. Maybe this is the year we have grown strong enough to pull up the stake, to move beyond the image of ourselves, we so long ago accepted as fact.

Many of our traditions greatest prophets had to find this same strength. When called by God, the prophet Jeremiah claimed to be unequal to the task. Tied to an image, a definition of himself, Jeremiah could see himself only as a young boy unskilled in public speaking.

Similarly Moses, Judaism’s prophet par-excellence, answered God’s foretelling that Moses would free the Israelites from slavery by saying in disbelief, Mi Anochi? “Who am I?” Midrash Exodus Rabbah explains that behind Moses’ terse response was a fear of being unable to meet the people’s needs for food and shelter. Raised as a rarified prince, having labored as a lonely shepherd, Moses couldn’t fathom the idea that he could work with partners, human and divine, in tackling this tremendous task.

But when, at God’s insistence Jeremiah and Moses tested their perceived limitations, not only did they discover new talents and abilities within themselves, but also the voice and the courage to question and challenge the world around them.

In 1844 Karl Marx described religion as the opium of the masses. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes, “Marx believed religious faith was what reconciled people to their condition—their poverty, their disease and death, their ‘station in life’, their subjection to tyrannical rulers. . . It made the otherwise unbearable bearable.”

But as Rabbi Sacks, the chief rabbi of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth explains, “Judaism is not a religion that reconciles us to the world.”

From our faith’s foundational narrative, the Exodus from Egypt, to Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel marching with civil rights leaders in the American south, Judaism has repeatedly affirmed that the world can be changed, and we have a part to play in its transformation.

At Camp Newman this summer, our kids celebrated the chance transform the world, to perform acts of Tikkun Olam. Singing, and often shouting at the top of their lungs the words of Dan Nichol’s song, L’takein. They declared, Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha-Olam Shenatan Lanu Hizdamnut L’takein Et Ha-Olam. Blessed are you our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has given us the opportunity to repair the world.

But if our children, and we their parents, teachers, and friends, are going to truly seize this divinely given opportunity, we’ll have to begin by questioning facts we learned long ago.

Over the years our eyes and ears have taught us a series of harrowing truths. Homelessness is an unavoidable part of any big city. The wealthier one is, the better education their kids will receive. Health Insurance in America is a privilege, not a right.

I don’t know that any of us are really pleased that these things are true. I’d speculate that none of us are proud of the fact that 6.5 million Californians are uninsured or that schools in some neighborhoods receive less money per student than do others.

I don’t think we like these realities, but at some level we are used to them. And changing what we’re used to can be difficult. There is a level of comfort in the status quo and often we are tempted to simply leave things alone.

The Torah describes how the newly emancipated Isarelites, wandering through the desert, frequently longed to return to Egypt. It wasn’t that they wanted to be slaves again, but they were unable to imagine an alternative reality.

Imagining alternatives to the seemingly immutable realities of our world will be difficult as well. But hearing the excitement with which our children sang about tikkun olam, I trust that it can be done.

On August 24th the International Astronomical Union declared that Pluto was no longer a planet. The announcement captured the media’s interest, appearing on the front page of the paper and earning a spot on the cover of Newsweek. Changing a fact we learned as children was big news, and for a few moments this summer we turned our attention to what is, at least on paper, a new image of our solar system.

On the same day we learned of Pluto’s fate, another announcement was made. This one didn’t get much media attention, broadcast only through the blast of the shofar.

On August 24, Rosh Hodesh Elul, the approach of the High Holy Days was announced and of course Rosh Hashanah has now arrived. Like the newspaper and magazine covers declaring the end of Pluto’s planetary status, the arrival of the High Holy Days has captured our attention. But there is a big difference. Instead of telling us that a fact we learned as children is no longer true, the High Holidays challenge us to change long accepted facts ourselves. To change the definition of who we are to include all the gifts and strengths God gave us, and to use those gifts and strengths to transform and repair the world.

May these yamim noraim be a time of holiness and renewal, and may we be blessed to meet the challenge this season provides.

Shabbat Shalom vShana Tova.