Lech-Lecha, New-Old Words

Karen Martin

5th year sermon

11/7/2024

New-Old Words

I was recently introduced to the poem, “Now We Need a New Torah” written in the wake of October 7, 2023 by Rabbi Elchanan Nir, an Israeli poet.[1]  It reads:

Now like air to breathe

We need a new Torah.

Now, gasping for air and with choking throats

We need a new Mishnah and a new Gemara

And a new Kabbalah and new ascents of the soul

And inside all the brokenness and the salt and the desolation, now

A new Hasidism and a new Zionism

And a new Rav Kook and a new Brenner

And a new Leah Goldberg and a new Yehavah Da’at

And a new art and new poetry

And new literature and new cinema

And new-old words

And new-ancient souls from the storehouse,

And a new love out of the terrible weeping.

For we were all washed away in the rivers of Re’im and Be’eri

And we have no mountain within us nor other tablets

And no Moses and no strength

And now everything

Is in our hands.

My throat tightened and tears pricked my eyes as I read the poem out loud to the congregation during Rockdale Temple’s Yizkor service on Yom Kippur. It felt so true, so visceral. I was in awe.

There is a military term that’s useful for thinking of the world today. VUCA - v-u-c-a, is an acronym for “volatility, uncertainty, complexity, and ambiguity.” I learned the term back in 2018 or 2019, when I had the opportunity to participate in several workshops on ways to prepare ourselves for the future of Jewish life in America. During those workshops, we talked about the decentralization of Jewish communities, the shift from ritual observance to spiritual or mystical belief, intermarriage, disaffiliation, yada yada yada. Those halcyon days of 2019, oh precious children.

It would be impossible to list all the ways the world and our lives have changed since 2019. I imagine I’m not the only one who feels like the world as we know it is on the brink of imploding. The existential dread is real, to say nothing of the myriad difficulties that each of us face in our own lives.

As citizens of this nation and this world, as teachers, learners, clergy, and clergy in formation, as people who care for one another, we cannot ignore the problems we face. We cannot afford to be overwhelmed by stress, or frozen in the face of all that must be done because there iswork to do… and we still have to go grocery shopping and fold the laundry or get the kids tucked into bed.

This status quo is insupportable, yet our lives and work must go on. How do we find the strength, conviction, and clarity to navigate this VUCA world, to work toward fixing what is broken within us and between us, to be human in the face of not just inhumanity, but also that existential dread that we cannot do or be enough, and our exhaustion in the face of it all?

We need a change - a transformation of what is within us and around us.

Dr. Dacher Keltner, professor of Psychology at UC Berkeley, suggests that the change we need is awe, the emotion we experience when we encounter vast mysteries that are beyond our current understanding.[2]

Awe might seem like something too insignificant or esoteric or evanescent to make such a difference, but awe has the power to positively transform our minds, bodies, and behaviors. Awe can refill our mental and spiritual batteries so we can continue the work of trying to fix that which is broken.

We need just such a change - as Jews, and as individuals.

When we experience awe, our brain chemistry changes. Chemicals are released into our brains that make us happier and calmer. Nerves are stimulated in ways that lower blood pressure and regulate breathing and heart rate. Awe experienced in nature, from activities like forest bathing-- a mindful walk through the woods, can even improve our immune responses. When we feel awe, the parts of our brain that enable us to reason, wonder, and discern are stimulated, while those that drive our ego, ambition, competition, anxiety, and embarrassment are quieted.

As a result of feeling awe, especially positive feelings of awe like seeing a gorgeous sunset as opposed to an oncoming tornado, a connection is made between the quieting of the ego-centric parts of our brain and the reward centers. 

We get a mental cookie for experiencing awe because we are neurologically predisposed to awe, to feeling wonder.

The positive mental and physical effects of awe are borne out by the research done by Dacher Keltner and many others. They found, for example, that over time regularly and repeatedly experiencing awe can reduce the impacts of PTSD, anxiety, and depression.

Children’s minds are malleable and designed to learn and process information as they seek to understand the world around them. It is easier for children can find awe in a ladybug on a leaf, in the way a pebble sinks in a pond or could be made to skip across its surface, and in the way a tomato ripens on the vine. They find awe in the way dry sand slides between their fingers, but sand that is damp is best for making sandcastles. Awe leads naturally to wonder – the mental state of openness, questioning, curiosity, and embracing mystery. For children, awe, wonder, and discovery are part of life and play, and, through them, children engage in deep learning about the systems that govern their lives.

As we grow, other emotions can crowd out those feelings of awe and wonder, and other priorities like schoolwork and screen time can pull our attention away from what is miraculous in the world around us. Rather than finding wonder in the world and joy in learning and discovery, anxiety or embarrassment can keep us from even asking a question.

Yet that predisposition toward awe is still within us, and we can still reap its benefits. We can train ourselves to see and seek awe in the world around us again. Like children, we can reattune ourselves to “everyday awe,” awe found in a perfect fall leaf, in being reminded that our beloved of many years can still surprise and delight us, or the vastness of the night sky.

Keltner and collaborator Professor Yang Bai have collected thousands of stories of awe from all over the world, and from this data they identified “eight wonders” - eight types of experiences that evoke awe.

-  moral awe was most common – it is awe experienced by witnessing moral beauty or overcoming incredible odds, stories of people lifting each other up, the kinds of stories that remind us that human nature can be beautiful.

-  collective effervescence - the feeling of moving in sync with those around us, like noticing your steps have perfectly synced with those of the stranger walking next to you, or that buzz at the start of a race, when we’re connected, supported by and supporting all those around us, part of a larger whole.

-  nature - seeing the Grand Canyon or a rainbow, when the natural world takes your breath away, and you feel small in the face of the world’s majesty.

-  music - the way a cantor’s voice can transform liturgy through the character of sound and raise goosebumps on your skin, or vibing at a Grateful Dead Concert when the walls between us seem to vanish and we’re all one being within the music.

-  visual design - the incredible strength and delicate beauty of Rookwood Pottery, seeing The Starry Night, or walking into Plum Street Temple for the first time: the way space and form can inspire and move us.

- Religious or spiritual awe - those moments when we hear the דְּמָמָ֥ה דַקָּֽה ק֖וֹל still, small voice, or sense that we are precisely where and when we’re meant to be.

-  experiences of life and death - the birth of a child, a close brush with our own mortality, or feeling that moment when a person ceases to be.

- and epiphany - like Archimedes in the bath, or reading a play or poem makes you feel filled with bubbles and transforms your thinking. Epiphany is that ah-ha moment when thoughts and ideas coalesce into a new understanding.[3]

In knowing the eight wonders of awe, we can see that experiencing awe doesn’t necessarily require a trip to see the Grand Canyon or the Northern Lights. Awe is close at hand, and we can access it without spending a dime. In Dacher Keltner’s research, he found that study participants experienced an average 2-3 instances of awe in a given week without instructions to seek it out.[4] Another group, all over the age of 75, was instructed to go on “awe walks” – to walk in less familiar places, preferably in a natural setting, and look for awe by pausing to notice the world around them. Not only did this group document increased experiences of awe over the course of an 8-week period, they also reported experiencing fewer instances of anxiety and depression over time compared to the control group.

Like these study participants, we can nurture and grow our own capacity to experience awe. By being alert to awe, by seeking it regularly, we become better able to find it.

I want to be clear though, awe isn’t mindfulness - it is not simply being alert to the world around us. Mindfulness can be a tool toward feeling awe, but awe has at its core a feeling of mystery and vastness. Awe causes us to wonder, not just appreciate.  

Awe affects our behaviors too. In various studies on the effects of awe, Keltner and his collaborators found that while experiencing awe and, in its wake, people viewed themselves as more connected to others and were more generous with both their time and money. They were more humble, more open to new ideas and learning about others, more curious, and more aware of the vast forces of family, history, culture, class, religion, and historical period that shape their lives. They saw the connections between themselves and others, not only the distinctions. After experiences of awe, they saw the world through less polarized lenses.

In the wake of the election we just experienced, I suspect I am not the only one who would welcome such changes.

No, welcome isn’t the right word here. We NEED these changes. Our Torah prizes distinctions: sacred and mundane, pure and impure, day and night, us and them. As Rabbi Elchanan Nir says, we need a new Torah, with new-old words. We have had enough of distinctions. We need shared humanity, humility, curiosity, and generosity. We need to see ourselves as part of a whole, to remember the wonder of this miraculous world and universe and of each distinct person created within it, to see the systems both pulling us apart and binding us together. In the light of awe, in how awe leads to wonder and discovery, we can better understand the nature of what is broken, how we might work smarter (not harder) to fix it, and most importantly we need awe to remind us WHY it is worth fixing. 

Now like air to breathe

We need a new Torah

The stories we tell were intended to inspire awe at our great, terrible, powerful, merciful God. The fact that we are somehow still here and reading these words more than 2000 years later is genuinely awe-inspiring. Let us tell the stories of awe and wonder, the stories of connection and creation, the stories of mothers who disrupt the status quo for the sake of their children, of prophets who stand up to immoral leaders, of people who challenge God for the sake of even ten lives.

And a new art and new poetry

And new literature and new cinema

Let us foster the creative impulse in ourselves and our communities, so that in every medium there are new stories of awe that fill us, that lift us, that connect us to the voices of the past and the hearts of the future. May we see paintings of Sarah and Hagar reconciled that move us with the poignancy of hope that the images convey, poetry that gives voice to Aaron’s grief so rich and true that tears come to our eyes as we read it before the Mourner’s Kaddish, the Song of the Sea composed as a lament for the lives lost in the waves that sends shivers down our spines, and modern midrash that brings our texts to beautiful and awe-inspiring new life.

And new-old words

Let us treat our tefillah, our prayers, like Keltner’s “awe walks” – a purposeful exploration of the awe around us: awe in our bodies and our ability to rise in the morning, awe at creation, at celestial bodies, and at being chosen as God’s people, at the natural cycles of the world, and so much more.

And now everything

Is in our hands

Judaism has transformed over and over, in every place we have lived and throughout time, we have incorporated new ideas and customs, questioned, answered, interpreted and reinterpreted, and asked again. Innovation and tradition have mutually guided us as we seek to live these new-old words, this new-old Torah.

Let us do so again.

Awe comes from Rocki’s poetry, and that of Marisa’s grandmother (thank you, Marisa for sharing it some with us this morning), and from all those who bring their creative talents to deep love of Jewish texts and Jewish life.

When we allow awe to transform our prayers, transform our worship, and transform our worldview, we recreate a faith formed by and forming a better world. Our faith truly becomes a shekinah for us, buffering us from the damaging impact of existential fear and dread that this VUCA world can have on our minds and bodies. More, awe inspires generosity, kindness, and connection, opening us to others. When we let awe drive our interactions and relationships, we become a shelter and solace for others, God’s presence acting in us and through us.

Modern science has transformed our understanding of awe, an emotion that has always lived at the core of our faith. It does feel Providential that one emotion can so dramatically change how we feel mentally and physically and how we interact with the world. Awe can unlock the most beautiful aspects of human nature, can call us to be our best selves, and in turn lift others.

I don’t know if awe is enough to change the world. I hope it is. I do know that if we embrace it, awe can transform us and our faith in ways that make us stronger, more resilient, and better able to weather not only the darkest nights, but to be a light in the darkness.

[1] Translated by Heather Silverman, Michael Bohnen, Rachel Korazim, and Emunah Eilon, accessed at https://thelehrhaus.com/culture/poems-for-a-world-built-destroyed-and-rebuilt/

[2] Dacher Keltner in Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How it Can Transform Your Life (Penguin: New York, 2023), p.xv.

[3] Awe, 18. While this list is not exhaustive, only about 5% of the narratives they collected fell outside of these categories.

[4] Awe, 25.