Vows. Promises. Spoken and unspoken. Promises Made. Promised Kept. Promises broken. Tonight is about the promises we make to ourselves, to our families, to our communities and to our G-d.

Since Rosh Hashanah, we have been talking about covenant. The question that tonight begs is how do we repair a covenant? What happens if the promises in a covenant go awry? And since we are all human in this room, they surely will, since none of us, least of all me, is perfect.

“Since Yom Kippur is kind of like the Super Bowl of the Jewish calendar, most rabbis try to cram a whole year’s worth of sermons into one big, ‘best of’ sermon. I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to talk about the meaning of God, or the situation in Israel, or the status of Jews around the world. I’d like to talk about something a little more personal. A wise man once told me that no rabbi can save anyone; he can only offer himself as a guide to other people. For a while now, you’ve let me be your guide. You’ve shared your lives with me. You’ve explored your faith with me. You’ve put your trust in me, but I haven’t been sharing my life with you.”

I hope I have been your guide. You may recognize those words. My all time favorite Yom Kippur sermon given by Rabbi Ben Stiller in the movie Keeping the Faith. Three inseparable friends from eighth grade get reunited as adults in New York City. A rabbi, a priest and now a high-powered woman business executive. It begins, in a bar, like a joke. But it develops into much more than who gets the girl. It talks about shared vision, shared “ministry”, interfaith dating, the transition of leadership between generations. I show a clip of it to every Bar Mitzvah student starting his lessons—with parent permission. And I dream of when our own choir or Mishmosh can sing Ein Keloheinu like the Harlem Gospel Choir—or maybe Second Baptist.

Yom Kippur is personal. Highly personal. For each of us.

The Moth Radio Hour recently had a story on about a young woman, Tig, and her stepfather after the sudden death of her mother. As a child, she seemed to think he had no real emotion. When she was young and cleaning her room, he would confiscate the toys, put them in a trash bag, and she would have to do chores to buy them back. Harsh, yes, she said, and totally fair. He wanted to mold her into the person he was. But her mother believed the most important thing was for her to be happy. Even dropping out of high school she was still proud. Eventually she found a career in stand up comedy. Her stepfather thought her career was a waste of her time and her intelligence. She should be a doctor, or lawyer, or go to business school. A decade ago she was on the phone with her mother. They were arguing and her mother handed to phone to her stepfather who said her mother doesn’t want to talk to you and hung up.

This March, her phone rang again.

“Parents” came up as the caller ID. She assumed it was her mother calling to wish her a happy birthday. But it was her stepfather, who had only ever called twice, telling her mother had fallen and hit her head and had massive brain hemorrhaging. She would never be able to talk to her mother again. She believes, she knows that her mother would give anything to come back and say that she loves her. There would be zero fighting. There would only be I love yous and I’m sorrys.

After the funeral during the long car ride home, her stepfather said, “Tig I want to talk to you about something. I want to talk to you about when I hurt your feelings when I told you to go to business school. It was hurtful to say that it was a waste of your time and your intelligence and he started to cry.

I was wrong and I wanted to apologize for that. I didn’t ever understand you as a child. I didn’t get you at all. I projected onto you my life and my route. I’m realizing that it is not the child’s responsibility to teach the parent who they are. It’s the parents responsibility to learn who the child is. And I didn’t do that. And I’m sorry.” Now they are both crying. He continued, “I realize, the only thing you should be doing is comedy.” And she said that she didn’t realize that she how desperately she needed to hear that.

https://player.themoth.org/#/?actionType=ADD_AND_PLAY&storyId=911

What do you need to hear this Yom Kippur?

In asking others, this is a partial list: (SLOWLY)

• That you are loved
• That you are forgiven
• That there is hope
• That the world is going to be OK—for us, for our children, for our grandchildren
• That someone is proud of you
• That what you did made a difference
• That we can reconnect with G-d, with each other, with ourselves
• That we can find balance
• That you are OK…right now. Just the way you are.

How do we hear those words? How many times do we need to hear those words? What do we do when we have caused damage, whether we know it or not, like the stepfather.

Our Torah portion tomorrow gives us a recipe for living. More of the keys to the covenant. We call the text Kedoshim, the Holiness Code. It tells us that we should be holy because G-d is holy. It tells us we should not put a stumbling block before the blind or curse the deaf, that we should not stand idly by while our neighbor bleeds, that we should leave our corners of the field, that we should treat everyone fairly, that we should have just weights and measures

Yet, there is one verse that seems out of place.

It tells us that we should “reprove your kinsman” (Leviticus 19:17) but then it goes on to say you shall not hate you kinsfolk in your heart. You shall not incur any guilt because of them. You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge. Love your neighbor as your self.”

How do we do this? How do we do both, not hold a grudge and offer a loving rebuke or reproach? How do we correct someone when we see someone doing something wrong—or maybe even causing harm to themselves or others? How do we love our neighbor, our fellow, our friend?

It’s simple no? Maybe not. Maybe that is why Yom Kippur comes every year. Maybe we need to try again every year.

The answer seems to be with compassion.

How do you give a rebuke? With love.

Rabbi Rachel Cowen, of blessed memory and only very recently, we are still in the shloshim, 30 day mourning period for her, taught in her book Wise Aging:

In Proverbs 28: 23, we are told, “One who rebukes a person shall in the end find more favor than one who flatters with the tongue.” In the Talmud, we hear from two of the sages: “Rabbi Yosi bar Chanina said: ‘Rebuke leads to love… Any love that does not include rebuke is not really love.’ Reish Lakish said: ‘Rebuke leads to peace… any peace that does not include rebuke is not really peace’” (Genesis Rabbah 54: 3).   (Kindle Locations 2417-2418-2420).

Rabbi Esther Adler refers to this as “sacred nagging” and sees it as a sign of love. “If I decide that there is no point in raising the issue because I won’t be heard or because ‘she’ll never change anyway,’ I am writing that person off, forgetting that she, too, is created in the image of God.” But the book of Proverbs (9: 8) also advises caution, “Do not rebuke a scoffer, for he will hate you; reprove a wise man and he will love you.” (Kindle Locations 2423-2427).

A tochachah, then, can be read as if it were actually two Hebrew words, toch ahavah, which translates as “inside love” or “from a place of love.” (Kindle Locations 2434-2435). It is a deep love and expansiveness of spirit and a risk taking that can often open you up to new possibilities.

Perfect for this season of Rosh Hashanah, the head of the year, with its double entrendre of a new change, since shanah means both year and change.

This summer there was a delightful documentary, “Won’t you be my neighbor” Mr. Rogers had just the right amount of compassion. He understood some of these basic truths.

He said, “Forgiveness is a strange thing. It can sometimes be easier to forgive our enemies than our friends. It can be hardest of all to forgive people we love. Like all of life’s important coping skills, the ability to forgive and the capacity to let go of resentments most likely take root very early in our lives.

He said in an interview quoting one of his books “One thing that evil cannot stand is forgiveness”. Then he left a page blank , because it takes a lot of work, as he said to think about this. He’s right. There is a lot to think about.

That’s why we are here today. To begin to think about these topics deeply. To begin to understand how to do this whole teshuvah thing with grace and compassion. And in the process find love and peace.

Forgiveness is another one of those signs of the covenant, another key. You might remember on Rosh Hashanah when I talked about pitchers and catchers being in a sacred relationship. So are teams and fans. Sometimes that trust gets broken.

Now it might be risky to use an example from the Cubs in a congregation that is divided between Cubs and Sox…but I was struck by Steve Bartman’s words:

“Although I do not consider myself worthy of such an honor, I am deeply moved and sincerely grateful to receive an official Chicago Cubs 2016 World Series Championship ring. I am fully aware of the historical significance and appreciate the symbolism the ring represents on multiple levels. My family and I will cherish it for generations. Most meaningful is the genuine outreach from the Ricketts family, on behalf of the Cubs organization and fans, signifying to me that I am welcomed back into the Cubs family and have their support going forward. I am relieved and hopeful that the saga of the 2003 foul ball incident surrounding my family and me is finally over…Moreover, I am hopeful this ring gesture will be the start of an important healing and reconciliation process for all involved.”

https://wgntv.com/2017/07/31/steve-bartman-to-receive-2016-chicago-cubs-world-series-championship-ring/

Welcomed back. He has returned. He has been allowed to return. That’s teshuvah.

For five weeks, some of us have been studying deeply the Book of Jonah which we will read as a community tomorrow afternoon. Jonah, a reluctant prophet, gives us a glimpse of what it means to be offered a second chance. Or a third or a fourth. We will talk more about Jonah tomorrow but for tonight—we know, because of Jonah, that we all get second chances.

This includes our children—and their children. They get second and third and fourth chances too.

Rachel Cowan said that, sometimes, “we will ask ourselves why: If they (the children) are the guarantors, why do we still sometimes feel like we should be the guardians? What ego investment do we have in what remains of our role as parents? Are we reluctant to relinquish our role in their upbringing because whatever comes next for us is so ill-defined?   (Kindle Locations 1680-1682).

Just like Tig learned, “If we are wise and humble we will ask ourselves what we can do to support their growth and wellbeing without imposing our own sense of what their futures should look like. We see how easy it is to intervene too much, and on the other side to fail to step in when help is genuinely needed. It may feel like a delicate balance to turn adulthood over to our children, (Kindle Locations 1677-1680).

So how do we ask for forgiveness without it seeming to be disingenuous. Bruce Feiler, who wrote Walking the Bible, the November book group book, wrote an article in the New York Times about forgiveness, that includes four steps:

1. Admit vulnerability. Like the tochacha above, you need to notice that something is broken. You have to accept responsibility for your own role in causing others pain.
2. The apologize. Really, really apologize. Not a saccharin, sweet kind. Not one that says, “I’m sorry you are upset.” You are not owning responsibility. Not like the coach of Ohio State did recently in a news conference, “My apology is not for turning my back on domestic violence,” Meyer said.

https://www.cbssports.com/college-football/news/urban-meyer-reiterates-apology-for-courtney-smith-says-he-didnt-intentionally-try-to-delete-texts/

We all know an empty apology when we hear one.

3. Try instead simply: I’m sorry because my actions or my words hurt you. Most of us don’t know how to fix relationships that we have broken. That’s what tonight is about. Learning to fix, to repair our relationships.
4. Then ask. You really have to ask. Ask for forgiveness. Say the words. Don’t assume everything is better and that they have forgiven you. Then don’t repeat the mistake. When confronted with the same options, don’t do it again.

https://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/27/fashion/how-to-forgive-in-four-steps.html

Sometimes forgiveness isn’t possible. Sometimes we seek or offer forgiveness from people who have died or that through time or distance we are no longer connected to. Sometimes the hurt is too deep.

So there is an important caution. Rabbi Chana Leslie Glazer reminds us that we all know that sometimes it is not so easy to forgive. It could be our own stubbornness or spite. But sometimes it goes deeper. The work of Teshuvah doesn’t mean that we tolerate or overlook unacceptable behavior from someone especially if that is abusive behavior.

Forgiving is not forgetting. Forgiving can only happen once a person is safe. Sometimes that requires not being with the person who has hurt you. Sometimes, it can’t happen immediately. There needs to be trust. And confidence that the behavior won’t happen again. It might mean that this can’t happen on its own, as part of some formula we recite at services. It may require outside help. Talking with a counselor or a therapist.

Story from Yom Kippur Readings from Rachel Naomi Remen, MD who wrote Kitchen Table Wisdom. She tells a story of hearing a prominent rabbi talk on Yom Kippur talk about forgiveness. He began by taking his infant daughter from his wife’s arms and bringing her onto the bimah. He then began his rather traditional and somewhat boring sermon. The baby girl smiled and everyone’s heart melted. She patted him on the check with her tiny hands. He smiled fondly at her and continued with his customary dignity. She reached for his tie and put in her mouth. She grabbed his nose and the whole congregation chuckled. He said, “Think about it. Is there anything she can do that you would not forgive her? Heads nodded in agreement. She grabbed his glasses. Everyone laughed. He waited for silence and then said, “When does that stop. When does it get hard to forgive. At three? At seven? At sixteen? At forty five? How old does someone have to be before you forget that everyone is a child of God?” I would add, created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of God, with the divine spark inside. Naomi added that for her, God’s forgiveness was easy to understand but that personal forgiveness was difficult. If we are supposed to be like God and follow in God’s footsteps, isn’t this the message? It is not a lowering of standards. It is being in a family relationship.

So I will tell you tonight, so that I hope you can hear me:

• You are loved
• You are forgiven
• There is hope
• The world is going to be OK—for us, for our children, for our grandchildren
• Someone is proud of you
• What you did made a difference
• We can reconnect with G-d, with each other, with ourselves
• We can find balance
• You are OK…right now. Just the way you are.

Then when we get to that final shofar blast, we will be ready to face tomorrow cleansed. We will be ready to face the new year free.

The community we build here at CKI needs to be a place, a safe non-judgmental space where all of our members and our guests can feel that way. Then it will be a shanah tovah, a sweet new year. May we each be sealed for a blessing.

I began my Friday night d’var Torah in a different way. Here is a box. A box of rainbow colored wooden blocks. Your job is to build a tower, or more than one, as tall as you can, without talking. The building commenced. Alliances were formed. Three towers emerged. Some people were actively engaged. Some just hung around the edges not sure what we were doing. In the end, one tower was the tallest and one collapsed as they desperately tried to make it even bigger.

What did just happen there? We learned about language, about cooperation, about individualism and community, about competition. We learned about the Tower of Babel and some of the implications for today.

The Tower of Babel story is in the third triennial reading. This year. It doesn’t get as much play as Noah and the Ark and the Flood. But maybe they are linked in some important ways.

It seems to me that they are both about repair. Repair of our relationships. With others, with G-d, with the earth.

This weekend at CKI we had Shabbat evening services, Shabbat morning services with a Bar Mitzvah and then Hebrew School with a pet blessing for Shabbat Noah. Lots of energy.

About the Tower of Babel. We learned that G-d came down (from where?) and saw what the people were doing. All the people, all of humanity. They were trying to build a tower as high as the sky. Where? Why? Not clear. Maybe it was a competition. Maybe it was to see what they could see. Maybe it was to attack G-d. The Targum Yerushalmi says that the tower was to be capped off with a statue of a man holding a sword.

In any case, G-d decides that this building project is not good. So “confounds” their language. Now there are 70 languages. Usually, we think the Tower of Babel story is yet another story of G-d losing patience with G-d’s Creation and trying to destroy it. Those “uppity” people, trying to draw too close to G-d. But what if this is really an example of G-d’s desire for diversity? What if this is an argument that we are better together, than apart, but only to a point?

It seems there is a tension in Judaism between universalism and particularlism. Are we the chosen people, and if so chosen for what? To be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation? To be a light to the nations? Again, for what? So that as the prophet promised, “On that day the Lord shall be one and G-d’s name shall be one.”

But back up. Here, in this week’s text, right after G-d promises to never destroy the world again with a flood, right after the sign of the covenant, the rainbow, high in the sky, sign of that covenant, G-d doesn’t like people getting too close. G-d doesn’t want to war with people. G-d doesn’t want to be challenged. And even more…G-d doesn’t want the people to care more about the resources for building this tower than they care for the people building the tower.

How is that? In one of our earliest midrashim it explains that “If a person were to fall and die, no one would notice him; but if even a single brick were to fall, they would sit and cry, “Woe unto us, for when will another brick be brought up in its stead.” (Pirke de Rabbi Eliezar 24)

Winning at any cost caused our play towers to crumble. We still have issues with building safety.

Just this week, two construction workers were seriously injured in Evanston unloading steel beams with a crane. One died at the hospital.

Just this week, the United States faced another hurricane. It is hard to reconcile this powerful storm with G-d’s promise to never destroy the world again by flood. Where is the rainbow we need now?

Are these powerful storms a punishment from G-d? Some theologians would say so. Rather, it seems more likely that we humans have a role in them. As climate change continues to be proven and the waters of the ocean heat up, we get stronger and stronger storms. Also just this week, we learned in a well researched IPCC report of the UN that we have until 2040 to make a real, lasting difference in reversing these effects of climate change. Widely reported in the press, the most fascinating was from Wharton Business School, because of its lasting economic impact. http://knowledge.wharton.upenn.edu/article/climate-change-report-ipcc/

And recently, as recently as me writing these very words, even Trump has concluded that climate change is not a hoax. https://www.apnews.com/029c37e1c3b94f0490e8a84b2bd9f21f

Living near the coast in Massachusetts, every year or so, another house or two perched on an ocean bluff, would fall into the waves below, a victim of rising waters and sand erosion. Who wouldn’t want to build with those beautiful views of an Atlantic sunrise?

The building of the Tower of Babel, the oppression of workers doing the building, now as then, and the need to build our cities so close to the water’s edge. All revolve around one issue. Hubris. Pride cometh before a fall. The fall of a tower. The fall of steel beams. The fall of beautiful oceanside housing. Recognizing our pride demands us to repair our relationships. With G-d. With each other. With the earth. We were not put here to “subdue” the earth as some translations say, but to partner with G-d to be caretakers of the earth.

In our story today, G-d comes down (from where?) and looks and sees what the people are doing, and with the consultation of the heavenly courts, decides to confound the arrogance of “oneness” and divide the world into seventy languages. Language becomes a babel, a confusion. It is where the word Babylon comes from.

The rabbinic sage Ibn Ezra (1089-1167) says that the phrase “one people” means “one religion”. As Rabbi Huberman taught, “He worried that one set of beliefs could lead to extremism and zealotry. And so, in part, to prevent a monolithic humanity from believing it was more omnipotent than God, diversity was woven into the very fabric of creation.”

That diversity is important. In building a tower. In building a community. In building CKI where we even have a plank in our vision statement that says we embrace diversity. And on the football field. There are plenty of examples—not often enough of the team that allows someone to play with them who is differently abled. Those are the stories that make the news. They tug at our heart strings.

But it takes everyone pulling together—whatever language they speak, whatever opinions they have, whatever abilities they have to make you successful. There is a popular saying that there is no I in Team. That is part of what we learn here. If ego gets in the way, the tower falls. This portion is about balance. Between sun and rain, between right and wrong, between universalism and particularism, between the community and the individual. What G-d is demanding is that we be part of the team—in order to receive that covenant of G-d’s peace and friendship.

Our Bar Mitzvah student taught us powerfully, that this Briti Shalom, “My Covenant of Peace” comes when we have friends, when we are part of a community, when we are not lonely. That’s when we achieve friendship and peace. He taught us that while Noah put all the animals on the ark to care for them, part of our covenant today is to take care of all of the earth, because the earth is the ark. Both of those teachings were new and he got to speak as one of the speakers at the high holidays about covenant.

Last week we learned a powerful genealogy from Adam to Noah. Noah was a righteous man in his generation. This portion gives us the genealogy from Noah to Abraham who was a righteous man. Our Bar Mitzvah family on both his father’s side and his mother’s side are descendants of priests, cohanim. Some laugh at that distinction today because how do we know. And in truth we don’t. However, the Torah teaches us that we, as Jews, are to be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation to be a light to the nations. In that way we are all priests today. It was then my honor to give him the priestly benediction, the prayer reserved for the priests, that one day he too may pass down to his descendants and the rest of us. “May G-d bless you and keep you. May G-d’s light shine upon you (and smile at you!) May G-d lift G-d’s face to you and grant you peace, (that covenant of friendship and peace) now and forever.” It was a holy moment.

On Sunday our blessings for Shabbat Noach continued as families brought their pets for a pet blessing. We had five dogs and a stuffed dog. One person made special homemade dog treats. We laughed at the antics of the animals and sang the old camp song, “The Lord said to Noah” with gusto. A quick reminder that the covenant that G-d has with us extends to our animals too. We are reminded to feed our animals before ourselves and to let our animals rest on Shabbat.

Shabbat Noach. Lots to learn. What a great weekend.

Rainbow

A drop of dew
Of rain
A crystal
Clinging to the dying thistle
Sun shining through it
Like a diamond sparkling
Bright, white light
Colors projecting on the wet grass
A rainbow appears.

Raindrops in the sky
Dark storm clouds behind
Lit by the
Sun shining through it
Piercing the clouds
Refracting the light
A rainbow appears.

Reminding us
Shining through a drop
Shining through rain
Sign of G-d’s love
Sign of G-d’s covenant
A covenant of peace
Of wholeness
A covenant of friendship

A rainbow demands

Look!
Through the raindrop
Through the dew

See!
The beauty
The pain

Act!
Join Me
Join others

Remember!
You are loved.
You are not alone.

Zocher et habrit!
Remember the covenant.

Here is another of my holiday d’vrei Torah (sermons). We need to welcome our guests.

Kabbalat Shabbat: To Welcome Shabbat. To Receive Shabbat.

The whole of the Friday night service called Kabbalat Shabbat is to welcome Shabbat and for us to receive it. It is the sign of the covenant between G-d and the people of Israel as we sing each week with “V’shamru.” We welcome Shabbat and the Shabbat angels and each other, and any mourners amongst us and the Shabbat bride and queen. And we welcome guests.

This month we have been focusing on welcoming guests, as part of our covenantal relationship to one another. In Hebrew we call this principle, hachnasat orchim, literally allowing guests to enter.

At Sukkot, the Harvest Festival, we welcome “Ushpizin” to our sukkot. Each night we welcome a different spiritual guest. In fact, the word ushpizin is really the Aramaic word for guest. First referred to in the Zohar in the late 13^th century:

“When you sit in the sukkah, ‘the shade of faithfulness,’ the Shekhina spreads Her wings over you and… Abraham, five other righteous ones, and King David, make their dwelling with you…Thus you should rejoice with a shining countenance and every day of the festival together with these guests who lodge with you…” (Zohar Emor, 103b)

Each of these guests is linked to a spiritual quality, a G-dly character trait, one of the sepherot, the mystical aspects and emanation of G-d, that we would like to emulate:

• Day one: Abraham, Chesed
• Day two: Isaac, Gevurah, restraint, discipline
• Day three: Jacob, tiferet, beauty, harmony, truth
• Day four: Moses, netzach, victory, endurance, everlasting
• Day five: Aaron, hod, splendor, humility, hidden
• Day six: Joseph, Yesod, Foundation, Connection
• Day seven: David, Malchut, Sovereignty, Receptiveness, Leadership1

This teaching come from Rabbi Isaac Luria, the 16th century mystic of Sefat. The very same Rabbi Luria who gave us the structure for Kabbalat Shabbat, the very service we are doing tonight.

These days, we tend to invite women ushpizot as well. The seven women are based on the teaching in the Talmud Megilah 14a-b, naming seven women prophets: Sarah, Miriam, Deborah, Hannah, Abigail, Huldah and Esther. Studying each of these women would make for a fascinating adult study class, but that would be for another time.

If you could invite anyone, living or dead, to join us in the sukkah tonight, who would it be?

Some of the answers included Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Columbus, several grandparents, It’s a good question.

The prayer for this welcoming has become:

“May it be Your will, Lord my God and God of my ancestors, to send Your presence to dwell in our midst and to spread over us the sukkah of Your peace, to encircle us with the majesty of Your pure and holy radiance. Give sufficient bread and water to all who are hungry and thirsty. Give us many days to grow old upon the earth, the holy earth, that we may serve You and revere You. Blessed by the Lord forever – amen, amen. Sarah, my exalted guest, may it please you to have all the exalted guests join me and you, along with Miriam, Deborah, Hannah, Abigail, Huldah and Esther”

One of the people I would like to have would be Honi the Circle Drawer. We know the story of Honi and how he planted carob trees just as his ancestors planted for him. I’ve told the story of Honi and his drawing circles here but not recently. So on a night that it is a little damp, and just before we add the prayer for rain in our services, it bears repeating.

You see, some people think the lulav is like a Native American rain stick. Listen carefully to the sound.

The Talmud teaches in Ta’anit 19a that once there was a terrible drought in the land of Israel. It was already Adar, long past the end of Sukkot where we add the prayer for rain. Usually by now they were marking the end of the rainy season.

The people begged Honi the Circle Maker to pray. He prayed, but still no rain fell. He drew a circle in the dust and stood in the middle of it. Raising his hands to the heavens, he vowed, “G-d, I will not move from this circle until You send rain!” It began to sprinkle, just a few drops. The drops hissed on the hot stones. The people were not satisfied and complained, “This is only enough rain to release you from your vow.”

So Honi prayed again, “I asked for more than this trifling drizzle. I was asking for enough rain to fill wells, cisterns, ditches!” The heavens opened up and poured down rain in buckets. The parched earth began to flood. The cisterns overflowed. There was too much rain! The people of Jerusalem ran to the Temple Mount for safety. “Honi! Save us! We will all be destroyed like the generation of the Flood. Stop the rains!”

Honi again prayed. This time for the rains to stop. They did and he told the people to bring a thanksgiving offering to the Temple. Then Honi again prayed, and said to G-d, “This people that You brought out of Egypt can take neither too much evil or too much good. Please give them what they want.” This is the Goldilocks moment. Not too little. Not too much. Just right.

Then G-d sent a strong wind that blew away the fierce rains and the storm calmed. Shimon ben Shetakh, the head of the Sanhedrin wanted to put Honi in cherem, to excommunicate him, for his audacity, but decided against it, saying “What can I do against you, who nags G-d and G-d answers you, fulfilling your wish like a child who nags a parent and the parent fulfills his wish.”

Honi is not the only one who demands something of G-d. Abraham when he argues to spare Sodom and Gemorrah, Moses when he argues with G-d to take care of G-d’s people and not abandon them after the sin of the Golden Calf. Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev who demands that G-d take care of the people of Israel reminding G0d that Levi Yitzchak is G-d’s child. So praying boldly is a good thing in Judaism.

And then, just as we find with Honi, G-d’s grace, mercy compassion will rain down on us.

What about this rain stick—the lulav—the arbah minim, the Four Species. It is said that it represents the human body:

• the lulav, the palm is the spine,
• the hadass, myrtle, the eyes
• the aravah, the willow, the lips
• the etrog, the citron, the heart.

When we shake the lulav, we are using are whole selves.

Another explanation, is that each of the components represents a different kind of person:

• The lulav has taste but no smell like people who study Torah but don’t do good deeds.
• The myrtle has fragrant but has no taste, like people who do good deeds but do not study.
• The willow has neither taste nor smell like those who lack both study and good deeds
• The etrog has both taste and smell, like those who have both Torah and good deeds.

Taken all together, as we do when we shake the lulav and etrog, we have everything we need. It represents the whole community, entered into the covenant. This includes our guests, as we are commanded to welcome the stranger within our gates. In facet, to love the stranger within our gates. When we shake the lulav and the etrog, we are causing G-d to rain down, to bestow blessings upon us.