Sermon – Erev Rosh Hashanah, walking our own path through the garden

Written by Rabbi Hannah Kingston — 30 September 2021

The typical garden is often designed with symmetry, with geometric flowerbeds, perfect lawns, and perhaps the odd wild flower corner, in an attempt to attract the bees. They are colourful and pleasing to the eye, built around our existing decking, with space carefully carved out for the garden path. But the immaculate precision with which they have been crafted, can often feel slightly unnatural.

 

Japanese gardens are a world apart. Contrasting elements such as trees, rocks and water, are placed together. Piles of moss litter the pattern of the tree roots on the soil surface. Overwhelming to the senses, they become an oasis from the busy world. Each feature carries with it symbolism, designed to transport you to a place of contemplation.

 

And to get into these gardens, you walk a path uneven. The stepping stones used, often compiled from recycled materials, are precarious. They are different shapes and sizes. They force the walker to slow down, pause and step carefully.

 

The path will also be narrow, designed so that walkers are unable to step side by side. To proceed the walker must focus on the path itself. In doing so, they are forced to lose sight of the outside world, to become engaged fully in the journey.

 

Many people will walk the same path, yet each will have their own individual experience. Whilst they end in the same place, the journey to get there will be unique to them.

 

Over the past two weeks, in our Elul Half Hour sessions, we have been studying the story of the four rabbis who entered Pardes. The word Pardes comes from the Persian word for Garden. It shares its root with the word paradise, meaning that in our tradition, gardens, such as the Garden of Eden, are often referred to as paradise.

 

Found in Tosefta, the parable goes like this:

Four entered Pardes: Ben Azzai, Ben Zoma, Acher, and Rabbi Akiva.

One looked and died, one looked and went mad, one looked and chopped down the saplings, and one went up in peace and descended in peace.

 

Like us, these four Rabbis were living through their own time of crisis. They were each born around the destruction of Temple. They were living with great uncertainty, trying to navigate living a Judaism unlike ever before.

 

So the rabbis of our story entered a garden. And whilst the destination was the same, for each of them this garden was a unique experience. Like the Japanese stepping stones, the journey to Pardes, led each rabbi on a different path.

 

We are standing on the boundary of a new year, a year like never before, about to embark on a personal journey into 5782.

As we entered Rosh Hashanah last year, although we were separate, we were bound together by a shared lived experience. Masks, hand sanitiser, and 2 meter rules were our norm.

 

The COVID 19 pandemic showed the world, something we already knew, the importance of community spirit. The importance of togetherness, both physically and virtually. We had clapped for our carers, we had socially distanced street parties for the 75th Anniversary of VE day.

We had sat through zoom lectures, services and festivals.

 

Never had the words of Rabbi Hillel rung truer, ‘do not separate yourself from the community.’ And that community was easy to build, as we were all in similar places, living in the same restrictions. We were geared up to pray from home over zoom, with thoughtfulness, with preparation, with kavannah.

But this year, we face a very different challenge. We are coming to the destination of a new year in disparate places, with everyone’s lived experience being so different. Although we have lived through the same news alerts, the same ebb and flow of case numbers, it has presented in a series of different emotions.

For some, lockdown has ended and life as normal has returned

For others, lockdown has ended and they feel even more necessity to shield to keep safe

For most, lockdown has ended and they are torn by desire to live normally, and fear of the impact on their health and on the wellbeing of others.

 

And this challenge is not just one we will face over this High Holy Day season, but one that will continue to present itself throughout the next few months. It is a challenge of recognising that each person is walking their own individual path through our garden. That we need to not judge them, or reflect our boundaries onto others, but to walk our own path alongside them.

 

So as we prepare to move into the new year, a new year with complexities unlike ever before, how do we honour everyone’s experiences, whilst some feel able to join us in person, and others remain virtually with us in their homes?

How do we face each person without judgement, even when their choices are not ours, when their actions don’t reflect our personal journeys?

And, ultimately, how do we remain one community, holding the diversity of everyone’s needs?

 

It is not simple to answer these questions, but we can turn to our text for guidance. Our text teaches much about honouring the experience of the individual, for just as the story of each rabbi entering Pardes is told, so too is the individual experience of each Israelite.

In Pesikta d’rav Kehana, a collection of Midrashim from the 8th century, we read of the experience of tasting Manna. It tells us:

When manna came down for Israel, each and every person tasted it in keeping with their own capacity.

The midrash goes on to tell us that for babies it tasted like milk, for adults like bread and oil and for the elderly like wafers, all experienced it according to their personal needs.

 

Just like the rabbis of Pardes, there was no one way, no right way, to taste the manna. Just as each journey into Pardes is seen as a valid journey into the garden, so too each experience of tasting manna was valid. There is a great power in personal experience.

 

But as we move into a new year we must do more than just honour each individual experience. We must also remember to live according to the value of Kol Yisrael Areivim Zeh ba Zeh – responsibility for one another.

 

When humankind was created it begun with just one Adam, both male and female.

In Talmud, three reasons are given as to why humankind was created in this fashion, beginning with just one human.

Firstly, it is to teach us that whoever destroys a single life, it is as if they have destroyed an entire world.

Secondly, it is so that no one should say to their fellow, my parent is greater than yours.

Finally, it is to show the greatness of God. for if a man strikes many coins from one mould, they all resemble one another, but God, made each person in the image of Adam, and yet not one of them resembles their fellow.

 

Just as the first Adam, we are all unique, walking an individual path. We must know that no journey, no choice is greater than the other, no path more righteous, no decision more honourable. We must walk the path that is right for us, whilst not being judgemental of the other.

 

But we must also remember that each of our lives is sacred, and to put just one person at risk is as if we are destroying the entire world. We must act with respect, for each other, for the way each person chooses to engage with complexity and for the sanctity of human life.

 

May this year be about honouring our own personal journey, taking every stepping stone carefully, paying attention to the path we are one.

And whilst we navigate an unfamiliar path, may we be conscious of those around us also trying to find their way, may we treat them with respect, even when their decisions do not echo our own.

And when we arrive at our destination, may we know that our community will be there waiting for us, ready to honour our journey, ready to take the next step together