Erev Rosh Hashana                                                     29 Elul 5767 / September 12, 2007

 

A month ago—was it only a month ago that I was far away on vacation (oy, it seems like a year)--, we were up in Taos, New Mexico, and I felt that I was entitled to look for a hat to add to my collection. I tried on several different hats and finally found one that I liked, a crushable Stetson. In the store was another couple, from Brooklyn, who I’m sure were MOTs, Members of the Tribe (and I don’t mean the Taos Native Americans). The man said that I looked like the urban cowboy. I emended that to say, “No I’m from Massapequa, so I must be the suburban cowboy.”

 

Well, a hat doesn’t make a cowboy, not even with a pair of jeans. But boots, ah that is another matter. And so a week later, while we were in Nashville—Sarrae had meetings and I got to do some touring and shopping--, I discovered that hot sellers in the capitol of country music were cowboy hats and yes, cowboy boots. Now, with a size triple E foot, it isn’t always easy to find shoes and to find extra wide cowboy boots at a reasonable price was even more of a challenge. And yet with some perseverance, a good salesman and some luck, I now can dress the part of Billy Crystal in “City Slickers.”

 

But the truth is that I am less of a cowboy than he is. Even if I switched my gear from a Tallis, white robe and suit and tie to jeans, boots and cowboy hat (and yes, I’d find a cowboy shirt to match), I would be a pretend cowboy. I like cows and horses even less than Billy and his fellow city slickers.

 

There is a rabbinic tradition that equates Yom Kippur, the most solemn of days with Purim, one of the most festive in the Jewish calendar. In Hebrew the full name of the day is Yom HaKippurim. The Rabbis parsed the phrase as follows Yom K’purim, a day like Purim. And why so? Because on both days we wear masks; we assume different persona.

 

I would suggest to you that this activity actually embraces Rosh HaShanah, as well. We dress up; we put on a good show for the Almighty. “See God, we got dressed nicely, we came to shule; we will sit through hours of services on Rosh HaShanah and will do so again on Yom Kippur, and on the latter day, we’ll also fast and maybe give up other fun things, beside food, such as television for the day. See, we’re really good Jews.”

 

I’m reminded of a Peanuts cartoon in which we see Linus stretching an imaginary bow. His sister Lucy says to Charlie Brown: “Oh, Good grief! “Now’s he’s Robin Hood!” “ If he sees a movie with skin diving, he plays skin diver for weeks! If he sees a cowboy movie, we hear nothing but shooting!” “If he sees a movie about mountain climbing then he’s climbing up all the furniture!” To this rant, Charlie Brown replies: “Why don’t you take him to a movie about Albert Schweitzer?”

 

It is one thing to play act Robin Hood or a cowboy; they belong to distant universes. But perhaps play-acting a saintly doctor will have a lingering effect. Very few children who played at cops and robbers or cowboys and Indians grew up to be any one of these; but how many doctors got their start from those medical kits for children?

 

What of us and our playing at being good Jews? Maybe something will rub off; perhaps something will endure from this spate of intense religiosity. What do we come away with?

 

Dr. Ron Wolfson of what is now called the American Jewish University in LA, formerly the known as the University of Judaism, has offered us multiple suggestions as to how we go forward in a short volume called God’s To-do List.: 103 Ways to be an Angel and Do God’s Work on Earth.  Many of the suggestions are not threatening to our lifestyles, as they are constituted. And so #64 will resonate for those of you who are ecologically minded: “Reduce fuel consumption. Ride a bike. Walk, Use a more fuel-efficient vehicle.” Or #87, one on giving, may in fact be one which many of you do already: “Put an alms box or container next to your bed. Empty your pocket of change every night. Contribute the money to a worthy cause.” 2 editorial notes here: first, he should’ve used the term tsedakah box and secondly, clearly this is a man who is writing without thinking how women store their change—they don’t shove it into their pockets like most men do. But the principle remains the same.

 

But there are some suggestions that shake us out of our routine. #46: “Go to funerals; comfort the mourner at the wake or shiva with your presence.” It is easy to do so for friends; but how about for just passing acquaintances or fellow members of the shule? There are nights, particularly towards the end of shivah, that we have a tough time with a minyan. So come out and comfort the mourners.  #16: Ask God’s blessing for the food you eat, safe journeys and healing. You know what he is saying: saying Hamotzi, the blessing on bread at the start of a meal, would aid in making this a godly place. And then there is #22 “Put aside your unfinished business and leave the world as it is on the Sabbath.” That last one is probably the hardest for many who believe that one must be on call 24/7. How many of us have associates in business who persist in sending e-mails, not only on the weekend (even if there is no emergency), but on vacation?

 

Wolfson’s book is one way of many of transforming ourselves from playing at Jews to being Jews who are serious about being Jews all of the time.

 

We can dress as a cowboy—my colleague in Albuquerque wears cowboy books and has given up on his regular ties except for funerals and wears a bolero to shule, even on Shabbat--, but that won’t make us cowboys. But we can dress up as Jews now and act as Jews not only now, but during the rest of the year. In time Yom Kippur will no longer be like Purim.

 

Shanah tovah umetukah.