Humility

Evan Moffic
Chicago Sinai Congregation
15 W. Delaware Place
Chicago, IL 60610
Yom Kippur 5766 (2005)

During these high holy days, we often reflect on ongoing events and issues in our world. On Rosh Hashanah I spoke about Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, and this morning, here at the temple, we heard about the rise of religious extremism. These are matters that affect and impact each of us. At the same time, these high holy days are a time for reflection about our inner lives. About our own characters and potentials. In Hebrew, we might say that the High Holy Days are a time both for tikkun olam—repair of the world, and tikkun neshama—repair of our souls. It is this latter theme that I wish to focus on this afternoon. I will do so by looking at two central prayers of our high holy day liturgy: the Avinu Malkanu and the Ahl Cheyt recitation. Each of these prayers is a lesson in and a call for one of the most important and challenging human qualities That quality is humility.

First, Avinu Malkanu. It is one of our most memorable and stirring prayers. What does it say? Primarily, it is a series of petitions to God, who is referred to as Avinu Malkanu, which literally means, our father, our king. We ask God to hear our prayers: to give strength to Israel; to end war and oppression; and to inscribe us, of course, in the Book of Life. This makes sense. Yet, suddenly, at the end of the prayer, we encounter this astonishing verse: avinu malkanu, chananu v’ahnanu, ki ayn bonu maahsim. What do these words mean? Literally, they ask God to be kind and to answer our prayers because “ayn bonu maahsim, our actions carry no weight.”

In our prayerbook, following the old Union Prayer Book, we translate these words as “we have little merit.” But the Hebrew literally means “our actions carry no weight.” In other words, our decisions, our behaviors , our accomplishments—amount to nothing. This is a stunning statement! Can it possibly be true? No. Judaism holds that each of our actions has cosmic significance. The Talmud tells us to say little, and do much. In other words, we are a religion that cares more about deed—what we do—than creed—what exactly we believe.

If this is true, then why do we say on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur—two of the holiest days of the year—that our actions amount to nothing? I think there are two reasons. First, it is an acknowledgment of our limitations as human beings. Our actions matter. What we do, how we respond to the challenges of life, is within our control. But some circumstances are outside of it. We cannot fix every tragedy nor mend every relationship.

The other reason we say them is that it can help us be humble. Why is it important to be humble? This is an important question, because humility is often confused with lack of self-confidence. Nothing could be further from the truth. True humility is looking at oneself and at the world with a sense of wonder and appreciation. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks points out, “False humility is the pretence that one is small. True humility is the consciousness of standing in the presence of greatness… it is a form of perception, a language in which the 'I' is silent so that I can hear the 'Thou', the unspoken call beneath human speech, the Divine whisper within all that moves. Humility is what opens us to the world.”

Humility also helps us realize that we need one another. I think, for example, of Moses. Here is the greatest leader in all of Jewish history. Yet, on several occasions in the Torah, he acknowledges that the burdens of leadership are too great for him alone. He cannot answer all the questions of religious law he is asked. He cannot settle all the disputes the Israelites bring to him. So what does Moses do? He pleads with God, and responds enthusiastically to God’s proposal to share power with 70 elders. He readily accepts his father-in-law Jethro’s suggestion to create a judicial system with tribal judges and an appeals court. It is no accident that Torah admonishes us to “be humble like Moses.”

The other prayer we will examine is the Ahl Cheyt recitation, which is read only on Yim Kippur. In the Ahl Cheyt, we ask God for forgiveness for a variety of sins, such as disrespect for parents and teachers and abuse of power and privilege. What is most striking for me about this prayer is that it speaks in the plural! We seek forgiveness for the sins we have committed. We ask for forgiveness not as individuals, but as a community, a congregation. Have all of us committed the same sins? Has each of us done the 22 things enumerated in the Ahl Cheyt? The answer, I think, is no. Then why do we say that we have?

Once again, I think it helps make us more humble. It is easy to say none of the problems in the world are my fault. I have been a good person. I have not lied or stolen or abused power. But if each of us looks inside of ourselves—if we examine our actions, which is the ultimate goal of the high holy days—then we will see that we have not been the best person we can be. We have not lived up to our highest potential. Saying the Ahl Cheyt together and speaking in the plural heightens our sense of responsibility. We assume some guilt for what is happening around us. By doing so, we improve as people. To see the truth of this affirmation, we can look once again at Moses.

Moses had two siblings: a brother Aaron and sister Miriam. In the book of Numbers, we learn that both of them had been disparaging Moses. They had publicly criticized and complained of his special relationship with God. Why? God had told the Israelites that they were a nation of priests, and yet, only Moses could speak face-to-face with God. Miriam and Aaron said that this was unfair. As a result of their attacks on Moses, God inflicts Miriam with leprosy.

Now we should remember this story is an allegory. The complaints of Miriam and Aaron, and God’s inflicting of leprosy on Miriam, may sound odd and unbelievable to us. But Moses’s response is fascinating. Moses realizes that he may well be partially responsible for the situation. He recognizes that he had not been sensitive to how others, including his brother and sister, saw his relationship with God. Through his inattention to them, he may have been partially responsible for their criticizing of him and their questioning of his leadership. What then did Moses do? He immediately asked God to heal his sister Miriam. The earliest prayer for healing we have in the Bible occurs in this section: El Nah Refanah La, please God, heal her, Moses says. His humility allowed him to assume a sense of responsibility. By doing so, Moses became a better person. It is at this point in the Torah that we read that Moses was “more humble than any person on the face of the earth.”

We have looked at two high holy days prayers about humility. I’d like to close with two other prayers. I think we can see each of them as a lesson in humility. The first is by the late great Protestant theologian Reinhold Niebuhr. The words may be familiar. They are well-known and used most prominently by AA, Alcoholics Anonymous. They are, “God, grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, Courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” In other words, we must be open to the things we can change and accepting of the things we cannot. Humility, I believe, can help us know the difference. The final prayer is one we have recited together on many occasions. It is the Shehechiyanu: Baruch Atah Adonai Elohaynu Melech Haolam, shehechiyanu v’keeyamnu v’higeeanu l’zeman hazeh. … “We thank You, Eternal God, Ruler of the universe, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this day.”

What do these words tell us? They tell us that life is a precious gift, and a blessing. They tell us, as Rabbi Sternfield told us in his opening Rosh Hashanah sermon, that every day we wake up and open our eyes is a miracle. They tell us that we are lucky—each of us—to be here today. To be blessed with clothing, and food and shelter. To be part of this congregation because, among other things, it often strives for and meets the challenges of true humility. To feel the brisk air outside of the sanctuary and warmth of our spirits inside of it. May we never take these things for granted. May we ever remain grateful for seeing the light of the sun in the morning and the shining stars of the evening. And may we respond, Oh God, to your never-ending blessings with gratitude, kindness, and humility.