The Hardest Word Sermon for Erev Rosh Hashanah 5781

The Hardest Word

Temple Beth David - Erev RH 6781

I’m here tonight to talk about something that is easy to hear, but hard to understand.

You may have heard that sorry is the hardest word, it is an idea shared by Elton John in his song, “Sorry seems to be the hardest word.” It is an idea shared in the children’s book, The Hardest Word, where the main character has a hard time offering up a true apology. It is an idea that we have all heard shared by someone older and wiser.

But, is sorry really, truly, the hardest word?

Now, I’m not asking if there are longer or more complex words. Clearly, “sorry” is beat for length by words like su·per·ca·li·fra·gil·is·tic·ex·pi·a·li·do·cious and for complexity by words such as defenestrate. Rather, I’m asking, is there any word that is harder to get out of your gut and to utter? We all know that the sorrys I’m talking about are not ones that roll off our tongues, not the ones that are akin to an “excuse me, pardon me, I’m sorry can I just get by.” When we talk about sorry being a difficult word, perhaps even the hardest word to say, we are talking about a sorry that starts from all the way down in our gut. The type of word that is offered with emotion and which effects change in ourselves and in others. A powerful sorry that is offered truly can change a life. And, knowing that sorry can be so powerful, it is a hard word to offer. It is a word that sits on the tips of our tongues, necessary, but oh so difficult.

But, is sorry, truly, the hardest word to say?

Surely the difficulty of any word varies from person to person and from context to context. So, let us not talk in general, but rather here, at TBD, for us and our temple family, what is the hardest word?

Help, help me. I need help.

Like sorry it is a word that sits deep down in our gut, a word that when offered truly and honestly can change a life. And because of this power, we see it as a burden, something too heavy, too much to put onto another. So, we don’t ask, we suffer silently.

I promise you, for us here at TBD, help is our hardest word.

This has been a year that for all of us has seen an expansion in our needs and a reduction in our abilities. There is not a one of us whose life is just as it was 6 months ago. This amount of change has created complicated new realities for all of us. Despite all this upheaval, one thing remains the same: the power of religion.

Now here I do not mean the awesome power of faith, nor the strength that one can find by believing in the Divine. I do not mean the power that can be found in our texts nor in our ancient traditions. Rather, I am talking about the type of power found in our religion by people like Nachum Ish Gamzu.

There are many interesting stories to be told of Nachum Ish Gamzu, a person who always said, “This too shall be for the good.” He travelled to meet the Roman emperor, his wisdom was sought far and wide. But, I don’t wish to tell you about his whole life, rather I’d like to take a moment to focus on the end.

In our texts we are told the story of a group of students going to visit Nachum Ish Gamzu. The students arrive at their teacher’s house and find it and everything inside in bad straits, including their teacher. From the outside, the house looks like it is about to fall down, and as they make their way inside the students find Nachum Ish Gamzu lying in bed, a quadruple amputee, covered in sores. The bed’s four legs are each submerged in a bucket of water so that the ants on the floor can’t make their way to bite Nachum’s body. Seeing their teacher this way, the students begin to cry out. Nachum, though, rejoices.

Seeing their teacher in such a situation we can understand the students’ feelings of pain, worry, and sadness. The building is about to fall down, and here they find their teacher in such pain, not even easily able to walk out of the building that may tumble at any moment. So, why does Nachum rejoice?

He has learned the power of asking for help.

You see, Nachum didn’t put his bed’s four posts into buckets of water. His chevruta, his study partner did. Little bugs biting at Nachum had always been a problem ever since he had lost his arms and legs. But, it was a problem he always suffered with quietly. He thought to himself, “Who doesn’t have something biting at them? We live in these small houses with dirt floors, little ants and bugs everywhere. Of course everyone gets a bite here and there. I shouldn’t complain.”

Of course, in part he was right, everyone does get a little bite here and there from the bad in life. Yet, his friends could swat away these little annoyances, Nachum couldn’t. He would try his best, jerking himself this way and that to try to calm an itch or to bid farewell to an annoying bug.

One day Nachum was sitting with his chevruta and as they were studying Nachum was trying to rid himself of one particularly annoying bug that had taken to gnawing on and buzzing around his left ear. As he was jerking his head this way and that, trying his best to cope on his own, his chevruta stood up, walked over and with one swift move, swatted the bug away.

Nachum thanked his friend as they sat down, yet as they continued forward in their learning it was clear to Nachum that something was wrong, that a cloud sat over his chevruta’s soul. So, Nachum asked, “What’s wrong?” His chevruta responded, “How long were you prepared to jerk yourself around like that trying to rid yourself of that fly? Why didn’t you just ask for help?”

Nachum was surprised, he had thought that his chevruta’s sour mood would have been caused by something at home, some issue at school, but it sounded as if his friend was upset... with him.

Nachum responded, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to…”

Nachum’s chevruta interrupted him, “Here we were studying, trying to understand these holy words of Torah, and then I looked over at you. I was so confused. I couldn’t figure out what you were doing, why you were jerking to and fro in that way. I thought perhaps you were deep in thought, trying to work through the text. Then, when you didn’t stop, I started to worry, perhaps you were choking, perhaps one of those nuts you’ve been eating didn’t make it all the way down. Then I saw it, the little fly by your ear! Do you think it is enjoyable to see you suffer so? Here I am, your friend, sitting across from you, and the only way for me to figure out that you need my help is to watch you and to try and divine your needs. If you need my help, I want you to ask.

Nachum sat quietly for a moment… then he said, “I don’t want to be a burden to you. I know everyone is bothered sometimes by a bug or two. I wanted to do it myself.”

“NACHUM!” his chevruta said exasperated, “When I have a fly biting at the middle of my back, I don’t slam my back into a wall or drop myself to the floor and roll around. I ask my spouse if they see it, and then, THWACK! Problem solved. Certainly I could be rid of the fly by myself, dropping to the floor and rolling around is rather effective. But, the look of horror on my spouse’s face as I roll around hooting and hollering them worrying, what’s wrong, am I going to be ok? It’s not worth it.

No, rather, I walk over, sometimes I run, and I tell my spouse what is going on and I ask for help. Nachum, my friend, don’t hurt me by asking me to watch you suffer wondering what is wrong. Nachum, ease my soul and ask me for the help that you need.

Hearing this, Nachum sat in silence. He had convinced himself all these years that when he suffered silently, when he tried to overcome it all by himself, that he was doing it for others. That he was trying to save them from the pain and trouble in his life. Suddenly he heard from his friend, “This... hiding your pain, trying to make it through on your own, it hurts me, it confuses me. I don’t know what is wrong and why you don’t need, why you don’t ask, for my help.”

It was in this moment that Nachum Ish Gamzu finally got it, finally understood the power that our religion offers us. It wasn’t the power to pray and beseech God for divine help, nor was it the power to just Zen out and not let the fly bother you. The power that our religion offered was a person, sitting in front of you, who sees you, and can help you.

Nachum and his chevruta sat there, and Nachum shared with his friend his problems. He told his chevruta about pains in his body and soul. His friend listened and placed a hand on his shoulder when Nachum shared a particularly hard detail. As Nachum shared his woes, there was much that his chevruta could only listen to and sympathize with. And then, an idea! Nachum’s chevruta knew how they could rid him of ants, at least in bed. The friend explained the idea, that they would put the bed’s posts into buckets of water so that the ants would not be able to make their way from the floor onto the mattress. Nachum’s chevruta went out, gathered a few more people to help, and that night Nachum slept soundly, not awoken by a single bite or scratch.

So, as the students gather in his home and see him lying in bed, why does Nachum rejoice while they stand in despair? He knows that here there is an opportunity for him to ask for help. He sees in their faces the face of his chevruta from all those years ago. Much is wrong in his life and his students, they are worried, they are scared, they don’t understand what is happening to him. He used to think that he would be strong and silent, that he would suffer alone. Now he knows that only serves to further worry and confuse others. So, he shares, he tells them of his woes, and they listen. To some they offer sympathy, and to yet others they offer concrete solutions: taking him out of his home and rebuilding the walls to stand straight and tall.

Nachum’s power is not a faith in God nor in a willingness to let things go and not be bothered. Nachum is bothered, the itching and the buzzing fly are real. Nachum does not turn to God, such prayers have never really seemed to work for him anyways. Instead, Nachum turns to his community, the people he learns and prays with, his chevruta and his students, and he asks for help. In doing so, he finds that everything is always for the good.

My friends, how often have we allowed ourselves the same thoughts as Nachum: “I don’t want to be a burden. I know everyone is bothered sometimes by a bug or two. I wanted to do it myself.” Why do we suffer so? And here, my TBD family, I must stop and call you out: I know many of you are thinking now, “Rabbi, I’m sorry, you are right. I’m sorry I didn’t ask for help.” Stop it! NO! Sorry is too easy. When you say sorry you end the conversation, you say the fault lies with you, that you admit it, and that it would be nice if we could all just move on. Sorry is easy, asking for help is hard.

It is not easy, perhaps it is the hardest word we can utter, but I promise you, my friends, help is the power our religion offers to us. As we gather together to pray, to study, as we gather for committee meetings and coffee connection, we are offered moments to turn to our community and ask for help. They will not be able to solve every problem, for some they will just have to sit and offer a listening ear. For some they will be able to offer concrete solutions. For all, though, they will offer a moment to reach out to another, to be seen by them, to explain to them what is going on, and to ask for help. This is the power of our religion, of our people, of our community at TBD that I believe in.

May we, in this time in particular, be like Nachum. May we see the face of his chevruta, confused, and remind ourselves to ask for help and to be asked for help. May this bring understanding and support to us from our community at the moment of our suffering. May we in this way see our friends clearly and bring healing to us and our world.

Shana Tova