Rabbi Josh Zweiback

Shabbat Shuvah 5767 - September 29, 2006

My Tailor Understands

            Rabbi Velvel, the maggid of Vilna, invited a visiting preacher to come one Shabbat Shuva to address the congregation.  The visiting preacher came and, in the tradition of this Shabbat that fall between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, gave a long, drawn out sermon about repentance and forgiveness.  At the end of the service, the visiting preacher approached Rabbi Velvel to extend New Year greetings and, of course, to be complemented for his drash, for his sermon.  The rabbi returned his greeting and then added:

            “It is written in Pirkei Avot: ‘The world exists because of three things:  Torah, prayer, and deeds of kindness.’  Blessed is our congregation,” said Rabbi Velvel, “which fulfills these three requisites.  Tonight, you taught the Congregation Torah, and I led them in prayer, and they, this congregation, performed deeds of kindness by listening to both of us.” 

            So thank you in advance for the kindness of listening to me this evening. I’ll try not to make it long and drawn out but I will talk about repentance and forgiveness, the traditional themes of the Shabbat Shuva d’rash.

            In particular, I want to focus on how we can support those we love in their t’shuvah.  How we can help our friends, our families—spouses, siblings, children, and parents—who are trying to be all that they can be?  How can we help them to change, to transform?

            You wouldn’t think it would be hard. You see someone trying to be better, who wouldn’t offer support? Who wouldn’t want him to succeed? Maybe it’s that the faults we see in our friends and family help us feel better about our own shortcomings. Maybe it’s simply that we’ve grown used to each other’s failings.

            Three elderly Jewish women are sitting on a park bench in Miami Beach . Each one is bragging about how devoted her son is to her.

            The first one says: “My son is so devoted, he loves me so much that last year for my birthday he gave me an all-expenses-paid cruise around the world. First class.”

            The 2^nd one says: “My son is even more devoted. For my seventy-fifth birthday, he had a catered affair for me and he even gave me money to fly down my good friends from New York so they could celebrate with me.”

            The 3^rd one says: “That’s nothing. My son is the most devoted. Three times a week he goes to a psychiatrist on the Upper West Side . Two hundred and fifty dollars an hour he pays him. And what does he talk about the whole time? ME!”

            Sometimes—for whatever reason—we don’t want the ones we love to change even if it’s for the better.

            I have a friend from rabbinical school who one year tried really hard to turn, to make t’shuva, in his speech.  He vowed one Yom Kippur to endeavor not to slander others.  And he found that his classmates and friends resented his change.  When they would begin to say, voice low, “Can you believe that so-and-so did such-and-such?” he refused to respond, to participate in the gossip.  Sometimes he’d leave the room when others began to bad mouth a classmate.  Sometimes he’d simply say, “Forgive me, but I’ve vowed this year not to speak about others behind their back.” 

            And you’d think, you’d think people would say:  “Good for you!  Hurrah for you!  Would that I could be as righteous!”  You’d think, dear God you’d hope, that people would be inspired by his example.  You’d hope people would, at the very least, respect his decision, admire his dedication.  But in fact, ironically, he became the object of much of the gossip and slander at school.  “Can you believe him?”  they’d say.  “Thinks he’s better than the rest of us.  Mr. Holier than thou.”  His classmates were threatened by his turning, by his change.  His sincere desire to be better, to be true to himself, to become all that he could be, perhaps reminded them that they could do better, that they were not being the best they could be.

            T’shuvah  is hard.  It’s hard to turn, to renew oneself, to change, to transform.  But it becomes harder still when those we love fail to support us, fail to encourage and nurture the growth that we are capable of.

            So on this Shabbat Shuva, let us dedicate ourselves to supporting transformation, change, t’shuva in those around us.  Let us help our friends and our family to turn, to be better this year.  Let us consider this high holiday season how we can be catalysts for change in our homes, in our offices, in our synagogue.  Let us continually ask ourselves how we can create a culture in which t’shuvah is celebrated, in which personal transformation is embraced, in which renewal is lovingly supported.  Let us ask ourselves how we can help those we love to be the very best that they can be.

            And here’s two simple suggestions for how we can do this, how we can support our friends as they try to make t’shuvah.

            The first suggestion comes from playwright George Bernard Shaw who said that “…the only one who really understands me is my tailor.  He takes my measurements anew each time he sees me, and does not just assume that I am the same size as I was the time before.”

            The lesson is obvious:  if we want to help those we love to change, to be better, we have to learn to take their measurements anew from time to time.  It’s easy to assume that those we know well will react in the same way, will do the same thing, will behave as they always have behaved.  It’s easy not to notice their t’shuva--their improvement, their growth.  Let’s give those we love the room to turn.  Let’s remember that we all change, we all can change.

            One of my buddies growing up was a bit unreliable. Or rather, he was reliably unreliable. A bit irresponsible. His family used to give him a hard time about letting the family down, forgetting to do his chores, about being lazy.  Well, he went off to college and he changed.  He began to take his work more seriously, he learned to straighten up, he become more responsible. 

            But, he told me once that whenever he comes home, no matter how different he behaves, everyone still treats him as the lazy one, the irresponsible one, the slob.  Now he’s got a good job, he supports himself, he’s active in his synagogue.  He’s changed a great deal but no one at home supports his change, no one reinforces his growth.  No one’s bothered to take his measurements, to understand the person that he’s become.

            So we learn from Mr. Shaw and we remember what it means to truly understand another person.  It means being willing to take their measurements again and again. Parents, your children aren’t necessarily the same people they were before. They are, we hope, everyday becoming all they can be.  Don’t miss the opportunity to get to know them again.  Take their measurements.  Find out who they are, where they are. 

            And sons and daughters:  maybe your parents are different people today than they were five years ago or ten years ago.  They’ve mellowed—or not—but their opinions might have changed.  Size them up again.  Get to know them again. Take their measurements from time to time.

            And friends and spouses, the same is true for you:  your friends are changing, your spouse is changing.  Make room for them to continue to change and to grow by taking the opportunity to understand them anew.

            Remember Shaw’s words:  support each other by trying to understand one another.  But just noticing change is not enough.

            And so, the second suggestion grows out of the first.  When we notice that this person has grown, has turned, has transformed--when we see that his measurements have changed--we should tell him.  This encouragement, this support, can help those we love make t’shuvah. 

            It’s something I learned about in rabbinical school.  I had a classmate with whom I argued a lot.  We really pushed each other’s buttons. Sometimes on accident and, well, sometimes maybe on purpose too.  One year I decided I could do better.  I was tired of being annoyed by her and I was tired of annoying her as well.  And so, I tried to resist the impulse to be contrary, to argue just because.  One day in class I noticed that she was being awfully quiet.  During the break I went up to her and I said, “Hey, are you OK?”  And she said that she was just a little tired.  And then she said, “But thank you so much for asking.”  And I felt like a million bucks.  I’d opened the door a bit to a friendship and she walked in.  All I said was, “Are you OK?”  And she heard:  Hey, I care about you.  And when she said, “Thanks for asking.”  I heard:  Hey, thanks for being nice....thanks for turning, thanks for changing.

            Sometimes just a few words of encouragement, a few words of thanks can make an enormous difference.  So parents, notice the little changes your kids are making and when you do, tell them.  Say, “Hey, thanks so much for telling me about your day--I really love it when you let me into your life.”  Say, “Hey, when you clean up your room without being asked I feel just great.  Thank you.”

            And kids, notice the turning that your parents do and when you do, tell them.  Say, “Hey Mom, thanks for letting me do this or that.  Thanks for knowing how much it means to me.”  Say, “Hey Dad, thanks for asking me about this or that.  Thanks for letting me know how much you care about what I do and who I am.” Say, “Thanks for making time for me. I know you get real busy and sometimes it’s hard but it means a lot to me to be with you.”

            During these days of Awe and in the months and years to come, let us remember to notice and appreciate the t’shuvah that is happening all around us.  Let us help each other to realize our potential, to be the most the best that we can be.  And some day, in the distant, distant future, may each of us come before the heavenly court like Zusia and be able to say, “I was as kind as I could be.  I was as honest as I could be.  I was all that I could be.”

            Cain y’hi ratzon.  May this be God’s will.  And let us say, “Amen.