Rabbi's Chayva's Chat

Adapted from Rabbi's sermon on 10/19/24

Ecclesiastes (Kohelet, in Hebrew) is an unusual book in the biblical canon because, as observed by scholar Michael V. Fox, “It gives voice to an experience not usually thought of as religious: the pain and frustration engendered by an unblinking gaze at life’s absurdities and injustices.” Just like we read the book of Esther on Purim and Ruth on Shavuot, we read Ecclesiastes/Kohelet during this week of Sukkot. Kohelet’s central focus on the ephemerality of life aligns with the vulnerability of Sukkot, when we forgo our safe beds and sturdy walls for the flimsy walls and hard, chilly sukkah floor. Though many of Kohelet’s lines are often quoted, I was drawn to a lesser known passage where the narrator turns his attention to when evil people gain power.

“I have noted all that went on under the sun, while men still had authority over men to treat them unjustly. And then I saw scoundrels coming from the Holy Site and being brought to burial, while those who had acted righteously were forgotten in the city. And here is another frustration: the fact that the sentence imposed for evil deeds is not executed swiftly; and thus men are emboldened to do evil.” (8:9-11)

We know that Kohelet is not making this up - sometimes bad leaders do not pay for the deeds they have done. In fact, sometimes they are rewarded for it. And sometimes they return to power. That story is a dark, frightening, familiar one. We often worry about whether it will become true, but I have a different question: Is that the only story we are able to tell?

In her Yom Kippur sermon, Rabbi Sharon Brous of IKAR in Los Angeles, spoke on the power of our stories. She quoted Yuval Noah Harari, the Israeli historian, saying that if a disagreement is based in different versions of stories, we can address the problem and be empowered to change it, by writing a better story.

The most important story we tell ourselves right now is whether anything that we do matters in this election that is 13 days away.

We hear that question echo in the words of Ecclesiastes. The book opens “Utter futility, said Kohelet, all is futile! One generation goes, another comes, but the earth remains the same forever.” And yet, despite the apparent futility, the narrator continues wrestling. He cannot see if his wrestling will come to anything, if he will be satisfied at the end, but he goes on. He does that important and holy work of questioning the narrative.

Rabbi Brous questions our dominant narrative that there is nothing we can do to impact the election. She said, “When the story of our time conspires to leave us feeling powerless, we are not powerless. Every one of us must do everything we can, not only to vote, but to knock on doors, to monitor polls, especially in the face this year of an unprecedented threat against our poll workers. To contribute what we can in the fight for our democracy. To talk to anyone and everyone who will listen about how much this matters. How much is actually on the line. Poised as we are before the unfolding of history, we have a very limited window to defy this story and break this pattern. This is our holiest and most urgent work: we have to fight to reshape our political culture, countering the norm with a better story.”

Leonard Cohen is not usually who I would go to as a counterpoint to Ecclesiastes’ despair - both are frequently melancholic. And yet, I remember the words we sang on Rosh Hashanah Day 2, from his song, “Anthem.” At first, the text does sound much like Ecclesiastes: 

Yeah, the wars
They will be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
Bought and sold
And bought again
The dove is never free

It sounds like there is nothing new under the sun. And he doesn’t deny the world’s brokenness. But then we get his most frequently quoted line:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in

Yes, this election is on the edge, and many of us are scared. And in San Francisco, our vote has local impact but little national import. And we can tell ourselves the story of not enough time, or we wouldn’t make a difference. But Pirkei Avot tells us, “It is not required of you to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.” (2:16)

In two weeks, the story I want us to tell is that we pushed. That we cared enough to - in the words of Michelle Obama - do something. 

So here’s what I will be doing: on Election Day, I will be stationed at an elementary school in Phoenix as a poll chaplain with Faiths United to Save Democracy and T’ruah: Rabbis for Human Rights. My role will be to help facilitate peaceful voting, guide concerned or anxious voters and deescalate any voter intimidation. I will also spend several days before the election doing Get Out the Vote canvassing in Phoenix as well.

You don’t have to travel. There are many resources online to connect with Get Out the Vote phonebanking, through organizations such as Rock the Vote, Action Network, and our very own Manny’s is holding numerous civic engagement events leading up to the election. 

We don’t know how this election will go, but there has been a growing crack in the darkness of cynicism and defeatism. Let us be the light, and let us expand the crack through which the light gets in. Let that be the story we tell. Or if you prefer postseason baseball to Leonard Cohen, take it from the New York Mets: Ya gotta believe.