Changing (or Re-charging) our Spiritual Batteries
Erev Rosh Hashanah, 2003

The other day, it seemed that every appliance around my house was giving me trouble. One of our portable phones stopped working, then my wife’s cell phone quit. Other things began to give us trouble. At first, I managed to ignore them: I didn’t really need to use them right then. But then the thermostat, which is supposed to be virtually maintenance free, started blinking. That got me a bit worried. It wasn’t clear at first what the problem was, but then I realized that most likely all I needed to do was to change the AA batteries that were in the thermostat. Sure enough, they hadn’t been changed in several years, and once I put fresh ones in, the thermostat stopped blinking. I then realized that we hadn’t changed the batteries in our smoke detectors for several years either, and so, rather than wait to get woken up in the middle of the night by one of those annoying beeps—as I once had, several years ago—it would really make sense to replace all of the 9 volt batteries in our smoke detectors as well, so that we could be ready and able to face the coming season.

It may sound a bit farfetched, but the fact is that that is just about what we are here to do during the next several days. Some of us pray every day. Others come to shul, when we can, on Shabbat. Still others may enter a shul once a month or so—but then again may not. Finally, there are the two- or three-day-a-year Jews who are happy to be here for the High Holidays, but are not particularly interested in being here on any other day. I am reminded of a comment a relative of mine once made to me after a funeral. I asked him whether he would want to attend minyan that night. “No, “he said. “I’ve had enough religion for the day.” For some people, coming to shul on the High Holidays is “enough religion” not only for the day, but also for the year. These people get their “fix” once a year, and that’s all they want, that’s all they can handle.

But however frequently we pray during the year, we are here now because we need to check and to re-charge our spiritual power supply. It’s an interesting question whether this is more like replacing batteries or re-charging re-chargeable batteries. I think it’s more like the latter. The process of acquiring spiritual energy resources is one that takes place, I believe, during our childhood and possibly into our adolescence. I don’t believe that we adults can acquire new means of energizing ourselves. But once we become adults, we do have the potential to restore that youthful spiritual energy—but only if we plug ourselves in, as it were, into our spiritual power supply.

Gathering this evening, gathering tomorrow morning and then again on the second day of Rosh Hashanah—they can be very helpful. They are certainly, I believe, necessary. But they aren’t sufficient to accomplish the task. It’s necessary, for each and every one of us, to do some spiritual soul searching if we hope to get very much out of this experience. Let me suggest a few techniques that can help make this possible.

First, come to services. Come early and come often. Try, when you’re here, to leave the worries, the burdens of work or of study, behind. Come here with one purpose in mind: to do heshbon ha-nefesh: to examine your soul. Don’t try to examine somebody else’s. Don’t try to figure out what somebody else needs to do to improve. Focus on yourself.

Second, as we move through the davening, try to follow the themes, particularly the ones that are specific to the High Holidays. And when you do, try to think about how they apply to your own life. Try to think about what these words might have to say to you.

Third, if your theology differs from that of the prayer book, try not to let it get in your way. Rather, let it highlight for you the challenges that each of us, as human beings, face.

For example, if the text refers to God as “the One Who delights in life,”—as it does throughout the Mahzor—and that concept just seems too abstract for you, just let your mind wander. Just ask yourself, do you delight in life? If so, how? Do the ways you delight in life express appreciation for your life’s value? Do you express appreciation for the lives of those whom you love? Given your answers, what would it mean, to you, to describe God as One Who “delights in life”? If you do that kind of thinking, you’re well on your way.

I hope that through our experience here together over the next few days and then again on Yom Kippur, we’ll come to discover who we really are: what our ideals are and how we have—and sometimes haven’t—lived up to our potential to realize them.

By the way, don’t allow yourself to get distracted. Remember those smoke detector batteries I mentioned earlier? I still haven’t changed all of them! Something came up, I got distracted . . . you know how it is. I might be awakened tonight by a beeping detector! Let’s not allow ourselves to get distracted from what it is we are here to do. Let’s try to tune out all of the signals that will only delay us from the critical work we are here to do.

Let us hope and pray that we really get something out of this experience—a phenomenon which, incidentally, can only be measured, years and years from now, by looking at how we’ve influenced the lives and the well-being of those around us and throughout the world. May we, as a result of our worship together, become better human beings.

And may we show it.

L’Shanah Tovah Tikateivu