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| "Elijah's Chair #6" by Steven Spiro (stevenspiro.com) |
Even as full as the sanctuary is right now, there are a number of empty seats; I don't mean the ones way-up in the balcony. I mean a number of empty seats in our hearts because of loved ones or dear old friends who are not physically here today. Their seats may be empty, yet they are very much with you to celebrate your accomplishments with as much delight as anyone physically here.
Thinking of empty seats brings up the image of an empty chair for the Prophet Elijah that is often reserved for him at ceremonies welcoming babies into the Jewish community.
You might have thought Elijah worked only a couple of nights each year wandering from Seder to Seder. But the tradition also imagines Elijah being present at every brit milah or welcoming ceremony for an infant. That’s a lot of bagels and creamed herring!
Visiting Pesach Seders, Baby Namings, and Announcing the messianic age -- that’s the job description for Elijah. A seat is left empty for Elijah because we believe every single infant potentially could be the messiah or bring the messianic age when the world will be restored to wholeness and hope -- no more broken pieces and parts.
The possibility that Prophet Elijah is here in an empty seat witnessing your potential brings me to the Class of 2013. Every single member of this class has the potential to bring wholeness and hope to our world -- in many ways you already have. So, for you, this story . . .
It begins in an aging, run-down monastery (a residential community of monks). Grounds overgrown with weeds; apartments a shambles.
One day the abbot of the monastery was walking in the woods wondering if he needed to close the monastery because things were so bad. The abbot found the community rabbi also walking in the woods that day. The abbot asked her for advice about reinvigorating the monastery. But everything the rabbi suggested had already been tried. Nothing was working to stem the monastery’s decline.
As they were parting, the rabbi offered one last bit of advice, she said, “It’s nothing certain, but maybe it will help. I have heard that one of the members of your community may be the Messiah” and then the rabbi walked away.
Returning to the dilapidated monastery the abbot shared this cryptic advice with the monks. Crazy rabbi they all thought! But during their daily chores, each of them started wondering: “What if one of us is the Messiah?” It could be the abbot each of them thought: He brings visionary leadership.
Or it could be John: He brings so much wisdom. Or maybe it is Luke: He is so organized. Thomas: He is so happy. Francis: He is so compassionate. Or, maybe it’s me! O my if it is me, am I behaving as I should to be the Messiah?”
Uncertain as to which of them might be the Messiah, the monks began looking at each other differently, treating each other with respect and kindness, demonstrating tenacity, creativity, and energy, committing themselves to repair and healing. That mood transformed the monastery and attracted attention. The monastery slowly but thoroughly became more thriving and a more special place. [This folk legend is adapted from the version told in Marc Gafni's "Soul Prints" (2002) pp.59-60.]
So it is with you my dear students -- the Class of 2013 has transformed our school with respect and kindness, with tenacity, creativity, and energy, with deep commitments to repair and healing. You act -- often -- as if one of you may be the 'messiah.' We are a better school because of it.
Yet . . . that’s not enough. The challenge for you is that you embrace the possibility that every person you meet after today could possibly be the Messiah or be your partner in bringing wholeness to the world. Let this inform how you treat others, how you pursue your passions, how you repair our world.
Because ultimately the value of your JCHS education lies not in what you know, but in how what you know inspires you to act. The value of JCHS learning is being able to ask questions about why and to pursue answers based on treating others (and yourself) as if they (or you) could help bring the world closer every day to wholeness and hope.
Finally, in just a few moments, when you stand to receive your diploma – take a moment to pause. To breathe. Then turn your head to one side and take-in the joyful expressions of pride coming from your family and friends on one side. Turn your head again to look at your tradition reflected in our people’s ancient Torah scrolls on the other side. Then close your eyes to remember everyone in the empty seats of your heart. Please know the world needs the courage and compassion that only you can bring, the encouragement and determination that only you can offer. Act as if the hope for wholeness and healing can only come from you.
[Excerpted from Rabbi Ruben's charge to the Class of 5773, JCHS Commencement 5773, June 13, 2013 at Temple Emanu-El, San Francisco]
