Lifting Your Light (Graduation 2020 and Behaalot'cha 5780)

[JCHS Commencement 2020 was unlike any other affected by three months of sheltering-in-place due to COVID19 and two weeks of nationwide protests over centuries of racism. Here is some of what I said to our graduates via Zoom.] 

As each of us comes to this screen this afternoon our hearts are filled: with distress over the sadness and anger gripping our country because of the murder of people because of the color of their skin; with anxiety growing out of a worldwide pandemic along with its impact on each of our homes; with pride for this special class; with gratitude for our professional community; with the joy of completion; and with deep memories of those among our families and dear friends whose recent or long ago deaths are still with us. We take a quiet moment now for each of us to catch our breath and bring all that distress, anxiety, pride, gratitude, joy, and loss to mind. ... 

The Talmud teaches us in Bava Batra that when we build a new home, we leave a small patch of it unpainted or incomplete as a reminder that nothing in the work of our hands can be entirely perfect or complete. How true! So remember, as we build together this Commencement 2020 online, even if there are glitches or stumbles on screen or at home, we are all doing our best to celebrate the special Class of 2020. 

As to the Class of 2020, I vividly remember your first day of school at JCHS. That was the day I told you about the book 101 Elephant Jokes my parents gave me to calm my anxiety about starting a new school. 

“What time is it when an elephant sits on your fence?” one of the jokes asks. “What time?!?” “Time to get a new fence!” Four years ago you laughed at that joke! Yiddish and Jewish folklore also have their own treasury of jokes, especially tales from the imaginary Polish village of Chelm. You might have heard of it; Chelm is the quirky village filled with wise fools. 

One of my favorite Chelm stories is about the villager who asks the village sage, “Which is more important, the sun or the moon? “Silly question,” the sage replies. “It’s the moon, of course! The moon shines at night when we really need it! But the sun shines during the day. What good is the sun in broad daylight!?!” 

The power of light is the opening theme of this week’s Torah portion, which begins with an instruction to Aharon about the wilderness Tabernacle, be’ha-alot’cha et ha neirot - raise up the lights [of the menorah].” (Num 8:2) The Rabbis puzzle over the verb used here. It is not the same verb we usually use for lighting candles, “l’haadleek ner” like on Shabbat or Chanukah. From this, the Talmud learns, Aharon is told to lift his light in such a way that the light of each flame rises by itself” (Shabbat 21a)

You, the Class of 2020, who face a world of challenge and turmoil, are the light that will rise to bring hope and healing to our broken world.

Which calls to mind another Chelm story about the moon. You already know how the villagers of Chelm loved the moon. 

They loved that it shone brightly in the dark sky. For people in Chelm, a full moon was a cause for celebration. From its light, they could see each other. Bathed in the moonlight they felt joy. The light of the moon lifted their spirits. 

But when the moon shrank in the sky, the villagers of Chelm got grumpy and unhappy. Darkness soured moods all through the village. Up and down their moods rose and fell with the moon. 

Until a clever teen in Chelm, let’s call him Mendel, had a genius idea. “I will find a way to capture the moon, and then we can let out a little bit of its light on the darkest of nights,” announced Mendel. Everyone on Mendel's street agreed it was a genius idea. If Mendel could, they imagined, capture the moon, then the entire village could keep the darkness away!

Mendel sat outside night after night watching the moon; checking on its movements. He saw that whenever the moon was full in the sky he could see the moon inside a puddle of water. So, genius Chelmite that he was, Mendel reasoned: “if I could fill a big enough barrel of water, I could use it to capture the whole moon.” He built a huge barrel with a heavy fitting lid. 

Mendel watched for the next full moon. That night as soon as the moon opened wide from behind a cloud, Mendel ran over to his barrel of water. He saw the moon indeed captured in the barrel. Then he nailed the heavy lid on top of the barrel. Mendel was so proud to have captured the moon!  

A couple of weeks later as it started to get very dark in the sky with no visible moon, Mendel gathered everyone around his barrel. “Don’t be sad, I’ve got the moon in this barrel. I’ll let it out and it will lift our spirits!” 

But when Mendel got close to the barrel, he saw the lid was already off. The moon was gone. Not in the barrel. Not in the sky. Mendel was puzzled. The villagers were disappointed. How did the moon escape?!? Then Mendel’s rebbe walked over and put her hand gently on Mendel’s shoulder. “I did it,” said the Rebbe.  

“Why?!?” asked Mendel now nearly in tears. The Rebbe answered, “I did it because the power of light in our lives comes from what we share with other people, not from what we capture or try to keep from other people.” 

“I don’t understand,” protested Mendel. The Rebbe continued gently, “We can’t keep the darkness from entering our lives, that's true, but we can bring light to others when darkness enters their lives. I took the lid off your barrel to remind each of us there will be moments of light and moments of darkness for everyone. We can’t prevent that."

"There will always be some disappointment along with hope. Some sadness along with joy,” the Rebbe added. Mendel and the other villagers were beginning to understand . . .  

“I think I get it. Rebbe,” said Mendel, “How we lift ourselves and others toward light and hope and joy depends not on what we can hold. It depends on our resilience in facing the dark, our courage in looking forward with hope, and our delight in sharing with others.” “Exactly,” said the Rebbe. 

So Class of 2020, my wish for you this afternoon and always is that you keep lifting your light: 

• Lift your light by embodying the resilience you’ve shown at JCHS through postponed and canceled Shabbatons, and smoke closures, and a lost Prom, and even disappointments with friends or fractures in relationships. 
• Lift your light by facing the unknown with the same courage you’ve shown in classrooms, labs, stages, courts, seminars,  conversations, and chances to take positive risks applying the best of yourselves; and
• Lift your light by taking delight in sharing with others as you have delighted all of us on Ellis Street since you arrived 4 years ago. 

Precious graduates, Lift your light and you will lift others and the world along with you.