Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
Sermon, January 11, 2002
Be Kind to the Ert and the Inert Alike
Stay alert! Be alert! How many times have we heard those exhortations? Evidently it is important to the world that there be lerts. If we are already a lert, we are to stay a lert; and if we are not yet one, we are to be a lert. But what is a "lert"? Language sometimes plays tricks on us.
Tonight I'd like to teach you a word which is a first cousin to "lert." What do you call something which just lies there and cannot move? No - not a husband. The word is "inert." So, then, what do you call something which can move? The answer is "ert" - I just made it up. You can guess what the word "ert" means; it is the opposite of inert. The title of tonight's sermon and really the thesis of this message is that we should be kind to both the ert and the inert. This lesson is illustrated by a beautiful Midrash based on this week's Torah portion.
Tonight we Jews begin reading about the plagues with which God struck the Egyptians. As we study the plagues, we notice something strange. Aaron stretched out his rod over the waters of Egypt, and they turned to blood - that was the first plague. Aaron waved the staff over the waters, and the waters brought forth frogs in swarms - that was the second plague. Third, Aaron stretched out his rod and smote the dust of the earth, and it became vermin, or specifically, lice. Where was the great leader of our People who last week was told at the burning bush "go to Pharaoh and tell him to 'let My people go'?" It was not Aaron; Aaron was not even there. So why were the first three plagues brought about through the agency of Aaron by himself, while the remaining seven plagues involved Moses or Moses and Aaron acting together?
The Midrash explains why Aaron struck the waters of the Nile and the sand of Egypt, not Moses. Moses came to God and said, "I'm sorry, but I just cannot do it. The Nile River protected me and saved my life. When my mother put my basket in the bulrushes of the Nile, the waters flowed gently. If they had not, they would have carried me away and I might have drowned. So how can I now strike that which was so good to me?
As for hitting the sand, Moses said the same thing. "When I killed that Egyptian task-master who was beating the Hebrew slave, I hid his body in the sand. If it had not been for that sand which covered over the body of the Egyptian, I would have been arrested for murder. How can I now strike that which saved my life?"
God was very impressed with the fact that Moses had such a sense of gratitude, even toward inanimate objects, so God agreed to let Aaron bring on those first three plagues.
Isn't that a strange Midrash - beautiful, but strange? Are we expected to really believe that water has feelings, that sandy earth can be insulted? That Moses would be grateful to inanimate objects? But that is precisely the point of the Midrash. A mensch is grateful. If Moses was grateful, even to inanimate objects, and was grateful even years later - he's a grown man; now, the Nile River saved his life as an infant - then how much more so should we be grateful to the people who gave us life and to those who cared for us and taught us and helped make us who and what we are. This is such a simple idea, yet one which deserves repeating and reinforcing because we are creatures who tend to be ungrateful, whose memories are short when it comes to those who have helped us.
Do you remember the name Alben Barkley? He was Vice President of the United States many years ago under Harry Truman. Barkley was a man with a delightful sense of humor. He used to tell the story of how he was once out campaigning for re-election. He saw one of his constituents and said: "Jed, you gonna' vote for me this year?"
Jed says: "Well, I'm not sure.
"Not sure," asked Barkley, "how can you be not sure? Don't you remember six years ago when your brother was out of a job and I got him one?"
"Yep, I remember that," said Jed.
"And you remember the time four years ago when your uncle was in trouble with the law and I fixed things up?"
"Yep, I remember," said Jed.
"And you remember the time two years ago when you needed a loan from the bank and I got it for you?"
"Yep, I remember," said Jed.
"So, how could you not vote for me?" asked Barkley.
"Well, I remember all those things," Jed said. But what have you done for me lately?"
Jed is not the only one who thinks like that, and that is why we need to hear this Midrash and take its lesson to heart.
So let me tell you about a man who was the opposite of Jed. Richard Orloff has written about how he came to have an appreciation for God and for religion. He says that one of the things that helped him become religious was when he decided to do what he calls "exercises in gratitude." He realized that gratitude is the essence of religion and he figured out that, like everything worthwhile in life, it doesn't just happen. Gratitude takes training and practice, discipline and exercise. So, Richard Orloff developed the custom of writing "thank you" on that little ledger line on the left-hand side of all the checks which he wrote.
When he made out a check to pay the water bill, he would stop and think about how precious water is and how much the city has to do to make sure that his water is pure and safe, then he would put "thank you" on his check. When he paid his mortgage, he stopped to think about how much paperwork the bank had to do so that he could own a home, and he would write "thank you" on the check.
You know, friends, he was right. That is what it means to be religious. When you find a parking spot, especially if the meter still has some time on it, don't just say "aha! I beat somebody to it". Say "thank You, God." When you wake up in the morning and are able to stand and walk and talk, say "thank You, God. With all my troubles, I'm still ahead of the game." When you see someone who helped you on your way, who taught you or guided you or befriended you, do as Moses did - remember and be grateful.
Aaron initiated the first three plagues. It is kind of a small detail which is easy to overlook if we read our Bible quickly instead of deeply. But the lesson it teaches is a big one which we should all take to heart and try to live by. I like Richard Orloff's idea of "exercises in gratitude", so let me remind you of something which we do, and those of you who stay for dinner tonight will see very clearly. On our Shabbat table there are candles, a kiddish cup, a challah - some households use two challot - and the challot are covered. In fact, some of us, make our own beautiful challah covers. The kiddish cup is not covered with anything. So why is the challah always covered until it is time for motsi?
The traditional answer is that Shabbat does not begin until we light and bless the candles. Then the first Sabbath ritual we perform is to make kiddish, and we don't want the challah's feelings to be hurt. So we cover the challah until its turn comes so that it won't have to go through the embarrassment of watching kiddish come first.
Again, I ask what sense does this make? Does the challah really have feelings? Would the challah be insulted if it saw us make kiddish before the motsi?
Our tradition is trying to teach us that we do not develop character from reason, but rather from feelings. A person does not sit down and reason out that it is good to be kind to other people; it doesn't work that way. Rather one disciplines him or herself by being continually kind until it becomes second nature. Therefore, if we treat inert objects casually and callously, our sensitivity is diminished and we end up treating erts - animals and human beings - casually and callously. But if we train ourselves, as Moses did, to be meticulous in the way we treat even inert objects, there will be a carry-over from that to how we treat living beings.
Does the challah have feelings? Do the waters of the Nile or the sands of Egypt have feelings? Of course not. But we do. If we treat inert objects carefully often enough, then the lesson we need to be sensitive and kind to others will sink into our soul and into our conscience and train us to be kind and compassionate to animals and human beings as well.
Becoming kind and compassionate is not easy; it takes training and discipline and practice. Therefore, let us be good whenever we can. Let's be good even to inert objects, because that will train us to be alert to erts as well. Amen
I appreciate the wisdom of Rabbi Jack Riemer which is reflected throughout this message.
