The Future Has An Ancient Heart (Yom Kippur 5787)

Transcript The Future Has An Ancient Heart Yom Kippur 5787 Rabbi Sarah Berman Each of us has a name given by God and given by our parents …Each of us has a name given by the sea and given by our death. 1 Zelda, the Israeli poet, knew that names are powerful markers of identity. From before we are born, until after we die, our names are vessels containing our hopes and dreams, our achievements and disappointments, our potential and our choices. Our names connect our past and our future, in a line sketching the outline of our lives. In her poem, “Each of us has a name,” Zelda expanded on an ancient midrash that teaches that, “a person is called by three names; one we are called by our father and mother, one we are called by other people, and one we are called in the book of generations.” 2 At Central, we know a thing or two about the names we are called by our fathers and mothers. Our Mi Shebeirach list, our Kaddish list… they are full of names received from parents--given in joy, and then invoked in times of challenge or loss. We often don’t think about where these names come from in these moments. But we do think about--and celebrate--the meanings of the names that parents give at each one of our community’s joyous babynaming rituals. This year, I got to name little Jane. Her parents wanted her to take after her great-grandmother Jane of blessed memory. They wanted their daughter to meet the world with strength, sass, and independence. Jane inherited her great-grandmother’s name--just as her parents pray that she inherit her ancestor’s best traits as well. Last fall, I got to name Layla Andy (you may remember her--she was wearing a tiny lion costume at the time…!). Layla Andy’s ancestors were loving, generous, and dedicated to family--and so her parents gave her the initials of her great-grandparents Len, Lois, and Albert. And for her Hebrew name, they drew on Layla’s grandmother’s name--a living grandmother, who, according to the family’s Sephardic tradition, will teach her granddaughter generosity and sensitivity from her own lived example. Our community celebrates the names given by parents each week when a family brings their baby to the bimah for their naming blessing. Naming babies for deceased ancestors (as in Ashkenazi tradition), or for living forbears (as in Sephardi tradition) lets us translate the greatest achievements and traits of the past into hopes and dreams for the future. Naming is a full-hearted act of optimism. We take the best of what came before to build our dreams of what lies ahead. Who were you named for? How many of us bear the names or initials of those who came before us? And how many of us have these names because our parents hoped we would also carry forward the best traits of their loved ones? Passion, leadership, warmth, determination, care for family, the ability to love and be loved…. These are blessings that, for many of us, our parents wrapped up in our names. “The future has an ancient heart,” taught the philosopher Carlo Levi. 3 As Jews, we name the next generation for generations already come, as we seek to build a future set firm on the foundations of the past. The names we each carry tell where we came from, who we came from. Giving the name of a loved one to a new soul is the truest form of המטים revival of the dead) and helps keep alive those who came before. מחי ה (the Jews aren’t alone in this practice--and we weren’t the first. Our ancient ancestors learned from the Egyptians that saying a name out loud is how we keep memory alive. Ancient Egyptians would visit their ancestors’ tombs, and would read aloud the inscriptions on the walls. When they said their ancestor’s name, that person’s vitality in the afterlife was renewed--a living descendant remembering their ancestor was what gave those honored dead eternal life. These inscriptions were an Egyptian version of what our midrash called the Book of Generations. * I invite you to take a moment. Think of the family, the friends, the loved ones you are remembering in our Yizkor service today. Now take a breath. And say their name out loud. This is our Book of Generations, our living, breathing volume of love. By saying their names aloud, we are remembering those who came before us, and inviting them--just for a moment--to sit alongside us once again. Reviving prior generations is what we are doing when we give the names—and the dreams—of our ancestors to our children. Speaking names aloud is how we nourish our relationships. When we say the name of a relative no longer living, we sit with their memory, we revisit their impact, we invite their presence. And when we speak aloud the name of a dear one who is still with us--it can be a reminder to reach out, to catch up, to connect. Naming is an act of memory—and names are vessels of love. They offer a way to hold onto the best of our ancestors--so that their achievements, their stories, their dreams do not disappear. Like the ancient Egyptians, bringing the names of the past into the present is how our loved ones of blessed memory live on into the future. * My Grandma Beverly led a pretty typical life for her generation. After WWII, she married, had children, and worked as a substitute teacher. She lived a frugal life, and traveled very little. But when her husband, my Papa Leo, died suddenly in his early 60s, Grandma Beverly found a new direction for her life. She became adventurous, a world traveler, visiting the far reaches of the globe. I remember her as equal parts dedicated to her family (visiting her children and grandchildren spread across three different regions of the country), and independent (cruising the world for months at a time). My grandmother Beverly Nathan Berman has been gone for 25 years now; so when my nephew entered the world five years ago, I was delighted to learn that his name would be Beckett Nathan Berman. We all hope he lives up to his independent, adventurous, loving namesake. Jane, Layla Andy, Beckett Nathan--their names are containers for hopes and dreams. Their names are vessels for memory. Their names have infinite capacity for holding love. As the poet Merrit Malloy wrote, “Love doesn’t die, People do. So, when all that’s left of me is love, Give me away.” 4 This is why we give away names to the next generation. They are hearts full of love--full of the optimism of the past, repackaged for the future. “The future has an ancient heart,” we are taught. An ancient heart, beating the rhythm of memory, full of hopes and dreams for the future. Sermon anthem: Hanan Yovel, L’chol Ish Yesh Shem 5 1 Zelda, “Each of us has a name,” https://lilith.org/articles/ea... 2 Midrash Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) Rabbah 7💯3: וְאֶחָד וְאִמּוֹ, אָבִיו לוֹ שֶׁקָּרְאוּ אֶחָד הַזֶּה, לָאָדָם נִקְרָא שֵׁמוֹת שְׁלשָׁה תָּ נֵי בְּרִ יָּתוֹ תּוֹלְדוֹת בְּסֵפֶר לוֹ שֶׁקָּרוּי וְאֶחָד אֲחֵרִ ים, לוֹ שֶׁקָּרְאוּ Alternatively, in Midrash Tanhuma, Vayakhel 1💯 ְאָבִיו לוֹ שֶּׁקּוֹרְאִים מַה אֶחָד לְאָדָם, לוֹ נִקְרְאוּ שֵׁמוֹת שְֹׁלשָׁה מוֹצֵא אַתּ You find that a man( לְעַצְמוֹ הוּא שֶּׁקּוֹנֶה מַה מִכֻּלָּן טוֹב לְעַצְמוֹ. הוּא שֶּׁקּוֹנֶה מַה וְאֶחָד אָדָם, בְּנֵי לוֹ שֶּׁקּוֹרְאִין מַה וְאֶחָד וְאִמּוֹ, is known by three names: the name by which his father and mother call him, the name by which other men call him, and the one he earns for himself; the most important name is the one he earns for himself.) 3 Carlo Levi, Il futuro ha un cuore antico, 1956 4 Merrit Malloy, “Epitaph,” https://merritmalloy.wordpress... 5 Chava Alberstein recording, https://www.youtube.com/watch?...