Rabbi's Messages

on Saturday, 01 February 2014.

A SERMON FOR TERUMAH 5774

It is the obligation of the rabbi to speak from the bima about any upcoming holidays. To share the Jewish significance of what’s happening on the calendar right now. And where I come from, there’s a major holiday happening this weekend – Super Bowl Sunday.
 
So I got to thinking about the Jewish significance of the Super Bowl, and I came up with a number of ideas that I’d like to share with you. Now, I’m well aware that a similar comparison could be made with hockey, but you know what – you hired an American Rabbi; you knew what you were getting!
 
So, on this Yom Tov weekend, here are my thoughts on “What’s so Jewish about the Super Bowl.”
 
#1: Location, Location Location.
 
Almost every sport has a home field advantage. It’s the idea that when you are in your own venue, you’re likely to play better – for a whole variety of reasons having to do with familiarity, crowd noise, jet lag, even the perceived psychological challenges of being on someone else’s turf. The Leafs play better here in Toronto than they do on the road, right? (Well, most years...) 
 
The Super Bowl is specifically designed to minimize the home field advantage. Since there’s only one big game – as opposed to a series like in baseball or hockey - it’s played at a neutral, rotating location, so that neither team benefits.
 
Judaism understands these issues. This week’s Torah portion, Terumah, is all about home field advantage. In this parashah, the people of Israel are told: Va’asu li mikdash v’shachanti b’tocham – Make for Me (God) a sanctuary, so that I may dwell among you.” In other words, we are commanded to make God a home field. A sacred space where our Judaism can flourish and grow stronger because it is in its own element. And, as we at Kol Ami know very well, having a religious home really does strengthen our Judaism. 
 
But there’s another side to the coin, and it’s also reflected in this parashaha. As we also know very well at Kol Ami, Judaism is meant to be portable. Like a sports game, which can be played at any venue, our rites and rituals are meant to be carried with us wherever we go. That’s the why the mishkan – the tabernacle – is carried throughout the wilderness. Because Jewish practice is about much more than where you practice it.
 
Which brings me to reason #2:
What’s so Jewish about the Super Bowl? The details matter.
 
In sports, little things make a big difference. If the placekicker swings their foot slightly off, the ball may miss the uprights.  If the tennis ball hits a centimetre to the left or right, it can affect the outcome of the entire match.  Athletes spend their time drilling and practicing every little detail of every play, so that when it matters, they can get it right.
 
Judaism is the same way, and again, this week’s Torah portion speaks to that idea. It is filled with riveting passages that tell us exactly how to build the mishkan. Like this one, for example, from Exodus 25:10:
 

You shall make a table of acacia wood, two cubits long, one cubit wide, and a cubit and a half high. Make a rim of a hand’s breadth around it, and make a gold molding for its rim around it.

 
(I actually think that’s what Peyton Manning says in the huddle before a play).
 
Judaism is a religion of detail. We don’t just light candles on Shabbat; we light 2 candles, 18 minutes before sunset on Friday afternoon. We don’t just wear fringes; we wrap the tzitzit so that there are precisely 613 knots and twists. We believe that God is in the details, and the details can guide us toward living a holy life. 
 
But here, as well, there’s a balance. How you do things is important, but at the core of core of Judaism is why you do them. When a man came before Hillel and asked him to teach all of Judaism while standing on one foot, he said: "What is hateful to you, do not to another. That is the Torah, and all the rest is commentary."
 
Half of our Judaism is having the right attitude; remembering that other people are reflections of God and that how we live and how we relate to them matters. The other half, which is meant to lead us to that notion, consists of the rites and the rituals that make up the Jewish way of life.
 
Abraham Joshua Heschel taught that Jewish prayer – and Jewish life – is a balance between keva and kavannah. Keva means “fixed.” It is the portion of Jewish practice that relies on details and rules – the HOW. How are you supposed to hang a mezuzah? How are you supposed to put on t’fillin? How are you supposed to say the Shema. Kavannah, which means “intention,” is the WHY.  It’s the morals and ethics; the spirituality; the striving to relate to God and to bring meaning to life, which we achieve often through ritual, but which is outside of the tiny details.
 
Keva and Kavannah both matter – in religion and in sports. If you can throw the ball all the way from one endzone to the other, but you don’t care about the game, then you’re not going to win the Super Bowl. If you can recite every word of the shacharit service by heart, but you don’t love your neighbour as yourself, you’re not fully practicing Judaism.
 
God is in the details. But God is also in the eternal struggle to do better and to be better. 
 
And that’s reason #3.
What’s so Jewish about the Super Bowl? There is almost always a second chance
 
True Leafs fans know it well: You can go years without a winning season and still have faith that someday, somehow, your team can pull it out. And that’s true. The end of any season is a wiping clean of the slate. Every team that didn’t make the big game this year has a chance to make it next year.
 
That might be why for so many of us in Toronto, February is our favourite part of baseball season. Because right now, the Blue Jays have as good a chance as anybody else!
 
Judaism teaches us that while God may be in the details, we’re not expected to get it all right the first time. The purpose of the mishkan that’s being built in this parashah is to allow us to offer sacrifices, to ask forgiveness for the times we’ve missed the mark.  Nowadays, we don’t sacrifice, but through our prayers and our holidays – especially Yom Kippur - we remind ourselves that if we didn’t quite live up to our own expectations this year, we have another chance to do so next year.
 
What’s so Jewish about the Super Bowl? What’s so Jewish about the Stanley Cup, and the World Series, and the Olympics? They remind us that in life, we should strive to be our best, that we should care about how and why, and that we should give ourselves the opportunity to make mistakes and to learn from them.
 
On this Shabbat Terumah, may we heed those words.
And may we strive to create Makom Kadosh – holy space – wherever we are.
 
Amen.