Another Night Like All the Rest
a sermon preached by Tony Lorenzen
at First Parish Church in Weston, MA
Sunday, December 31, 2006
I
was twelve years old in 1978 when I finally managed to stay awake until the
stroke of midnight on December 31st and ring in the New Year. My mom had gone out and left my brother
and I in the care of a baby-sitter, the high school-aged sister of a friend. My brother didnÕt make it to midnight,
but I did. I looked on with all
those disco kings and queens in Times Square on Dick ClarkÕs New YearÕs RockinÕ
Eve at that big ball sitting ready to drop at midnight. I ate too much – candy. And I
drank too much – soda. Once
the ball lit up and dropped, and
everyone clapped and cheered, all that was left to do was go to sleep. Besides, I had a stomachache from all
the candy and soda. ÒThis is it?Ó
I thought. ÒWhatÕs the big deal?Ó Like
Barry Manilow sang in his song ItÕs Just Another New YearÕs Eve, maybe New YearÕs Eve was just another night like
all the rest.
What
did I know? I was twelve, I hadnÕt yet come to understand what American author
and Rabbi Chaim Potok summed up so well, paraphrasing an old Jewish proverb in
the opening of his novel In the Beginning,
with the words ÒAll beginnings are hard.Ó
And so they are: new books, new chapters, new life, or new years. As Nobel Laureate John Galsworthy,
author of the Forsyte Saga wrote,
ÒThe beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy.Ó
We
find ourselves at the beginning of the 21st century caught up in an
existence so divorced from the natural rhythms of the world that we almost
donÕt even notice the days getting shorter at the start of winter. We are
caught up celebrating Christmas, a holiday that borrows much of its wrappings
from traditions directly related to pre-Christian northern and western European
festivals that marked that winter solstice: the evergreen tree, the holly and mistletoe,
the yule log. These symbols of
life and greenery lasting through the dead of winter and the light of fire
reminding people that the sun will return again were important to our ancestors
who knew little about the astronomy behind solar events. They looked back to the last harvest
and time of plenty and warmth and prayed for its quick return in due
season. Experience taught them it
would be so, but there were no guarantees.
Even
the date of Christmas itself was placed at solstice time by the newly
Christianized Roman world to coincide with the celebration of Sol Invictus, the
invincible Sun. As the Roman
people were used to celebrating the lengthening of days and the victorious sun
returning to the world, the new official religion of the empire took advantage
of the imagery. What better time
to promote the son of God coming into the world and conquering darkness? The
feast of Christmas was moved from January 6 to the time of solstice when
Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, the imagery
couldnÕt have been better. The son of God coming into the world instead of the
physical sun returning to the world, again after the shortest day. Saturnalia, a two-week festival in
honor of Saturn, marked by wine and public merry-making also happened at this
time.
I
understand why the Romans picked the month named for Janus to mark the New
Year. ÒJanus is the Roman god of
gateways, beginnings, and endings.Ó
The Encyclopedia Mythica reports
that he was usually represented with a double-faced head, each head looking in opposite
directions. His likeness appeared on many Roman coins. He was worshipped at
times of transition and beginning: harvest time, planting, birth, coming of
age, and marriage. ÒJanus also represents the transition between primitive life
and civilization, between the countryside and the city, peace and war.Ó[1]
And
yet, as fitting as a New Year celebration is at this time of year, both in the
solar calendar, and in the Christian calendar, IÕve always felt that Advent and
Christmas and the New Year comes at the wrong time for my bio rhythms. I feel more like hibernating
during the winter, than rousing to the call of solstice fires, silver Christmas
bells, and the most important event in the Christian church year after
Easter. My mid-winter
grumpies get ready to set in, wars and rumors of wars clamor for my attention,
the real work of Christmas, as with most things, is messier, more real, and
tougher than the song and story.
IÕve
always felt more at home with a fall New YearÕs celebration. Like everyone in else in our culture, I
was at school as a youngster. Then I went off to college and then graduate
school, and became a teacher. I
married a teacher and working in Unitarian Universalist churches with July and
August recesses have kept me on an academic year most of my life. The Jewish celebration of Rosh
Hashanah was a better seasonal match for marking the New Year. ItÕs autumnal. A
harvest festival that falls closer to the equinox on the solar calendar. Taken out of context, of course, it
fits into a cycle that means more to those of us still tied into academic
calendars and summer vacations. We
really do begin again in the fall. In the middle of winter, we welcome the
return of the sun and the Christ child, but the evening of Dec. 31- Jan. 1
truly can seem at times like just another night like all the rest - if we let
it. But if we make it more like
the religious New YearÕs celebrations with which we are familiar, our secular
celebrations will hold more power and meaning and this evening will not be just
another night.
Rosh
Hashanah is an ancient New YearÕs festival. Sometime in the deep past it,
although not the Biblical past, it was already tied to Yom Kippur, the Day of
Atonement, when the gates of Heaven
were open and Jewish sins were forgiven.
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are linked as THE high holy days of the
Jewish Year. There is no way at all to confuse either of these days, and
remember in the Jewish world a day is counted from sunset to sunset, or any of
the evenings that connect them, with just any old night. These nights are not
nights like all the rest. If the
Christian year were to begin on the equivalent of Rosh Hashanah, it would not
begin in Advent but on Palm Sunday – a week before Easter.
Rabbi
Irving Greenberg writes in his book, The Jewish Way that ÒJudaism is a religion of life against death.
Death negates redemption; it is the end of growth; of freedom.Ó[2] This is why he argues that the Jewish
tradition seems to quarantine death with commandments such as the one to purify
oneself after contact with a dead body. When someone dies, the mourners recite Kaddish,
as a testimony that the family has not yielded to the crushing defeat and loss
of death. [3]
Greenberg
writes, ÒIn the Jewish Calendar, the Yamin Noraim (Days of Awe)
structure the imaginative encounter with death into an annual experience in the
hope that the experience will recur to liberate life continuallyÉRoutine and
stagnation are forms of death in life. People often stop growing long before
they are recognized as dead. Such a ÔdeadÕ person cannon be an agent of
redemption.Ó[4]
The
liturgy of the Jewish high holy days takes the form of a trial. God enters as judge and each individual
Jew presents his or her case. What
has the past year been? Thumbs up
or thumbs down? The medieval Rabbi and philosopher Moshe ben Maimon or
Maimonides, in his work Mishneh Torah (Sefer Mada, Hilchot
Teshuva, chapter 3, paragraph 4) wrote about the profound moral
significance of human actions and scales of judgment that are in play during
the high holy days. Maimonides:
Everyone
should regard himself throughout the years as exactly balanced between
acquittal and guilt. So too, he should consider the entire world as equally
balanced between acquittal and guilt. If he commits one additional sin, he
tilts down the scale of guilt against himself and the entire world and causes
its destruction. If he performs one good deed, he swings himself and the whole
world into the scale of merit and causes salvation and deliverance to himself
and his fellow men.
ThatÕs
a lot of guilt and a lot of weight to bear, but it demonstrates the importance
of the New YearÕs holiday in the Jewish tradition. It brings to the fore the
seriousness with which we are capable of taking stock of ourselves. And it puts into distinct focus that
guilt trips aside, all human choices and actions are indeed moral ones.
The
Talmud lists acts Òfor which there are no measureÓ, meaning there is no maximum
or minimum value. Chief among
these types of actions are acts of loving kindness. ÒSometimes an encouraging smile at the right time,Ó
Rabbi Greenberg notes, Òcan change another personÕs life.Ó[5]
Greenberg
mentions as an example Andre Rocme, a French Pastor whose decision to resist
the Nazis led to Òan entire villageÕs hiding, and thereby saving thousandsÓ
from the Holocaust. ÒConversely, the short-sighted Édecision of a ÉHindenburg
paved the way for the total domination of Germany and Europe by a monstrously
evil man.Ó[6]
The
Jewish High Holy Days end with Yom Kippur. Two major themes of this day are
rebirth and repentance. According
to rabbinic tradition, repentance is termed teshuvah and it is
considered a process, not a one time action or event. Teshuvah is translated ÒturningÓ or Òto turn aroundÓ,
Òto change direction.Ó After
taking stock of the past year, what would one do to change the direction of
oneÕs life in the coming year? Teshuva is a real New YearÕs
resolution.
Maimonides
wrote that there are three parts to teshuva: regret, rejection, and
resolution. One must admit the
wrong, stop doing the wrong, and resolve to break the old pattern or habit.
The
Jewish New Year celebration of the high holy days ends with a blast of the shofar
or ramÕs horn and the exclamation, ÒNext Year in Jerusalem! Next Year
-Redemption!
The
Christian New Year begins annually in a manner similar to how the Jewish high
holy days end. Instead of Next
Year in Jerusalem! Christians exclaim ÒThis year in Bethlehem!Ó
The
Christian year begins with Advent.
Many, probably most Christians, donÕt take much notice of itÕs arrival.
It comes at a bad time. It follows on the heels of Thanksgiving in our country,
and the first night of Advent usually passes just like many other nights. It usually is just another New YearÕs
Eve, another night like all the rest. But throughout Advent we are called to
Christmas, and Christmas Eve is certainly not just another night like all the
rest. Throughout the month of Advent the Christian world waits and makes ready
our hearts for the coming of the Christ child. As Parun Bair said, Òyour own
heart is the manger in which the birth of Christ takes place." Simeon is LukeÕs Janus. Looking back
into Jewish history and prophecy for a savior for his people Isreal, Simeon can
finally look forward to his final rest as an old man confident he has seen the
future hope of the messiah in the child Jesus.
An
entire season is given over to preparing the Christian heart and home for the
arrival of Christ, for taking measure of Christian lives both individually and
in community of just how well we have done the work of Christmas –
housing the homeless, feeding the hungry, seeking justice, bringing love and
peace – in the past year.
Balancing
the work of Christmas versus the hoopla of First Night celebrations brings me
back to the astronomical fact that New YearÕs Eve is just another night, another
turning of the earth. It brings me
back to watching Barry Manilow sing on television in the 1970s:
Don't look so sad,
It's not so bad you know.
It's just another night,
That's all it is, it's not the
first,
It's not the worst you know,
We've come through all the rest,
We'll get through this.
We've made mistakes,
But we've made good friends too.
Remember all the nights we spent
with them?
And all our plans,
Who says they can't come true?
Tonight's another chance to start
again.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
Another night like all the rest.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
Let's make it the best.
It's just another New Year's Eve,
It's just another Auld Lang Syne,
But when we're through this New
Year
You'll see, will be Just fine.
We
make this New YearÕs Eve the best, we make the coming year and its celebration
just fine and special not by hype and hyperbole, not by exaggerating itÕs
importance as a social occasion just for reminiscence, but by recognizing itÕs
connection to the holidays – to the Holy Days - such as Rosh Hashanah and
Advent and Christmas, and even Solstice.
Important markers of meaning that cause us to pause and notice the
boundary between what has passed and what may yet come; what we have already
lived and may yet be born. How we
have done in the past year and how we will resolve to do better. What is it
that Janus would have us look back and forward to at this time?
When
the New Year holds nothing but an excess of food and drink – of candy and
soda, then the celebration is empty.
Yet when the celebration observes that time itself is sacred and the
year itself is pregnant with possibility then our merriment is a communion of
hope and possibility; a feast of love and fortune; a liturgy of recognition,
reminiscence, repentance and renewal.
Tonight,
tomorrow, let us give New YearÕs Eve and this New Year the spiritual pause it
should command. More than a bit of
reverence for what has been and more than just a vague sense of promise for
what will be. Things that have
passed this way will not come again, and only we have the power to change the
course of tomorrow. The people and places and things and gifts of this passing
time should be honored.
There should be a celebration that you and I are still here, a toast to
survival and making it through and a deep resolve to do our best at taking up
the work of Christmas in the New Year.