LETTER TO MY GRANDDAUGHTER

Kol Nidre, 5787

Rabbi Barry L. Schwartz

Here It’s only fair. Four years ago, I shared with you a “Letter to My Grandson”. It happened that Adin’s second birthday was on Rosh Hashanah. After the birth of our granddaughter Ava, almost three now, I have felt she too deserves a letter. I know she would agree.

Some of you may recall that Ava came into the world in dramatic fashion. She was born in the bathtub of her home. By the time the EMTs arrived she was crying lustily, and my son Nadav had cut the umbilical cord and tied it with a shoelace. Debby and I were returning from a family wedding and heard all about this on I-95 N.

Ever since Ava has had a flair for the dramatic. That would include her periodic meltdowns, and her plentiful sweet talk. I recognize that it will be more a few years before Ava can read this letter herself. But presumably she will be able to listen to it at any time thanks to our YouTube Channel. So, hi Ava!

Dear Ava,

We love you, and being grandparents to you and your brother is the best thing Savta (Debby) and Saba (me) can imagine right now.

But this is not a mushy kind of letter. It’s a serious one. Your Saba loves talking with you, which you do non-stop. And playing with you, and your amazing assortment of toys. But your Saba is more serious than mushy, and after all, this is not a few words at your birthday party but a sermon on Yom Kippur!

When you came into the world in your sensational way, you were such a burst of light. The celebration of new life. The celebration of being welcomed to our people. The celebration of hope—because the birth of every new child is a great act of hope.

You remind us of the enchantment we felt raising your father, aunt and uncle. You remind us of the wonder of growing up: first words and first steps, first smiles and first laughs, first cuddles and first hugs. You remind us of the delight of story time and the magic of the playground.

Hold on—I said I’m not going to be mushy… so here is the challenge: what message should I share with you today? What wisdom that will hold true when you read this- years from now? What insight that will help ground and guide you through the journey of life ahead?

As I thought about what brief teaching could encapsulate what I wanted to say, I realized it was very close to me. Actually… around my neck (take off tallit and show). Inscribed on the atarah, the collar of this tallit, is my favorite saying from the Hebrew Bible. The timeless words of the Micah the prophet: “God has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what God requires of you: Only to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God” (6:8).

Justice, kindness, humility. The big three. As my time is short, today I can only talk about one. In your honor I chose the second. Kindness. Compassion. Empathy.

The greatest exemplar of kindness in the Bible is Ruth, who left her home and her land, to care for her mother-in-law, Naomi; who said unforgettably, “For wherever you go, I will go; wherever you stay, I will stay; your people shall be my people; and your God my God” (1:16).

The compassion of Ruth touches us across the millennia. There is a unique Hebrew term connoting this kindness, this devotion, this empathy. It is hesed. It is the word on my tallit. We are urged: ahavat hesed: love mercy, pursue kindness, seek compassion.

Hesed is the leitmotif of the Book of Ruth. Ruth’s love and loyalty toward Naomi is hesed. Boaz’ care for Ruth, his decision to marry her, his decision to be the redeemer for Naomi is hesed. Naomi’s embrace of Ruth and Boaz and their baby is hesed. The townsfolks embrace of the forlorn family is hesed. Hesed makes the world go round… at its best.

Ava, today, believe it or not, there is actually a campaign against compassion going on. In some quarters empathy has gone from virtue to vice. Last year, when a very rich man was still in government, he said, “The fundamental weakness of western civilization is empathy.” A podcaster published a book called Toxic Empathy. A pastor even published a book called The Sin of Empathy. These volumes are in turn indebted to an earlier work, Against Empathy.

Don’t be fooled.

Our Torah teaches that compassion is not weakness, but strength.

Our Torah teaches to love the stranger, for we were strangers in the land of Egypt.

Our Torah teaches that hesed is the highest expression of our humanity.

On this Yom Kippur, I pose a question to all of us, that you, Ava, and the next generation, will inherit: Do we want to be remembered for our cruelty or our compassion? For our loathing or our love? For our malice or our kindness?

As I spoke about on Rosh Hashanah eve, our prayers are full of love: God’s love for us, our love for God, and love for each other.

Ava: May you grow to sense God’s love in your life.

May you grow to offer your love to God.

May you grow to give, and to receive, of the great blessing of family love.

I have much more to say, Ava, but I conclude here.

The words on my tallit, again: Be just. Be kind. be humble.

May you take those words to heart.

This tallit was made for me by a weaver in my first congregation. I’ve worn it at every significant occasion for the last forty years. I hope some day you will marry, and if I am not with you at that time, perhaps you can incorporate the tallit into your huppah, and into your life.

Love always, Saba