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The
Power of Doubt
Rabbi David Zaslow
Israel,
1990: Our Havurah tour group was boarding the bus to meet
a renowned mystic in Tsfat who would reveal the hidden kabbalistic
secrets of creation. Debbie, Judy, Claire, and Bill were staying
behind in Tiberias where they would relax in the sun, be with
the kids, or just enjoy the touristy boat ride across the
Sea of Galilee. Debbie gave me her blessing to enjoy the teaching
in Tsfat.
As
I was saying good-bye, five year old Ari looked up at me with
a gigantic tear falling down his cheek, and said, "Daddy,
I don't want you to go, I want you to stay with me today!"
Oy, what should a would-be kabbalist do? How could I miss
what was going to be the teaching of all teachings, the revelation
of the secrets of creation itself? On the other hand, how
could I say "no" to my son wanting to be with me?
In less than a flash of an instant I said to Ari, "Okay,
I'll stay!" Bruce and Aryeh looked at me like I was crazy.
Our little group boarded the boat for the ride across the
Galilee.
To
battle my doubt and despair at having stayed behind I went
to the front of the boat, took out my guitar and the few remaining
Havurahniks that stayed behind started singing "Hiney
Ma Tov " as we got underway. Suddenly a dozen members
of a Christian choir from Spain joined in with exquisite harmonies.
We spoke no Spanish. They spoke no English, but we all sang
together in Hebrew. It was what we call in Yiddish a gevaldtik
moment - powerful and inspiring. It was a taste of heaven!
We kept singing as our Christian friends celebrated the place
where Jesus walked on water, and where on a spiritual level
we all felt as if we were walking on water at that very moment.
Last
March Debbie and I stayed with Rachel in Brooklyn. From great
jazz to the shul where Reb Zalman was ordained in the late
1940's, all the way to the Twin Towers site - this trip was
special. Except for one thing - I was dying to see a Broadway
musical like Hairspray or the off-Broadway Elvis review called
All Shook Up, but Rachel and Debbie would have nothing to
do with my sentimental desires to relive my childhood. No,
for these two urban sophisticates our night on Broadway was
going to be meaningful - a drama! A drama? We're in Manhattan
for one evening and we're going to a drama? Who was I married
to? What kind of child did I raise?
They
dragged me to Doubt, the 2005 Pulitzer Prize winning play
by John Patrick Shanley, that deals with an accusation of
child molestation against a priest. From the opening scene
when Father Flynn delivers a brilliant sermon on the nature
of doubt, I was riveted. For the next ninety-minutes everything
would get turned inside out. A priest who was kind, progressive,
and who sincerely loves kids is accused of molesting a boy
by a nun who had no proof, only what she called her inner
"certainties." She was the kind of nun that my Catholic
friends hated when they were growing up: strict and arrogant.
Yet it was that very arrogance that gave her the courage to
stand up against the priest, and the whole Church establishment
if necessary. But is Father Flynn really guilty? Is Sister
Aloysius crazed in her arrogance? I'm not giving anything
away, but the audience will never find out anything with certainty.
You will be given the gift of doubt itself. Whatever opinions
you have about the priest or the nun, your own sense of certainty
will be shaken. The play is nothing less than a parable of
life itself and will, I believe, become an American classic.
I
had doubt about staying with my family at the Sea of Galilee
in 1990. I had doubt about seeing a drama with my daughter
and wife in 2005. Yet it was the very energy of my doubts
that permitted me to transform my own self-centeredness into
two special experiences. And isn't that what the High Holidays
are really all about? We come to shul with doubt about our
own self-worth, about out ability to really change, about
the power of God to forgive. So, we work with the doubt -
we shape it, we battle it, we let it shape us, observe the
battle within us, and then at one amazing moment we surrender
control to something greater than ourselves. For just a moment
in one of the services (we never know which one), in one of
the prayers (we're never told in advance) we let go of the
reins and let Shekhinah guide us for a change. Literally,
She guides us for a change! As the popular saying goes we
"let go and let God." May the High Holidays be sweet,
profound, healing, and transformative for each of us and our
loved ones. May we hold on to our doubts as long as necessary,
and may we know when to let go!
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