About 28 or 29 centuries ago, the Prophets held up a mirror before their contemporaries-- in order to show them exactly how they and their society looked in God's eyes. And, believe me, it wasn't a pretty sight.

"Living the Prophetable Life," that's our theme of discovery for these High Holy Days. Our texts are drawn from the second major division of Hebrew Scripture where we read the compelling stories and powerful words of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos, Hosea, Micah, Ezekiel and others.

These were real, not mythological, people who left written testimony behind them. They were each busy with "normal" life, but then called to servanthood by a God who was in earnest to get the word out that all was not well, but it could be turned around. The end of the story can still be hopeful: that's the prophets' bottom line.

Turn to Isaiah, Chapter 6 and we read how Isaiah was summoned to Prophethood by this incredible vision when he was in the inner sanctum of the ancient temple. But you don't need me to tell you about it; let's let Isaiah tell you:

In the year that King Uzziah died, I beheld my Lord seated on a high and lofty throne; and the skirts of His robe filled the temple. Seraphim stood in attendance on Him. Each of them had six wings. . . and one would call to the other, "Holy, holy, holy, the Lord of Hosts! His Presence fills all the earth!" Then I heard the voice of my Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I; send me."

I bring these prophets to our collective attention for but one reason. If you and I cannot be prophets, well then, we ought to at least appropriate some of their values, their priorities and insights into the living of our own lives.

Last night, in the wake of our national tragedy and grief, we spoke of Exile, a sense of loneliness, purposelessness, hopelessness-which the Prophets often addressed. They always promised, we noted, an eventual Homecoming, even in a world of "What's Next?"

Now, on this Rosh HaShanah Day, as the Shofar resounds through every synagogue on the face of the earth and as we recall Abraham's trial of faith on Mount Moriah, I'd like us to examine still another of the prophets' favorite themes: religious hypocrisy, the fraudulent believer, our human tendency to sell out both ourselves and the Creator who loves us so. After all, the hijackings and the destruction of thousands of innocent lives were done in the name of Religion-but Fraudulent Religion; a misreading and aberration of Islam's holy texts. Faith is volatile and it can be so tragically abused.

Believe me, in the 8th century BCE, when Israel's prophets showed up at services, the official priests became more than a little nervous. Don't forget, the Judaism of that day, in the 8th PreChristian century, was the cult of animal sacrifices mixed with chanted psalms and prayers. Offer the right sacrifice, receive the desired blessing and protection-- that was the essence of the system. Enter Isaiah, who throws the pious crowd into confusion by delivering this in God's name:

What do your sacrifices mean to me? God asked.
I'm fed up with the roasting rams, and the grease of fatted beasts. . . .
Your new moon ceremonies, and your assemblies.
I hate them, I find them a burden;
They weary Me.

When you stretch out your hands, I look the other way
And when you pray long prayers, I do not listen.

I loathe, I spurn your festivals,
I am not appeased by your solemn assemblies. . . .
Spare Me the sound of your hymns. . . .

But let justice well up like water,
Righteousness like an unfailing stream.

I wonder, has anything really changed today? I mean, our Judaism still performs two functions as I see it: when we are lost, it gives us strength and confidence, and when we are self-engrossed it beckons us on to nobler effort and toward tikunolam, the repairing and healing of our world. Let's call this the two "C"'s of Judaism--Comfort on the one hand, and Conscience on the other. Our Judaism must speak to both. Is it doing so today? Are we in danger of forsaking social action--the Prophetic or the "C" of conscience by enthralling over what many have begun to label "Feel Good Judaism"?  Take another look at the giant mountain of ashes from last Tuesday and consider what's at stake if our Judaism loses its Prophetic Nerve.

Have you ever heard of a guy named Shmuley Boteach? I think he's one of the gurus of Feel Good Judaism. He started out as a field worker for Chabad Lubavitch at England's Oxford University. His assignment: establish a Jewish outreach center. Two years later, Shmuley's "L'Chayim Society" was a huge success -- even drawing Jerry Springer and Boy George as speakers. As things went on, however, Shmuley apparently went too far afield for the Labovichers who proceeded to fire the 34-year-old "rebbe celebre." Now he's become Michael Jackson's rabbi!

A hefty percentage of Shmuley's followers are non-Jews--former Buddhists. Says Shmuley, "The whole country's going Jewish." The author of 11 books, most notably, Kosher Sex, Shmuley's begun an online dating service (write this down if you're in the balcony), loveprophet.com. There are also the 39 world-wide branches of "Roll Your own Judaism"-- the Kabbalah Center, where one can go to learn Jewish teachings about reincarnation and medieval Jewish astrology, and how to find your Guardian Angel.

Suffice it to say, many are in love with this New Age, meditative approach to their Jewishness. Of the two C's of Judaism, it's a heady dose of Comfort, feeling cozy, feeling connected, feeling, well, self-satisfied. And that's what worries me! All that smug satisfaction.

I began to fear that the scale had tipped too far in favor of Feel Good Judaism when I heard, not long ago, about our new Reform Prayerbook which is in the works for 2004. Said one East Coast Cantor, who claimed to be in the know:
 

Our new Prayerbook will represent a complete paradigm shift to non-intellectual prayer.

I created you (says God) to be a light to the nations: to bring light where there is darkness; to liberate the oppressed and to bring the captive out of confinement. I created you to lift up the fallen, to clothe the naked, to feed the hungry and redeem the oppressed.

The Prophets would ask us at this moment, "How is God going to make a difference in this world?"  And their answer:

"Put your hands in front of you and take a close look at them, because, Baby, those are the hands of God and nothing less!"

I believe that our Reform Movement is in danger of forsaking its historic calling as Judaism's prophetic voice. Our world can ill afford it! Dag Hammarskjold used to insist:

In our age the road to holiness passes through the world of action.

What I will not do, no matter how politically correct, is to stand by and watch our Reform Judaism's ineluctable degeneration into an indifferent, blind and bland cult of self-engrossed mystics. And, if that strikes you as rabbinic intolerance, well then, I plead guilty!  How about you, do you agree?

Well, we're not alone. A recent national survey of 1,000 randomly selected Jewish Americans indicates that American Jewry remains strongly committed to the pursuit of social justice, and that such passion is intimately bound up with our identity as Jews.

87 % endorsed this statement:

"Jews have a responsibility to work on behalf of the poor, the oppressed, and minority groups."

And 85% rejected this view:

"We Jews have enough problems of our own without worrying about the broader society."

In our hearts we know that as Jews we must stand for something much bigger than ourselves and our own puny interests. Says Wiesel:

"There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice but there must never be a time when we fail to protest."

You know, my beloved friend and mentor, the late Rabbi Jacob Rader Marcus, used to say, "There are six million Jews in America and six million Judaisms."  We--you and I-- however we define our personal Jewishness, and whatever it is we and our children come to select from the broad smorgasbord of Jewish observance (from Classical Reform to Jewish Renewal), we must be certain that our Judaism continues to call us out of ourselves toward another with greater love.

I know that this congregation is a sleeping giant; that there are human needs we ought to be addressing, and urgent, worthy causes we ought to be aiding. And I know that our dedicated and brilliant lay leadership is intent on redoubling our efforts in social action. Perhaps you would like to step forward and suggest a project for our energies?

I'm going to insist that every student in our Temple Sinai Religious School, beginning with this New Year, be required to participate in a grade-appropriate mitzvah project.

B'nai Mitzvah Candidates and Confirmands will henceforth be required to design and implement, along with their families, a personal effort to realize the Prophetic mandate to remember the stranger, the widow, the orphan.

Two "C"s of Judaism: Comfort and Conscience. I want to leave you with this story.

There was once a zealous student who boasted to his teacher how he had just saved the soul of a beggar who had come to him for a meal. The student went on to explain how he had accomplished this soul-saving.

"Oh, of course," said the disciple to the hungry man, "you shall have your meal but only after the evening prayer service, and after we teach you to ritually wash your hands with the proper blessings, and after you have recited the prayer before eating."

The Teacher was not at all happy with his disciple and chastised him, saying:

You know, there are times when one must act as if there were no God in heaven or on earth.

Hearing this, the disciple protested:

Do you mean to tell me that I should have acted as if there were no God, not have him pray, nor wash, nor recite the benedictions? Have I no responsibility for saving that beggar's soul?

To which the Saintly Teacher replied:

No, you don't! Yours is to take care of your soul, but the beggar's body.

Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?
And step forward, saying to God and to our fellows--

He-n'nee! Sh'lachey-nee.

Behold, here am I. Send me!