Writing a Semon to Celebrate July Fourth

Giving a sermon is one of life's surest opportunities to bore someone listening--or not.

When I was invited to give the sermon at my synagogue's "July 4th Shabbat" service, my first reaction was surprise. I'd given talks at Shomrei Emunah before, but hadn't been offered the opportunity in a long while. Nine years or two rabbis ago, depending on how your clock tells time.

Surprise gave way quickly to pleasure. I like thinking through the subject of a sermon, and sharing that. I admit to also liking the performance aspect of it--you can never completely take Performing Arts out of an alumna.

But my pleasure soon gave way to setting aside feelings and starting the work. The topic had come to me quickly and easily. I wanted to talk about the connection between liberty and law. That called for research to support my thesis.  And doing research is a lot like watching a soap opera: once you get into it,  it's hard to stop looking. In this case, I was researching what everyday folks like George Washington and Ben Franklin had to say about liberty--and law. It was fascinating reading. When I finally made myself stop doing that part of my research, I had to reread the Declaration of Independence and much of the Constitution. Very slowly. Next, I browsed  through the book of Leviticus (which sounds more casual than what it felt like). I was looking for commandments I might talk about briefly in the sermon--ones that made me believe that the laws in the Torah were the way Jews were truly freed from the prison of slavery. I found some that seemed as relevant to life now as long ago. That brought me to the realization that in practice--when practiced--liberty and law can lead to love.

My reading did provide me with one laugh--though someone more earnest than I might well not consider funny what made me laugh. This: I had somehow overlooked one commandment I wish I'd known years ago: God forbade us to eat fat! (But, seriously, as they say, my guess is that He or She considered it very special--like blood--and therefore had it permanently on reserve.)

Speaking of fat, this week I have spent some time every day adding a little and cutting far more of my talk. Fortunately, it's way too long, so I can cut as much as my editorial conscience demands--yet leave in a little humor. The fact is, I am constitutionally unable to speak for twenty minutes without being a little funny. 

Reading can be Dangerous

Fair warning: taking on a writing assignment can lead to spending time as though there are a million tomorrows. I have spent the last few weeks reading a lot about United States history, not my subject. In college, my major was British Civilization; my graduate work was on the Tudors. I've been to London more times than I've been to Brooklyn. But I am in love with this country. So, when I was inivted to give the sermon at my synagogue's July Fourth Shabbat service, I was honored.

It did not occur to me instantly that one of the leftovers of being a history major is that I could not write my sermon from the heart alone. I needed to do research, go to the sources. And as anyone who has ever written a Master's thesis knows, the main thing you get from studying any source is the imperative to go on to another. So for the time being I am reading and reading and reading, stopping today only to put into writing here that I am preparing myself to write a sermon not a Master's thesis. And if spring has passed us by this year, summer still starts in a week, and our July Fourth service is only three weeks from tomorrow.

Wish me the discipline to stop reading and start writing...soon?

Answers or Questions

It seems to me that, when we pray, we often are looking to God for an answer to some problem, when we might do better listening for a question. The question may come from God, or from someplace inside ourselves we haven't thoroughly explored. Either way, the right question is sometimes our answer. 

And yes, it's scary to shut up and listen with  more patience than we think we have.