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There is a time for everything, a time for every experience under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die, a time for planting, and a time to uproot the planted.

These words begin the third chapter of Ecclesiastes. They are the start of a poem, made famous of course by the Byrds’ folk-rock rendition.

The poem appears comforting, reminding us that there is indeed a time for everything. It seems to convey a similar message to the words that were imprinted on King Soloman’s signet ring, Gam zeh ya’avor, this too shall pass. Having a hard time, a challenge, a difficulty, a sadness, a health issue? You can get through it, because there is a time for everything.

But if you read the entire book of Ecclesiastes and not just these well-known verses, It is not clear that the words are meant to be comforting. The very first words of the book tell us: Utter futility. All is futile. What real value is there?

When I read the book of Ecclesiastes, I get a twinge of existential angst, confusion, and even sadness. According to its author, Kohelet, he applied his heart to search all things in the world. He searched far and wide. And his conclusion? All is vanity. This is another conclusion that he came to: He that increases knowledge increases sorrow.

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Ecclesiastes belongs to a group of books in our Bible know as K’tuvim, the writings. Job is another.

Job is a righteous man. The introductory verse describes him as blameless and upright. He was extremely wealthy, both in material wealth and blessing. He had ten children, seven sons and three daughters.

The devil, Satan,makes a wager with God, suggesting that once trouble and tragedy touch Job, he will no longer be the admirable servant of God that he appears to be. God, supremely confidant in Job’s steadfast faith and love, takes the bet.

This starts an avalanche of misfortunes and tragedies, putting Job’s faith to the test. He is struck with illness and discomfort. His house is razed to the ground. Each of Job’s ten children are killed. And after all of this, Job doesn’t denounce God, but like any of us, he questions the tragedies befalling him, and he wants answers. Making matters even worse are his so-called friends. They tell him, Well, you must have done SOMETHING wrong.

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During my first year at the Cincinnati campus of Hebrew Union College, we studied with Dr. David Aaron, a Bible scholar. During one class session, he talked about these two books of Ecclesiastes and Job, and shared a powerful memory.

He told us that when he was a grad student, he had a conversation with his teacher about these two troubling books. Dr. Aaron asked, With all of these troubling themes, why are these books in the Bible? His teacher said, They are in the Bible because … they are true.

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I mention this tonight, because Yom Kippur reminds us, painfully reminds us, that although there may be a time and place for everything under heaven, there is not necessarily a logic or an ethos for them. A teacher of mine once remarked that Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, could be called Yom Ulai, the day of maybe. Because even in our best efforts to be good, to atone for our mistakes, to practice charity and righteousness, maybe we will be written in the book of Life. And like Job and Koehler, we too search far and wide for answers...

This is the weight of Yom Kippur. Today, we have the sober realization that we don’t get always get what we deserve, and that indeed, bad things do happen to good people.

One of the books I read during my sabbatical is called, Everything Happens for a Reason, and Other Lies I’ve Loved. The author explains that sometimes … there is no reason. Job’s friends, suggesting that Job did something wrong, play into this short-sided teleological thinking. Yom Kippur reminds us that when something happens and we ask, Why, we are asking the wrong question, because it assumes that there is an answer out there. And so, instead of desperately searching for an answer to why something happened or didn’t happen we need to figure out the answer to what: What do I do now?

I recently started a book called Solve for Happy. It’s author is a top Google executive who used his analytical mind-set to see if he could determine a methodology for living a happy life. One of his first conclusions is that happiness is not a destination. It’s not something we get to. It’s internal, and not external. In our society, we run further and further, pursuing happiness, when instead we should be looking at ourselves. I hate to say it, but our Declaration of Independence got it wrong. You shouldn’t have to pursue happiness. That is the truth that is self-evident

The Torah portion that we will hear tomorrow, Nitzavim, carries this same message. When speaking to the Israelites about the Torah and Judaism and God and holiness, he says: All of this which I command you this day is not too hard, nor is it far off. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, ‘Who shall go up to the heavens for us and bring down? Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who shall go over the sea for us, and bring it to us? No, the word is very near to you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it.

Happiness, holiness, meaning … all of these are all found within you. They are not out there..., they are in here.

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Remember, you are a Messiah. That doesn’t mean that life is going to be perfect, or always wonderful, or fair, or even just. But it means that you get to choose how to move forward, choosing life.

Yom Kippur lays out these truths before us. I hear Ecclesiastes and Job loud and clearly today. But today is not about despair just as it is not about blind hope. Yom Kippur demands us to confront the realities of our mortality, and yet still have the courage to say Hineni. This is the beauty of being a human being, just a bit lower than the angels.1

Yes, the word is very near to you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it.

Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur remind us that T’suvah, T’fillah and T’zedakah temper judgement’s severe decree. The decree is life itself.

I am not a fatalist. I don’t believe that God actually decrees who shall live and who shall die. In a similar vein, I do not believe that Everything happens for a reason.But I know that engaging in these acts - of repentance and growth, of prayer and learning, and of acts of justice and righteousness ... these not only temper’s judgement’s severe decree; they are all you need. You ... are all that you need.

  1. Psalm 8:5

Rabbi Linder