December 5, 2004

Rev. Henry Ticknor
Unitarian Universalist Church of the Shenandoah Valley

Miracles of the Common Way

In Judaism, the two best-known sources of authority are the Torah, or the first five books of the Hebrew Bible—Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy.

The second source, the Talmud, is called upon to fill in gaps in the story of Israel and to explain the laws of the Torah. In addition, the Talmud contains stories and sayings that both straightforwardly and allegorically present the basic philosophy and wisdom of Judaism.

Remember the story of Abraham debating with God over the fate of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah? In this story, God asks himself, rhetorically of course, if he should tell Abraham of God’s plan to destroy the two cities because of the wickedness of the people who lived there. God decides to tell Abraham of his plan because God had singled out Abraham to be the progenitor of a great nation.

The back and forth discussion that follows is a wonderful bargaining session.

“What if there are some good people living there,” Abraham said taking a deep breath and knowing that he was about to argue with God, “If you destroy the city they will die too, and that wouldn’t be right.”

So God replied, “If you can find fifty good people there, I won’t destroy the city. I will save the whole city for the sake of the fifty good people.”

Abraham took another deep breath, “You are God and I am just a man,” he said, “and you don’t have to listen to me at all, but,” he said a little timidly, “What if there aren’t quite fifty good people living there? What if there are less than fifty good people living there. Will you destroy the whole city just because of five people?”

And God replied, “ If I find forty-five good people there, I will not destroy the city.”

And again, Abraham asks God, “Well, what if I find only forty good people there?”

God said, “For the sake of forty, I will not do it.”

Then Abraham said, “Please don’t get angry with me; but what if there are only thirty good people there?”

God said, “I will not do it if I find thirty there.”

Well, Abraham, knowing that he may be pressing his luck a bit, takes another deep breath and asks quietly, “What if there are only twenty good people?”

And God said, “For the sake of twenty, I will not destroy it.”

Then Abraham said again, even more quietly this time, “Let me speak just one more time. Please don’t be angry with me? But what if there are only ten good people there?”

And God said, “For the sake of even ten just people, I will not destroy the city.”

Well, as we know things didn’t turn out as well as Abraham had hoped and in fact God does destroy the city.

Another similar story appears in the Talmud. This is the legend of the Lamed Vov Tzaddikim or thirty-six righteous ones. According to the Talmud the world requires a minimum of thirty-six righteous individuals in order to exist. There follows an argument about what happens if there are not thirty-six in the world? How will the world be redeemed?

The idea may have been suggested by the famous story in the Bible of Sodom. As we just heard, Abraham won the argument but lost the fight; Sodom was destroyed, seemingly because the minimum, ten righteous individuals, could not be found.

The thirty-six hidden ones have the potential to save the world. They appear when they are needed, at times of great peril, called out of their anonymity and humility by the necessity to save the world: because they can, and because we need them.

The well-known writer Rachel Naomi Remen tells of hearing of the Lamed-Vov from her grandfather. “The story he told me is very old and dates from the time of the prophet Isaiah. It is the legend of the Lamed-Vov.

In this story, God tells us that He (sic) will allow the world to continue as long as at any given time there is a minimum of thirty-six good people in the human race. People who are capable of responding to the suffering that is part of the human condition….If at any time, there are fewer than thirty-six such people alive, the world will come to an end.

“Do you know who these people are, Grandpa?” I asked, certain he would say “Yes.” But he shook his head. “No,” he told me “only God knows who the Lamed-Vovniks are. Even the Lamed-Vovniks themselves do not know for sure the role they have in the continuation of the world, and no one else knows it either. They respond to suffering, not in order to save the world but simply because the suffering of others touches them and matters to them.”

Remen concludes her remembrance this way. “It turned out that Lamed-Vovniks could be tailors or college professors, millionaires or paupers, powerful leaders or powerless victims. These things were not important. What mattered was only their capacity to feel the collective suffering of the human race and to respond to the suffering around them. “And because no one knows who they are, anyone you meet might be one of the thirty-six for whom God preserves the world. It is important to treat everyone as if this might be so.”

The Lamed Novniks. According to the legend, we cannot know who they are—or if, for that matter, any one of us—you or I—might be one of them. But we can see them. We can see them everywhere in the anonymous acts of good people who rise to great acts in difficult circumstances. It could be the person we least suspect.

This notion of the 36 just people has certainly made its presence known in popular culture. In the movie Men in Black, yes that’s right, Men in Black. In this movie Will Smith, one of the stars of the movie along with Tommy Lee Jones, plays one of the newest members of an elite agency that has as its sole purpose the protection of the apparent status-quo on planet earth.

These men in black are here to assure that the general population is protected from the more sinister sides of life. At one point in the movie, Smith’s character says something like this. “We are the best kept secret in the universe. Our mission is to monitor extraterrestrial activity on earth. We are your best, last and only line of defense. We work in secret, we exist in shadow and we dress in black.”

Am I suggesting that Men in Black is a religious parable? Well, not exactly but I think it’s fun to consider the parallels—like the lamed-vov the characters in the movie appear when there is a threat to the earth, fix the problem and then disappear until they are needed again. And who would suspect Will Smith?

Another film, Pay It Forward, came out at about the same time. In this film a young boy, Trevor McKinney, is troubled by his mother’s alcoholism and his abusive, but absent father. Young Trevor is caught up by an intriguing assignment from his social studies teacher, Mr. Simonet. The assignment given was for each student to think of something that could change the world and to put the idea into action.

Trevor thinks up the notion of paying a favor—not back—but forward. He pushes the idea of repaying good deeds not with a payback; but with good deeds done to three other people.

What initially appears to be a failure, becomes a success, as Trevor’s good deeds impact on an ever-widening circle of people totally unknown to the boy.

From time to time, especially near the holidays, I will have folks come into the church looking for some money for gas, rent or whatever. With each one I go through the agonizing internal debate as to whether or not I should give them any money. One voice says, “They will just spend it on drugs or drink.” While another voice says, “Come on, give ‘em five bucks. What does it matter?”

Often the recipients of whatever cash I may have will then go on about how this will change their lives. Many even promise to come to church. Now I know that is not likely, so I’ve gotten into the habit of asking them to pay the favor forward. In whatever way they can to help another human being who is down on his or her luck. I’ve no idea what happens after they leave; however, this idea of paying it forward helps me to see the way to helping because I know only too well that in my life, I have many, many favors to catch up on.

Tuesday evening, at sunset, Jews around the world will light the first candles of Hanukkah. As many of you will recall Hanukkah commemorates the victory of the Maccabbees against the Greek Syrians in 165 BC. After their victory, the Maccabees, sons of the family that led the revolt, entered the Holy Temple in Jerusalem and dedicated it to the service of their God.

Once the Temple was rededicated, the time came to light the Eternal Light of the temple. But, the Jews could find only one sanctified jar of oil, marked with the seal of the High Priest, and there was only enough to last one evening. Miraculously, the oil kept the lights burning for the entire eight nights it took to prepare the new oil.

The main practice of Hanukkah is the lighting of the candles of a menorah, one each night until on the eighth night all eight candles are lit. This morning I would like to use these brightly colored candles to create a menorah of our own. I would like to create a menorah in honor of the Lamed-Vov—the thirty-six righteous people—the thirty-six for whom God preserves the world.

This first candle, I light for all those who do the jobs no one else wants. For health assistants who change the dirty clothing and bedclothes of those in hospitals and nursing homes. For spouses and partners whose days are spent cleaning the bodies of loved ones who are no longer able to care for themselves. For parents who hold in their arms children that they may drink a sip of water, or bring food to the mouth of someone unable to feed themselves.

This second candle, I light for the peacemakers. For those who work for peace among nations and those who work for peace in our communities. For men and women who see in each face the hopes of all the world and who continue in the face of death, destruction and poverty on so great a scale that most of us cannot adequately appreciate the suffering that exists in the world and in our cities and towns.

The third candle, I light for all who work as good stewards of this planet. For those who garden organically, who consume only what they need, who look after our wildlife and even feed the squirrels—at least some of the time. Who understand that immediate gratification may diminish the options of their children and grandchildren.

A fourth candle, I light for all who work with our children. Who teach, in schools and here at UUCSV to engage our youth in their life-long journey as UUs; Who work in the cafeteria, the crossing guards and the custodians. For those who love all our children those able, as well as those who are emotionally and physically and mentally challenged.

I light a candle for all who work in public safety. Who are first responders in time of crisis and who regularly witness just how violent, reckless and destructive we human beings can be to ourselves and those we love. To those who have to work when others do not regardless of weather, holidays or sick ones of their own.

This sixth candle I light for all who live under the darkness of oppression and work for the light of freedom. Who believe in their hearts that it is indeed better to light one small candle than to curse the darkness. For those who promote justice and equality and those of every generation who have given their lives that others may be free.

The seventh candle I light for those in this congregation who do the work of help us to be a strong, vital liberal religious community. Whose efforts often go unrecognized and under appreciated. Without whose time, talents and treasures this building would be a mere empty shell and there would be no coffee after the service.

There are eight candles here and I have lit seven of them. What shall we do with this last one? Do we need to light it or can we have faith that it will be lit in its proper time? In this age of cynicism and technology is it possible to still believe in miracles? But perhaps I should light it for love, for love above all. Or for peace and justice? For the homeless or the hungry? Perhaps I should light it for those who still mourn the outcomes of November 2. What shall I light it for……..?

Perhaps I won’t light it and leave that for you. Perhaps I will leave this last candle dark for now. I am sure one of you has a light to share and perhaps after our service is over someone will want to come up and light this last candle so our display is complete.

The candle I have used to light each of the others has meaning, too. It is the candle of our daily lives. It is the candle of loyalty and vision. It is the candle of steadfastness and companionship; I will let it stand as the candle of things to come.

And perhaps some day, month or year in the future each of us will be able to light our own candle in gratitude and thanks for all the people who have touched our lives. We will be able to light our own candle in thanks for all the loving kindness we have received from the hands of strangers. Our purpose in life, after all, is to lead good lives, to do what we can to make this world a better place than we found it, to do no harm, and to help those in need.

“I think that the Lamed-Vovniks,” wrote Naomi Remen, “could be tailors or college professors, millionaires or paupers, powerful leaders or powerless victims. These things are not important. What matters is only their capacity to feel the collective suffering of the human race and to respond to the suffering around them. And because no one knows who they are anyone you meet might be one of the thirty-six for whom God preserves the world.”

It is important to treat everyone as if this might be so.

Amen and Blessed be.