Rabbi Betsy Forester 

As the High Holy Days approach, we turn to hopes for renewal and rebirth. In that context, I have been thinking about love, and how it connects to moral seriousness. We need both in this world, from our own intimate relationships to the welfare of our world.

Moral seriousness is a spiritual discipline meant for the ordinary moments of our lives. It asks us to soften rather than harden, to open our hearts rather than close them, to see painful truths and not avert our gaze. 

This is where love comes in–and I am talking about a particular aspect of love. The word “love” has become so cliche in our culture that it loses its depth. I am not talking about love as a feeling, interpersonal warmth, or being nice–although those are good things. In Judaism, love is a way of encountering the world, a disposition we carry not only when loving is easy, but especially when it is difficult.

There is a love we experience as abundant and overflowing. We call that love “ahavah rabbah.” In our morning prayers, we thank God for giving us ahavah rabbah.

But there is a more challenging kind of love that we need to hold when the air feels cooler and the mood is more uncertain. That kind of love is called Ahavat Olam, which means abiding love. It is the kind of love we recall in our evening prayers. Ahavat Olam means affirming the dignity of every human being, and persisting in the hard work of building a world where all can flourish. 

Practicing Ahavat olam with moral seriousness means asking ourselves difficult questions about what the Torah means when it tells us we must care for the stranger. Where must we find the strangers we are supposed to care for? How do we make room in our lives to visit the sick and care for the needy? What does it mean for us to notice the person who needs something from us, even when they don't ask?

Ahavat olam with moral seriousness means holding our pain while making room for the pain of another. It means showing up for the people in our lives with the better parts of ourselves, even when we are tired or hurt. It means asking ourselves if we are giving enough to those who need our help and, when the answer is no, figuring out how to do better. 

The solution to a tough world cannot be to out-tough each other. The solution to living in a tough world is to nurture our capacity to honor our shared vulnerability with generosity of spirit and regular acts of care.
This is our moral inheritance. It is as revolutionary today as it ever was. May it be our blessing to carry it forward together.

L’shanah tovah tikateivu. All good wishes for sweetness in the new year from Beth Israel Center.
Rabbi Betsy Forester 

Learn more about Beth Israel Center High Holiday programming: https://www.bethisraelcenter.org/high-holy-days