Parashat Shoftim: Radical Gratitude, August 18, 2015

This is a slightly adapted version of the words I shared at the 2015 Wexner Graduate Fellowship Summer Institute

Last week I went to see the magicians Penn and Teller. Besides the magic, there is one thing that stood out to me about the show. Before the last trick, they stopped everything and said, “The real trick is convincing you that it’s just the two of us that pull this off.” Then they listed everyone who helps them perform, from the people who take the tickets to the people who sweep the stage. How powerful it must be for those people to hear every night that they are the ones that make the magic happen. It got me thinking about the power of saying thank you. It’s something I think about a lot. Gratitude is my spiritual practice.

I probably don’t have to tell you about the scientific research on gratitude. We’ve all seen the nearly weekly news reports about studies that reveal that people who keep some kind of daily gratitude journal are happier, healthier, and more resilient . 

And I probably don’t have to tell you that a daily practice of gratitude is deeply Jewish. The first words a Jew utters upon waking are Modeh Ani l’fanecha – “I offer thanks before you.” Before we sit up, or put on our glasses, the lens through which we see the world is gratitude. Nearly one third of our daily prayers are on the theme of gratitude. Gratitude is part of our spiritual DNA. 

But what I want to talk about today takes this practice a step further. If you want to hear about strategies for ritualizing a daily gratitude practice, find me sometime this week. What I want to talk about here is how we might develop a pervasive sense of gratitude that could shape us as leaders and transform the organizations we serve. I’m calling it Radical Gratitude.

This week’s parasha contains the commandment that judges should not take bribes. The Talmud, in Ketubot, relates a story of Rabbi Amimar, who recused himself from a court case because one of the litigants had once wiped away a feather that had fallen on the rabbi’s shoulder. Rabbi Samuel did the same because a litigant had offered him his hand when crossing a rickety bridge. 

These small acts could hardly be described as bribes. Were these rabbis really so fallible that their judgement could be swayed by such tiny favors? One modern commentator, Rabbi Pam, suggests that this question misses the point. He proposes that the Rabbis lived with such a pervasive sense of gratitude in their lives that these small acts were big deals to them . Their approach to the world was one of Radical Gratitude, where every tiny interaction was an opportunity to see the face of God. 

Remember, these are the same rabbis who came up with the idea that a person should say 100 blessings a day. Think about that for a minute. In 16 waking hours, that’s a blessing about once every ten minutes. Can you imagine finding something to be grateful for every 10 minutes, something deserving a blessing? You’d be in a constant state of blessing.

Blessings are miracle highlighters. They help us notice hidden holiness. I was once an educator at a summer camp, and I did a unit with the youngest campers about blessings. I taught them that there are two blessings we can say when we see a miracle of nature, one for big miracles and one for small miracles. That summer, I invented a game for myself. When I would see something beautiful, I would ask, which blessing should I say here? Is that stunning sunset a big miracle? Is the way the rain makes patterns in the lake a small miracle? Soon I realized I was seeing things to bless everywhere. The practice of blessings opened my eyes to the abundant wonders around me. What if we could live in that state of wonder? How might it transform the way we interact with the world? How might it shape our leadership?

Gratitude helps us move from scarcity to abundance. People who live with scarcity feel like there is an insatiable hole in their lives, and nothing they do will ever fully fill it. People who live with abundance look around and say, “Look at all these blessings.” Pirke Avot says, “Who is rich? Those who rejoice in their own lot.” (Pirke Avot 4:1) It’s the same water glass, but we learn to focus on a different half. 

I worry that in many Jewish organizations there is a pervasive feeling of scarcity. There is never enough time, never enough money, never enough programs, enough volunteers. Our membership is declining, our staff is overworked. In scarcity, we can feel undervalued. No matter how much we give, they always need more. A recent Gallup poll found that 65 percent of Americans say they don’t feel appreciated at work.  Under-appreciation leads to low morale, decreased productivity, and high turnover. The culture of scarcity affects everyone, it feeds on itself. I imagine that there have been times when all of us have felt underappreciated for the work we do.

But what if we could transform our organizations into Radically Grateful organizations? What are the miracles we are missing? What gifts have we yet to bless? Personally, I think it’s a miracle that anyone comes at all. People have a choice in how they spend their time, and they are choosing to spend some of it with us. Many synagogues in which I have worked  some time griping that people do not come often enough. Would it change our work if we spent more time marveling at how much they do come? Instead of wondering who is missing, we would remind ourselves that the people who walk through our doors have gifts they are eager to share. Our organizations are overflowing with people who are eager to offer their expertise and energy, and we have to notice it if we want to harness it.

So how can we be Radically Grateful leaders of Radically Grateful organizations? How can we become like those rabbis who noticed every gift they were given? Some of this easy. We could say “thank you” more. Who are the people in our organizations who are not thanked enough? Whose work is invisible? Whose work has come to be expected, so that it is no longer celebrated? Do their contributions go unnoticed by the people who participate in our programs? Leaders who say thank you publically contribute to a culture of Radical Gratitude.

And we can find sacred ways to thank our volunteers. One volunteer engagement expert I know likes to remind me that this recognition must go beyond an annual “rubber chicken dinner” – thanks for your help, enjoy this plate of rubbery chicken and an hour of speeches. How can we continually recognize their contributions in ways that feel natural and central to the work of our organizations? Here, I think the Jewish technology of “blessing” may be helpful. Imagine if we found opportunities, from the bimah or in the newsletter, to say blessing about the work our volunteers do – to mention them by name and share their contributions publically. With blessings we elevate a culture of Radical Gratitude though sacred ritual. What would it mean for every program to end with a blessing for our volunteers?

And Radical Gratitude can change how we understand our work. How many times have we heard that dynamic organizations celebrate their failures, as well as their successes? But building a culture that celebrates failures as learning opportunities takes courage and work. A ritual of gratitude after a program helps us shift our focus from what failed to what blessings emerged. In my own life, I’ve seen how gratitude can help me shift my thinking. Every day, I make a list of 5 things for which I’m grateful. The days that it’s hard to get to 5 are also the days it is the most transformative. Living with Radical Gratitude asks us to wrestle with our failures until we can extract a blessing from them. 

 

I believe that Radical Gratitude is more than a life-hack. It is a fundamental overhaul of the way we see the world. It centers us on our blessings and calls our attention to the source of those blessings. In my life, gratitude is a pathway to God. 

I learned about Radical Gratitude from my mother. It was her life philosophy. Even in the darkness times, she found light through blessings. Some of you know that last fall my mother passed away after a prolonged battle with cancer. I want to share with you words she wrote just 3 months before she died, when her sickness was at its worst. This was her Torah. This is the transformational power of gratitude:

My gratitude journey began [nearly 20 years ago] when [my husband] Peter’s father Bob was dying of lung cancer. It was an unbelievably difficult time. Dinner became the complaining opportunity for all that was wrong in the world. I was worried and frustrated about what we were teaching [our son]. And then one day I happened to see a TV program on gratitude (OK it was Oprah, I admit it). With all that Oprah has, she takes time every day to write in her gratitude journal. She interviewed a breast cancer survivor who was grateful for getting dressed that day! I realized then and there that we were focusing on the wrong thing.

The power of gratitude would come to mean a lot to us as that very night we began each meal with what we were grateful for that day. This little act was transformational.  I looked forward to Josh and Peter’s gratitude. It was meaningful and helpful for my family. Somehow after gratitude, life didn’t seem that bad after all. And I continued to practice gratitude while I was ill, counting my blessings instead of sheep at night. I had so much to be grateful for. It gave me strength and I was content with my life even through the

Even in her absence, my mother continues to teach me. So to that end, let me say thank you. Thank you to all of you, for this opportunity to share the blessings of my life. Our lives are overflowing with blessings. May they never be hard to see.

 

For Further Reading:

Here are some great resources on building a culture of Radical Gratitude in your workplace:

 

 

Turning Forgiveness Inside Out: Lessons from Sarah, Hagar, and Pixar (Rosh Hashanah Day 1 Sermon, 5776)

Flickr: Cornelius Zane-Grey
We haven’t known each other very long, but already I’d guess it’s not going to shock you to learn that I was a talkative kid. I know... surprising. My parents like to say that I learned to talk, but I never learned to shut up. My father came to spend the High Holidays with me. Go ask him. I’m sure he’ll gladly share plenty of embarrassing stories.    

Being a good talker when you are a kid is great. But sometimes it got me into trouble and annoyed the kids around me. For instance, there was one kid, with whom I carpooled, and I think I drove him… batty. So one night in middle school, he and a friend snuck out and TP’ed our house. It’s a pretty normal middle school prank, except that they got carried away. TP’ed is an understatement. There were also eggs thrown. And some not terribly clever things written on the sidewalk… in mustard. So parents got involved, and the community police officer, and there were consequences. I remember my family was deeply hurt that someone we saw every day would act out at us so aggressively.

As part of his punishment, the kid had to write us a letter of apology. I have a memory of him reading it to us. I don’t know if he meant it, or if it was just one of those annoying apology letters you're forced to write when you mess up as a kid. I imagine I probably said, “I forgive you.” I know I didn’t mean it. For years afterwards, when I’d see him in the halls at school or had a class with him, I’d be anxious. It took a long time to let go of the hurt of that silly middle school prank taken a step too far.

I talk a lot. But if there are three words that are difficult to say and really mean, they are “I forgive you.”
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The theme of the High Holy Days is t’shuvah. It’s repentance and return. Not just to God, but also to each other. Many people make a spiritual practice of taking these ten days to seek out the people they have hurt and ask them for forgiveness. But there is a second half of that equation, one which we often overlook. We may be approached by friends and family asking for our forgiveness. How can we make a spiritual practice of forgiving? It can be difficult to forgive. But how can we ask God to forgive us if we are not prepared to do so for others?

Jewish tradition has an impressive amount to say about forgiveness. There are whole treatises on the how to apologize and when to grant forgiveness.1 As I examined these texts, however, I discovered one topic which consistently gets glossed over. We read about if and when to forgive, but very little about how to forgive and really mean it. How do we convince our hearts to forgive? What should we do when we can’t let go of a hurt, even though we know that hanging on is causing us further pain. There is a Buddhist idea that holding on to anger is like holding a hot coal, waiting to throw it at the person who hurt you, and after while discovering that you are burning your own hand.2 What I want to look at this morning is method for dropping the coal.

Now I’m not talking about acts that are unforgivable, where one person is abusive or where the pattern of behavior has not changed. Jewish tradition certainly does not compel forgiveness in those situations. But what I want to talk about today what happens when we know, intellectually, that there is something we want to forgive, but the hurt is still swirling around inside of us, and we cannot expel it. If we are going to make this season a season of true forgiveness, then we are going to need tools to turn forgiveness from an aspiration into a reality.

And this is where I have some good news. This past summer, after years of work, researchers in California have released a new tool that is going to revolutionize forgiveness. A famous and powerful collaborative of scientists, engineers, and artists have come together to develop a new framework for understanding people’s emotional lives. I’m speaking, of course, about the Pixar movie: Inside Out.

If you have not seen it yet, I have two things to say to you. First, don’t worry; I’m going to try not to spoil it. And second. Go see it! It’s terrific. It’s funny. It’s about an awesome teenage girl who isn’t a princess. And it’s an enlightening take on what is happening inside each of our minds.

So for those of you who haven’t seen it yet, let me sum up the basics. I promise, no spoilers beyond what was in the previews:

The movie takes place inside the mind of an 11 year old girl named Riley. We learn that inside Riley’s mind is a command center called “Headquarters” (get it?) and that the command center is run by 5 characters, each one a different emotion – they are Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear, and Disgust. These five emotions work at a Control Panel that drives Riley through her days. They all work together to make her who she is. None are bad or good. They are just the elements of her, and through the movie, all the emotions are trying hard, each in their own way, to help Riley traverse the difficulties of life. Sometimes one of the emotions seizes the Control Panel, and chaos ensues, but when the emotions are working together, Riley is a well-adjusted kid. Pixar based this on real science, particularly on the work of Dr. Paul Ekman, who found that each of us has 6 main emotions. (for the film, Surprise got combined with Fear).

And this realization, that we all have these characters in our heads, this Inside Out Thinking, helps us to understand the emotions behind other people’s actions. Because here’s what I think makes forgiveness so hard: Steven Covey teaches that we tend to “judge ourselves by our intentions, and others by their behavior.”3 We know about ourselves that we are complicated people. We look at our own actions, and we see that complexity. I know I cut that guy off in traffic, but I was late picking the kids up at school because a work meeting ran long. And I remember feeling bad about it afterwards and hoping that the person I cut off knew that I was sorry. But when someone cuts me off in traffic… They are self-centered, inconsiderate jerks. Or worse. We rarely think about the intentions and motivations of those around us. It’s the actions we hold on to. It’s the actions that are hard to forgive.

Inside Out Thinking gives us a path towards forgiveness. Robert Enright and Joanna North, in their research on forgiveness, show that an important phase of forgiveness is separating the wrongdoer from the wrong-deeds he has done.4 But this is difficult to do. Pixar has given us a tool to try and peer into the other person’s brain, and see the intentions behind their deeds. What drove them to do what they did? Was it Fear? Sadness? Anger? I think it does not even matter if the story we create about their intentions is correct. Just the thought process that asks what’s going on in their brains opens up huge possibilities for empathy and forgiveness. The second we start thinking this way, we see the complex people behind the actions. People are easier to forgive than actions.

Let me give you an example of how Inside Out Thinking works: I have a hard time forgiving Sarah’s actions in this morning’s Torah portion. I feel profoundly challenged to try and make sense of the way Sarah behaves, in particular, the way she convinces Abraham to banish Hagar and Ishmael. The ancient commentators struggled with this text, too. Nachmanides calls Sarah’s treatment of Hagar “her sin.”5 Radak said she violates both her moral obligation and basic expectations of human kindnes6 But Inside Out Thinking can help me see the complexity behind the actions. Here’s what I imagine:

Sarah is sitting at the party for Isaac’s weaning. She is exhausted. Remember, she’s a 90 year old, with a baby. She looks across the tent, past all the people mingling, she spies a teenage Ishmael, playing with her baby Isaac.
At headquarters, inside Sarah, the 5 emotions are also looking out on this scene. Isaac is the symbol of Sarah’s Joy. When he was born, she named him יִצְחַק – laughter. She says “God has brought me laughter; everyone who hears will laugh with me.”7 These have been long and difficult years. Sarah had traveled with Abraham and supported him though all his trials, through all their hardships. And all the time she hoped that God would keep the promise, that there would be a next generation. Now God had answered her prayers at last!

But Sadness also sees Ishmael with Isaac. She sees that he is part of her family, and yet separate. Sadness remembers that day, 15 years ago, when Sarah lost hope. When she felt like God was not keeping the promise to give Abraham an heir, and she took matters into her own hands. She remembers how she told Abraham to go to her handmaiden, Hagar. Ishmael is the constant reminder of that decision. Sadness looks out at him, the symbol of her pain, of her feelings of inadequacy, of her faltering faith. Then Sadness looks over at Disgust. Is this a decision we can live with, they wonder. Can we bear this daily reminder?

Then Fear speaks up. It’s the fear that all parents feel when they look at their babies. It is the fear for the future. How can Sarah best provide for her son? How can she help him to find his place in the world? She knows that as the second-born son he gets almost no inheritance. Fear asks, “How can I make sure my son has a chance to thrive?”

That’s when Anger steps in. “Why should Ishmael inherit?” Anger asks. Anger remembers how Hagar had teased Sarah during her pregnancy, how her own slave had embarrassed her, and how she had tolerated it so that Abraham could have an heir.8 Now, she has a son of her own. “This is his time,” Anger says.

Sadness tries to speak up. Sadness knows how much Abraham loves Ishmael, how he would be heartbroken to send the boy and his mother away. But Sadness’s objections get drowned out by Anger and Fear.
Together, they make a decision. It’s not a decision Sarah will be proud of. But it’s her decision, and it comes out of these emotions: Joy at the birth of her son. Sadness and Disgust at her faltering faith. Fear for the boy’s future, and Anger at the perceived injustice done to her by Hagar and maybe even by God. These are the emotions that are driving when Sarah approaches Abraham and asks him to banish Hagar and Ishmael. Like us, Sarah is human. Like us, her emotions drive her. Like us, her emotions help her to makes choices, not always the best choices, but choices she must live with.

Flickr: Celestine Chua
Reading the story with Inside Out Thinking enables me to try and move from judging Sarah’s actions, which seem so harsh and so cruel, to trying to understand and forgive her for what is happening inside that might lead her to those actions. It does not make the actions any less problematic, but it helps me to remember that there is a human being behind those actions, someone who is trying, and maybe failing, but someone who is making hard choices. Inside Out Thinking is not about excuse making. I am not giving Sarah a pass on her actions by saying, “Anger made her do it.” Rather, I am trying to acknowledge her in her complexity and humanity. And seeing Sarah this way helps me to forgive her.

This is the season of repentance. Today we begin 10 days of introspection, of taking an accounting of actions, and seeking forgiveness for the times we missed the mark. We are challenged to identify the people we have hurt, and to attempt to make things right. But it is also a season of granting forgiveness. Not for every wrong. Some acts cannot be forgiven. Or maybe it’s not yet time to let go. But often, we want to forgive, but we don’t know how. We want to let go, but we cannot loosen our grip. These are the situations where Inside Out Thinking comes in handy. Looking at the possible emotions behind the actions of others helps us to make sense of them. We could look at Sarah in today’s story and see only the heartless action of casting out Hagar and Ishmael. Or we can try and imagine what is going on in Headquarters, to see that she is struggling with so many competing loyalties – loyalties to her son, to her husband, to her stepson, and to God. We might not be right. We are making an educated guess, at best. But attempting to understand her feelings opens us up to empathy.

What would it have meant to my middle school self if, when I said, “I forgive you” to the kid that egged my house, I had actually meant it? I would have been able to see him in the hallway, without getting tense. I would have been able to work with him in class groups without picturing my parents cleaning the mustard off the sidewalk. What would I have had to have changed so that I could have let go sooner? Maybe Inside Out Thinking would have helped. Maybe, after the initial hurt and betrayal had passed, I could have considered which of the many emotional voices in his head had driven his actions. Was it Anger? Or Disgust? Or Fear? Could this thinking help me to see him as a whole person, and not just see his actions? Could I have stopped talking long enough to try and listen to the voices in his head, and see how his unique arrangement of Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear, and Disgust made him who he was? Just like mine made me who I was? That likely would have made it easier to forgive. That likely would have made it easier to let go.

My hope for us, these High Holy Days, is that we engage in three kinds of spiritual work. First, that we spend time taking an account of where we have missed the mark this year, and, as a result, who we might have hurt. Second, that we spend some time apologizing to those we have hurt, and to God. But third, let us not forget to also be forgiving in this holy season. When people ask us, to the extent that we are able, let us try to forgive them. And, let us spend some time thinking about the people who have yet to ask for forgiveness. Who are the people who hurt us and who are now living rent free in our brains? Is it time for us to kick them out? If we can think of those people and do everything in our power to forgive and let go, I think this will be a powerful 10 days. On Yom Kippur, we are going to call upon God to forgive us, to see that we are complicated people who do not always live up to our intentions or others expectations. How can we use that model to forgive others? How can we mimic the behavior we want to see in God? On Yom Kippur Afternoon we are going to read the powerful charge of Leviticus 19. God says, “You shall be holy, for I am holy.” From this we learn that we are to try and emulate God and God’s holy acts. As we call on God to be compassionate and forgiving with us, let us be compassionate and forgiving with others. And in this way, may we all help each other to be sealed for a blessing, in the book of life. Shanah tovah.


1 In particular, I would point people at this Article by Rabbi Margaret Moers Wenig: Jewish Laws of Repentance. The Living Pulpit, April-June 1994, p. 20-21 and this fantastic lecture on Forgiveness, sponsored by Machon Hadar featuring Rabbis Joseph Telushkin and Shai Held: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNa5rB2IzZk↩
2 Some attribute this idea to the Buddhaghosa, a 5th century Buddhist commentator:http://fakebuddhaquotes.com/holding-on-to-anger-is-like-grasping-a-hot-coal-with-the-intent-of-harming-another-you-end-up-getting-burned/↩
3 The SPEED of Trust: The One Thing that Changes Everything by Stephen M. R. Covey, p 13↩
4 As explained by Professor Lews Newman: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scW51DpWsHM↩
5 Nachmanides on Gen 16:6↩
6 Radak on Gen 16:6. Note that both the Nachmanides and Radak commentaries are on the earlier part of the Sarah and Hagar saga in Genesis 16, not Genesis 21, but I think the sin extends from one incident to the other. If Sarah “dealt harshly” enough with Hagar to make her leave in Genesis 16, the banishing her in Genesis 21 is even more harsh.↩
7 Gen 21:6↩
8 See Gen 16:4 Hagar’s “mistress was lowered in her esteem”↩