Changing a Light Bulb

April 4, 2008
Rabbi Seymour Rossel

The other day a light bulb went out in my home office. I tried to ignore it with all kinds of justifications to make me feel better about ignoring it. It is just one among many. I have plenty of light without it. I am saving a bit of energy which is good for the universe. Other people are turning out their lights completely to plunge the world into preternatural darkness for an hour, so why shouldn't I at least suffer with a certain dimness for a few days?

Then I heard the sound. It's a kind of high-pitched constant tone that rings in the back of your ears, an undertone that means that somewhere another floodlight is about to bite the dust, perhaps with a little popping that sounds like a shot going off or perhaps with a whimper and a silent death as the tender little element is burnt to a crisp, pops off its stem, and makes that annoying jingling when you finally shake the burnt out bulb.

I tried to ignore the impending doom of the second light bulb for as long as I could. But it was kvetching in my ears. I might have two bulbs to replace these, I thought. But where did I put that step-ladder? At last report, I still had not taken the time to locate the step-ladder, one bulb is still entirely blown out, the annoying music from the other is still merrily occupying the sound waves, and I have not yet checked to see if I have two bulbs. As we all know, this is not a case of laziness, but a case of inertia. Newton would be proud since I am obeying his law: Without a force exerting sufficient pressure or gravity upon it, an object at rest tends to remain at rest.

Nevertheless, my inertial position has given rise to this sermon fitting for the occasion tonight. Especially because it brought back memories of essential, talmudic-type queries. For example, "How many Orthodox Rabbis does it take to change a light bulb?" To which the answer is, "What is change?" And the discussion goes on to ask, "How many Conservative Rabbis does it take to change a light bulb?" "None, but the congregation should call a committee meeting." And, "How many Reform Rabbis does it take to change a light bulb?" To which the answer is, "None, anyone in the congregation can change it when their heart is ready."

More generically speaking, we could ask "How many Jews does it take to change a light bulb?" To which the answer would be "A minyan. It takes one to change the bulb and nine to discuss the outcomes." But the one instance that removes this from the role of stand-up comedy to the heart of tonight's sermon came to me in a flash of inspiration, as if a small and brightly-lit light bulb suddenly appeared over my head: The ultimate question here is "How many congregants does it take to change a light bulb in a synagogue?"

The answer to this is "Change? You want us to change the light bulb? We can't change the light bulb. My grandmother donated that light bulb!"

So the synagogue obeyed Newton's law of inertia for about as long as it was bearable to anyone to sit on the pink chairs donated so many years ago. Things hung on the walls where they were placed haphazardly through the years because they were donated and after all moving them seemed like a sacrilege to those who once brought them into the synagogue or created them in the synagogue. And people were, as people always are, hesitant to change.

One day, in ancient times, as recorded in the Talmud, Rabbi Eleazar said that he once heard Rabbi Hanina teach a little sermon. Hanina began, "Students of wise teachers increase peace in the world. And what is the proof? It is written in the Book of Isaiah, ‘All your children shall be students of God, and great shall be the peace of your children' (Is. 65:13)." Hanina said, "The word for ‘your children' is banayich, but we can read the same word with different vowels and see another dimension of meaning. Pronounce the word as bonayich and it means ‘your builders.' Now Isaiah is saying, ‘All your builders shall be students of God.'"

When donations and skill and effort are lavished on a synagogue -- when it is first built or when it enjoys a rebirth through renovation -- the congregation becomes students of Gods. Just as God created the world, God continues to renew creation every day. In Psalms 122, it is written, "Let there be peace within your walls and prosperity within your palaces. For the sake of my friends and family I now announce [to our buildings], ‘Peace be within you.' For the sake of the Temple, I seek good for you." Adonai oz l'amo yiten, Adonai yivareich et amo va-shalom. "The Eternal will give strength to God's people, the Eternal will bless God's people with peace" (Psalm 29:11). In this way, our congregation brings peace by creating and ever re-creating our building which is a house of peace for friends and family.

Our builders are the people we recognize tonight. We honor a handful for giving us guidance and major donations. But we honor the entire congregation for caring and bringing gifts above and beyond our dues. Together, we have wrought renewal for our synagogue, renovating it both outside and inside, for our enjoyment, certainly, but also so that our temple may help us find peace in our community.

A farmer once bought land that had long been neglected. He toiled day and night to clear it of rocks, to remove the stumps of long-dead trees, to plow the land and plant it, to fertilize it and water it. He worked his fingers to the bone to make a field that would yield crops year after year.

A rabbi visited him and marveled. "Look," he said, "what a miracle has been done here. Together, you and God have made a Garden of Eden out of what was once a wasteland."

The farmer shrugged his shoulders and said, "Rabbi, you should have seen the land when God ran it alone!"

As we enter our social hall tonight, we should picture what it was like when it was run by inertia alone. Your donations made this vast improvement possible. Your continuing care for God's building will keep it bright and new until the time inevitably comes, hopefully many years from now, when it must be renovated and renewed again.

As for me, I am so inspired that, when I get home, I am going to search for that step-ladder and change both of those light bulbs above my desk. And let us say: Amen.