“Movin’ On Up” Rabbi Oberstein’s Qabbalat Shabbat Sermon 5/9/25
Rabbi Andrew Oberstein
Qabbalat Shabbat, May 9, 2025
Temple Israel of Boston
Parashat Acharei Mot / Kedoshim 5785: Movin’ On Up
There’s a famous Chassidic story relayed by Martin Buber in his book,
The Way of Humanity.
The story tells of a man who had trouble remembering things,
and often had difficulty finding items in his house.
(Surely,
no one here can relate to this. )
He would wake up every morning,
and run around his house looking for the clothes he was hoping to wear that day.
And it got so frustrating that he soon grew afraid to go to sleep at night,
fearing the now all-too familiar routine of frantically searching for his clothes.
But then, one night,
he realized he had more control than he thought.
And so he took a pencil and paper and,
as he undressed in the evening,
he wrote down the location where he had placed each article of clothing.
So the next morning,
this guy woke up and took his list in hand,
reading each item one by one.
Hat –
I left that here,
and here it is,
and now I’ll put it on my head.
Pants –
I left those here,
and here they are,
and now I will pull them on my legs.
He did this with each item –
shirt,
coat,
shoes, –
until he was fully dressed.
At which point he felt himself start to panic,
asking,
“Yes,
but where am I now?
Where did I leave myself?”
The story tells us that he searched and searched in vain,
but could not find himself.
*****
In the original context of the story,
the man is described as a simpleton and,
on the surface,
there is something laughable about his conundrum.
But on a deeper level,
I can’t help but identify with him,
especially this week.
*****
Just two days ago,
I moved out of my apartment in Mission Hill into a sweet little house in Dedham, giving me that long-needed sense of serenity I’ve craved after decades of urban living.
But for now,
48 hours in,
I am the man from the Chassidic story –
surrounded by boxes,
unable to find my pants,
not sure what day the trash goes out,
and trying to find myself in the process.
******
I realize I’ve never mentioned it from the bimah,
but I got divorced in 2022.
It’s not a secret,
It’s just a part of my story
and it’s just not something that comes up naturally in most sermons.
But this little house in Dedham is actually the first place I’ve ever moved into by myself.
****
At age 37,
currently in a wonderful new relationship but choosing to live separately,
this house feels like an important step.
So far,
even two nights in,
it’s felt like a sacred experience,
knowing that it is mine and mine alone,
holding visions of all the laughter and tears that this space will surely absorb in the years to come.
*****
It’s no sanctuary,
but it is my home,
and it is a holy space.
******
This week,
we hit the exact center of our Torah and we find ourselves exploring what it really means to be holy.
It’s a word we throw around often in religious contexts,
but this week,
we are finally given concrete actions we can take in this pursuit of holiness.
*****
One path to holiness comes to us this week,
smack-dab at the middle of our Torah,
in one of the most famous passages in all of biblical literature:
לֹֽא־תִקֹּ֤ם וְלֹֽא־תִטֹּר֙ אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י עַמֶּ֔ךָ
You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against members of your people.
וְאָֽהַבְתָּ֥ לְרֵעֲךָ֖ כָּמ֑וֹךָ אֲנִ֖י יְהֹוָֽה׃
Love your neighbor as yourself: I am GOD
******
This week,
I am deeply aware that I don’t even know who my Dedham
neighbors are,
never mind loving them.
*****
I am the newest stranger in the neighborhood.
I can only imagine a time when
I might know my neighbors’ names,
maybe even,
one day,
invite them over for a glass of wine on my back deck.
It will likely be a while before I love them as myself,
but the aspiration is inspiring nonetheless.
******
V’ahavta l’rei’echa k’mocha
– love your neighbor as yourself.
It’s very easy to focus on the first two words:
V’ahavta l’rei’echa.
Love your neighbor.
It could stop there.
That alone would be a powerful message.
*****
But that third word,
kamocha,
like yourself,
is where I think we need to focus.
******
We speak a lot about our external responsibilities.
We feel our sacred tradition calling us to take care of the most vulnerable,
to stand up for justice,
to treat all of humanity with basic dignity and respect,
to love the stranger and love our neighbors.
Yes, we are all interconnected and we need that reminder now more than ever.
But Buber also radically teaches us that “every individual is independent of all others, an autonomous person whose transformation helps to transform the world.”
His teaching reminds us that the word “kamocha” might actually be the most important part of this verse.
*****
“What is essential here,”
he writes,
“is to begin with oneself.”
He calls the “transformation of myself” the “fulcrum from where […] I can move the world.”
The Polish Hasidic master,
Rabbi Bunam,
taught
“Only after one has found peace in oneself can one begin to seek peace in the whole world.”
And the International Drag Icon RuPaul taught,
“If you can’t love yourself,
how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?”
What Martin Buber,
Rabbi Bunam,
and RuPaul all understood is that I can’t host my neighbors for a glass of wine on the back deck until I’ve unpacked my boxes and settled my kitchen.
In the face of rising antisemitism,
eroding democracy,
endless war,
and financial distress,
we feel the urgency of jumping into external action mode as quickly as possible.
But it can also become too easy to deride spiritual,
inner work as apathy or navel-gazing.
It is anything but.
*****
Especially during this period of the Omer,
as we cultivate the soul traits that help us become better versions of ourselves,
we must not dismiss the power of internal transformation.
For those of you who feel your feet on the ground,
who are already anchored in a sense of purpose and clarity—
keep going.
You are the steady lights by which others may find their way.
*****
And for those of you who,
like me,
are still surrounded by metaphorical (or literal) boxes,
still searching for your spiritual pants,
still wondering,
“Where did I leave myself?”—
take heart.
You are not lost.
You are just in the beautiful,
messy,
holy process of becoming.
*****
The man in the Chassidic story thought he had everything he needed once he had dressed himself.
But he forgot to locate the one piece that mattered most:
his self.
His soul.
His essence.
The part of us that cannot be listed on a sheet of paper or tucked into a closet.
*****
That’s what this verse in Leviticus is pushing us toward.
V’ahavta l’rei’echa kamocha—
love your neighbor as yourself—
not instead of yourself,
not at the expense of yourself,
but as yourself,
with a deep and abiding commitment to knowing who you are,
tending to your soul,
and doing the internal work that makes the external work possible.
******
This is a spiritual season of counting—
counting up from liberation toward revelation.
It is also,
perhaps,
a time for finding—
finding our footing,
finding our breath,
finding ourselves.
*****
And so, as we stand here in the very center of our Torah,
may we have the courage to begin at the center of ourselves.
To open the boxes,
not just the ones in our new homes,
but the ones in our hearts.
To settle in.
To reflect.
To do the sacred, slow work of becoming whole.
May this work lead us to love each other by loving ourselves.
May this work lead each of us,
individually and collectively,
to the sacred.
Shabbat Shalom.