Rosh Hashanah Afternoon Sermon – 5786

“Everyone loses when bright people play small.” This quote by Dr. Valerie Young is a comment on her area of research expertise, Impostor Syndrome, or Impostor Phenomenon. The term itself was coined and explored in 1978 by researchers Pauline Rose Clance and Suzanne Ament Imes. They studied 150 women who had earned their PhDs, but attributed their academic and subsequent professional successes to sheer luck, or some sort of “slipping through the cracks” phenomenon. They were sure that their achievements were not based on their intellectual merit, and that it would only be a matter of time before they would be exposed as frauds, or…impostors. According to follow-up studies on people of all backgrounds, genders, and ethnicities, up to 84 percent of people struggle, at some point in their lives, with impostor syndrome. If you have ever felt that looming feeling of “when is the other shoe going to drop,” or “when are they going to see who I REALLY am,” you are not even close to alone. In fact, you are among the vast majority. Great American playwright Tennessee Williams seemed to get the jist. He once said: “What’s talent but the ability to get away with something!?”

I am here at the foot of these High Holy Days, our holiest moments of the Jewish year, to attempt to be many things…yes, I will talk and chant and sing to the best of my soul’s ability, but first and foremost, I am here to be honest and authentic. This is always priority number one. I stand before you during these High Holy Days for the third year now, and I do so with an admitted case of impostor syndrome. I am consistently working on it. But that little voice of doubt and unsureness always finds its way into my psyche. Some of my thoughts have included, but are not limited to: “Who am I to be up here, to be leading in prayer? I am not the oldest, the wisest. There are so many brilliant people in these pews. Here I am, however, entrusted with this sacred role.” I suppose our liturgists for the High Holy Days were wise to this phenomenon. Toward the beginning of the service, during the section entitled, “Hineini,” or “Here I am,” the prayer leader essentially admits to the congregation that anything but impostor syndrome might not work for the High Holy Days. Put another way, if you think you are ready to lead these tremendous days, you probably shouldn’t be leading them. “Although unworthy, I rise to pray and seek favor for Your people Israel, for they have entrusted me with this task…” it goes on, “Accept my prayer as though it were offered by one more worthy of this task: a scholar–proficient in prayer; unblemished in character, pleasing in voice.” This is fairly self-explanatory humility bordering on full-blown impostor syndrome.

While humility and modesty are values that are raised up in our Jewish tradition, do we not cross over into harsh judgment far too often? We judge others. We judge ourselves. There is a pattern that becomes especially prevalent around and during the High Holy Days. I cannot even count or accurately report to you the number of times I have spoken to people over the last year, and have experienced them begin our conversation with a hint of shame, self judgment or unnecessary apology. Some common phrases I tend to hear are: “I don’t get to Temple as much as I want to…”, or “I’m sorry I haven’t been to services in a while.” “I really mean to get to Temple more often.” There is always the classic moment when someone looks down at the floor before telling me, “I’m a bad Jew. I only go to synagogue on the High Holy Days. Sometimes I don’t go at all.” I have to ask all of us this evening: when do we stop qualifying our Jewishness, or our level or type of Jewish observance? On this day of Rosh Hashanah, which is also called “Yom Ha-Din,” or Day of Judgment, I want to use my privilege as your spiritual leader to allow everyone permission to exhale; to let the shame, the judgments, the expectations, the “should haves” to exit your body and your spirit with the ruach, the breath of this moment. Let’s take a deep breath and feel that release happen. *Allow breath here*.

You are all “good Jews,” whatever that actually means. On this day of judgment, this Yom Ha-Din, I would like to focus us a bit more on another name for this holy day of the New Year, “Hayom Harat Olam”–the day the world was conceived or born. In Hebrew, “Hayom” can mean “The day,” and it is also used as the word for “today.” Today, on this very day that we all come together, can we see the world with the possibilities that exist with every new moment of creation? Can we look at the world, even slightly, without the eyes of human judgment, and experience our collective conversation with God as if it is a brand new relationship? It seems that we need to discard judgment, shame, and anything else that separates us, and replace it with a radical sense of unification. We need to unify more than ever before. There are no impostors here, this is simply a communion of fierce allies.

Impostor feelings are not simply individual, but can also impact how we view ourselves as Jews in a post-October 7th world. It is no secret to any of us that we live in a different world than we did before that fateful morning of October 7th, 2023. A day when the origins of the term “harat olam,” came back into focus. The first time we hear this term used in Tanach, the Hebrew Bible, they are uttered by our prophet Jeremiah during a moment of great strife. He is so beside himself that he curses the day of his birth, wondering why he ever issued from his mother’s womb just to see such misery and woe. He says “rachmah harat olam,” in wishing that his mother had remained “big” or “pregnant” for all time. This is a dark thought shared with us so glaringly and honestly. One cannot help but wonder if this is how some of the families of those murdered, violated, and taken on October 7th might have felt, and continue to feel. How could this happen? How can we ever get past the horror? It is especially difficult to overcome trauma, to see the world as new when we are consistently re-traumatized. I have said it before, but it is worth repeating here tonight with updated figures. 2024 saw 9,354 antisemitic incidents, as reported to the ADL, in the United States. Remember, these are only the incidents that have been reported, so that number is absolutely too low. This is the fourth consecutive year of increased numbers of antisemitic incidents, and perhaps most disturbingly, is the highest number of incidents recorded since the ADL began keeping track 46 years ago. Antisemitism has morphed into calls of, “from the river to the sea, “ for a globalization of intifada,” and so many other disturbing anti-zionist tropes.

Let us be clear, I am of the opinion that we cannot make the distinction between anti-zionism and antisemitism. Maybe one day we could, but this day, “Hayom,” we cannot. Since I have made the statement, let’s look together at what Zionism actually is: According to the World Jewish Congress, Zionism is this: “the belief the Jewish people maintain a right to self-determination in their ancestral homeland.” To label oneself as anti-zionist is to admit that one does not believe that Jews have the right to exist in Israel. This is more than a slippery slope. This viewpoint more often than not leads to antisemitic tropes and the demonization of Jewish people…whether in Israel or anywhere around the globe. Israel is not an impostor.

If, in the opinion and misguided notion of so many, every day for the Jewish people is “Yom Ha-Din,” or the day of judgment, should we not allow ourselves a bit of respite? We need to turn this judgment into “Hayom Harat Olam,” the day of the birth of the world. We need to reevaluate how we think and talk about ourselves and our fellow Jews. At this moment in history we do not have the time or space to be impostors. We simply cannot afford it. The microscope of the world is focused intensely on the Jewish people, and we need to find strength and steadfastness in our identity as not only Jews, but as proud Jews.

If you want to come to Temple more often, of course, you are always welcome to do so. You will always be greeted with open arms and warmth. I can assure you of that. No matter how you choose to be Jewish, please never qualify your Jewishness. There is no “I should have.” Turn the shoulds into do’s, and try acting unapologetically. The act of involving yourself in the Jewish community is an act against Jewish hatred or antisemitism, no matter what form it morphs into in the modern day.

So, yes, here I am, leading these services. There will always be that small voice, that bat kol. Perhaps it is still holy. I am not an impostor, and you are not an impostor, but we have been placed here together at this exact moment, in this exact place for a very holy purpose. What is that purpose? We might not be entirely sure, but we know that backing away will not answer our questions. So, let us cast aside the judgment and work for the creation of something new. It is never too late to build something beautiful. It is never too late.

Andrea Salazar-Nuñez, a clinical psychologist at the University of Washington claims that one of the ways to conquer impostor syndrome is to do so at a systems-level. Sometimes institutions themselves can foster these feelings. As a Jewish community and as a people, I call on all of us to be radically welcoming. In a world that can be so anti-Jewish, we need to be especially supportive of all who wish to affiliate themselves with us. On the individual level, we can let go of perfectionism, share our feelings openly, practice self-compassion, and celebrate our successes. In a world of Din-judgment, let us be the rachamim, the mercy that lies at the heart of creating new worlds.

You are here because you are supposed to be. Let this day, hayom, be less about judgment and more about rebirth and building. The other shoe has dropped. We are revealed. We have been exposed. Thank God, we are free. Shana Tovah u’matukah