NOTE: This sermon was given on Rosh Hashanah in the week after 9/11. I had spoken about that terrible event the evening before, and thought that after a week of evaluating America’s vulnerabilities and bemoaning our losses, a lighter mood was called for. Not only did this sermon resonate with the congregation whose notes and in-person expressions of appreciation were most welcome, but requests from all over the country were received and fulfilled. Somehow, the editors of American Scooterist, official magazine of the Vespa Club of America saw the sermon and sent a reporter to take pictures and get permission to publish it in their issue #47. It’s not Playboy or Scientific America, but still it is a classy publication with a surprisingly large readership. They used the subtitle for the sermon, “Seven Steps To Spiritual Scooting.” As I made my way around the country during the next few years giving lectures, this sermon almost always made it into the post-talk Q&As.
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I met my wife on the road from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. In those days, the road was called Bab El Wad; it was one lane in each direction, quite steep on the ascent to the holy city. The roadside was lined with rusting truck and tank bodies – battle debris from the 1948 War of Independence. Rikki was in a car when we met, and I was on a Lambretta motor scooter. I had bought the scooter new from the factory in Rome on my way to Israel and sailed with it from Naples to Haifa on the good ship Theodor Herzl.
The hill was steeper than the scooter could negotiate with ease, and so I had to coax it upward by standing on the running board and rocking it while keeping the throttle open full. The late model VW in which she was a passenger pulled even with me as I edged toward the side of the road to let it pass. The midrash on the event is that Rikki said to my friend who was driving something like, “Who is that cute guy on the scooter?” And as they pulled even we were introduced. Only, I was so busy urging the scooter onward, that I really couldn’t turn to look at who was being introduced.
The next time we met, Rikki and her roommate were walking down King George Street in the heart of Jerusalem on their way to the market. Her roommate (who was the girlfriend of the VW driver) introduced us and invited me to join three of them for dinner. Well, the rest is history, as they say. Guy with scooter meets girl in need of transportation. People with much less in common fall in love, you know. At any rate, during my year of study in Israel in 1960-61, we spent a lot of time on that scooter. I would meet her at her apartment behind Machaneh Yehudah every morning at 7:00 to take her to work, and I picked her up from work at 2:00 to have lunch, and then took her to the university where she had classes until 8:00 or 9:00 each evening. On the occasional free Friday, we explored Jerusalem or went out into the forest to pick mushrooms for dinner. There were more donkey carts than cars in Jerusalem in those days. It was a sleepy old town with a huge wall that divided east from west – Jordanian occupied Jerusalem from Israel.
After our marriage in Tel Aviv, we saw Florence and Paris and London on rented scooters – about a dollar a day back then. Newlyweds could follow the American Express buses and get the tour for free. Those were the days when Europe on $5 a Day was not only a book title, but a real possibility, and it was fun. Today, the title might more realistically be “Europe on $5 a minute.”
That was 41 years ago. And then one night last year, here in Denver, the two of us went to the movies as we try to do at least once a year, and there in the lobby for all the world to see was a shiny new Vespa scooter fresh off the boat from Rome. Beautiful and powerful, I thought. Memories of Israel flooded in. “Eh, that was then ... long ago ... less traffic ... forget it.” I dismissed the reverie almost as quickly as it had arrived.
Our 40th wedding anniversary was last March. A quiet dinner with the kids was all the celebration we needed. We were about to go to Israel to celebrate with family and do some of the non-touring things that we haven’t had time for in years. That was gift enough for both of us ... until my daughter suggested that I open a small present that she subtly slipped next to my dish. Hmm, a watch box. Oh, I thought, I don’t need a watch. But it wasn’t a watch. It was instead a strange looking key. “Nice gift. Thanks, guys. I’ve always wanted a strange looking key ... for our anniversary.”
“Follow us, Dad; we think you’ll like what it opens.” What do they know, I thought. They were nowhere to be found when we got married.
And there in the garage under a weary old shmatah, was a brand new Vespa. “Happy anniversary,” they giggled. Palpitations followed and odd thoughts flashed. Can I still ride this thing 40 years later? Is my life insurance in order? Do I look good in leather? Will this thing make it to Sturgis? Will I need a tattoo? Dina and Ron played Eve perfectly! “Hey, this was Mom’s idea – blame her,” they voiced in unison. They grinned that innocent grin of older kids who should know better, but are truly enjoying the moment.
Rikki was beaming. “You’re too young to be old. You know you wanted this. You wouldn’t get it for yourself ... go, enjoy, ride safely, and wear a helmet.”
Getting on that pearl white and blue Vespa was like meeting an old friend after being apart for years. It took me about one mile to get used to it, to relax, and begin to enjoy. Almost every day now I ride it to Temple ... down side streets and on busy boulevards. It is a very perky bike, faster from a stop light than a car, able to go 80mph, but not . . . with me on it.
Now you may wonder why I am telling you all of this by way of peroration - introduction. Well, it’s because there is a certain wisdom that comes from doing when you’re older what you took for granted as a youth. I have learned a number of things from riding my new Vespa all over town, and much of what I have learned is metaphorically relevant to these High Holy Days. I’d like to share some of them with you. I call this “Seven Steps To Spiritual Scooting.”
LESSON 1
Balance in life is important. On a scooter, you lean only when making turns, when changing directions, but when going straight, the object is to sit tall and stay in the center of your lane. Our world of late seems so filled with people who lean too far to the left or the right – that is the case in politics as well as religion. Passion is a wonderful thing. To care deeply about issues or beliefs is what we do at our best. Without conviction and passion, this would be a bland world indeed. But passion without restraint is a dangerous thing. We saw what it can lead to just a week ago in the terror that ripped out our kishkes on 9/11 in New York City and Washington DC.
In a recent discussion, one of our teens asked me why so many wars are fought in the name of religion. “Isn’t religion more divisive than it is unifying?” she asked. Look at the Catholics and Protestants in Ireland and the Jews and Moslems in Israel and the Muslims and Buddhists in Kashmir and the government of China and the Dali Lama – people hating people in the name of their religion. And look at how many have been killed throughout history because of religion, especially Jews – the Crusades, pogroms, the Inquisition, the Holocaust.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I responded. However, it isn’t religion that leads to war, it’s religion out of balance that turns the world upside down. It’s religion turned to fanaticism that makes for hatred and bloodshed. And any religion out of balance can turn fanatical; indeed, any person out of balance can become a fanatic. Palestinian suicide bombers and Taliban destroyers of ancient Buddhist relics define one extreme of fanaticism. But no less fanatical are those who, in the name of religion, lock women away behind heavy clothing and beat them if any part of their body can be seen in public. Those who in the name of religion target and kill doctors for helping women terminate pregnancies are fanatics. They pervert the very teaching of love and understanding first espoused by the founders of their faith. The penitentes and flagellantes who fast endlessly and abuse their bodies with whips or thorn branches are out of balance. No normative religion demands that people kill others in the name of their deity. No normative religion teaches absolute anything. Customs and rituals are meant to help us mark time constructively and to celebrate life’s passages meaningfully. Discipline and laws and morals are meant to help us reign in bad behavior or harmful instincts. Religion at its finest involves study and a sense of specialness. It involves becoming sensitive to the world and in tune with a source that is beyond us ... urging us to search for and find our best self.
People who exercise too little or too much are out of balance. Those who work far too much to the exclusion of any time off are out of balance. Those who abuse substances or who have habits that are out of control are out of balance. Families that do not function together are out of balance, and relationships that are one-sided – lacking the ability to understand and to share ideas and chores and responsibilities, are out of balance. Interesting isn’t it that the symbol of this Holy Day is the scales of justice – that our deeds and the deeds of all humankind are weighted on this day, and judgment is passed. And it is interesting I find that the scales are depicted not with one side higher than the other, but rather with both sides even ... as if in balance. Perhaps it is not that our goodness must outweigh our wrongdoing, but rather that our acts must be kept in proportion to our abilities. That life is about finding and maintaining balance in every aspect of life, lest we lean too far in one direction or the other and we fall.
LESSON 2
The second lesson I learned was that when you are moving fairly quickly along the way, it’s best to keep your mouth shut. I was on Hampden just about to take the curve onto Havana the other day. Golf balls were sailing in the air at the Kennedy Driving Range, and I was breathing in the warmth of the day, when a bug of no particular description hit my tooth. Panicky moments ensued of trying to free the critter from its landing spot. “Ayyi,” I thought, “on a scooter one’s face is a windshield, and one’s mouth is a landing field for insects.”
The lesson became quite clear. In today’s world we move about a bit quicker that we used to, perhaps a bit quicker that we should. A new jet was recently delivered to the U.S. Air Force. It went faster than any jet had ever flown in combat and it could maneuver in the tightest of rolls and spins. The only problem was that the human body could not withstand the forces generated by the speed and the rolls, and the pilot blacked out on every test flight. Technology had now made possible what we were not humanly capable of doing.
Similarly, everything is speeded up nowadays; there is less time to think and contemplate. We are programmed to react ... in an instant. He/she who hesitates is lost – loses, gets cut off, gets fired, gets sent to the end of the line, gets less. So, instead of thoughtful, we become reactive – volcanoes spewing. And we spread hot vocal lava on everyone in our path. I hear our youth talking to one another in terms that are less than endearing. Parents and children exchange expressions as if they were street urchins who had spent little time in a civilized, educated household. I’ve heard abuse heaped upon clerks at markets and shops and upon wait-persons in restaurants for the slightest of provocations by well dressed customers. Bank tellers and parking lot attendants and even synagogue employees have felt the dragon fire and smelled the smoke.
The difference between a smart person and one who is wise, William James once said, is that the smart person knows what to say, but the wise person knows when not to say it. The world speeds forward when we tell others what we feel and think; the world slows apace when we keep our mouths closed. The joke untold, the criticism unspoken, the bawling out not given, the harsh remark kept in check, the advice delayed until requested – these can help maintain friendships and can often advance the cause of peace in the community, the home, and in the heart.
LESSON 3
Riding a scooter can remind one to resist sudden impulses. The story is told of a pirate who was being interviewed by a reporter. “How did you lose your leg, sir?” the reporter began. “Well, Matey, I got it stuck between two boards in me ship. The boat lurched and off she came.”
“I see; and how did you get your hook, sir?”
“Well, Matey, we was battling aboard this Spanish galleon, and one of those blokes took off me arm with a quick sweep of his sword.”
“Oh, my,” the reporter responded queasily. “And how, sir, did you lose your eye?”
“Well, son, I was looking up to the skies and a bird flew by and got me (so to say) right in me eye.”
“You lost an eye from a bird dropping?”
“No, son, you see it was the first day I had me hook!”
So I came home one day after a long ride, and Rikki asked me how I banged up my finger. “Well,” I said, “it was caused by a sudden itch in my ear!”
“You hurt your finger by scratching your ear?” she queried.
“Well,” says I, “it was the first day I had me helmet.”
Careful what you itch, is the moral of that this lesson. Morality lies in resisting ... not in explaining. Making sudden moves can cost us dearly whether riding a scooter or interacting with others. Rosh Hashanah teaches us that lesson specifically. In the “Unatanah Tokef” Rav Amnon of Mayence resists betraying his community. He foregoes the rewards of the present moment. In Torah, Adam and Eve lose paradise because they could not resist the temptation at hand. Bill Clinton tainted his presidency, Gary Hart has besmirched his reputation, and so have half of the Congress with their inability to resist sudden impulses ... temptations ... itches of the moment. Just when you think the ride is going smoothly, the sudden move that is out of the ordinary, the temptation, the uncommon, the jerk ... can change your life forever.
LESSON 4
Concentrate on what you are doing. Oy, is that difficult. Life is filled with distractions. When you’re driving a car, if your mind wanders there is always a second or two in which to react. You drift into the next lane without realizing it. A car horn brings you back to yourself in time to correct your fault and straighten out again. But not so on a scooter. Every moment demands concentration. On my way to Temple one day, I began thinking about what I had to do when I arrived. I got so caught up in my thoughts that I startled myself when I came back to realize that I was riding on a two wheeled vehicle that was not keeping itself upright, but was depending on me to do so.
It’s interesting. All of our assistant Rabbis will tell you that I have taught them one thing – and perhaps that’s all I’ve ever taught them – and that is ... wherever you are, be there! Be in the moment; enjoy the occasion, whatever it may be. If you are officiating at a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, be there ... and not at your next engagement or thinking about next week’s sermon or yesterday’s phone call. Be where you are. Enjoy the ride at this very moment. If you happen to be preaching, or counseling, or teaching, or officiating, or just listening – be there!
But the principle applies to all facets of life. Most of us on occasion attend conferences or conventions. You know how during the first several days of these expensive functions no matter who you meet and stop to talk to, they are usually looking over your shoulder so as not to miss anyone else who happens to walk by. If you’re looking for someone else, go look. If you stopped to talk to me, be here. The same can be said about all of us whether in our business environment or at home. When you are in conversation with a friend – at that moment he or she is the only person in the world, be there. Children stop to ask another of their 100 seemingly mandatory daily questions – don’t short change them, or they may get the idea that you don’t care or that you don’t have answers. And then when the real questions arise years later, as they inevitably do, they may seek out others to advise them.
In telling Moses that he is to receive Torah on Sinai, God says, “Come up the mountain and be there!” I have always thought that to be a telling message. It’s not enough to climb the mountain; it’s also important to be there, to be present to that moment.
A Hasid asked the Tzadik what he prays for first. The Tzadik answered that I first pray that when I pray I may really pray. What a profound answer. When I talk to Ploni, may I really talk to him. When I am with Almoni, may I really be present to her. When I play, may I really play. When I work, may I really work. When I come to pray, may I really pray. May my celebrating be celebratory, and my interest be clear and directed and present. Even in this age of multi-tasking, each task requires specific focus. Whatever we are doing, wherever we journey, may our thoughts not wander ... may we not weave from side to side in the lane we are riding in right now.
LESSON 5
The fifth lesson came as a surprise. The first time I rode the scooter down my very own street, the street I have lived on for almost 30 years, it was as if I was seeing it for the first time. In a car, vision is limited by the door and window frames so that we look at sharp angles – straight ahead, to the right and left, or straight back. Only when turning or changing lanes do we get to glance obliquely. On a scooter, there is no sight limit; one’s field of vision is almost 180°. Suddenly I saw the sides of homes and yards and fences that are usually a blur from the car. Suddenly I realized that I was hearing birds and breathing fresh air, and when I looked at the speedometer, I was going quite slowly. And so the fifth lesson from the scooter – it’s okay to go slow! Experience the world around you.
When was the last time you came to a stop light and the car beside you rolled down a window to chat? Never happened! On a scooter it happens all the time. I’m waiting at a light and the car window comes down and the driver starts in. “Nice bike. What kind is it? Where did you get it? Good chatting with you. Be safe. Have a nice day.”
You know the old story about the retiree who buys a boat and gets a captain’s coat and a captain’s hat and stands on the deck. “Well, dear, you are now looking at Captain Shapiro,” he announces. To which his wife responds, “To me you’re a captain; to you you’re a captain; but to a captain, you’re just Harvey Shapiro!”
Well, my scooter is hardly a Harley. How seemly after all would it be for a Rabbi to ride a hog? In comparison to a Harley “hog,” this scooter is barely “Beggin Strips.” So I tentatively wave at the big bikes as they pass in the other direction. Surprise! They wave back. Sure, from afar, I could be mistaken for a Harley ... maybe.
Then one morning, I’m waiting for the light to change, and a huge guy on a Harley pulls up alongside. He taps his gas and the bike emits 100 decibels of sound. If I really rev it up, my scooter can sound like a terrifying lawnmower. The guy leans over and says, “What a neat bike, man, I like it. Is that one of them new Vespas?”
“Yep, I say,” somewhat relieved that he isn’t laughing out loud.
“Hey, I gotta get me one of those. Got any power?”
“Well, it’s faster than your bike for about the first 20 feet,” I smiled.
“Hey, let’s go for it,” he yelled above the din of his 3,000,000 horsepower engine. I beat him through the intersection with yards to spare. We pulled even at the next stop sign. Hey man, if you want to ride with us – we do Georgetown every Sunday. Meet at Wash Park by 6:00am. See ya.”
Wow ... maybe I should get a neck chain with metal studs?!
I pull up beside a member of the Temple; her window is rolled down. “What, you can’t say ‘Good Morning?’” “Huh?” she looks and looks and then this startled gasp of recognition. “Rabbi? Is that you? Er, ah, Good Morning.” We chat. I think I just make her day.
An older couple crossing the street stops to look and chat. It turns out that we know each other. They depart with the words: “A Rabbi on a bike, wow. Good for you, young fellow.” They just made my day.
On a scooter, I have conversations at stop lights and stop signs – conversations with a whole new genre of folk. People open up and we get to wish each other a “good morning” or a “good day” and express surprise that at my age I’m still walking let alone scooting. The lesson is, try to do something unusual each day. Talk to someone out of the ordinary. Greet others with sayver panim yafot – with a kind face and a smile, and wish them a “good day.” Stop to enjoy nature. Park near a park. Is that why it’s called a park? Hmm. Sit for awhile and smell the flowers and feed a duck or two. Stretch out on the grass ... don’t inhale. Slow down once or twice a day. Look around you and take notice of what you’re missing. The day is short ... and then it’s gone. Enjoy it while you’re here.
LESSON 6
Big lesson, this number 6; it’s called “Plan Ahead.” Oy, did I learn this one the hard way. It was one of my first days on the scooter and I was driving down Happy Canyon heading toward Temple. My eyes were looking down at the street just in front of me. All of a sudden from out of nowhere I come upon a pothole the size of Rhode Island. I couldn’t avoid it. Yoicks! I felt like a lulav – shaken up, down, and all around. From that I learned that we have to look further down the road if we want to avoid the pitfalls and pratfalls, the bumps and ruts of life.
I love the sign that reads “Plan Ahead,” only the ‘d’ is below the rest of the letters because the artist failed to ... plan ahead. So now I know that while it is important to live in the moment, it is equally important to look down the road first. Plan ahead. Car travelers are hardly affected by weather. It rains, turn on the wipers. It snows, turn on the defroster. It’s cold, turn on the heater. It’s hot, hit the A/C.
Scooter persons need to plan ahead. It’s a beautiful Colorado August afternoon. High 80s, bluebird sky. One minute later it’s 10° cooler, and dark clouds appear from out of nowhere. I was just leaving Temple for my five minute ride home. No problemo. For sure I have five minutes before the rain. Oops! Miscalculated. Two minutes out and the first drops hit – not rain, hail. Hail on a helmet sounds like fireworks in a tin can. Three minutes out and rain is coming down lightly, but with intermittent golf balls. Four minutes out and it’s a veritable Nor’easter, and me in a short sleeved shirt and slacks – drenched. I pulled into my driveway, no less wet than if I had gone swimming. Six minutes out ... the skies cleared and the sun appeared. Had I waited ten minutes or left five minutes sooner, not a drop.
Plan ahead, hope for the best, expect the worst, and deal with whatever comes your way. Storms happen suddenly in life. Sometimes the timing is bad and you take the brunt of the storm. With luck, you can sometimes wait it out, or with planning you can get home safely before it hits. Whether we’re talking about investing or medical care, relationships or personal issues -- hope for the best, prepare for the worst, plan ahead, but be ready to ride out life’s storms. They inevitably take you by surprise.
LESSON 7
The last lesson from the scooter has to do with its front wheel. It is quite small. Smaller than its rear wheel. Much smaller than that of a motorcycle or a bicycle. I was riding slowly in my driveway one day and discovered that I could turn around easily in the space of less than two car widths. Hum, small turning radius, I thought. And of course, for someone who thinks in sermons, this evoked the essential lesson of Rosh Hashanah – turning, teshuvah, repentance.
To do teshuvah one has to make oneself smaller. Puffed up and filled with self, repentance can never happen. The object is to assess one’s deeds and try to change – not from the outside inward, but from the inside out. The Rabbis teach that repentance can happen in an instant if one is prepared to make it so. Often we go through life thinking that we are the sum total of our personal universe, and therefore able to storm around and command and demand and control and order and posture, that we can justify our every act no matter how callous or demeaning or insensitive or even unjust. And then along come our High Holy Days to teach us just the opposite – that we get better by being smaller, by shrinking our ego and preparing ourselves to turn.
Lessons from the scooter? It’s just a device, you know. But how awesome if in the year ahead we could take these lessons to heart. Reduce our ego a bit and make room for others – turn from doing that which really diminishes us; plan ahead and prepare for any contingency; enjoy each day for what it offers – life is beautiful and we are taught to get in touch with the wonders of nature; live in the moment every moment, don’t be somewhere else when you are here, otherwise you are liable never to be where you are; resist sudden impulses, especially the kind that are bound to get you in trouble and change your life in ways you never wanted to experience; act wisely, learn to harness your words – and when in doubt, keep your mouth shut; and all of this is necessary if we are to do the one thing that life demands, and that is the essential lesson of these Days of Awe – namely, maintain a sense of balance in what we do, how we act, where we go, and how we speak.
May the year ahead see all of us traveling down interesting paths, in good health, in safety, and in balance.
This is spectacularly written, and the lessons are timeless. I am a rooter for the Scooter Tutor!
Thank you for this!