Teshuvah and a Musical
Teshuvah and a Musical
Rabbi Samuel M. Cohon, Congregation Beit Simcha, Tucson, Arizona
Introduction to Kol Nidrei 5786
There is a lovely quotation, usually associated with a Hasidic rabbi named Simcha Bunem. It goes, “God puts miracles everywhere in the world. And we take our little hand and cover our little eyes and see nothing.”
I first saw the musical version of Les Miserables on Broadway nearly 40 years ago, in 1987. At the time, I was on my way to Jerusalem to be installed in the Cantors Assembly as a Commissioned Hazzan—they didn’t call it ordination for cantors back in those days—and spent a few days doing New York things with friends before heading over to Israel. Les Miserables was a remarkable show, amazing stagecraft and a fantastic cast, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, even up in the balcony with my legs jammed up close to my shoulders. I liked the music, and over the years I’ve seen the show a number of times, enjoyed the film version, sung a fair number of the songs in performances, and even parodied it for Purim one year. If memory serves, I read most of Victor Hugo’s novel—it is very long—upon which the show is based in Jr. High School. So you could certainly say that I am quite familiar with Les Miserables, and am a fan of the whole experience.
If you aren’t a Broadway musical fan, or an afficionado of 19th century French historical novels, Les Miserables chronicles the life of a man named Jean Valjean who serves 19 years in a brutal prison for the minor crime of theft, gets released after serving his time, but then flees his parole and identity as an ex-con, reinventing himself as a successful factory owner and becoming the mayor of his town. Unfortunately for him, he is pursued relentlessly through the years by a man named Javert, a law-and-order policeman of more or less brutal rectitude who sees any breach of the law as permanently unforgiveable. Many extraordinary events ensue, including Valjean adopting the daughter of poor woman who was fired from his factory and later died, a failed revolution, a love story, many plot twists and lots of shocking revelations and redemptions.
Naturally, when Broadway in Tucson announced they were adding Les Miserables as an extra show this season I bought tickets, and Sophie and I saw the show recently. It was a terrific performance, especially for a touring company, and we had much better seats than I could acquire as a 26 year-old cantor back in 1987. Besides Sophie having to remind me, often, not to mouth the words or pretend to conduct the orchestra, it was a great experience. Now mind you, this must have been the seventh or eighth time I’ve seen the show, I know all the songs and the plot, and have known all of that for decades. And as always, that wonderful line “To love another person it to see the face of God” stayed with me. We are all created in God’s image, and love allows us to recognize that. Pretty good, right, for a musical?
But then driving home from Centennial Hall I realized, for the very first time, that Les Miserables is completely about Teshuvah. That is, the entire show—and before it, the very long book—is essentially one long meditation on the possibility and process of repentance.
Without spending even more time on the details of the plot, or the character development, or sharing the fact that it was published during the American Civil War, was soon translated into English, and Confederate soldiers used to read it aloud around the campfire and called it “Lee’s Miserables,” I can promise you that this extremely Roman Catholic book is almost entirely occupied with people forced, out of desperation, into committing sins, paying a very high price for those transgressions, and then seeking repentance and redemption for the rest of their lives through selfless and noble acts, all spread over many chapters or, in this case, two all-music acts. Sin, punishment—just or unjust—repentance and, ultimately, redemption.
You know, what we Jews call Teshuvah.
Now the amazing thing about this is not that Les Miserables is about Teshuvah. For goodness sake, it is a super long, 160-year-old, very famous book about a convict who becomes a force for good but cannot entirely escape his past. Of course it’s about repentance, teshuvah. No, the amazing thing is that it took me nearly 40 years to realize that incredibly obvious fact. And the only reason I realized it this time was that I was immersed in preparations for the High Holy Days, and teaching about return and repentance almost every day.
Of course it’s about repentance, and finding ways to transform evil into good, to make officially “bad” people into righteous ones who receive forgiveness. It's about transformation. It's about everything we Jews associate with these holidays.
And I, bedazzled perhaps by the stagecraft and the effects and the music, took my little hand and covered by little eyes and saw nothing.
I wonder how often that happens to other people, an inability to see that repentance is right here, in front of our eyes, and all we need to do is look? That we can each become better, more giving, more caring, more empathetic people, and help repair the world? That teshuvah is always available to us, and we just have to do the simple things required to make it possible? That turning from uncaring, evil ways is a matter of simple personal choice and the actions that come from that?
That is, in challenging circumstances or just because we are human, we screw up. But we are always given the opportunity to atone for those aveirot, those crossings of the line.
Yom Kippur is here to provide exactly that opportunity. To give each of us the chance to become better men, better women, better people. All we need to do is be aware of that possibility, and then act on it.
Apologize to those we have hurt, yes. But more than that: choose to see that we can certainly be better than we have been. We can be more loving. More caring. More aware.
Over this great day, may you find that your awareness is enhanced—as mine finally was—and that you come to see that the miracle of repentance, of true return, of Teshuvah is here for you, now, and always.