You’re Too Sensitive

Kol Nidrei Opening 5782, Rabbi Sam Cohon, Beit Simcha, Tucson, AZ

My friend Rabbi Bob Alper reposted a comic of his for this Yom Kippur.  Rabbi Alper is the only full-time stand-up comedian who is actually an ordained rabbi now that Jackie Mason, alav haShalom, passed away last summer, and he was the star of one of our first-ever fundraisers for Congregation Beit Simcha back in 2019.  Rabbi Alper’s comic on Facebook today showed a rabbi standing in front of his congregation on Kol Nidrei Eve.  The rabbi says, “And in the spirit of Yom Kippur, if there is anything I have said or done in the past year that has hurt or offended you, I say, ‘You are too sensitive.’”

OK, really, that’s not how it works.  Rabbi Alper entitled this comic, “A rabbi’s fantasy,” and while it is not exactly my personal fantasy, he does play on the fact that we all need forgiveness, even rabbis.  You see, we make the same mistakes everyone else makes.

A true story.  I was driving to Beit Simcha a week ago Monday night, going in early for Rosh HaShanah Evening services, our first High Holy Days with something like full attendance in two years.  I was tense, as I habitually am around the High Holy Days, and distractedly glanced at my phone to see if I had any texts relating to the services coming up in about an hour.  On and off over the days before Rosh HaShanah people had been emailing and texting and calling about services, about joining Beit Simcha, about signing on for the Facebook Live feed, about blowing shofar, or checking on the many details involved in creating services for the Yamim Nora’im. 

I was just past La Canada going west on Ina Road when I suddenly saw flashing red lights behind me and realized a County Sheriff was pulling me over.  For once, I wasn’t speeding, nor I had I cut anyone off or changed lanes suddenly.  Bad timing, definitely, but what had I done wrong?

“What’s wrong officer?  I wasn’t speeding.” I said.

And he answered.  “I want you to tell me the truth.  Were you on your phone?” 

“I wasn’t on my phone,” I answered, which was, at best, a half-truth.  I hadn’t been talking on my phone, or actively texting, but I had been looking at it to see what messages had come in.

“Alright,” he answered gruffly, “I wanted to give you a chance to tell me the truth.  I saw you had your phone in your hand.  I was going to let you off with a warning, but now please give me your license and registration and insurance information.”

“But I wasn’t on my phone,” I stupidly insisted, and started to rummage in my glove box for the registration and insurance paperwork.  And I muttered, “I’m a rabbi going to temple to conduct High Holy Day services…”

And he said, “I know who you are. Your son went to elementary school with my son.  I know you.  We all do it, you know, the phone while driving.  I’ll ask you again: Were you on your phone?”

“I guess I was,” I said, sheepishly, “I looked to see if someone had texted me.”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to hear.  Don’t do it.  It’s dangerous and you should know better.”

And then he handed me back my license and registration and insurance.  And I put my phone away.

L’Shana Tovah. And thank you, Officer Guerrero.

It’s not a perfect story, and it certainly doesn’t make me look good, but it’s pretty accurate, isn’t it?  There I was, caught red-handed doing what everyone does, even though it’s illegal.  And I still denied I had done it.

I wonder if anyone else has ever had that experience?  Have you ever just flat-out denied doing something wrong that was patently obvious to everyone else?  And then, did you, by any chance, do it again?

In a way, Yom Kippur is here to remind us that we are all human.  We all make mistakes, we all commit violations, we all err.  And, at times, we all deny we have done exactly that.

Well, tonight is the time when truth telling is supposed to replace that kind of denial.  Kol Nidrei is the flashing red lights behind us, telling us it’s time to put away the phone, pick up the Machzor, and work on our teshuvha, our repentance.  It’s the reminder that no matter how human we are, we can be honest about ourselves, our lives, our experiences, our faults.  May your own repentance prove to be sincere and honest.  And may you be sealed in the book of life for a good year.