One day, a man was walking on a beach and saw a small Aladdin’s lamp poking out of the sand. Impulsively, he picked it up and rubbed it. Lo and behold, a genie appeared and said, “Thank you for releasing me. As a reward, I will grant you one wish. Choose carefully.” After a moment’s thought, the man replied, “O Genie. I love Hawaii but I ‘m terrified of flying. I wish for an eight lane highway between California and Hawaii, so I could drive back and forth.” The genie responded, “Sir, that’s impossible. It can’t be done. Ask for something else.” Considering further, the man said, “Okay. I wish that both parties in Congress and the White House would put the national interest above partisan considerations.” After a silent moment, the genie inquired, “How many lanes did you want?” (with thanks to Rabbi Rick Block for the story)

The wish for functional government, by the people and for the people, in which the people we elect work together to address the issues facing us all, would seem these days to be hopelessly naïve. In the face of what’s transpired this past year, it’s hard not to be a little cynical. Actually, it’s hard not to be a lot cynical.

At this season of personal reflection and, God willing, steps towards personal transformation, cynicism is a formidable obstacle. Cynicism is defined as an attitude of scornful or jaded negativity, especially a general distrust of the integrity or professed motives of others. In other words, cynicism is a way of looking at the world that focuses so exclusively on the negative we become resigned to the way things are.

        Cynicism grows out of a sense of our limitations: "I am just one person. My choice of toilet tissue is not the key to saving the environment! With my limited resources, I'll never have an effect on the big picture!"

        Cynicism grows out of a sense of frustration: "Life is tough. Why should I make it more difficult by intentionally choosing the inconvenient course?"

        And often cynicism grows out of our need to simplify complex issues. When we reduce them to black and white, we find it easier to dwell on generalities, rather than tackle the underlying, fundamental problems.

Cynicism is a way to avoid getting involved; it is a defense mechanism that shields us from unpleasant, thorny issues, the ones we wish would just disappear.

        Nowhere is this been more obvious than in political elections. Lost in the sound bites and the push polls are the complex issues cynics despise: a growing economic and racial divide in our country that polarizes public opinion; a policy framework that's tied to the election cycle, insuring short term fixes rather than long term planning; a realization that the social safety net no longer exists to protect those least able to protect themselves; an uncertainty about what the future holds.

        These days, events in Washington are bringing cynicism out into the open but, in truth, it is with us every day. Do you recognize the voice of the cynic?

        "Why should I bother to limit my carbon footprint? After all, factories and cars in China are belching out more smoke this year than all the cars in America have over the past twenty. What makes me think my energy consumption will make any difference in the big picture?

        Why should I donate to charities?  After all, so much of what's given goes to administrative overhead, not to mention corruption. Just look at the Journal Sentinel, there’s another agency highlighted every week. Besides, the issues are too big and intractable. What makes me think my donation will make any difference in the big picture?"

Why should I work toward school reform?  After all, the issues on the table are the same ones that have been there since the mid – eighteen hundreds. Besides, the teachers' union and bureaucratic infrastructure are too entrenched. What makes me think my volunteer work will make any difference in the big picture?

        Why should I bother to blow the whistle on illicit or unethical practices at work?  After all, this is the way business works and it's my pension that's on the line. Besides, why should I be the one to stick my neck out?  I don't need that hassle. What makes me think my risk will make any difference in the big picture?

        Why should I bother to eat healthfully or exercise?  After all, my genetic make up will play a greater role in determining whether I get sick. And besides, I like to eat and hate exercising.  What makes me think my habits will make any difference in the big picture of my health?

        These examples illustrate cynicism's ubiquity. The root cause of cynicism lies in a thoroughly modern paradox: on one hand, we have unprecedented power to control and manipulate our world.  Advances in medicine enable us to eradicate disease, ever more powerful computers that literally fit in our hands permit us to control vast amounts of information, telecommunication technology allows us to communicate around the world.

        And yet, even with this unprecedented power, so much is beyond our control.  We can communicate across the world but the images beamed back by CNN only confirm that we are powerless to eradicate war and ethnic hatred and the suffering they cause; powerless to eliminate crime and violence on our streets, powerless to end hunger and homelessness among the poor.

        At home, too, we feel powerless. Jobs that were once secure are gone and they aren’t coming back. Children are exposed to an ever-growing array of dangerous temptations.  The disintegration of the extended family has multiplied the stress on the nuclear family.

        As individuals, too, we have less control over our destiny than once thought.  The powerful role played by genetics was underscored by research on identical twins raised in different environments.  Such twins, it turns out, end up, over time, to be uncannily similar in their likes and dislikes, their choices of companions, their emotional character. The research suggests we enter the world prewired; that nature has a far more powerful effect on shaping the people we become than the nurturance our families and communities provide.

        In the world, at home, even in our bones, we have come to feel a loss of control over our individual and collective fates. And on Yom Kippur we confront a deeper, existential anxiety of which cynicism is only a symptom. We read U'netaneh tokef, the litany of who shall live and who shall die.  While its words portray a world of perfect justice in which our deeds determine our fate, its list - who by fire and who by water – reminds us of life's caprice: that in this coming year some of us will live and some of us will die and we have no way of knowing who will fall into which category.  All we know is that it will happen, sometimes without warning, often to people about whom we care very much.

        How do we respond to the existential reality of powerlessness?  Our forebears trusted that God had a larger purpose and plan; on our better days we would like to think so; at other times, our response is more likely to be cynical.

        Please don't misunderstand. I am all for healthy skepticism. After all, the world is full of crooked politicians, bureaucracies in need of restructuring, economic policies in need of reform. A healthy skepticism is essential in today's world.

        But while skepticism is essential, unchecked cynicism is destructive; it corrodes the core of community.

        Cynicism inhibits our capacity to trust: In protecting ourselves we come to suspect the worst of others. We obsess about limiting our liability and minimizing our exposure.  We plan for the worst case scenario.  While such thinking may be appropriate for litigators, it poisons the relationships between individuals.

        Cynicism destroys our faith in humanity: The cynic sees people as inherently and irredeemably corrupt. This tradition, inherited from Machievelli, Hobbes, and Nietzche, has its roots in the Christian doctrine of original sin. Psychology holds out even less promise; as Freud put it, homo homini lupus - we are to each other as wolves.

        With our faith in humanity diminished, and our trust in one another annulled, cynicism then destroys our hope.  It convinces us that we have no role in shaping the future, no chance of making a better world for ourselves and our families. Cynicism eliminates the possibility that there is a greater plan and vision for what the world could be.  All we are left with is the world as it is.

        How does the cynic view this world? Ask Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, a 19th century Chassidic teacher known as the Kotzker, Judaism's patron sage of cynicism.  He was not your ordinary pessimist.  "The whole world", he taught, "is not even worth uttering a sign for."  "The world is putrid", he said on one occasion, "it makes me choke," and on another, "the world such as it is, I have no use for except to blow my nose in it."  "But rabbi", his disciples asked, "what of man? The world may be despicable but surely man is more. Man is noble, a creature of  dignity, created in the image of God." "Nonsense," replied the Kotzker. "I will tell you what man is: an inveterate liar, an addict of comforting illusions, always deceiving himself, flying from reality, devoted to the pursuit of mendacity."

        While other Hasidic leaders preached the need for joy and exultation, Reb Mendel told his disciples, and they were understandably few, that living in this world was like walking along the edge of a knife. No illusions, said the Kotzker, about the world or the self; his goal was the unremittingly painful search for complete and total honesty. Only the harsh truth, and the cynicism and pessimism it creates and a life lived on the brink of despair. (Kotzker Material from Rabbi Sandford Ragins, 1974)

        Yet The Kotzker was not the complete cynic. One day, one of his disciples came to confess to the rebbe that he could no longer believe. Menachem Mendel did not throw him out. Instead he asked, "Why, my son, can't you believe?"

        'Because I doubt that the world has any rhyme or reason. The righteous suffer and the wicker prosper."

        "So - why does that concern you?"

        "What do you mean why does that concern me? If there is no justice in the world, I doubt there is a God governing the world."

        "So - what do you care if there is no God in the world?

        "Rebbe, if there is no God in the world, my life has no sense, no meaning at all."

        "Do you care so much about the world and God's existence?"

        "With all my heart and all my soul."

        "If you care so much, are pained so much, if you doubt so much, you believe."

        In this encounter, Reb Mendel speaks to us. Yes, the world is putrid and absurd, and filled with injustice. The righteous suffer, the wicked prosper, and good and evil, beauty and ugliness, truth and lies compete without a sense of pattern or purpose.

        And yet, the Kotzker bids us to make room in our hearts for hope. We can doubt, and wonder, even rail against the injustice of our times; the fact that injustice disturbs us, that we even care, is what counts. Our concern is the crucial first step to redemption on the path to hope.

        How do we find hope?  How do we rekindle our capacity to care?

            First, we recall the Talmudic teaching of Rabbi Tarfon – Lo Alecha Hamelacha ligmor – It’s not your responsibility to finish the work. But that doesn’t mean it’s not responsibility to participate in it.  

            Second, we should seek out hopeful examples to inspire us. We find hope in the continued vitality of the state of Israel, which despite significant challenges, continues to be a source of hope. This past year has seen tectonic shifts in middle-eastern politics, such as the Arab spring, which has ended autocratic rule in several Arab states, though it’s not clear that the new regimes will be any better.  Turkey is trying to use conflict with Israel as a way to boost its own position within the Muslim and Arab world. Syria is busy killing its own citizens, yet threatens to rain rockets down on Israel should outside forces try to intervene.  And the Palestinian authority is trying to unilaterally declare a state, a move destined for failure, given the numerous issues nowhere near resolution, like what will Palestine’s borders be? And what of the Million and a half Palestinians in Gaza, whose elected rulers, Hamas, want no part of this unilateral declaration. Indeed, even the Palestinian Authority’s Prime Minister Salaam Fayyed counseled Abbas to forego the exercise.  And looming over all of this, is the specter of Iran, whose president continues to suggest that Israel be wiped off the map.

            Despite such challenges, Israel continues to prosper as a strong, technologically advanced, economically robust nation.  How far it has come! In its tumultuous early days and for a quarter century thereafter, its survival was in serious doubt. In the early 1950’s, Israel was forced to resort to food rationing. For six decades Israel had to import nearly 100% of its energy needs. Incredibly, Israel recently discovered one of the world’s largest reserves of natural gas and an immense oil deposit may lie beneath it. Now it is poised to achieve energy independence and may even become an energy exporter! The dangers facing Israel are numerous, complex, and immense, and we’re right to be gravely concerned, but that very concern testifies to how much has been achieved. The need to defend the Jewish State demonstrates how tremendously, miraculously much there is to defend.

As Daniel Gordis writes in his book, Saving Israel, “Israel provided hope when it seemed that hope had died. And ever since then, Israel has represented for Jews the triumph of life over death, of hope over despair, of the possibility of a future when a decimated past seemed to cloud every view…” We must do all that and more because, by creating a “national home” for the Jewish People after two millennia of powerlessness, of being subject to the whims and caprices of others, Israel represents “the return of the [Jewish People] to the stage of history,” transforming Jewish life, the Jewish condition and us as Jews, everywhere.

We can find hope as well in the acts of individual people in our own community, who remind us how much good one person can do. Lisa Philips z”l, who died three months ago, was one of them. Among other accomplishments, Lisa established an interfaith meal program to help feed the hungry. For years, she planned congregational work-days in the inner city, building playgrounds, painting family shelters, and planting flowers. In the past few years, Lisa worked with our social action committee to build a relationship with the Social Development Corporation’s family shelter, where many of our students have volunteered. Lisa demonstrated how one person can make a significant difference.

            As has Lloyd Levin, another Sinai member. Lloyd has worked for years in the mortgage brokerage business. Inspired by a letter written to the Journal Sentinel by his friend Marty Stein, Lloyd spent several hours on a plane sketching out a plan to teach financial literacy to high school students in MPS. Serendipitously, he was seated next to Father Robert Wild, then the president of Marquette University, with whom he shared his idea.  Working with the Business School at Marquette, Lloyd wrote a five hour curriculum, recruited teachers, and began to implement what he called the “Make a Difference-Wisconsin” program in 2006. As of this year, over five hundred instructors have brought the program to over seventeen thousand MPS students, and the program is slated to go statewide.

            Yes, one person can make a world of difference in the lives of others. Consider Harry Waisbren, who became politically active during his college years. During the demonstrations in Madison this past year, Harry took on a prominent role – he was the cheesehead wearing young man who was one of the first to be interviewed by the national news corps. These days, Harry is in New York City, helping to lead the “Occupy Wall Street” demonstrations. Or Jake Goodman, who has worked in the Jewish community through the Storahtelling project, as well as contributing to the LGBT community, and now has been nominated as a Jewish hero.

            Jake and Harry, along with Lloyd Levin and Lisa Phillips are but a few examples of the way members of this community have tried to put hope over cynicism by engaging in acts of Tikun Olam, repairing this fragmented world. Tikun Olam means realizing our role as God's partners. It means rebuilding shattered lives, which we accomplish through small acts of compassion and healing - small acts which enable us to affect the big picture. It asserts that even in a world of caprice and absurdity, it is possible to shape our lives and to create a sense of meaning and purpose.

        But beware: the work of tikun is not accomplished overnight or without struggle. It is slow, agonizingly slow. But we can't allow its pace to make us cynical.

Tikun Olam is accomplished incrementally.  The process of tikun, as Rabbi Irving Greenburg put it, "works with imperfect and partial steps." So it is that the results of our individual efforts may seem unimportant or unworthy, but collectively they constitute the path to redemption and hope.

Finding hope takes more than locating role models and engaging in tzedakah and tikun olam.  Ultimately, the process of transformation must take place within us. This is Teshuvah, the repentance of which we speak on Yom Kippur. By examining our own cynical views, we can reject our resignation to the world as it is. Through our own imperfections and our own partial steps, we can do tikun olam - the fixing of the world – and tikun atzmi - the fixing of our selves. Only then can we fully commit to building a life that transcends the absurd, and make hope a committed course of action, a path of deliberate goodness in an otherwise arbitrary universe.

        Judaism demands nothing less. That is why, according to tradition, when we arrive to the gates of the garden of Eden in the afterlife, the single question we are asked will be: did you hold onto hope?

May this new year, 5772, renew in us a sense of humanity's goodness.

May we resist cynicism and reject resignation;

believing instead in our capacity to change ourselves

and through imperfect and partial steps to transform the world.

This year may we choose to make hope a course of committed action.  And may we be blessed with a new year of peace.

Ken Yehi L'Ratzon.  May it be God's will.

Ken Yehi L'Rtzoneynu - may it be our will.