In the Garden of Eden, life was comfortable. In the Garden of Eden, life was pleasurable. Life was predictable, orderly and logical. There were no hurricanes and no evacuations, no poverty and no death. Until that day when it all came crashing down. Genesis: Chapter 3, verse 23: “So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden, to till the soil from which he was taken.” God tossed Adam and Eve out of the Garden for good. Just east of Eden, God set up two lines of defense to block their entry back into the Garden. God first stationed angels—kruvim—to stand guard. God then placed a whirling sword of fire to block the entrance back to the Garden.

The Garden of Eden is out there somewhere, hidden from our view. If we try to make our way back to the Garden, by seeking a life of child-like innocence and pure pleasure, we’re met at the gate by menacing angels and we risk being cut down by a flaming sword. Hurricane Katrina and Hurricane Rita remind us very powerfully that there’s more to life that comfort. These hurricanes have changed our lives. They have awakened us to harsh realities. Like Adam and Eve before us, we are officially out of the garden. Welcome to life outside the Garden of Eden.

Ever since that first moment of exile in the Bible, we’ve been trying to get back to the Garden of Eden. In contemporary society, we often define our success by how close we come to an effortless life of luxury. That’s the American Dream, to make a “comfortable” living in a comfortable home. All of our instincts crave the security of the Garden of Eden. We crave order and control. We create our own artificial Gardens of Eden. But sooner or later, we know in our hearts, that just like in the story of Adam and Eve, we all get banished from our Gardens.

Our modern world is filled with dramatic advancements in science and technology. In our logical, rational world, God and religion have fallen by the wayside. We don’t seem to need God for anything anymore. The impact of modern convenience blinds us with the illusion of mastery and deceives us with the sensation of contentment. The world still functions now as it always has, even in our most ancient past. The world is still dangerous and wild—unknowable and enigmatic. The powers of nature and spirit still reign supreme.

Having just moved to Texas, it’s no wonder that the Gulf region is such a religious place. It’s no wonder that there are so many churches and Synagogues up and down Bellaire and Holcomb. Living on the Gulf coast, we receive reminders of the harsh realities of God’s world. We receive reminders about the fleeting nature of comfort and security. We receive reminders that we’re living in God’s world.

I just started reading James Michener’s book about Texas, called “Texas.” A story is told about a rabbi of a congregation. After a long career in the rabbinate, he finally decides that it’s time to retire. At his retirement banquet he turns to the president of the congregation and says, “Harvey, I’m looking forward to retiring for lots of reasons, but most of all, because I’m finally gonna to be able to finish my book.” The president turns to him and says, “Rabbi, I had no idea you were writing a book.” The Rabbi replies, “Who said anything about writing a book? I’m finally going to be able to finish reading my book!”

I’m learning that Texas has a harsh environment and that makes life more real. It helps us feel God’s awesome presence.

When we live our lives in our synthetic Gardens, we don’t seem to need God. We only acknowledge the Divine when our Garden is turned upside down—in times of extreme disequilibrium—both in good times and in bad. When inexplicable disaster strikes, we naturally turn to our Creator. We experience hurricanes, terrorist attacks. A bus bomb in Israel. We try to react with logical responses. We build surveillance equipment and create governmental departments. But, ultimately, we can’t control the world. We are still at the mercy of meteorological forces beyond our control. We are still at the mercy of our natural world. And so, we ultimately turn to God. And it is in this moment—in this turning to God—that we find ourselves living life outside the Garden. Life becomes real, unedited, and whole.

So long as we’re living our lives as if we’re still longing for a Garden of luxury, we’re doomed to falling short of our eternal values and our noble goals. We’ve just been pushed out of the Garden by the hurricanes, and it’s time we live our lives in the real world—the messy, complex, and wondrous world that’s outside the Garden of Eden.

A contemporary midrashic spin on the story of the Garden of Eden.

“Adam and Eve lived together outside, east of Eden, tilling the earth and raising children, and struggling to stay alive. After the years of struggle, when their children were grown, they decided to travel and see the world. They journeyed from one corner of the world to the other. In the course of their travels, wandering from place to place, they rediscovered the entrance to the Garden of Eden. It was now guarded by two angels and a flaming sword. They were frightened and they began to flee when suddenly God spoke to them:

‘Adam, you have lived in exile for many, many years. Your punishment is now complete. You may return now to the paradise of your Garden.’

And suddenly the angels disappeared and the flaming, revolving sword slowed down, fell to the ground, and vanished. The entrance to the Garden was clear. Its comfort beckoned. And God said, ‘Come in, Adam. Come in, Eve. Your lives of struggle are over.’

‘Wait,’ Adam replied, ‘You know, it has been so many years. Remind me, God, what’s it like in the Garden?’

‘The Garden is paradise!’ God responded. ‘In the Garden there is no work. Every living thing heeds your command. You are in total control. You never need to struggle or toil or work again. In the Garden there is no pain, no suffering, no illness, no disaster. In the Garden there is no death. Day after day, life goes on forever. Come Adam, come back to the Garden!’

Adam listened to God’s words—no work, no struggle, no pain, no illness, no death. An endless life of ease. And then he turned and looked at Eve. He looked at the woman with whom he had struggled to make a life, to take bread from the earth, to raise children, to build a home. He thought of the many tragedies they had overcome and the joys they had cherished. And Adam shook his head, ‘No, thank you. Life in the Garden, is not for me anymore ... Come on Eve, let’s go home.’ And Adam and Eve turned their backs on Paradise and walked home together.”

Life on the outside is unpredictable and volatile. Life on the outside is difficult and painful. But, a life of true satisfaction isn’t going to be easy and comfortable. A life of true satisfaction isn’t going to be orderly and logical. A successful life of true satisfaction will contain both joy and suffering, both comfort and ache, both disaster and recovery.

On this day, we reflect on the past year and we set our goals for the year ahead. I turn to you and say, “Let’s go home, together.” Let’s choose to do what we know is right. Let’s turn our backs on the illusion of Paradise. Let’s not measure our success by the level of comfort we achieve. Allow the Hurricanes to change our lives. It’s time to reach out to one another with kindness and compassion. The Hurricanes have already changed our lives.

Brith Shalom has responded to the need with appropriate intensity and caring. We have provided the evacuees with tens of thousands of hygiene bags, clothing and canned goods. We have provided the Jewish evacuees with a warm embrace from our community, we hosted many evacuees for a beautiful Shabbat dinner and we have provided them with pastoral care and guidance. I’ve hand delivered several installments of your checks to the Federation and it has felt incredible to represent Brith Shalom in this effort. We have naturally and gracefully risen to this occasion and responded to those in need. We have responded to the immediate challenges, and on this Rosh Hashana I pray we respond to the long term challenges just as well. I pray that we reprioritize our lives, and recognize that we live life outside the garden, a life of struggle and response, conflict and striving. If you want a life of comfort and leisure, go back to the garden. I pray that we allow the Category 5 hurricane to change our lives in measure to its severity. I hereby declare this Rosh Hashana a Category 5 Rosh Hashana.

Let us measure our lives by the way we respond to challenge.

Let us measure our lives by the honor we bring to ourselves and our community.

Let us measure our lives by the acts of loving-kindness we perform each day.

Let us measure our lives by the strength of our relationships.

Let us measure our lives by the love we have in our hearts.

Blessed are you, Adonai, our Creator, for in Your Goodness, You have given us the gift of life. Life outside the Garden—a life filled with both darkness and light, both tragedy and healing. A life that we are so blessed to live in this glorious community called Brith Shalom. And together let us all say: Amen.

© Ranon Teller 2005

Sermon Classification: 111C