It was forty years ago today, Yom Kippur 5726, corresponding to October , 1965, that Sandy Koufax made Baseball history and became the quintessential American Jewish Hero by refusing to pitch in the opening game of the World Series.
Most every Jew in America over the age of 10 knows that story. Many recall how the Los Angeles Dodgers still went on to victory with Koufax pitching four hit and three hit shutouts in games five and seven, more than redeeming himself for his absence in game 1. Koufax was undeniably the best pitcher in baseball at the time, one of the best the game had ever seen. His teammate, Don Drysdale, himself a superstar as well, started the game instead. Drysdale was pummeled, and was pulled from the game in the third inning. Baseball lore has it that he turned to Dodger manager Walter Alston and said, "I'll bet that right now, you wish I was Jewish, too."
As many as are familiar with the story, few people remember against whom the Dodgers were playing. The answer is: the Minnesota Twins, in the Twin Cities.
Now, most of you know that Rabbi Brown grew up as a member of, and I served as assistant rabbi of Temple Israel in Minneapolis. It is a very large congregation, around two thousand households, and even though the temple has a very large sanctuary, they need to hold not two but three services on Erev Rosh Hashanah and Kol Nidre - at 5 PM, 7 PM, and 9 PM. Neither Rabbi Brown or I were around there at the time, but Rabbi Max Shapiro, my senior colleague at Temple Israel, was already the rabbi of that congregation in 1965, and loves to tell the story of the excitement that filled the Temple that night. Everyone knew that Koufax was in town and observing Yom Kippur. They all knew that he would be worshipping at Temple Israel, the largest and grandest synagogue in the metropolitan area. And sure enough, Rabbi Shapiro reports, there were people who spotted him at the 5 o'clock service. There were others who saw him at the 7 o'clock service. And there were those who spoke to him at the 9 o'clock service.
All of this fascinated Rabbi Shapiro, who reported that Koufax was actually across the river at Temple of Aaron, a conservative congregation in St. Paul. According to Jane Leavy, who wrote a best selling biography of Koufax, he spent the day in his hotel room. Both might be true - he might have spent the evening in shul, and the day in his hotel room, or his appearance at Temple of Aaron might have been one more bit of folklore, but there is no disputing where he was not, and what he was not doing, that day. It is no surprise that there were many people who wanted, in some small way, to be part of that moment, to have at least touched it, to have stood with him in the synagogue on Yom Kippur, proudly declaring their Jewish selves, as well.
In spite of his decision - some might say because of it - the Dodgers won the World Series, in part behind the brilliant pitching of Koufax in two other games, and Sandy Koufax became a Jewish hero for our time.
There were other Jewish baseball players who faced the same dilemma before Koufax did. Some of them made the same decision, others did not. The most famous before him was Hank Greenberg, whose team, the Detroit Tigers, was fighting to get into the World Series, and received dispensation from an unidentified rabbi based on what turned out to be a flawed reading of the Talmudic text. Greenberg played on Rosh Hashanah, and was the hero of the game. By the time Yom Kippur came around, it was still the regular season, but the Tigers were well ensconced in first place, and his absence was not nearly as significant as it might have otherwise been. It was noted in the press, especially the local Detroit press, but never registered the same magnitude as Koufax' decision.
If you read enough articles about Sandy Koufax and his decision not to pitch on Yom Kippur, you will find some, including some in the Jewish press, that refer to him as an observant Jew. That is true, if your definition of observant is refusing to pitch on Yom Kippur. Otherwise, there is no evidence that Koufax was in any meaningful way observant. He regularly played on Shabbat, and at least once on the second day of Rosh Hashanah. There is no record that suggests that he observed any of the other Jewish holidays, or that he kept kosher.
Still, his decision not to pitch that day, forty years ago continues to inspire others to be true to their Jewish selves. For that reason, Koufax is an American Jewish hero, even if he is not an American Jewish role model.
There were others who chose not to play Yom Kippur over the years, and still others who did play. One of those who decided to play on Yom Kippur, was a 1990's backup player on a team that had already been eliminated from the playoffs, who said: "It's not like I'm Sandy Koufax. I don't have that kind of leverage. I hope God forgives me."
Whether or not God forgives him is between him and God. I need to spend this day judging myself, not others, though I must admit that is tempting to sit in judgment of that man and scoff at his unwillingness to assert himself. But I will tell you this: if he was honest with himself, he would know the answer. If he believed that it was wrong for him to play on Yom Kippur then it was wrong, not because anyone else made that judgment, but because he did. When the opportunity came to stand up for what he believed in, he sat right back down.
But - his statement actually challenges the notion that Koufax was such a hero after all. If he was able to make the decision not to play with relative impunity, how heroic a decision was it? Would it not have been more heroic for the lesser known, more vulnerable player to refuse to play?
Is that not what being a hero is all about - doing what you believe is right, despite the consequences? Is that not what this day is about - challenging us to commit to being our better selves?
In order to understand the Jewish notion of what a hero is, you need to understand two terms: Yetzer Ha-tov and Yetzer Ha-ra, literally, the urge to good and the urge to evil - but it is more complex and sophisticated than it sounds. The rabbis used the term to describe the tension between ambition and altruism, between self-promotion and self-sacrifice. The Yetzer Ha-Ra is not bad, and is every bit as necessary as the Yetzer Ha-tov. The Midrash (Genesis Rabbah 9:7) teaches: "If not for the Yetzer Ha-ra, no one would build a house, marry, have children, nor engage in trade." The Talmud (Yoma 69b) tells of how one time, the Yetzer Ha-ra was captured, and kept imprisoned for three days time - during which time all chickens stopped laying eggs, for sexual desire had disappeared from the world. They had no choice but to release it.
(Note: this sermon was offered at two different services. The material in brackets was included one time and not the other).
[An effective, if somewhat simplistic dramatic presentation of this concept found its way into popular culture some years back, in the television show Star Trek. In an early episode a transporter malfunction splits Captain Kirk in two. Kirk No. 1 is a wild, irrational brute - pure Yetzer Ha-Ra. Kirk No. 2 is gentle and compassionate, pure Yetzer Ha-Tov. He is presumed to be the real captain, until the crew notices he is unable to make any kind of decision, and appears to be functionally paralyzed. In the end, the two halves re re-joined, and we come to appreciate that ambition and will and drive are not necessarily so bad, after all. It is probably no mere coincidence that Star Trek's creative team was largely, if not exclusively, Jewish.]
Cast as a matter of selflessness versus selfishness, we discover that it the proper balance between the two that gives our lives meaning. In contrasting Biblical heroes to those of classical literature, Rabbi Shmuely Boteach demonstrates how that idea is fundamental to Judaism:
"Whereas the classical hero advances in battle to defeat his enemy, the Biblical hero retreats from conflict with his fellow man. Whereas the classical hero battles monsters and dragons, the biblical hero battles his own inner demons. Whereas the classical hero seeks to become 'a god,' the biblical hero teaches all men to know the one true G-d. ……….…. Religion replaced honor with humility, hatred with harmony, mortal conquest with moral courage, and a passion for publicity with a desire for the divine countenance. In the process a new definition of heroism was born. Our ancient Rabbis proclaimed, 'Who is a hero? He who conquers his own selfish inclination.'"
Conquers it, not eliminates it. For all of their heroics, our biblical ancestors were utterly human, and had the feet of clay to prove it. Abraham was prepared to sacrifice his son - or at least came close enough to cause him permanent trauma. Jacob refused to give his starving brother a lousy bowl of porridge, and deceived his own aged and blind father in order to finagle a blessing out of him. David sent a man into battle with the intention of getting him killed so that he could marry his widow. If they can be heroes, so can we.
[But what kind of hero?
Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik was the towering figure of Orthodox Judaism of the twentieth century. His seminal essay, "Lonely Man of Faith", is widely considered to be one of the most eloquent modern explications of what it means to live as a person with religious faith and conviction in a secular world. He understands that heroism entails loneliness, but is essential to a person of faith: "Lonely man is free; social man is bound by many rules and ordinances. God willed man to be free. Man is required, from time to time, to defy the world ..... Only lonely man is capable of casting off the harness of bondage to society..... The 'levado'-awareness (the awareness of standing alone) is the root of heroic defiance. Heroism is the central category in practical Judaism. The Torah wanted the Jew to live heroically, to rebuke, reproach, condemn, whenever society is wrong and unfair. The 'levado' gives the Jew the heroic arrogance which makes it possible for him to be different…...Lonely man is a courageous man; he is a protester; he fears nobody; whereas social man is a compromiser, a peacemaker, and at times a coward. At first man had to be created 'levado,' alone; for otherwise he would have lacked the courage or the heroic quality to stand up and to protest, to act like Abraham, who took the axe and shattered the idols which his own father had manufactured."]
Maybe that is why Sandy Koufax is such a significant Jewish hero. If you read about his life, everyone who knew him had warm and positive things to say about him, but it is nearly impossible to get a picture of the man's personality. By all accounts, he was genuinely unconcerned with what others thought about him. [He was, especially on that glorious day forty years ago, an example of what it meant to be a "levado", a lonely man, who cast off that harness of bondage of society, and defied the world.]
His heroism was public enough for all of us to know, but small enough for all of us to emulate. He did not smash his father's idols, or take on a Philistine giant. He did not risk his life by hiding families from the Nazis. He did not parachute behind enemy lines. He did not smuggle refugee children across British blockades into the land of Israel. He did not run into a burning building without thought about his own safety. He did something that all of us can do: he simply said, I am a Jew, and this is something that a Jew does. And we are all capable of being that kind of hero.
Ten years before Koufax refused to pitch on Yom Kippur, Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on the bus home from work to a white man - a small gesture that sparked the modern civil rights movement. And even smaller gestures, the kind available to all of us, can make a remarkable difference. Bishop Desmond Tutu was once asked to name a childhood experience that empowered him to work for social justice. He recalled an incident in which, as a youngster, he saw a white man tip his hat to a black woman. The woman, he noted, was his mother, and the man an Episcopal bishop. Sometimes the smallest of gestures can prove heroic.
So on this day of days, I have three questions for you.
1) Would Sandy Koufax have been just as much of a Jewish hero had his team lost the World Series? Might he have been an even bigger hero?
2) Who is your realistic Jewish hero - someone whose heroism is within your reach? Whose behavior would you choose to emulate?
3) And most of all: What are you prepared to do this year to be a Jewish hero, and what are you prepared to risk? Refuse to go on a business trip that would make you miss Seder, even if it meant the potential loss of a client? Take the whole day off on Rosh Hashanah, no matter what deadlines are looming? Come to Yizkor services on Passover even if it means taking a personal day or losing a day's worth of income? Insist that your child's public school not put up a Christmas tree and make the kids learn songs that speak of Jesus as the Messiah, knowing that it may well alienate some of the other parents, school administration, and even your child's schoolmates? Turn down an invitation to a party on a Friday night, especially from another Jew, simply because it is Shabbat?
There are no words to describe the challenge before us more eloquent than the ones we read from Torah a short while ago:
"It is not in heaven, that you should say, Who shall go up for us to heaven, and bring it to us, that we may hear it, and do it? Nor is it beyond the sea, that you should say, Who shall go over the sea for us, and bring it to us, that we may hear it, and do it? But the thing is very near to you, in your mouth, and in your heart, that you may do it."
Baruch Atah Adonai, ozer Yisrael b'g'vurah - Blessed are you, Adonai, sovereign of the universe, who girds Israel with the might to be heroic.