Sermons

My name is Israel Cawley and I am a gender-expansive individual who goes by they/them pronouns. When asked to write the d’var torah for today’s service, panic set in - what do I write about? I haven’t been a member of this community for that long - what do I possibly have to offer? As I reflected on the themes of Rosh Hoshanah, however, I began to connect the meaning of this holiday with the journey of my own unfolding and thought - perhaps that’s a story worth sharing with all of you. As we all know, Rosh Hashanah is a time of transformation, renewal, reflection and reinvention. It can be a time to embrace and even celebrate one’s full authentic self and identity too - something I have been trying to do my whole life. I hope that in sharing a little bit about my own journey, that it might inspire you, both during this season and always - to continually love yourself into being.

I know that traditionally, when we think about Teshuvah, we think about seeking forgiveness from G?d as well as the people we have harmed. In this season of my life, however, I have begun to wrestle with Teshuvah as something that includes our relationship with ourselves. As I’ve been reflecting on my own journey of coming into my authentic self, I have come to see it as an ongoing process of repentance and self-improvement that continues to this day. It has been both a personal and spiritual journey, through which I have continually repaired my relationships, not only with G?d/the universe and others, but with myself. 

For those of you who don’t know, I am transgender; I was assigned female at birth and “came out” multiple times over the course of my teenage and young adult life. First, as a lesbian in middle school; then as a transgender man in high school; then as omnisexual (meaning I am attracted to people of all genders); and most recently as non-binary meaning that I don’t identify as male or female. I like to use the term genderqueer to describe myself more accurately. I wish I could say that I came to these realizations easily and pain free, but I can’t. Starting all the way back in middle school I struggled with mental illness as I attempted to navigate my sexual orientation and gender expression/identity, amidst the opinions of many others, family and friends alike. It took many years of medication, therapy, effective communication, prayer, journaling and time with myself, to come to a place of self-acceptance and love. I spent many years trying to fill the void with romantic partners and shallow friendships, pushing against my parents and denying myself the space for honest and open self-exploration. I encountered many therapists who did not know how to support me, wrestled with internalized shame around identifying as queer and many times found myself faced with my own mortality. 

This journey of coming into myself as a queer person was coupled with my becoming as a spiritual person. I’d be remiss to deny the pain and trauma of being raised Catholic within a community that called queerness, and therefore me, sinful - simply for being who I was. I came to resent a conditionally loving god and after being forced to follow through with Confirmation, I spent the next eight years raging against G?d, my family and Christianity. It started with anger towards G?d for not loving me for being gay, however, when I realized I was transgender it made things even worse. I found myself thinking - not only does G?d hate me, G?d deliberately put me in this body to suffer. It felt like a sick joke. Loving myself felt impossible; if G?d couldn’t love me, how could I love myself? It quickly became clear that following through with my medical transition, necessitated taking G?d out of the equation. So I did. It saved my life. 

Choosing myself was one of the most terrifying and liberating things I have ever done. Accepting myself as transgender was a radical act of self love. So much of my life has been spent pushing against familial, societal and religious norms that attempted to keep me from existing fully and freely as myself. It took years of soul searching, facing internalized transphobia, releasing societal narratives that no longer served me, letting go of relationships with people I loved, and so much more. The pain was staggering at times, so much so, that I wasn’t sure I would make it out of that process alive. It became increasingly clear to me that it was life or death, and I chose life.

Choosing to move forward with hormone therapy and surgery was life-giving, but with it came the grief of releasing my “old life;” I was no longer the person who resonated with my birth name and as odd as it may sound, I mourned the loss of her. I remember early on, discerning whether or not to recreate my past, so that no one could tell I had been AFAB. Tell them I played baseball instead of softball. Tell them I love professional sports, even though I don’t. How do I talk about the nuance of my crushes and heartbreaks? My journey through self discovery? Do I really want to be perceived as a straight cisgender man? So many questions, all while trying to navigate painful relationships, mental health crises, and a dual undergraduate degree. 

As I began to recognize myself in the mirror, however, it became clear that I had made the right decision. Self love became easier, and with it, came an openness to reconnecting with my spirituality. Eastern faith traditions opened my heart to the possibility that G?d is unconditionally loving and that I am worthy of that love. A local Unitarian Universalist congregation was the first religious community to accept me wholly as I am, affirming that I am indeed loveable, and worthy of respect and dignity. This opened my heart to the possibility of finding healing, connection and community within the United Church of Christ. I was on the ordination track when I realized that the “come to Jesus” moment I had been seeking would never come. I remember feeling completely abandoned by G?d. Imagining a future in any spiritual community felt impossible, until during yet another existential crisis, I was encouraged to more deeply explore Judaism. 

I reached out to Rabbi Robin here at TBJ and began attending Shabbat services on Friday evenings. I immediately resonated with the Hebrew language, the prayers, the melodies, the rituals, the culture. Everything felt like it was finally falling into place. I finalized my journey at the mikveh on April 14, 2022, a day before my 34th birthday - I specifically chose April 14 as a metaphor that my Jewishness was inherent - it preceded my birth, just as my gender identity and sexual orientation had. There is something to be said about this kind of inner knowing. 

Over and over again, I have wrestled with it all, as we all do. It’s one of the reasons I love my name so much - Israel - one who wrestles with G?d. It came to me during meditation. Oddly enough, the name I had chosen for myself before Israel was Jakob. As you might imagine, Genesis 32:28 holds an especially deep meaning for me: “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with beings, divine and human, and prevailed.” I have prevailed. And still, I turn and return - in a constant cycle of transformation, renewal, reflection and reinvention. It is never done.

Rosh Hashanah invites us all to reflect on this process of perpetual becoming. Yes, we are importantly called to ask - How have I lived my life and where did I fall short? How can I make amends with G?d, my community, with the world? Where have I missed the mark? How might I change moving forward? In what ways am I privileged? How have I failed to use that privilege? How can I live into new ways of uplifting the voices of and advocate for those on the margins? All of these questions are profound. And, I believe we are also called to ask - who am I? What is my truth and how do I make amends with myself for not aligning with that truth more fully?

When considering how to love ourselves more fully and live into our truth, we encounter new questions. 

For instance, how do you know when you are most aligned with the essence of your being? How does it feel emotionally, physically, mentally and spiritually? What does it mean for you to live authentically? How does it impact your relationships? Your professional life? Your orientation to the world around you? What does forgiving yourself and returning to wholeness look like for you in this season? And how do we participate in repairing our world, so that it too, can return to wholeness? It’s not about perfection. It’s about living in the moment and making our best informed decisions based on what we know. Teshuvah means returning to who we already are - inherently good, made in the image of the divine, b’tzelem elohim. As such, we are responsible to act with compassion, justice and mercy, affirming everyone’s worthiness of love, dignity and respect. Returning to this essence is not something we can do alone. We are perpetually on a journey of coming home to ourselves, and we need others who journey alongside us and affirm who we truly are. We must also affirm the inherent worth and dignity of others. We must advocate for their right, not only to be who they are, but to have safety, clean drinking water, shelter, food to eat, clothing, healthcare, education, love and belonging. Each year, we recommit to partnering with G?d to care for each other and creation. What are you committing or recommitting yourself to this year? How might you love others more fully? How might you love yourself more fully? 

In the midst of some of our darkest moments, it can be difficult to imagine what self love means or looks like. Sometimes the most radical form of self love is loving yourself even and especially when it is unclear what the future holds. Choosing life in spite of evidence that might otherwise convince you that all is lost, is the most revolutionary thing you can do. A way forward is not always clear, but we can be comforted in knowing that there is a season for everything. Ushering in new seasons of our lives is as natural as winter, spring, summer and fall. Life’s transitions are constantly pointing us in new directions - whether it be forgiving others, admitting mistakes and seeking forgiveness, claiming a new identity, starting a family or a new job, or trying to change what no longer serves us/our relationships. Just as gardeners till the soil in preparation for new crops to grow, removing weeds, pulling out rocks and adding nutrients to enrich the soil, we too must tend to the soil of our lives. We cannot control the weather of our lives or how what we plant will grow, but we can infuse each moment with intention and love. We are perfectly imperfect, perpetually on a journey of creativity and reinvention. Life is not so much about our destinations as the journeys that we find ourselves on. The ways in which we evolve are rarely linear, nor are our identities static. We are constantly in motion. Which is why it is imperative for us to pause, to rest, to reflect. The only thing we know for certain is that we die. So, beloved community, as poet Mary Oliver so poignantly asks, “tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Because when I think about how the world we know evolved into being, I stand in awe and wonder at the interconnectedness of it all. The creation of our solar system, the evolution of organic matter, the life that emerged. All of it leading to this moment, a moment pregnant with infinite possibility, both individually and collectively. Each of us is a living miracle - stewards of eternity, of change and rebirth. Each of our individual and collective journeys, in all their complex twists and turns, have brought us all here to TBJ this morning. To remember, to reflect, to atone, to forgive, to remember who we are and who we are becoming. I cannot imagine a better community, with whom to return to wholeness together. A community committed to turning and returning, again and again, to love.

I leave us with this poem by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat entitled “anew”:

Here’s the thing: the year begins anew
even in the worst of times. The leaves
will turn and fall and then they’ll grow again.
And sometimes we’re afraid, and we can’t know
what choice to make to keep anyone safe.
Uncertainty’s a bear. All we can do
is seek out sweetness everywhere we may
and work to fix what brokenness we find.
The good news is we’re not in this alone.
We’ll help each other hope when light seems dim
and lift the sparks that darker days reveal.
We’ll love each other fiercely: in the end
there is no greater work that we can do.
We who survive will help each other heal.

May it be so and may we all be inscribed in the Book of Life, for a sweet and wonderful year!