Rabbi Mosbacher

Erev Rosh Hashanah 5769

“What Lincoln can teach us now”

In May 1863, Father Abraham came to the rescue of the Jewish people. At least, that’s how the Jews of the Confederate South saw it. It seems that the great general, Ulysses S. Grant, was struggling to stop peddlers from illegally profiteering in cotton in areas penetrated by Union armies. In a misguided effort to address the problem, Grant had issued an order expelling QUOTE “the Jews, as a class,” from his department. The discriminatory order, which contained no provision for individual hearings or trials, forced all Jewish people to depart within twenty-four hours, leaving horses, carriages, and other valuables behind.

A delegation of Jewish leaders approached Lincoln concerning the matter, and he responded with a biblical allusion: “And so the children of Israel were driven from the happy land of Canaan ?” The delegation leader answered: “Yes, and that is why we have come unto Father Abraham’s bosom, asking protection.” Lincoln replied quickly: “And this protection they shall have at once.” He took his pen and wrote a note to his Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton, immediately rescinding  the order. The secretary reluctantly complied after assuring Grant that QUOTE “the President has no objection to your expelling traitors and peddlers, which, I suppose, was the object of your order; but, as it, in terms, proscribed an entire class, some of whom are fighting in our ranks, the President deemed it necessary to revoke it.” (pp. 528-9)

There are a few books I distinctly remember reading over and over again as a young boy— none more than one entitled “Abe Lincoln Grows Up,” by Carl Sandburg. Being myself a child of Illinois , Abe Lincoln was probably my earliest hero. The Sandburg book depicted the folksy Lincoln , with humble beginnings, minimal education largely acquired on his own, achieving greatness against all odds. In recent years, I have read and re-read a slightly longer book on Lincoln —presidential historian Doris Kearns Goodwin’s “Team of Rivals.” From that reading, and hearing Goodwin speak at a conference this past spring, I have gleaned some very Jewish lessons from the way Lincoln lived, worked, and died, that I think can speak to us on these High Holidays and, I humbly submit, could be valuable lessons for either major party presidential candidate as well.

As we approach the 200^th anniversary of the birth of Abraham Lincoln this coming February, his life story teaches us that we need to be able to listen to disparate voices in our lives; and that we if we do, we have the opportunity to leave a legacy of integrity worth remembering.

Imagine for a moment, a John McCain administration in which the Cabinet included: Mitt Romney, Ron Paul, Mike Huckabee, Rudolph Giuliani, Bill Richardson, Evan Bayh, and Hillary Clinton. Or, a Barack Obama administration, with a cabinet consisting of Mike Gravelle, Dennis Kucinich, General Wesley Clark, Bill Frist, Newt Gingrich, Chuck Hagel, and, of course, Hillary Clinton.

Now I understand that there is no actual universe in which either of these Cabinet lineups will become a reality. There are too many egos—too much rivalry--in either of those sets of personalities, who disagree fundamentally about too many important issues. Any president who would even consider assembling such a cabinet must either be crazy or revel in family squabbles.

The fact is, however, that either of those groups of administration officials, as unlikely as they might seem, would probably be tame in comparison, when we look at the bringing together of William Henry Seward, Salmon P. Chase, Edwin M. Stanton, Edward Bates, Montgomery Blair, Gideon Welles, and Norman Judd-the key players in the administration of our 16th president. Yes, indeed, Abe Lincoln invited and convinced the three men who he had defeated for the Republican nomination for President to serve in his wartime administration, and also four Democrats as well. At a time when our country was more divided than it had ever been, President Lincoln, in his visionary leadership, saw that bringing together people of a wide range of views into his camp was, despite the advice of close advisers and party officials, the best way, the best hope for, for a nation about to tear itself apart.

From Lincoln ’s example, we can learn of the need to be able to hear, not discount or drown out, disparate voices in our lives. That isn’t to say that listening to those varied opinions, whether you’re President of the United States or just a Jew in the pew on the Holidays, means that one either loses control of your decision making process, or that one abrogates one’s responsibility for the decision which emerges.  

As deliberations on the final shape of Lincoln ’s cabinet emerged, an advisor named Thurlow Weed observed that the inclusion of all of the particular men that Lincoln had chosen to serve would give the Democrats a majority in the Cabinet, slighting the former members of the Whig party who made up the major portion of the brand new Republican party. “You seem to forget,” Lincoln replied, “that I expect to be there; and counting me as one, you see how nicely the cabinet would be balanced and ballasted.”

Weed returned to his home in Albany , New York convinced that Lincoln was, as he said, “capable in the largest sense of the term…. He sees all who go there, hears all they have to say, talks freely with everybody, reads whatever is written to him, but ultimately thinks… for himself.”

In fact, Lincoln ’s first decision was one of great courage and self-reliance. Each of his rivals was sure to feel that the wrong man had been elected. A less confident President might have surrounded himself with personal supporters who would never question his authority. Lincoln’s predecessor, James Buchanan, had filled his cabinet with men who thought as he did, believing that a president “who tried to conciliate opposing elements by placing determined agents of each in his official family would find that he had simply strengthened discord, and had deepened party divisions.” While it was possible that his team of rivals would devour one another, Lincoln determined that “he must risk the dangers of faction to overcome the dangers of rebellion.”

Later, when asked by a reporter why he had chosen a cabinet which included his chief rivals for the nomination, Lincoln ’s answer was simple, straightforward, and shrewd. “We needed the strongest men of the party in the Cabinet…. [he said]…I had looked the party over and concluded that these were the very strongest men; I had no right to deprive the country of their services.” The team of rivals worked; and each one did historically become very good at their jobs! Secretary of State Seward helped avoid war with England ; Treasury Sec. Chase helped keep the North financially afloat while the South struggled to keep it’s economic structure going; Edwin Stanton is considered one of the great war secretaries of all time.

Alone among his cabinet, Lincoln never truly convinced Salomon Chase that he was fit to be president; as treasury secretary, Chase bad-mouthed Lincoln left and right; he even ran against him for the Republican nomination in 1864. Remarkably, even after that, Lincoln nominated Chase to be Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. When supporters of other candidates reminded the president of Chase’s myriad of intrigues against him, Lincoln responded, “Now, I know meaner things about Governor Chase than any of those men can tell me,” but “we have stood together in the time of trial, and I should despise myself if I allowed personal differences to affect my judgment of his fitness for the office.” He later confided to a friend that he “would rather have swallowed a buckhorn chair than to have nominated Chase,” but that he was the best man for the emancipated slaves. Would that the rest of us, as well as our political aspirants, could see past the blindness that prevents us from seeing the truths our rivals can show us.

Despite the fact that the members of his cabinet largely detested each other, also true was the fact that, for the most part, they could all get along with Lincoln . And, in the end, they collectively made braver, bolder, better decisions than any of them could possibly have made on their own.

Lincoln ’s example of openness resounds as strongly today for us as they ever did. We as individuals all make choices as to the people we surround ourselves with, and the kinds of counsel and advice we are consequently exposed to. It can certainly seem easier, when we face a conundrum in our lives, to ask only people who will reaffirm our own inclinations. Consulting only yes-men or yes-women, whether you’re a mom, a dad, a doctor, a lawyer, a senator or a president, sure streamlines the decision making process. In making controversial decisions, it’s always easier in the short term to ask people who will only tell you that you’re great, that you’re always right, that they’ll agree with you no matter what. Having colleagues and friends who always defer to your judgment makes book-groups, mah-johng games, staff meetings, and congressional hearings run smoothly and swiftly. Having incongruent opinions in a difficult conversation of any sort makes things messy and protracted; in the end, it might entail seeing the situation in a more nuanced way—it might entail painful compromise and negotiation.

On the other hand, if we or our leaders surround ourselves with people who only tell us what we want to hear, or with whom we are in ideological lock-step, it hardly guarantees that we’ll make the best, most informed choices. And if we face opposition to our conclusion, having invited only one side of the family or one side of the political aisle to share how they see things, it makes it harder to defend and justify the decision itself, against those who might disagree.

If we are at once willing to listen to disparate voices, while at the same time, still own responsibility for the judgments we need to make, we will, I think, often come to more thorough, better decisions.

During these days of awe, Abraham Lincoln’s example challenges us and our leaders to think even more carefully about how we make the judgments we do. If Lincoln could win a war and emancipate the slaves with a cabinet made of 4 Democrats and 4 Republicans, perhaps there’s hope for all of us to make change in our own lives, and hope for the Red and Blue States of America—if we are open to listening to more than our own conscience.

But how hard it is to keep our moral compass true. We sit here on this night, reflecting on the year now past, thinking about when we’ve succeeded, and when we have fallen short of our values. Our desire for success, material things, achievement, and recognition, none of which are bad in and of themselves, can, at times, leave us trampling on other values—the value of family and friends, of our own health and well-being, of our religious commitment to repairing the world. These values can easily get lost in the shuffle when they come up against our desire for success or esteem or election to high office.

It is remarkable how often Abraham Lincoln put his values in front of his own ambition, and still came out on top-a characteristic which set him apart from his rivals. The most extraordinary illustration of this undying commitment to his ideals takes us back to 1855, when, having won a seat in the Illinois state assembly, Lincoln declared himself a candidate for the U.S. Senate as a member of the Whig party, precursor to the Republican Party. At the time, of course, it was the members of the state legislature who chose which person would serve as senator, and Lincoln 's key opponents for the nomination were a proslavery Democrat, James Shields, and an anti-slavery Democrat, Lyman Trumbull. Needing to reach a majority of 51 votes in the legislature, Lincoln received 45 in the first ballot against 41 for Shields, with five anti-slavery Democratic votes going for Trumbull , led by Norman Judd of Chicago . In subsequent ballots Lincoln reached a high point of 47 votes, only four shy of victory. Nonetheless the little Trumbull coalition refused to budge, denying Lincoln the necessary majority. Finally, after nine ballots, Lincoln concluded that unless his supporters shifted to Trumbull , the proslavery Democrats would choose the next senator.

Unwilling to sacrifice all the hard work of the anti-slavery coalition, Lincoln advised his floor manager, Stephen Logan, to drop him for Trumbull . Logan refused at first, protesting the injustice of the candidate with the much larger vote giving in to the candidate with the smaller one. Lincoln was adamant, insisting that if his name remained on the ballot, QUOTE "you will lose both Trumbull and myself, and I think the cause in this case is to be preferred to men."

Obeying his directions, Lincoln 's supporters switched their votes to Trumbull , giving him the 51 votes needed for victory. Lincoln 's friends were inconsolable, believing that this was “perhaps his last chance for that high position.”

In the end, Lincoln 's magnanimity served him well. While his rivals Seward and Chase would lose friends in victory during their lives- Lincoln , in defeat, gained friends. Neither Trumbull nor Judd would ever forget Lincoln 's generous behavior. Indeed, both men would assist him in his bid for the U.S. Senate in 1858, and Judd would play a critical role in his run for the presidency in 1860.

Lincoln was hardly perfect; he had his own foibles and demons which haunted him his entire life. But he nearly always sought, and usually succeeded, in keeping his values as the beacon guiding him throughout the darkest days and nights. Coming as he did from humble beginnings; attaining as he did great power and respect, he still maintained a sense of perspective and commitment to the values he learned from his family and his upbringing. Rather than sacrificing his anti-slavery principles when faced with difficult choices, he leaned heavily on that foundation, and it kept him rooted; it kept his moral compass true even when circumstances and expedience could have easily led him off-course.

For presidential candidates and for the rest of us, having been given free will by God, we face daily challenges to our most highly cherished ideals. As the mahzor in our hands reminds us, our sins are an alphabet of woe. From arrogance to xenophobia and every letter in between, we must decide day to day, even moment to moment, between long-held principles and unexpected circumstance. Will we be flip-floppers, or will we maintain our principles in the face of unpopularity? Will we compromise our ethics and ideals at every opportunity, or will we stick to what we know is right, even when doing what is right is more difficult?

While Abraham Lincoln, like perhaps some of us here tonight,  may have questioned the higher force that shaped human ends, "as he became involved in matters of the gravest importance," his friend Leonard Sweatt observed, "a feeling of religious reverence, and belief in God-his justice and overruling power-increased upon him." If this devotion were determined by his lack of “faith in ceremonials and forms," or by his failure "to observe the Sabbath very scrupulously," Sweatt added, "he would fall far short of the standard." However, if he were judged "by the higher rule of purity of conduct, of honesty of motive, of unyielding fidelity to the right," or by his powerful belief "in the great laws of truth, the rigid discharge of his duty, his accountability to God," then he was undoubtedly "full of [what Sweatt called] natural religion.” (p. 699)

Tonight, at the cusp of the New Year, we sit in judgment on ourselves, just as some believe that God judges us. Let us first judge our past actions against, and then aspire for the coming year towards, purity of conduct, honesty of motive, and fidelity to the right, to our highest values.

Abraham Lincoln possessed a lifelong dream he would restate many times throughout his career. “Every man is said to have his peculiar ambition,” he wrote at age 23 in 1832. “I have no other so great as that of being truly esteemed by my fellow men, by rendering myself worthy of their esteem. How far I shall succeed in gratifying this ambition, is yet to be developed.” (p. 87). The ambition to establish a reputation worthy of the esteem of his fellows, carried Lincoln through his bleak childhood, his laborious efforts to educate himself, his string of political failures, and a depression so profound that he declared himself more that willing to die, except that QUOTE “he had done nothing to make any human being remember that he had lived.” An indomitable sense of purpose sustained him through the disintegration of the Union and through the darkest months of the war, when he was called upon again and again to rally his disheartened countrymen, soothe the animosity of his generals, and mediate among members of his often contentious administration. The deathless name he sought from the start grew far beyond Sangamon County and Illinois , reached across the truly United States, until his legacy belonged not only to America but to the ages—to be revered and sung throughout time.

Who is to say that there is not someone here tonight who might help end extreme poverty in the world? Why not imagine that one of us might have a child who will find the cure for cancer? Now for most us, our likeness will not be marbleized with monuments in Washington , but rather through the memories of our children, their children, our friends and colleagues. But even if we do not—even if we are no Moses or Mother Teresa or Abraham Lincoln, surely in this season of all seasons, our faith affirms that we all have the ability to leave behind a legacy of integrity and values. Such commitment to principals will, on the one hand, help us survive our own moments of darkness and doubt, and on the other, it will guarantee us a kind of eternal life.

My father taught me how to keep score at a baseball game. When we’d go to Comiskey Park , as thousands of other baseball fans walked by, my dad would always stop by the stand of the man yelling “programs, scorecards.” That was back when you could buy the items separately. I can remember wondering, even as a little boy, if anyone else besides my dad purchased just a scorecard—I never saw anyone else do it.

We’d then find our seats and my dad would explain how I should fill out my card—all of the strange and seemingly secret code for how to record a “hit by pitch,” and an “infield fly rule.” I loved every minute of it while it was happening. And the best thing was that I could then go home, and recall for my mom or my friends every at bat, every out, every hit of the game that had just taken place. My dad made me feel that I was telling a fabulous story. I think I learned the narrative art from those sessions with him. I’d blurt out—“The Sox won!” or “The Sox lost!” as soon as we got home, which would take some of the drama of the retelling out of it! I learned you had to tell a story from beginning to middle to end.

Although my father’s story was itself too short, I have passed his love of baseball onto my boys, and his legacy lives on in these precious moments along with so many others. We, too, keep score when we go to the game. I hope they’ll teach their children what a “6-4-3” is, and that they, too, will write a big KO on their scorecard for each strikeout in the quirky way my dad did. And I hope that they’ll learn through me, from him, the importance of telling and retelling our story—as Sox fans, as a family, and as a people.

Abraham Lincoln worked closely with William Seward on the final draft of his first inaugural address. Seward suggested that Lincoln close in this way: "the mystic chords which, proceeding from so many battlefields and so many patriot graves, pass through all the hearts and all the hearths in this broad continent of ours, and will yet again harmonize in their ancient music when breathed upon by the guardian angel of the nation." In Lincoln 's hands Seward's guardian angel, breathing down on our nation from above, was transformed. Instead Lincoln said, "the mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union , when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature." Lincoln 's better angels are inherent in our nature as human beings.

On these High Holidays, we affirm that, even as our liturgy suggests angels above tallying our score, determining our destiny, we should not, we must not wait for guardian angels from above to breathe upon us and harmonize our souls. Instead, we assert, we rely on the angels of our better nature, our yetzer tov, to live up to our highest ideals. Although Lincoln might not know the word, I think he would agree with the assertion of these days of awe, that teshuvah, our ability to turn and return to a life lived with integrity, is in our hands, as much as it is in the hands of heaven.

Like Lincoln , we face our own personal struggles, the challenges of family and country. But the great gift of this time of year is that we can start again. On Erev Rosh Hashanah we affirm with Father Abraham: the influences around us are many, and we should hear them out for the truths they can teach us. If we do, we can leave behind a legacy of meaning which will last far beyond our lifetimes. Let us fill our own scorecard with a narrative which will be worthy of the esteem of our loved ones, and worthy of being remembered and emulated, and make our descendants proud.       Keyn Yehi Ratzon.