God placed Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden and gave them the following instruction: “Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat of it; for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die” (Bereishith 2:16-17). It did not take long, though, for Adam and Eve to eat of this forbidden fruit, having been tempted by the serpent to do so.

But they did not die upon eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.

(This is the first sermon I delivered from the pulpit of Congregation Shearith Israel, Simhat Torah 1969. Forty-five years have passed since that first sermon, and yet the ideas within it continue to ring true.)

We have spent many months reading about the life of Moses. Today, in one of the most dramatic episodes of the Torah, we read about his death—a very agonizing scene. Moses, the great leader, teacher, and prophet, climbs to the summit of Mount Nebo and looks out over the horizon at the Promised Land. As he stands silent and alone, God tells him: “You are beholding the land that I have promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob saying, ‘I shall give it to your descendants.’ See it with your eyes. You shall not cross into the land.”

The theme of Shabbat Teshuvah is repentance. This does not refer only to those who are not religious who now need to repent. It refers to each of us, whatever our religious level is. Each one of us is called upon to examine our weaknesses and deficiencies and to make a determination to improve ourselves during the coming year.

When we contemplate our personal religious lives, we often find ourselves thinking of those people who have had a strong positive impact on us—our parents and grandparents, relatives, rabbis, teachers, pious and righteous individuals. In many ways, these role models have helped us fashion our individual philosophies, attitudes and behaviors. When we contemplate repentance, we draw on their strengths and insights; we strive to emulate them at their best.

“Not with you alone do I make this covenant and this oath; but with those who stand here with us this day before the Lord our God, and also with those who are not here with us this day” (Devarim 29:13-14).

As Moses approached the end of his life, he gathered all the people and affirmed the special covenant between God and Israel. He wanted everyone to understand that this covenant transcended time. It did not relate only to the generation then alive, but to all generations “who are not here with us this day.”

When visitors first enter the sanctuary of Congregation Shearith Israel in New York City, they often gasp in awe and amazement at the sheer beauty and dignity of this sacred space. It is grand without being overly ornate; it is graceful, understated and powerful.

Years ago, I led a tour of visitors to the synagogue. Upon entering the sanctuary, almost all of our guests reacted as almost everyone does: what a beautiful synagogue! As our forefather Jacob said in a different context: How awesome is this place, this is nothing else but the house of the Lord, and this is the gate of heaven!

This week’s Torah portion commands us emphatically: “You shall not pervert the justice due to the stranger” (Devarim 24:17). Rabbinic tradition has understood the word “stranger” (ger) to refer to proselytes…those who convert to Judaism. Indeed, the Talmud teaches that anyone who oppresses the proselyte thereby transgresses 36 (some say 46) commandments. There is no other commandment repeated so often in the Torah.

Events of recent weeks have reminded us of what we have always known: people’s judgment is often skewed. Politicians and media personalities pander to their constituencies without strict regard for truthfulness or justice. Terrorists are treated sympathetically, while those fighting terrorists are vilified. Groups decide to boycott a democratic nation, while giving aid and moral support to the vilest of tyrannies.

Why does moral judgment often seem to stray so far from the dictates of reason and truth?

I recently attended a funeral where one of the eulogizers was a grandson of the deceased. He began his talk by saying that he did not prepare any remarks because he wanted his words to be spontaneous. He then rambled on for five minutes, hemming and hawing, and saying nothing of consequence other than that he loved his grandmother and would miss her.

He apparently was so concerned about being “spontaneous” that he did not consider the feelings of the audience who had come to pay their respects to the deceased. He abused our time and our good intentions by not having had the courtesy to prepare some words in advance so that he could speak coherently.

My wife and I recently traveled to Seattle where I had the honor of speaking at Congregation Ezra Bessaroth—the congregation in which I was born and raised. It was a special experience for us to re-connect with so many family and friends in that very warm community.

One of the highlights of the flight to Seattle is viewing the majestic Mount Rainier as the plane approaches the city. The snow covered mountain is one of the awe-inspiring phenomena of nature. From the plane, we could not only see Mount Rainier but also could look southward to view Mount Saint Helens and Mount Hood. What a tremendous experience! Oh Lord, how glorious are Your works!