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"Therefore,
choose life..." An old friend of mine, a confirmed bachelor in his forties, recently announced his engagement. When we told our five year old, Boaz, that his "uncle" was getting married, he looked at us and asked, in honest amazement, "Why?" The shock was obvious. After we finished laughing, we talked together about that response. Of course his question was not so much a critique of marriage—at least I hope not—as an illustration of the fact that children tend to think that the way people in their lives are now is the way that they have always been and will always be. Bubbie was always a loving old woman, Zayde always had a gray beard, Dad will always be the tallest one in the family. Kids don't really expect people to change much, and are shocked when they do. In this, they are much like adults. We, too, tend to see a person's story line as a consistent one, and are startled when someone we know well suddenly veers in a different direction. Often these surprises are unpleasant—the wealthy person who suddenly declares bankruptcy, the picture of health who comes down with a terrible illness, the broken marriage. We anticipate that when we hear of dramatic changes in our friends' and relatives' lives that they will be for the worse. But often these changes, unexpected though they are, are not unwelcome. I personally know of people who in the past year have recovered from addictions, unexpectedly been blessed with children, successfully changed careers—and of course, found love. In our own congregation there are many people with little or background who have come to know and love their Judaism, who have learned Hebrew, converted to Judaism, been bar or bar mitzvah as adults, have found their own path to God and community. The Jewish High Holy Days are dedicated to the belief that everyone—you, for example—has an innate capacity to change for the better. Every year at this time each of us has the opportunity to look clearly at our lives and our values, and choose to change for the better. It is the great challenge of Judaism, and the great promise. A semi-astonishing fact emerges this time of year annually: more Jews observe the High Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur than at any other Jewish festival. But no one has really ever figured out why. The truth is that there are holidays and observances that are much more, well, fun than the yamim nora'im, the "Days of Awe." The food is better at Chanukah and Pesach (matzah excepted) and Sukkot; the rituals are more open and accessible and joyful at Simchat Torah and Purim; the pace is more relaxed and pleasant on an ordinary Shabbat. Even the music, a high point of the High Holy Days, is limited in genre and scope by the solemnity of the festival. Perhaps what attracts people to the Temple on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is this air of possibility, the opportunity to change for the better. Through an honest and healthy process, we come to see ourselves as we are, and can choose a better way of being in the coming year. In this year, 5762, may God bless you and those you love with change—all
for the better. |
