Eating Breakfast and Creating Legacy

Below is my Kol Nidre sermon from 5778. I hope you find it moving and relevant.

Eating Breakfast and Creating Legacy

I recently came across a charming new documentary narrated by and starring 95 year old comedian, Carl Reiner. It’s an uplifting film focusing on life beyond 90 years old with a wonderful array of senior comedians and artists, many of whom are Jewish, reflecting on the sources of their vitality, and revealing how they are still creating and adding to the world.

In the opening scene, Carl Reiner describes his daily routine. We see Mr. Reiner pick up the newspaper and bring it inside. As he opens the paper at the breakfast table, you hear him say, “Every morning, I pick up my newspaper, get the obituaries section, and see if I’m listed. If I’m not, I have my breakfast.”1 … a very Carl Reiner thing to say, in fact, it serves as the title of the film: “If You’re Not in the Obit, Eat Breakfast.”  

As we learn this intimate detail of his life, though, the film then shows him shaking the newspaper, in shock. the camera pans to show us what he is seeing …and there in the paper is his face. He puts his hands up to his head in horror, before giving a little chuckle as he says, “There was a picture of me . . . alongside Polly Bergen who had passed away … I had not … I don’t think.”  He then calmly assesses the scene by mentioning, “they obviously didn’t have a good picture of her alone. But I wish they had not picked a picture that scared the <expletive removed> out of me.”2  

It’s a funny opening, the kind of absurdity that we might expect from the comedic genius who once interviewed the 2000 year old man, played by his comedy partner, Mel Brooks (who also appears in the documentary). The two have created a legacy of bringing laughter to us, even while portraying situations that involve difficult social commentary. And here they are at 90+, still making us laugh and think at the same time. Let’s examine this gag for a second, in earnest, though: Can you imagine? Opening the obit section and seeing a picture of yourself? The shock and the existential crisis of being confronted so directly with your end... What kind of questions come to mind? ... What would we see if we read on? How would it feel, imagining yourself as being here no more?

Well, this is a part of what we do today, on Yom Kippur - we are supposed to be shocked into looking at the end. Part of our process of purification and preparation for this new year involves measuring our days, and seeing if they measure up.

Our liturgy attempts to create such confrontation - “Who shall live and who shall die.” I mean, this is bold language! And whether or not we believe in the mystical significance of this day to determine our fates for the year, if we are going to say these words with intention, they must raise the question in our hearts, what if this is my year? My only year? … What do I want to make of it? What will I be leaving to the world? What is my legacy?

I know, I know, it’s a morbid and uncomfortable topic. But remember, we’re not fasting for comfort, either. Yom Kippur is not intended to be a comfortable day. For some of us, we have barely spent a moment allowing ourselves to consider such an idea, while some of us have experienced moments that have forced us to face such thoughts, recently. Either way, this day is supposed to be a confrontation. Just pay attention to our Haftarah tomorrow, as the words of Isaiah lash out at us with challenge. Today is our last chance before jumping head-first into this New Year to think about interrupting the patterns that have held us, especially those that have held us back.

As we wrestle with such big questions on this day - what is my legacy? - It can be hard to know just where to begin. We find in the Talmud, Shabbat 31a, that one of the six questions to ponder when thinking about our mortality is to consider, above all else, whether or not we have lived with an awe of God.  The rabbinic commentary mentions that our experience of this relationship with God should help us to understand that there is much to appreciate about the world around us and its wonders. That, just as we do not control the number of days we have on this earth, we also were gifted the chance to be here, to be part of a world, a society, a community that is filled with wonders. Do we live with awe in our hearts? Such self-reflection is about the extent to which we take for granted the world in which we live. Do we see it as mundane and just there, filled with obstacles, injustices, hardships, coldness? Or do we actually appreciate in spite of life’s flaws, the amazing miracles that do surround us each moment of every day? How are we adding to this wonder? Do we not only see, but live with the potential of our world in our hearts, and do we strive to lift one another towards that vision?

Appreciation is a much stronger force than we sometimes give it credit. And in the context of this evening, if we were to truly imagine our end and see our time as limited, how much more likely would we be to appreciate the small details around us.

This perspective on yirat Shamayim - awe of God - It is very similar to what prolific American playwright Thornton Wilder mentions as the goal of his 1938 play, Our Town. In the preface to the 1957 edition, Mr. Wilder writes, “The play is an attempt to find a value above all price for the smallest events in our daily life.”3

Rabbi Lawrence Kushner echoes Wilder’s remarks, identifying the same searching as one of our goals on this day. In his book, I’m God, You’re Not, Rabbi Kushner mentions that “We come together as a community to be aware of the great mystery of life and to remind ourselves about what is truly important in our lives— before we die.”4  

He refers to the last act of Thornton Wilder’s play Our Town to illustrate this. Spolier alert - if you have been dying to read the play that has only been out for just under 80 years, you may need to cover your ears for a bit <pause> Right before the play’s conclusion, a young woman, Emily Webb, dies from complications during childbirth. Upon joining the other souls in the cemetery, she feels as though it is still possible to go back to the world of the living. The others there affirm for her that it can happen, but they warn her not to go. The stage manager informs her that if she was to go back, “You not only live it, but you watch yourself living it. . . And as you watch it, you see the thing that they— down there— never know. You see the future. You know what’s going to happen afterwards.”5

Despite the warnings, Emily chooses to go back, and she picks the day of her 12th birthday to re-live. And boom, she is there on her twelfth birthday, February 11th 1899, surrounded by her family, seeing her mother for the first time in decades. As her family goes about its business, she only wants to experience them again, but she is let down by how much they are taking these moments for granted. With the awareness of the future in her heart, surrounded by so many who were no longer living, she tries to intervene and change what is happening around her. She tries to yell at her mother:

Oh, Mama, just look at me one minute as though you really saw me. Mama, fourteen years have gone by. I’m dead. You’re a grandmother, Mama. I married George Gibbs, Mama. Wally’s dead, too. Mama, his appendix burst on a camping trip to North Conway. We felt just terrible about it— don’t you remember? But, just for a moment now we’re all together. Mama, just for a moment we’re happy. Let’s look at one another.6

But, her mama doesn’t look at her. She cannot change a thing. She can’t shake them into appreciating that moment, to fully taking note of one another and expressing the love that they feel for one another. Eventually, it becomes too much for her, and she begs to go back to the grave. Commenting on life, she says, “It goes so fast. We don’t have time to look at one another. . . I didn’t realize... all that was going on and we never noticed...Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.”7

Emily Webb could not change those moments, because she was no more. But we can. We can still use the time we have this year to appreciate what we have. To show appreciation to those around us, to express our love and our gratitude, our hopes and our dreams, and not hold such important sentiment inside for some undetermined and unguaranteed moment in the future. And when we appreciate the world and the people around us, this is the starting point from which we can find the strength to bring healing and repair to our world.

In preparing for this sermon, when I came across this scene, I thought about my own children, my own family. Do I make them feel this way? I went home that day, and I sat there around bed time, just watching them, looking at them, noticing them. I think I over-noticed them, as one of them said to me, “what are you doing?” I didn’t care, I was determined I was not going to let them have an Emily Webb moment. In my own hubris, I thought to myself that my own legacy to them will be that of a father who cares, who notices, who makes sure they feel loved and special and important. . .  

Now, I recognize that we cannot live with eternity in our thoughts at all moments. It’s a fallacy to say that we should live every moment like it’s our last. We could not function this way. For one, no one would ever do dishes. . .

And sure enough just a couple days later, I found that I was already leaving this thought behind. I was at the dinner table, having come home for a few minutes between afternoon and evening meetings. And lo and behold, was I there with them? Noticing them? Appreciating them? No, I was staring at my phone, thinking about the various things I was about to encounter in my meeting. And as I looked up and saw Rachel looking at me looking at my phone, I could hear the Emily Webb narrative in my ear. Notice me. Pay attention to everything going on around you. Be a part of it while you’re here. Appreciate where you are. Be here.

Yom Kippur is here to remind us that it is never too late to change our script into stories of appreciation, of presence, of legacy - until it does become too late. This certainly is a part of what comes blazing forth in the movie about Carl Reiner and other nonagenarians. It is absolutely a part of our Yom Kippur liturgy, an essential piece of what the final shofar blast tomorrow evening represents.

As we ponder our legacy, our reflections should push us to consider others in our lives, and the impact that we have on their stories, their journeys, their spirals, as we talked about erev Rosh Hashanah.

Are we finding time TO live with appreciation and wonder? TO appreciate those around us? TO make sure they know how much we love them? TO notice the people we do not yet know, but who need us just as much? And that is why we say, “Al chet … for the times I have failed to notice and affirm life.” We awaken our hearts to the changes we can make in order to build the legacy we wish to create.

This is our time to find the resolve within ourselves to choose the legacy we want to leave on this earth. To allow the wonder of our core values, of our tradition, of God, to frame for us the ways we hope to leave this earth and those around us better for our being here. To contemplate our legacies - the legacy of morality, the legacy of hope, the legacy of justice, the legacy of equality, the legacy of truth, the legacy of community, the legacy of thinking of more than just the next five minutes, the legacy of conversation, the legacy of laughter, the legacy of curiosity, the legacy of respect, the legacy of caring, the legacy of wonder, the legacy of love, the legacy of appreciation, the legacy of peace.

Our fates are not yet written in stone. Rather, let us see that this is our year. This is our year to choose the legacy we create, whether or not we end up in an obit. I pray that each of us has many breakfasts before us well into the future. And I pray that we all channel the calories from those meals into creating meaningful acts that add to the chain of our tradition, bringing forward the blessings we ask for in our Amidah - l’dor vador nagid godlecha - from generation to generation, let us declare Your goodness. May we help those who know us to appreciate the wonder in life, and may we inspire them through our actions, through our love, through our appreciation, to see the world as a place worth building up together. Then, we need not worry about our legacy, but we can eat breakfast in peace, knowing in our heart of hearts that we have added to the awe of our universe, lifting those around us by giving them something to appreciate. Leaving something l’dor va-dor - from us to the next generation.

1 Gold, Danny. Mayhew, Michael. “If You’re Not in the Obit, Eat Breakfast.” HBO Documentary, 2017

2 ibid

3 Wilder, Thornton (2014-03-18). Our Town: A Play in Three Acts (Perennial Classics) (Kindle Location 3739). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

4 Kushner, Rabbi Lawrence (2010-09-15). I'm God; You're Not: Observations on Organized Religion & Other Disguises of the Ego (Kindle Locations 3256-3260). Turner Publishing Company. Kindle Edition.

5 Wilder, Thornton (2014-03-18). Our Town: A Play in Three Acts (Perennial Classics) (Kindle Locations 2460-2461). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

6 Wilder, Thornton (2014-03-18). Our Town: A Play in Three Acts (Perennial Classics) (Kindle Locations 2652-2656). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

7 Wilder, Thornton (2014-03-18). Our Town: A Play in Three Acts (Perennial Classics) (Kindle Locations 2677-2678,2682, 2685). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

The Magic Word ... Please

I have always felt that Rosh Hashanah had a magical element to it. As a child, I remember seeing the rabbi and cantor of my youth sashaying into the worship space in their wizard gowns, preparing to lead us in incantations that would somehow bring about a good year.  As I’ve grown, a little bit of that anticipation and hope has stuck with me - not rationally, mind you, just kind of a feeling I get when I hear those high holiday notes and tunes. And lo and behold, now I am the one wearing said robe . . .

I assure you, I am no wizard. (Though, just saying, in the two years since Rachel and I and our girls came to town, the Cubs made the playoffs and then won the World Series .... Just saying...) And though I do not honestly take credit for such things, with all that is going on around us in the world, I certainly wish I had a magic formula that I could say that would just make things better, helping our world to have a good new year. Especially now, as we have experienced a year that has pushed so many of us to question the direction our society is heading, a year in which the use of nuclear weapons is being mentioned flippantly and with insults, a year in which we have seen an increase in Anti-Semitism, recent weeks in which we have seen devastating storms in Texas, Florida and throughout the Caribbean, and even yesterday terrible earthquake and another major hurricane. There is SO much happening in our world for us to discuss - and believe me, we will over the course of our time together during these holidays. But for this moment, I just wish there could be some way to find some magic within our holiday. <Pause>

Well, maybe there IS a magic word that can help. THE magic word, actually - the word that we were prompted with as children when asking for what we wanted. [inflected like prompting of a parent to a child] “What’s the magic wo-o-rd?”  “Please.”

Sure, “please” adds a layer of kindness and politeness to our discourse, which is not to be taken lightly. It has the potential to be the difference between getting our way and not, especially when it is said by an adorable little toddling person with huge eyes that are staring at you with hope and anticipation and excitement. (Not that that ever happens in my house). . . But this is not the “please” that puts the magic into the next 10 days of awe.  

No, I’m talking about the gutteral, rooted “please” that comes from the deepest yearnings of our souls, the “please” that is a plea and a prayer. The, “Please” that is the focus of the first prayer recorded in our Torah … It is not until the book of Numbers, the fourth book of our Torah, that we encounter the first words that our rabbis identify as words of prayer. The words come from the mouth of Moses. In the middle of leading the Israelites in their wandering in the desert, Moses discovered that his sister was ill, stricken with leprosy. So he stopped and prayed … his prayer had no Baruch Atahs, no responsive readings. What was the prayer? Simply the five words, “El Na, Refah na, lah.”  “Please, God, please heal her.” It was his soul’s expression of what he needed to say most - his deepest hopes and his fears mixed together into an emotive statement that was 40%, “please.”

So, did Moses’ prayer work? Did his “please” heal his sister? Or was it that his plea of “please” informed what Moses did next. He led the entire camp of Israelites to pause there. For seven days, they encamped - our rabbinic commentary mentions that the fire and smoke of God that had been leading the way kept moving forward, but Moses stopped. He made a choice and he kept the people together in one place, enough time for Miriam to have the rest and care to heal up.

Perhaps, our Torah is showing us that her healing did not come purely from the utterance of “please,” but more importantly, from the actions that came following the magic words. By identifying and even saying out loud his “please,” Moses found clarity in what he needed to do next.  

This is the invitation that our High Holy Days offer us, to feel, to emote, to pour out our hearts about that which is truly most important to each of us.

To find the “please” that expresses our vision for what the world could be.

To find the “please” that is our soul’s yearning for justice, our heart’s plea for compassion, our moral compass that can help us to live with meaning and purpose and offer us the strength to a source of light and hope even in dark times for those who need us - even to ourselves, if we are the ones who need ourselves most.

And if we have been too ensconced in the busy-ness of life, then this is our time to re-discover what is so important to us that we would be willing to stop and re-align our priorities, if needed.  To get involved differently in the world around us, and to play a role in shaping that world... This is the essence of prayer, and this is the heart of our High Holy Day season.

Unfortunately, that’s the magic trick that I cannot do, our wonderful choir and amazing cantorial presence in Laurie - we cannot do this for you. It is in each of our hands, in each of our hearts, to reach inside and drag forth the “please” that is tugging at us, urging us to change course and make this year different than the last.

But that is only the first step of prayer, once we have expressed what we need and want and believe, then we have to bring our “pleases” with us. To let them direct our focus, our actions, our time and our attention, and most importantly, help us create a path of hope for this next year.

Such a “please” is seen in the rabbinic story that used to explain why the great Temple in Jerusalem was built in on what we now call the Temple Mount, on Mount Moriah.

Story

In ancient days, there lived two brothers on either side of a mountain. They shared a field filled with produce, and got along incredibly well. One of the brothers got married and soon had a whole brood of children at home to feed. The other brother, he lived happily and quietly with his spouse, and they did not choose to bring new lives into their home. One year, while their crops were doing okay, the brother who had no children found his thoughts turning  one night to his sibling with all the mouths to feed. He thought, “Wow, it must be so hard for them right now - “please,” I wish there was some way to make things better for them.” And so, he designed a plan - he’d take some of his flour and grains, sneak across the mountain and deliver it on his brother’s doorstep in the middle of the night, as if it was a magical gift from God.

But wouldn’t you know it, that same night, the brother with all of the kids in his family thought of his sibling. He said to himself, “Wow, it must be so hard for my brother to make flour and bread and product from all that we harvest with no children to help him. We are so blessed with such great helpers, please, God, please help him?”  So, he devised a plan, similar to his brother’s, since, well, these things run in the family, and sure enough, he too snuck out in the middle of the night to deliver some flour and cakes and bread to his brother. The next morning, each brother awoke to this incredible blessing of food and supplies. Each was astonished, to find an incredible gift from God. And each thought, “Great! Wow, this will help my brother even more! - and so they shipped the extra bags over to the other’s home.  But in the middle of that night . . . the moon was out, and they left at just the right times - they met on top of the mountain in the light of the moon. They realized what had happened, they embraced there on top of the mountain, filling one another with way more than their food supplies could - with love and hope. And that spot where they embraced is what our tradition teaches is where the Temple in Jerusalem was built.

These two brothers discovered how to say “please” and mean it … to go beyond politeness and let it inform action. The brothers stopped, they turned from their ordinary path to do something good and kind - and in doing so, they brought additional hope and peace to this world.  This story reminds us that we do not pray just to pray, but in order to use our prayers to act.

This is the rabbinic formula of t’shuvah, of return - awakening our hearts to our brothers and sisters, to the plight of others, to our connections to the world around us, and being moved to examine our own stories and what we want them to become. This is our not-so-magical process that can make this year better than the last. We must first figure out the magical “please” that lies within us, but to also know that words alone will not make miracles or move mountains. It is what WE do with our “pleases” that will shape our experience of this next year.

And so I invite you, during these High Holy Days - not to sit and read responsively, but find a way to say PLEASE from the innermost place in our souls. To lay our hearts bare and make ourselves vulnerable. . . but then to take our prayers with us, and let our “pleases” become the forefront of our vision, the hope for a better year, the why behind the what of what we choose to do and become in this next year. It may not always turn out like we planned, just as the brothers discovered, but going on that journey might even lead us somewhere higher.  <Pause>

We have all seen the images on our TV screens of the hurricanes that have devastated our world of late. It is upon us to make sure that we pause to say, “Please, God, please heal them” . . .  And then go do something about it, don’t just shrug and move on. It’s why we have places for donations to relief funds through the local Jewish United Fund, it’s why our movement, the Union for Reform Judaism, has set up funds to support those on the ground, making an impact for those who need to be lifted up.

When we see stories of white supremacists marching, it is upon us to say, “Please, God, Please heal us.” . . . And then to go and do something about it. Be moved and go move. Donate to groups that are educating and fighting bigotry, volunteer in a school, stand up against a bigoted word or phrase in an otherwise seemingly casual conversation, no matter the source … it’s not magic that our world needs. It’s us. Our caring hearts, our engagement in the world, not our removal from it.  

In a time where some of us may feel hope is thin, it is up to each of us to be that hope. And if we do not see enough hopeful examples around us, then let us stand up, together, to be our own sources of hope. I know from the many conversations I’ve had in recent months, that if you feel this way, then you are not alone. And that is also why we are here, together, to know that we are all here seeking and creating the hope for our next year.  

So, together, let us heed the call of our shofar - whether it is the music or the readings and words of our prayers, the wordless blast of the shofar, let us use this contemplative space to allow us to tap-in to what we care about most, this is our time to feel. To move ourselves so that we can go forth and move and heal the world around us, shaping the year that we hope to see.

Please, God, Please heal us. PLEASE from the bottom of my heart, PLEASE make this a good year... And now, let's do something about it. Let’s take this please and move one another towards bringing a year of justice, a year of love, a year of hope and honor and legacy and good fate. Know that I am here and your community is here to help join with you in moving our “pleases” into action. Together, we can bring healing to our world, at least more healing than there would be without us. L’shanah Tovah.

(Rosh Hashanah Sermon 5778 by Rabbi Ari Margolis, delivered at Congregation Or Shalom - please email rabbimargolis@gmail.com if you wish to cite material)

Elul Cool-Down (in Tishrei)

Elul Cool-Down: Connecting

We have started the New Year, we’ve already reflected, and we’ve imagined our dreams for the year we hope to see. Now is the time for our cool-down to carry our Elul workouts into the year we have started; time to figure out which connections we hope to make.

- What is one way I can more deeply connect with each of my loved ones in my family in this New Year?  Will I read more to my children? Will I carve out a few extra minutes each night for my spouse before we go to sleep?  Spend a few moments figuring out how you might proactively deepen your connections with those you love, even when your connection might already be great.

- What is one way I can more deeply connect with myself in this New Year? This time of year is about reflection and growth.  Now that we’ve identified the person we hope to become, what will get us there? How do I connect with the inner me?  Will I read a few books I hoped to get to?  Will I carve out running time to clear my head?  Will I invest in my Jewish traditions that help center and ground me?  How can you make sure to keep your “you-ness” throughout this year?

If we can find points of connection this year, I’m certain it will be an incredible New Year for us all.

Elul Workout #4 - Listening

Are we feeling the burn yet?  I hope that our workouts are bringing meaningful reflection and active preparation for the New Year.  Enjoy the next installment:

Elul Workout #4: Listening

Step 1: Take out your calendar, find a time for 10-15 minutes where you can “work-out” and copy the following steps into a time slot that works for you.  (If now is a good time, then skip step 1)

Step 2: Take our your reflections from last week and review (If you need a reminder of what the previous weeks involved, click here, here and click here)

 

Step 3: A huge part of our success in breaking our patterns and finding newness in this next year comes from our ability to pause for a few minutes and listen.  Out of the still, quiet places, we often find the most inspiration.  We also have the opportunity to find new perspectives and ideas when we put our own agendas on hold and we fully listen to others around us.  Practice listening by calling a friend/family member with whom you are overdue for a chat.  Ask them what they are hoping for in this new year – personally, professionally, spiritually.  Then, just listen.  Ask clarifying questions where appropriate to understand more fully, but just listen.

Step 4: Pause for a few moments and listen to your own heart.  If you meditate, take a few moments to do so.  Then, write your own list: My dreams for this year include . . .

I hope these moments of listening bring us closer to the kind of fresh start we all need for this New Year.

L’shanah Tovah!

Rabbi Ari N. Margolis

Creating the Jewels of Elul

As a world community, we just finished watching the Olympic Games.  (And I am so glad they have finished, because it means I no longer have to stay up late to watch the decathlon finals or amazing diving or gymnastic glory). In a flash of triumph – even those who just made it to the track or swimming pool – created a lifetime’s worth of memories that should make each athlete proud.  Not everyone can say he or she was an Olympic athlete.  Absent from these brief moments of splendor that we witnessed, however, were all the reps and training and practice and trials that each individual had to go through in order to make it to this highest stage of athletic competition.

            This weekend, we enter the month of Elul – the season that leads us to the High Holy Days.  It is traditionally the time in which we start preparing ourselves for the potential to be spiritually transformed during our time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur – cleansed of the baggage of this past year and lightened as we take on the challenges and opportunities to face us in this next.  We strive to have our own moments of glory as we stand before God and, perhaps even more importantly, ourselves, and declare, “I have done all I can to put last year behind me, let me approach this year with a clean slate.” 

                       

Our scholars remind us that this is the time of year for us to do the hard work that allows us to have a meaningful High Holy Day experience.  Now is the time to reach out to those we love and ask forgiveness, to confront issues that are hanging over us and move beyond them.  Now is the time to notice the ways in which our world is unjust and how we as individuals are contributing to the problems that plague our communities, so we can begin to shift our patterns.  Now is the time to deeply ask ourselves if we are living up to our own expectations for who we want to be and start re-aligning our choices and commitments to bring us closer to our ideals. 

It amazes me how quickly summer can fly past us.  In a blink of an eye, at TBO, we have gone from the last day of religious school past the Olympic games and back into the very exciting time of getting ready to welcome back all our wonderful youth whom we’ve missed over these past few months.  Blink again, and Yom Kippur will be over. Let us not just fly through on autopilot, living out what life gives us instead of setting out each day with intention.  No athlete accidentally ended up on an Olympic team.  May we each put the time and efforts now to discover the Jewels of Elul,* being able to have our own moving ceremonies during this High Holy Day season – may they be holidays of gold for us all.

-          Rabbi Ari N. Margolis

Parashat R’eih

* To help us with our Elul efforts, click the link above to find daily inspirational thoughts or subscribe to daily emails that will help lead us into our High Holy Days.