This week,
as sometimes happens, I wrote one drash but am delivering another. Each time I sit down at my keyboard to write
for the pulpit, I do so with one thought in mind: what can I say that will challenge, and
potentially benefit, my congregation? There
is so much wisdom for teaching and considering in our Torah. I therefore take the bulk of my drashes from
thoughts occasioned by an intersection of the words of the weekly Torah reading,
and something that I experienced recently.
But sometimes, the lesson I ultimately feel compelled to share, comes
from an entirely different direction.
This is one of those occasions. This
week, I attended two funerals. I have
spoken from the pulpit before about funerals, of my thoughts occasioned by my
attending – or officiating – them. I did
not officiate the two funerals I attended this week. Nor did I personally know the two deceased
individuals. But I am inspired to share the
thoughts of the speakers, with you this evening.
The first funeral was for Freyda Myers
Cooper, a onetime member of this community who moved to the Sunshine Coast some
ten years back. You may remember
her. She was the mother of Rabbi John
Cooper, who remains a member of this congregation although he also lives far
north, in Palmwoods. When Rabbi Cooper
let me know that his mother had passed away, I knew I had to show up to support
my friend and colleague – and member of my congregation – in the time of his
grief.
Rabbi Cooper eulogized his mother from
the heart. One phrase he used, struck me
as a key for achieving a happy life. He
spoke of his mother’s talent for “reinventing herself.” He recommended we consider it as a lifelong
strategy for coping with the changes during the transition times of our lives.
You’ve heard me speak of
transitions. Yes, when we pass through
transitions, it is our task to “reinvent” ourselves to find our way in our new
reality. Can we accept each transition
with equanimity? Can we ask ourselves
how we need to “reinvent” ourselves to adjust to the change, and then do so? If so, then we will have gone a long way
towards reconciling with our new conditions.
And towards finding and maintaining our happiness through them. Rabbi Cooper praised his mother for her
ability to make these changes as the circumstances of her life changed. He recommended to those assembled, that they
learn from this the importance of being open to such changes. I think that’s a lesson, from which each one
of us can benefit.
The second funeral that I attended was
that of Pam Goldstein. Pam, and her
husband John, are members of Temple Shalom although they have not been regular
fixtures in our sanctuary in recent years.
The primary reason is that Pam has been battling the cancer that
ultimately took her life. My colleague
Rabbi Gurevich conducted the funeral because of his long association with the
Goldstein family. Some of Rabbi Gurevich’s
words resonated deeply with me.
In his eulogy for Pam Goldstein, Rabbi
Gurevich pointed out that there are two days in every week, about which one
need not worry. As with any good drash,
his words immediately set my mind to racing through the question of which days
he might mean. Surely one would be
Shabbat; if there’s any one day, about which we should not worry, it is the
weekly Sabbath. But I could not decide
what the second day would be.
Rabbi Gurevich surprisingly identified
the first day, about which one should not worry, as “yesterday.” After all, yesterday is history. If we continue to dwell on yesterday, how
will it benefit us? That’s not to say
that we shouldn’t learn and internalize the lessons from yesterday. Rather, that we should not obsess over
decisions we made, or actions we took, or things we said. Or the decisions, actions or words of others yesterday. Because they cannot be undone. A key to happiness is to learn the lesson and
move on.
Still unsure of where Rabbi Gurevich
was going with his drash, I listened for the second day each week, about which
we shouldn’t worry. And that is: “tomorrow.”
But of course! Sure, we should plan
for tomorrow. As the cliché goes, those
who fail to plan, plan to fail. We
should think ahead, we should visualize tomorrow and where we want to be.
But we shouldn’t worry about tomorrow. We shouldn’t obsess about it. In planning for how we want our tomorrow to
look, we can never anticipate all the circumstances that will determine
our ultimate destiny. So we should plan,
but approach tomorrow with a strong dose of sanguinity. Because we should see tomorrow as a
challenge, not as a dreaded specter of evil.
By the
time Rabbi Gurevich finished telling us that tomorrow was the second day each
week about which we should not worry, he had penetrated my thick skull
to where I was ready for his conclusion. Today is the only day, about which we
should worry. Be in the moment. Every unfolding moment today represents
a real-time opportunity to do the most good, to attain the most happiness. Yesterday is history, and tomorrow is too
tenuous to determine. Today is,
at the end of the matter, the only thing that matters.
Two profoundly important lessons! Neither is ‘rocket science.’ But both are lessons that, judging from the
way we live our lives and play out our relationships, are generally lost on us.
And each one I learned, or perhaps re-learned,
because I attended a funeral. Because
the lives of the deceased, had inspired the thoughts of the eulogiser. Who in turn felt inspired to share to share
those thoughts with those who gathered to pay their respects.
In Mishnah Avot, we find the following
eternal snippet of wisdom: Who is
wise? He that learns from everyone. And not only from everyone’s words. Also from everyone’s lives.
It is easy to think of each person’s life as an entity detached from all
others. As the personal business of the
one living it. One can think of everyone
else’s life as unrelated to one’s own. But
that would be a mistake. Each one of us
is uniquely individual. But each one of
us has a lesson to share with others. Through
our words. And through our very lives. Shabbat shalom.
No comments:
Post a Comment