Rosh Hashanah 5783 ~ Sept. 26, 2022

If I were to ask if there was one story that pinpoints what makes you “you”, what might that story be? If I were then to invite you to share that defining story, would you? How might you go about sharing that with others?  There are so many stages of life, and experiences formed- both good and not so good – is there really a way to package that up into a singular story that would truly describe the reasoning behind your life choices and what has brought you to this very moment?

In his biography of Freud, Adam Phillips states that Freud invented a  psychoanalytic treatment that “involved telling and revising stories,” something that Freud himself was unable to do.   Phillips goes on to suggest that  “if we are to take him on his own terms, our knowledge of his, or of anyone else’s life— and indeed our wish for knowledge about his life— has to be tempered with a certain irony. Where we love we always hate, and vice versa. We are wanting more life for ourselves but we are also wanting, in one of Freud’s memorable phrases, “to die in our own way.” We are full of vitality but, he tells us in Beyond the Pleasure Principle ( 1920), we crave inertia, insentience. We want to get better but we love our suffering. What Freud increasingly found most difficult to cure in his patients was their (mostly unconscious) wish not to be cured. In his search for cures, Freud found just how incurable we are; that is, he found how much pleasure we can get from our suffering...”

I hope that Freud was truly wrong in his  conclusion .  Much like a beam scale, where there are two sides that are constantly weighing each other to determine the “winner”, human emotions always have an equal and opposite emotion; Hate v. Love, Hope v. Despair, Confident v. Diffident.  I believe we all are hoping  that happiness and fulfillment in life would be the  end goal; not an incurable desire to get pleasure from suffering!

If this morning was our first reading of the narrative found in the Torah, we might have participated with great enthusiasm when Abraham brings his son, Isaac, into the covenant through his brit milah, his ritual circumcision. Who could not be happy that Abraham and Sarah’s dream became a reality, even at their so-called octogenarian ages! But, for those of us who are revisiting this story,   might we agree that Freud was quite accurate in his assessment of life itself? Does his conclusion not ring true as we navigate through a recap of Abraham and Sarah’s life stories?

Could it be that Abraham was telling his own narrative? If  such was the case, the stories that Abraham  shared with us are filled with a deep conflict Abraham is feeling  between his life and those whom he’s surrounding himself with to experience that life. .   As Abraham  observes life pass by him, he sees his family torn apart by jealousy, haughtiness, animosity and his own uncertainty and misgivings for the future. We know that ultimately the story ends with Abraham living happily-ever-after, but not before his marriage with Sarah fails, his son Isaac goes through a rite of passage and then marries, and he reunites with Keturah.  Known to us in this morning’s reading as Hagar, literally “the stranger,” she’s the mother of his firstborn son, Ishmael.

In one of our familiar psalms, Psalm 118, which we read during the Hallel on Jewish festive days, it says  לא אמות כי אחיה I will not die for surely, I will live.  The Psalmist provides us with his motivation to ensure that statement: ואספר מעשה יה, and I will tell or share the stories of the happenings that have given me a new lease on life. While this is not actually a literal translation of the words, using the commentary of Malbim, I have surmised  his words to mean  I will tell the stories of God’s ways of healing me from illness.  This understanding can be applied to a spectrum of experiences in life from  a pandemic to feeling  disillusionment with life.

One woman in Texas wrote to Dear Abby about these feelings of inadequacy of life.

DEAR ABBY: I am 66 and a 20-year widow. I live alone but have an active social life with my women friends. We live in a small town with very little to do, but we get together often to watch movies, eat out, etc. I never had children, and all my relatives have passed away. I'm the last family member left. I'm mostly satisfied (but not happy) with my life. Every­thing,  I own is paid for, and I have enough money to last un­til my death. I have everything (materially) I could possibly want or need, yet I feel some­thing vital is missing from my life. It's not religion; I am a committed Christian.  I could pay cash for anything I want, but I don't want for anything. I do volunteer work, am socially active and involved in my church. Yet, I feel empty inside. Something is definitely missing, and I can't figure it out. I realize I'm blessed, and most people would give any­thing to sit where I'm sitting. Do you have any ideas as to what's missing or where to go from here? Life is hard and old age isn't for sissies.  (The Day, July 25, 2022).

Dear Abby responds: “You may be experiencing something people call an “existential crisis’ which is not uncommon. It refers to someone who wonders if his of her life has meaning or purpose.”

As we read through Abraham’s life accomplishments, challenges and failures during these two days of Rosh Hashanah, perhaps we too can pause for a moment, “reflecting on some of the positive differences” in our lives instead of just dwelling on the negative. And as we digest Abraham’s stories, perhaps we can find some of ourselves within them while reflecting back on different stages and moments of our own lives.

Throughout our lifetime, no matter our age, socioeconomic status or upbringing, we must respect that there will be challenging times, most acutely described as “lifequakes”, these are moments of uncertainty or fear, when life is not how we imagined or expected it to be.

We have been conditioned to believe that beyond every down curve there is hopefully an upwards bend,  like a river, which  Garth Brooks once said, “is ever changing as it flows.” And his thought is that “a dreamer’s just a vessel, that must follow where it goes; trying to learn from what’s behind you, and never knowing what’s in store; makes each day a constant battle, just to stay between the shores.” Disney  suggests that ultimately, we are creating a full “circle of life,” much like is emphasized in  The Lion King.   

While both are true, if we carefully evaluate the events within Abraham’s life, there might be a different approach, that might be more accurate or appropriate in defining where we are in our journey of life.  Bruce Feiler, in his NY Times Bestseller, Life In Transitions, led me on a journey this summer to a new understanding of  the Psalm guiding me on how I might be able of “Mastering Change at Any Age.” He maintains that life isn’t linear…it isn’t cyclical either; it is transitional.   How we define the journey of life , leads to our interpretation of who we are, how we have come to where we are, and how we might use our experiences to shape ourselves. All of these components help us to not only endure and overcome the many “lifequakes,” both small and large , but show us how we can adapt and evolve, no matter what our age, to find even the smallest thread of meaning and gratitude for where we are in our “lifestage” and “lifestory.”

Feiler  not only shares his own life story, including cancer in one of the bones in his leg and failures in personal business endeavors-  but that of his father’s.  Going through a debilitating illness and experiencing both the failure and success of his business, his father’s journey is almost perfectly mirrored in Feiler’s.  He describes that  his father became disillusioned with life when diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease, and with the depression that festers with the diseases’ progression. One day Feiler’s mother called him to tell him that this time she caught her husband “trying to climb out a window while she was cooking scrambled eggs.” The younger Feiler found himself terribly troubled by his father’s actions, and wanted to guide his father to find meaning despite the reality of the disease. Ultimately, nothing worked- from counseling to Electroconvulsive therapy.

As a story teller, the son wondered whether the father was simply stuck in a “narrative problem…and maybe it demanded a narrative solution…that (his) father needed (as) a spark to restart his life story.” So, he sat down and wrote his dad a simple question: “What were your favorite toys as a child?”

If I were to go around the room this morning, I am certain that we would find a wonderful array of favorite toys. And when sharing, I’m just as certain you would smile telling us a story related to how that toy brought you enjoyment. That is precisely what happened with the senior Feiler when writing his answer.  He then sent a second question: “Are you still friends with any of your friends from high school?”  The younger Feiler continued asking questions to his father: “what was your house like as a child?” “How did you become an Eagle Scout? How’d you join the Navy? How did you meet mom?” At this point in his illness, his father could not use a pen or pencil, nor could he type. So he dictated his answers to Siri, “then printed a draft and edited it.” The author continues: “A lifelong collector, he began adding photographs, newspaper clippings, love letters to mom.” He asked his father what his greatest regret was in life  and “how’d you survive your first downturn?”  With each subsequent question, his father became more enamored with his own life.  He looked forward to receiving the next question so that he could spend the time   telling the stories of his life. In turn it  brought him much comfort and meaning to a life lived.

I am hoping that everyone in this room can identify either with the son asking the questions or the father and perhaps his responses.  Isn’t that precisely what the Psalmist is asking us to do, ואספר מעשה יה, I will share my lifestories, (all one word), and in doing so, bring meaning to my life today and my tomorrow. 

Equally important as the narratives, is  how we define and categorize them. As we first meet Abraham, perhaps we recognize our personal selves trying to identify who we are and what we expected out of life when we were in our youth. Hopefully, we had a lot of fun in life, while exploring who we are. But even then, there were moments of challenge. (pause)  Most people have the uncanny ability at that age to have some kind of resilience and bounce back. Such lifestories or lifequakes are redemptive in nature.

A few years ago, Lisa and I traveled to St. Lucia. One day, while we were sitting enjoying a drink and conversation with people who traveled with us, I noticed a young woman sitting at the next table, with what appeared to me to be a very mangled leg.  Lisa quietly said to me, I recognize that woman from the news. We looked at each other and smiled.  She was one of the survivors of the Boston Marathon Bombing. There she was with what I assume was her husband, enjoying the moment in a Caribbean Island. Lisa turned to me and said, “I want to remind you…they are here having a great time. Do not and I repeat it do not go over and say even a word of encouragement. She has had enough of that from everyone else. She is enjoying the moment…let them be.” I marvel at the fact that I actually listened to my wife on that trip. That woman, despite all of the trauma she faced, she understood the struggle, and in some ways looked Freud straight on and said…”not me!”

As  we return to the lesson of our  Torah reading for today, one might recognize that Abraham’s struggles are representative of our own struggles and our own trying to take hold and reign in on our lives, to find Freud’s pleasure.   I am hoping that we might not think of telling our stories simply to find that pleasure.   We need to find the stories that are not just redemptive, but inspiring through the pleasurable moments of life.  And that is the  ״יה״ in the ואספר מעשה יה״, in the “I will not die, but live on by sharing the story of ״יה״.

So, I want you just for a moment to pause and think about all of your lifestories. Can you find a central theme of your life? Through the lifestories of several individuals, Feiler identified five themes. Can you identify yours?

1. Struggle –  for these individuals “life (is) full of ups and downs, and their lives were about learning to adapt to these changes. The popularity of struggle is yet more reinforcement for the idea that people view life as irregular and nonlinear, not predictable and expected.” And he goes on: This notion calls to mind Viktor Frankl’s observation” which he gleaned from his experience in a concentration camp during the Holocaust, “that our need for meaning is greatest when life is harshest. “ If there is meaning in life at all, then there must be meaning in suffering.””  Thirty-one percent of story tellers define that as the theme of their life.  

The Unetaneh Tokef piyyut or poem that we will chant a little later state that “repentance, prayer and charity cancel the stern decree.”  The Hebrew suggests something different it doesn’t say it cancels it out, only that  “ma’avirin,” the decree with a little bit of mazal is softened.  If it doesn’t change the ultimate outcome, at least it allows us to appreciate that life is filled with the struggle.

2. Twenty-eight percent fell in to the category of self-actualization,  which “included people who said their lives were about being true to themselves, accepting themselves, or improving themselves” by being a better person, a better spouse, a better friend. It is the classic concept of teshuvah,  reflection and redemption that is part of the High Holyday theology.

3. Eighteen percent fell into the category of “service,” “devoted to make the world a better place.” It is the tzedakah part of our High Holyday theme. But it is more than that. It is the people who stand up and volunteer in our community to make a difference in the lives of others. And in doing so find meaning.

Here is one example of service. Back in Massachusetts, one of my friends spends her early hours of her day at the local hospital’s neo-natal unit. There, she embraces babies in her arms, giving them the warmth of a grandmother’s body.  She understands the baby’s need for that maternal love. She understands that the mothers cannot be there twenty- four hours a day. And that is her service and her new lifestory.

Here at Congregation Beth El, many of you have your own lifestories that you have created in your current lifestage. One individual, I call my mitzvah person: she simply reaches out to so many people who are in need, in so many different ways from calling them and visiting them with emotional support, to providing them with basic essentials out of her own pocket. Another has become a mother type mentor for years to a teen who had lost her way due to family dysfunctionality. There are many more of you, who behind the scenes here in our congregation give your time, effort and financial support to the programs  including planning, orchestrating, preparing, setting up and breaking down and doing the grunt work so that others can benefit. Our services here today could not have taken place without your efforts. And to  those of you who have or are expending countless hours, and in some instances have expended your own finances towards our goal of our new home -that is one of your own lifestories.

4. Thirteen percent identified with “gratitude,” and these people’s lifestories are filled with moments of feeling appreciative, lucky or joyful. They simply feel optimistic and blessed. They embrace opportunities as they come, rather than brood on the past.

5. And ten percent  fell into the category of “love.” “This final category comprised people who said their lives were built around relationships,” building them, refining them rather than breaking them down. It’s hard to imagine, that it’s only ten percent.

The Psalmist suggests that we need to tell our lifestories.  He suggests that we need to tell them in such a way to give life to them…to find meaning in them; to understand how we have come this far. That is where he leaves it to each one of us to take the next step,  to maybe  transition to a different theme of life or to continue to refine ourselves within our life’s central theme. And if we are able to tell and refine our story, as Freud suggested that we do, then perhaps we will not simply find joy through our suffering, but life changes and transitions in  our own personal stories that will keep us content to our end of days.   That is how Abraham’s “lifestory,” ends…as the Torah states: “old and contented with his life.”

Permit me to end with one final “lifestory” that you might have heard before. It is one that ends our talk today in such a beautiful way and that I wish for you all on this Rosh Hashanah day. ” It is the words of a mother to her daughter in their last moments together at the airport as the daughter's departure had been announced.  As the story has been told by a bystander:  an elderly woman and her daughter were standing near the security gate of an airport, as the daughter was about to board a plane. They hugged and the mother said: "I wish you enough."

The daughter replied, "Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom." They kissed and the daughter left.

The mother walked over to the window and a bystander tried not to intrude on her privacy but the elderly welcomed her in by asking, "Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?" "Yes, I have," she replied. "Forgive me for asking but why is this a forever good-bye?"

"I am old and she lives so far away. I have challenges ahead and her next trip back will be for my funeral," she said.

When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, "I wish you enough." May I ask what that means?"

She smiled. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone." She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail and she smiled even more.

"When we said 'I wish you enough' we were wishing the other person a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them". Then she shared the following, reciting it from memory,

"I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.

I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye."

She then began to cry and walked away.

May your “lifestory” be blessed with enough.