The Importance of Choice
Rosh HaShanah: September 7, 2002/5763
Rabbi Jeffrey Summit

Rosh Hashanah begins as the Torah ends. And I've always found the final chapters of the Torah especially poignant. Moses has led the Jewish people through the desert for forty years. Moses is going to die before his is able to enter the land. He gathers everyone together for a final round of "this is really important before we say goodbye" not unlike when your parents send you off to college or on a long trip, but this time, Moses knows that's the last time he'll ever see his people again. And he tells them, I set before you this day life and death, the blessing and curse, therefore choose life so you will really live." Uvacharta b'haim. Choose life.

Now, for years, when I've read and studied these words, I always thought that the emphasis in this verse was on the word "life" and the incredible stress that the Jewish tradition places on valuing life. But this year, as I read these words, something new jumped out at me. I realized that just as important, and maybe even more relevant to our work of change and growth on Rosh Hashanah, is not the word "life" but the word "choose." So much of a successful, fulfilled life is dependent upon the choices we make and our ability to make them well. If we are unable to choose, we are forever locked in place, unable to move ahead in our life.

Why is it so hard to make certain decisions? I see people struggling with choices constantly in college. In fact, this starts with the issue of picking a college itself, as if there existed one perfect choice And the choices just continue. Should I major in this area or that? Should I work on this project or another one? Not to even mention, Who should I date, who should I marry? I actually knew some Tufts students who got married last year after they graduated, not when they were 37. Throughout our lives, decisions become more, not less monumental. In my experience, certain very large decisions just have a way of making themselves. Relationships fall into this category. If you find yourselves agonizing over a relation for months or years, that's not a great sign for the rightness of that choice. I don't ever remember "deciding" that I was going to marry my wife. If just gradually became clear to both of us that this was the right relationship. No one proposed; at some point we just turned to one another and said, "I guess we're going to get married."

Even though such large decisions are sometimes organic, I won't pretend that there's not a certain abject terror associated with them. Even where you basically know a relationship is right, most commitments require a leap of faith. Perhaps you remember the midrash about Nachshon after we all had left Egypt. You remember. There we were standing at the shores of the Red Sea. Water in front of us. The Egyptian army closing in behind. Moses raises his staff to split the sea and nothing happens. (raise hand, look at staff). Finally this one guy, Nachshon says "I believe this is going to happen" and he jumps in the water, up to his neck, and only after he jumps into the water, does the Red Sea split. There are decisions that require that kind of courage and "leap of faith" even after we know that they are correct. I'm certainly not saying that you should jump to conclusions about who should be your future partner or spouse. Experience in relationships is valuable. But certain people never seem ready to commit to another person because they constantly want to "preserve their freedom." I would argue that that kind of freedom grows old rather quickly. Keeping all of your options constantly open often results in having lots of options and no relationship. In fact, not choosing is exactly what sets us adrift, makes us uneasy and uncentered. I would argue that there comes a point when happiness is built upon commitment and trust, being able to count on certain people and have them count on you.

My friend and colleague Rabbi Dan Shevitz says that there are only three reasons to do something. One, because you have to. Two, because you want to. And Three, because it's a mitzvah. I often apply his criteria when I have to make a choice. Do I have to do it? Do I want to do it? The harder one is to figure out just what a mitzvah is. There are certain things that are simply "the right thing to do" and figuring that out takes careful thought. But Dan didn't only mean "mitzvah" as a good deed. He also meant it as a religious commandment, many of which don't make immediate rational sense. As a traditionally minded liberal Jew, tradition doesn't always have a veto in my decisions, but it always has a vote.

Consider this in terms of people's Jewish lives: Shabbat seems, to many people, like a constraint. Traditionally, you can't do this, you can't do that. You don't use money, you don't do work. But what I have found is that the constraints that I decide to impose upon myself on Shabbat are freeing, not limiting, decisions. I decide that I'm not going to use money on Shabbat. That might seem like a constraint but the fact is then I'm freed from going to CVS and buying toothpaste, or running other errands or going to the Laundromat,, which we all know is really fun. I "constrain myself" by deciding that I'm going to go to shul and spend time at home, to read a book for pleasure. That frees me to relax, be with friends, to think and lay back. Those constraints give me one day where I can be on my own schedule, doing what I want and focusing on the friend who is sitting in front of me, not subject to the tyranny of the beeper, the random intrusion of the cell phone or the fax.

Of course decisions are hard. I learned from my brother-in-law that the root of the word "decide" is "cide" to kill as in "homicide." It's hard to make a decision because we are actually killing off other possibilities. It's natural to want to keep your options open but, at a certain point, not decide is also to decide. [But failure is not about choosing the wrong thing after going through a thoughtful process. Every real person makes some bad decisions. Failure comes when you refuse to learn from those bad decisions. Failure comes when you know what is important to you and you chose to do something different.

In the Talmud, an unusual story is told of how the Jews became God's chosen people. As we assembled at Mount Sinai, God asked, "Will you accept my Torah and live by its teachings?" Just as the question is posed, God picks up the entire mountain and holds it over our heads and adds, "It's your choice whether to accept the Torah or not, but if you don't, I will drop this mountain on you and it will mark your graves!" (Shabbat 88a). Many Jews have felt ambivalent about choice ever since. Of course, we all function under pressure and under certain expectations. To be born a Jew is to have a certain legacy, history and tradition which will all influence who we are. So too, we have to be respectful of our parents and our friends when we make important decisions. I think we are obligated to monitor and access our choices. We can change our mind. But ultimately, we are responsible for what we chose to do. The Jewish tradition deeply believes that it is in our power to choose the way we will live.

A number of years ago, it became common in the liberal Jewish community to call converts to Judaism "Jews by choice." It just sounded nicer that "convert" and honored the fact that, as difficult as it is to be Jewish, especially in a world where the memory of the Holocaust is still vivid and where contemporary anti-Semitism is on the rise, there were still people who were so drawn to the teachings of Judaism and the warmth of the Jewish community that they actually chose to be Jewish. But in truth, for those of us living in America in the year 5763 (2002), there are no laws and little outside pressure that compels us to be Jewish. Now we are all Jews by choice. In fact, this adds a new dimension to the concept of being the chosen people. I think we can turn that around and instead call ourselves the "choosing people." The question as this year begins is will we have the courage to jump in and make choices that will connect us deeply with our community and with our history? Will we chose to develop honest and real connections with our parents, and with our children? Will we chose to put our limited time and precious energy into things that we believe are important and will help us grow into the person who we most want to be? There are many choices before us this Rosh Hashanah. I hope for courage to chose and the wisdom to chose well. May our choices inscribe us for blessings in the book of life. Shabbat Shalom and Shana Tovah.