The Passing of Time
Rosh HaShanah: September 15, 2004/5765
Rabbi Jeffrey Summit

If I hear one more person say "The summer sure went fast" I'm going to scream. It doesn't feel right to glance back from September to last June and simply say "the summer went fast." We did many important, fun, interesting things this summer and it feels like it denigrates them to blur that time, mentally skipping from June to September.

Well, the summer did go fast but actually, as we're back at school, as the years go on, everything seems to go quickly: I wake up and turn around and it's the afternoon. The seasons blend into one another. The year no sooner starts with Rosh Hashanah and we're already preparing for Passover. And then it's Rosh Hashanah again.

For me, there is no issue quite as profound, mysterious and unsettling as how we deal with the passing of time in our lives. Moments from years ago live vividly in my memory and make up who I am today. I spend months looking forward to something; it's here and then it's gone. The people I am closest to hold different memories of times we lived through together: is there any objective truth about time once it has passed? I have absolutely no idea what my age means; I feel both young and old. I'm increasing aware that time is precious and limited but the platitudes, "Carpe diem" or "Live every moment to the fullest" don't really provide wisdom deep enough to deal with these issues. This year, in my sermons during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur I would like to address the issue of time and look into the Jewish tradition for some direction about dealing with the meaning and passing of time in our lives.

How does the Jewish tradition deal with time? Probably the most significant way is by marking some days of the year as different from other days. In essence, the whole concept of "holidays" is about dealing with time. But in our American culture, a holiday is a day you don't work. Labor day was fun, sleeping late, going to the beach, having a barbecue. But Labor Day didn't help me deal with the metaphysical issues in my life. So too, while Jewish holidays are often important times to be with family and friends, to enjoy traditional food, to come together with community, I don't think many Jews in America experience the holidays, with the possible exception of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, as a time to think deeply about meaning in our lives as we barrel through time.

I want to focus my examination this evening on the last lines of Parsha Re'eh, the section of the Torah that ushers in the month of Elul and the beginning of the holiday season. "Three times a year, Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot, appear before God, Don't appear empty-handed but bring your own gift, according to the blessing you have been accorded." While the traditions of the life cycle (birth, bar/bat mitzvah, weddings, funerals) structure time over the course of our lives, here the Shalosh Regalim, the three pilgrimage festivals, order time in the context of the year. While these rituals grow out of the agricultural cycle of the harvest and our people's historic relationship with worship in the Temple , I want to suggest that there is much underneath these words that can help us structure and apprehend the meaning of time as we live it day to day.

What do we learn from these verses? Three times a year, we stop and reassess. We look back over the four months that have passed and consider how we have been blessed, what we have been given and what we have to give. While the holidays and their rituals provide way-markers and structures for celebration, ideally they are meant to do more. These holidays should provide an opportunity for reflection and assessment, grounding and centering ourselves as we move into the months ahead. In the fields of business or in non-profit organizations, people often do assessments and strategic planning. In our academic courses, we are periodically evaluated on the quality of our work. But how often do we stop, evaluate and assess how we are doing in our lives? How we are treating the people we love? What contributions are we making to our community? Are we living true to the ideals we say are important? Possibly, probably many of us do this before Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, but these verses teach that this process should happen more regularly during the year.

If we do it right, celebrating a holiday doesn't stop time but it stops us in time. I want to look at the words in the verse, "To appear before the Holy One." In that we no longer bring offerings to the Temple , how can we understand that phrase? What does it mean "to appear before God?" I think of a section in the Talmud in tractate Eruvin (64a) that gives the operative definition for how to determine when you have had too much to drink, the rabbinic equivalent of "Can you walk a straight line?" The rabbis say that if you are clear headed enough to be able to speak in the presence of a king, then you are not legally intoxicated, from which the rabbis draw the conclusion that if you are drunk, you can't fulfill your obligation to pray, because you are not clear headed enough to speak in the presence of "the King, the king of kings." From that, I learn that "appearing before God" is essentially about being focused, clear-headed, able to say who we are and what's important to us in our lives. Many of us fill our hands with so much that at times we live our lives in a blur. There's so much to do that we're at it late at night and then early again the next morning. Perhaps preparing for the holidays should specifically, dafka include a time of resting up, taking care of ourselves so periodically we can reconsider and reassess our direction and decisions with a clear head, thoughtfully and soberly, when we appear "before the King."

Secondly, I want to consider the phrase "we should not appear before God empty handed." Think historically how meaningful and intense it must have been to fulfill that commandment. The literal meaning was that you had to bring an offering to the Temple in Jerusalem during the holidays but consider the process that went into bringing the offering. You actually had to look over your flocks and crops and carefully think about just what you produced over the past three or four months. What have I done and how well have I done it over the past season? (an easier period to get a handle on than an entire year). Then the gift that we bring is much more than the measure of wheat or olive oil. The gift we bring to this season is living an examined life. And because thought and action are seen to be integrally connected in our tradition, that process ideally has a positive impact not only on us but also on the people we love and our larger community. This process of heshbon hanefesh, living an examined life, doesn't stop time but it brings context and meaning to our actions over the past months, underscoring the meaning of the time that has past.

Next, I want to consider the commandment in the verse that on each holiday, you have to make a gift, an offering, "according to the blessings you have been given." The verse states, "natach lach ," that is, the things actually in your hands, not in someone else's. One key to dealing with time is deciding to live our own life, focusing on the things in our hands, not trying to live other people's lives for them. Living our time effectively means understanding what we can and what we can't control. We have to live the life in front of us, the life we've been given. Focusing on the things in our own hands ultimately means that parents have to allow children to live their own lives and children have to accord the same respect to their parents. Of course we care about the people we love, but at some point, trying to live and control other people's lives is like trying to drive when you're in the passenger's seat. Not only is it not possible, it's probably one of the biggest wastes of our precious and limited time. Trying to control other people's lives robs you of the energy and direction you need to live your own live effectively. This approach, focusing on our own accomplishments, goals and challenges, doesn't stop time, but it gives us more time, devoting energy to the things we can actually control and placing us more vibrantly in our lives.

Up to this point, I've been discussing the three pilgrimage festivals but Rosh Hashanah has an even more profound lesson to teach us about time. I deeply believe that the key to living a full, satisfying life is being able to move forward in time, to progress, to apply our hard-won experience to new situations. And all of us, no matter how smart or sophisticated or insightful, get stuck at certain points. Recently I spoke with a student who was trying to decide whether to go home or not for Yom Kippur. I asked him, "Why is this such a hard decision?" and he answered, "A lot of it has to do with my sixteen year old brother. When I'm home, immediately we fall back into how we were when he was ten and I was fourteen, we fight, there's a lot of teasing, stupid stuff. And the difficult thing is, it's not even fun any more. It's a major regression. It's like we get stuck in a time warp. The funny thing is that he visited me at school last year and we had a great time. But put us back at the dinner table, and it's like I never left home.."

Many people try to move into the year while still stuck in an old place, still holding onto the memory of an old hurt or slight. They keep re-living and playing out the past again and again, even after the other people in their mental scenario have forgotten and moved on. In his unusual book about time, Einstein's Dreams , Alan Lightman writes, "The tragedy of this world (where we continually fall back into old patterns, reliving old scenarios) is that no one is happy. The tragedy . is that everyone is alone. For a life in the past cannot be shared with the present. Each person who get stuck in time gets stuck alone." Unfortunately, when a person is stuck in time, it doesn't only affect their own happiness, it also separates them from their friends and family, the people who love and care about them.

Rosh Hashanah teaches us that through teshuvah, thoughtful assessment and a commitment to change, we can revisit those places where we get stuck. We can come to an understanding of what goes wrong. We can recognize past mistakes, apologize, forgive other people, make changes and move forward. The goal is not to be perfect; the goal is to live in the present, able to rebuild friendships and deepen relationships.

Traditionally we only say the prayer Shehechiyanu on special occasions (thanks to the Holy One for keeping us alive and allowing us to reach this season, this time). Still, much in our tradition wants us to focus "b'zman hazeh," on the precious, present moment. We do that by making time for clear-headed reflection, by thoughtfully assessing time past, by focusing on living our own life, the life in front of us. We do that by forgiving others and by apologizing for the things we have done wrong. We do that by committing to acting differently so we can move forward into the New Year. I believe that this process has the power to sustain us, fulfill us and keep us fully alive as we move though these moments of time. Shanah tovah, my wishes for a sweet, fulfilling year.