My closest friend from high school is expecting her first child. We’ve spoken on the phone every week of her pregnancy as she’s zeroed in on a date circled on the calendar. She has counted the weeks and then months; hyper focused like she’s running towards a spot on the horizon. During one of our recent conversations she came to a realization. She has been singularly focused on this date in the future to the point of nearly missing the miracle of creation taking place in the present.
We are obsessed with numbering the days. There are over fifty different kinds of countdown clocks available for download onto our phones. I can tell you that as of today, there are ten days until Yom Kippur. There are fifteen days until Sukkot and twenty nine days until the month of Heshvan begins and the High Holy Day season will officially end.
It is a uniquely human habit to track time the way we do. We tally the number of years we spend living in one place, how long we’ve been married, or the duration of our tenure in a job. We define ourselves by the numbers we total when we count time. We spend more of our lives accounting for time than we do fully living in the here and now. We desperately want to slow down our children’s formative years or speed up the days until a holiday celebration. We want to go back to carefree college days or skip ahead to the warmth of summer months. In a well intentioned effort to savor moments, we fail to be in them. Have you ever missed the sunset while trying to take a picture of it? Try as we may, Joanie Mitchell said it best- we are trapped on a carousel of time. While we are counting, life is happening right now.
Time is a most sacred resource. Futile attempts to manipulate it stem from an existential angst at the core of the human psyche that whispers tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. This is terrifying. It is this anxiety that prevents us from being whole, from being at peace. Time demands we surrender to it, but the present can be too painful to be in; too painful because joyful moments are fleeting- too painful because we are forced to face our grief.
The avoidance of physical and emotional pain is a protective evolutionary trait developed over the course of human history to ensure our survival. We must protect ourselves enough so as not to become mortally wounded while being bold enough to experience parts of life that only come with taking a chance. The challenge is in the balance. Being fully present requires vulnerability which wellness professionals have found to be a key factor in increasing longevity.
Netflix recently added a miniseries to its catalogue about Blue Zones. These are regions in the world where the life expectancy is higher than the global average, with the largest concentration of centenarians in the world. This is largely impart to cultural norms that fall into a group of healthy principles that researchers refer to as the Power 9. These nine habits at the core of healthy living center around diet, exercise and mental health.
The habits focused on emotional wellbeing include: knowing your sense of purpose, prioritizing stress relief, connecting with community, putting family or chosen family first, and choosing social circles that promote healthy behaviors. All of these practices require that one lives with intention and cultivates a routine around mindfulness and awareness of what is happening right now.
יםִ֔יַחַב ָ֙רתַחָֽוב
We are commanded to live and choose life in Parshat Nitzavim. We read these words the shabbat before Rosh Hashanah and on Yom Kippur. Having this text bookend our holiest of seasons is quite intentional. We are meant to dwell on what it means to choose life- to be fully present and bear witness to the whole of human experience.
Ironically, our people practice mindfulness through marking time. The difference between marking time and tracking time isn’t merely in semantics. Where tracking time counts down to the future or holds us in the past, marking the moment we are in grounds us in the present. As Jews, we mark time through rituals which provide a forum to sit with emotion.
A few weeks ago, I traded in my blazer for a camp t-shirt. I got to relive my glory days as a staff member at Jewish sleep-away camp for adults. For four days, campers experienced the type of ephemeral magic reserved for children. I watched grown adults with serious careers on slip-n-slides, trading friendship bracelets, roasting marshmallows, and engrossed in communal song. The fun that was had was holy.
Camp fosters a culture of presence unlike any other where being messy, or silly, or scared is allowed. The shackles of time fall away with the absence of cell phones. The only obligation is to show up fully- to answer the call of the moment. When God called our ancestors, they responded- hineini- here I am. This affirmation of attention, focus, and commitment to the present is brave and humble. When Abraham, Jacob, Moses, and Samuel responded to God’s call with hineini- they made a choice to show up without knowing what would be asked them them.
Statistically, it is not likely my friend’s baby will arrive on his due date. We say b’shah tovah- in good time, to expectant mothers, as a sort of prayer that their child will arrive safely at a good time. But this phrase can be translated differently- in this good time. We bless this moment.
In this year 5784, may each of our moments be blessed- even the painful ones. May we mark time through togetherness, through laughter, and the holiness of child-like fun. May we choose life- and to be fully present in it, without knowing what is in store. This year when we are called, may we answer, hineini.
This sermon was presented on Rosh Hashanah at Temple Emanu-El of Edison, New Jersey.
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