Shabbat Vayeshev Nov. 23,
2013
Are we living our resumes or our eulogies?
Hanokh
of Alexander taught: Once there was a
stupid man who each morning had a difficult time remembering where he had left
his clothes the night before. So one day
he got a pencil and a piece of paper and wrote down where he was placing each
article of clothing. He placed the note
next to his bed and thought to himself
“Tomorrow I will have no trouble finding my clothes!”
He
awoke the next morning, quite pleased with himself, took the note, and followed
it to the letter, finding each piece of clothing exactly where he had set it
down. Within a short period of time he
was fully dressed.
Suddenly he was
seized with a terrible thought! ”But where am I?” he cried. “Where in the world am I?”
He looked
everywhere but could not find himself.
“And so,”
taught Hanokh of Alexander, “so it is with us.” (The classic tales, p.557)
The
divine plan has given us the ability to reflect about where we are in our
lives, not with regard to physical location, but in relation to who we
want to be and how we want to live in relationship with God, with others
and with ourselves. Often however, we
are focused on our career objectives, on what we have to do but we often
forget to ask “who am I, really? and why am I here.”
The
Huffington Post recently published an article entitled: “Are you living your resume or your
eulogy?” The author asks us to consider
how we want to define success in our lives?
Will we judge our success based on money? Or power? Or based on
how many random acts of kindness we did during the course of a regular week? Are
we living our lives according to what really matters to us? And if not, can we change?
It may be that
the moments that come closest to defining how we want to live are precisely the
ones that will never make it into our resumes.
I recently saw a YouTube video. A
blind man was sitting on the on the sidewalk outside of a busy shopping area. He had a can in front of him and a cardboard
sign. The sign said: “I am blind. Please help.”
Most people walked past him, trying not to see him. A few dropped some coins in his can. A woman stopped in front of him. She took his cardboard sign and wrote
something on the other side of it.
Meanwhile, he was feeling her shoes; the only way he could know her, a
bit. She put the cardboard sign back and
she left. Suddenly, people no longer
walked by him. The coins and dollar
bills literally poured into his can until it was overflowing. At the end of day, the woman came back and
stood in front of the man. Again, he
felt her shoes. He asked her “What did
you write on the sign?” She said “The
same thing you wrote, I just used different words.” Then the camera went to the sign. She had written “This is a beautiful day and
I can’t see it.”
הִנֵּנִי is not a simple statement of our
whereabouts. It means “here I am, fully
present and ready to do what you ask.” The
word הִנֵּנִי appears only a few times
in the Torah. In most cases,
God calls out to a person in a pivotal moment, and their response is an act of
total focus, a complete readiness to encounter the Divine. What is significant about a הִנֵּנִי moment is not that God is reaching out to us but rather
that we have declared that we are available to God.
Please
imagine with me, for a minute, the profound awareness of God with which we can
only surmise Abraham avinu lived.
When the text tells us “God called his name”, imagine not that Abraham
actually heard God’s voice, but that he was so totally present and open to God,
that he knew, at the very core of his being, that God was there and wanted his
attention. That is a הִנֵּנִי moment.
From a literary perspective, הִנֵּנִי
tells the reader that something important is about to happen. Something is about to change! That, I propose, is the message of הִנֵּנִי in vayeshev, this week’s parsha. In this case, when Joseph responds הִנֵּנִי his response is not to
God but to the call of another person; to his father. Consider the possibility that in saying הִנֵּנִי to his father, Joseph
may in fact, have been responding to God.
Although Joseph may not yet be a willing accomplice, with this
response of הִנֵּנִי to Jacob, he becomes
the first violin in the orchestra that will fulfill the Divine symphony that
creates the Jewish people as a nation.
Joseph’s
brothers are in Shechem tending their father’s flock. Jacob requests that Joseph go to Shechem to
see about the well-being of his brothers. Joseph responds הִנֵּנִי, here I am (ready to do
as you ask). (Gen. 37:11-14)
We know that Joseph’s brothers hated him and
not without good reason. It is possible
that they have taken the flock to Shechem for the purpose of making a plan to
rid themselves of him. Why would Israel send his favorite son on a
mission that was nearly impossible-not to mention potentially very dangerous? And why did Joseph respond with הִנֵּנִי?
Jacob’s request did not require a response of any kind. It called for action. Rashi says Joseph’s הִנֵּנִי is לשון ענוה וזריזות, the language of humility and
enthusiasm. Joseph was very aware of
the potential danger but was nevertheless, enthusiastic about carrying out his
father’s request. The Almighty works in
mysterious ways, doesn’t She? Despite
that we may not be aware of God’s plan for us, there are a variety of ways that
each of us can bring the Divinely inspired power of הִנֵּנִי into our lives. They will be moments of focus, of being
present, open and available to invite God in, to make ourselves available to
God or to be totally present for another human being. Despite that we will see in them great
personal growth, our actions in these moments are not the type that will ever
show up on our resume.
Not
infrequently, people I haven’t seen in a while tell me ‘You haven’t changed a
bit!’ – and while I know it is intended as a compliment and I want to take it
as such, it misses the point. I
know how much I have changed.
הִנֵּנִי moments can come when we
least expect them. On June 16, 2011, I
had a regularly scheduled mammogram. The
radiologist saw something, in her words “irregular”. I had a biopsy in the afternoon. At 6:00 that evening I received a diagnosis of
breast cancer.
As incredible as it
sounds, that was my הִנֵּנִי moment. I was in my third of six years as a
rabbinical school student. Feeling God’s
presence in my life was an intense but elusive desire. Even today it sounds
crazy to me but in that moment, I had a profound awareness of God’s
presence. I became exquisitely aware of
the Divine spark in myself. I prayed
that God would bless me with the ability to survive this experience with grace.
I simultaneously expected and fervently hoped
that this test would deepen my compassion and strengthen my ability to hold
both the pain and the joy of others.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not suggesting that a cancer
diagnosis, or any other dark moment in our lives, will be our opportunity to
connect with God. Most often those are
times when we pray that we will, somehow, just get through it. When or whether a
הִנֵּנִי moment comes, is entirely unpredictable. The key is to be open and available to that possibility. In what I perceived as my הִנֵּנִי moment, I prayed; and for the
first time that I could remember, it felt like I knew to whom I was
praying. I have no idea where the words
came from or exactly what I said. I
remember only that I prayed with a profound humility that I would become a more
effective, albeit “wounded healer”, a better pastor and teacher.
A הִנֵּנִי moment can be upon us even,
maybe especially, at a time of profound darkness in our lives. It will undoubtedly change us forever; even if
only we are aware of the change.
Recently, I read a sermon by Rabbi Joseph Braver z”l. In it, he also wondered whether ‘you haven’t
changed a bit’ is a compliment. “If God
were to look at us today God would probably say to many of us: ‘You are in bad
shape. You haven’t changed a bit.’” Rabbi Braver recalls a sign that used to sit
near the cash register at the checkout line in many stores. ‘Count your change before you leave’ the sign
said. “That is good advice not only about money,”
the rabbi suggests. “It is good
spiritual advice as well.” “…Let us
count our change on a regular basis” he advises. “Let us make sure that when
God sees us, we will hear, ‘You look great!
You’ve changed a lot.”
When I die, I hope that my eulogy will celebrate my
life in a manner very similar to how I would define success in my everyday
existence.
May each of us as
individuals and all of us as a community, be blessed with the wisdom and
insight to find balance between doing and being. Help us not to miss our lives even
while we're living them.
May we learn to live by our values; to be present and
available to discern our own י הִנֵּנִ moments. May we share the best of who we are with one
another. And may we “count our
change”-regularly.
I am grateful for the opportunity to have shared these
thoughts with you. Shabbat shalom.
