Rabbi Israel Kagan, one of the great Eastern European Jewish leaders of the 20th century, was once cited as a character witness in a court case in Belarus. The defendantās lawyer said that Rabbi Kagan, though not present in court, was known to think highly of the defendant.
The judge challenged the lawyer: āI donāt know who this Rabbi is, and in any event, why should I believe what he says about the defendant? Why should I trust his opinion?ā A fair question!
The defense lawyer explained, āYour honor, let me tell you a story about this Rabbi that will prove to you how honest and trustworthy he is!ā He continued: āOne time, Rabbi Kagan was about to take a letter to the post office to have it mailed, when somebody stopped by his house and said: āIām going to the town youāre sending the letter to ā I can bring the letter for you. No need to mail it!ā Rabbi Kagan happily gave the letter to him – but then took the stamp he was going to use and tore it up, so the post office wouldnāt lose the money!ā
Hearing this, the judge said, āCome on, you donāt really expect me to believe that story, do you?ā The lawyer replied: āYour Honor, I donāt know for sure if that story is true or not. But one thing I know for sure – theyāre not telling that story about you and me!ā
Today, the second of Rosh Hashana, the Hebrew New Year, is an appropriate time to ask: what kind of stories will be told about us when our time on earth is done? What will people say about us when we are gone?
None of us are perfect; we are all, ultimately, a mixture of good and bad, of good deeds and sins, of holy acts and lowly moments. Each of us can be portrayed in kinder or harsher light. What will others remember about our lives? Which story will they choose to tell?
Among our children, and certainly among our grandchildren, our lives will be summarized, boiled down into stories and soundbites. What kind of stories will they tell? How will they look back upon us, and how will they judge us?
Today, of all days, is the proper time to ask this question. Rosh Hashana, the Hebrew New Year, is also called by another name: Yom Hazikaron, the āDay of Remembering.ā Today is the day that God looks at each and every human being and āremembersā how we have lived our lives!
But what does it mean when we say that āGod remembersā? God doesnāt need to remember, for He never forgets! He is, after all, All Knowing!
āRemembering,ā for God, means something much more profound that merely ārecalling.ā It means that today, God looks at our year, with all of our successes and failures, and condenses it all to its essence Today is the day when God summarizes our lives, creating an overview of how we have lived until now!
Today, each of us must ask ourselves this question: On this day of judgment, what stories are they telling about me up in Heaven? What stands out about my year, and my life, when itās boiled down to its essence?
The sages share a profound teaching: āDo not judge your fellow until you have reached his placeā (Ethics of the Fathers). Simply understood, this means that we should be careful not to judge other people until we ourselves have experienced the same challenge that they have.
This is certainly an important teaching. But many years ago, one of my teachers explained this teaching in a fascinating way. When we meet other people, we tend to form impressions about them very quickly. āSheās funny!ā, āHe seems pretty full of himself!ā, āWhat an inspirational speaker ā he must be a very holy person!ā And all of these impressions may be spot on!
But being funny, or a good speaker, or publicly righteous ā none of these qualities help us to truly judge the essence of another person. As the sages say, donāt judge another person, donāt think that you really know what another person is all about, āuntil you reach his place,ā until youāve seen the way he acts and speaks āin his place,ā in the place that is uniquely his ā in his home!
For when we are at home with our families, we shed the āshowmanshipā that so dominates the way we act outside of our homes. At work, at the synagogue or church, at our friendsā homes, we are concerned for our reputations; we āput on a showā for others. But when we come home, to our own spouses and our own children, we are more authentically ourselves. We are no longer āpretendingāā we lower our guard, and our true inner selves ā for better or worse ā come out!
Our relationship with our children, the way we act at home, when we are shielded from the public eye – this is who we are! This is our essence, this is how we will be judged, and this is how we will be remembered! On this Day of Remembering, the way we live our lives at home, more than anything else, will determine which stories are told about us – both in heaven, and here on earth!
At the end of his classic play, āOur Town,ā Thornton Wilder gives the heroine, Emily, who died in childbirth at age 26, the opportunity to turn back the clock and relive one day of her life.
Emily picks her 12th birthday, and suddenly she is home again. She sees her mother preoccupied with cooking. Her father returns from work, worn out after a long business day. Only Emily is aware of the preciousness of the passing moments. Time passes by, and the members of the family pay no attention to one another, seemingly unaware of each otherās presence.
Seeing her family ignore one another, Emily canāt bear it, and though they cannot hear, she cries out: āOh Mama, just look at me one minute as though you really saw me. Just for a moment now weāre all together, Mama ā just for a moment weāre all happy! Letās look at one another!ā But no one hears her, and as her birthday fades away, she weeps: āOh earth, youāre too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do not human beings realize life while they live it every minute?ā
Today, on this Day of Remembering, let us remember what matters most in this life, and what will truly shape our legacy. In that merit, may our Father in Heaven remember us for life, for health and for blessings.