Tag: sacred aging

We are of a particular generation, us boomers.

Our cohort is thinning.  We watch as icons, friends, and family of our generation die. So many of us have already lost our parents, and our grandparents have been consigned to our memories for years.

generations
PHOTOGRAPH BY SAPPINGTON TODD—GETTY IMAGES/BLOOMIMAGE RF

It is a natural process but a sobering one.  Our days may still be many, but the time ahead of us is far shorter than the time we have already lived.

We are of a particular generation, us boomers. We who live on reflect on our mortality and what our lives will mean to those who will continue after we are gone.

A friend of mine used to joke that he read the obituary first thing in the paper, and if he didn’t see his name, he knew it would be a good day.  Gallows humor perhaps, but now is the time to ensure the gift that is the remainder of our lives is lived well.  What do we have yet to accomplish?  Have we been faithful to our ideals, and what amends must we make for the times we did not?

What will we leave behind to those we love?  Will they remember us as unique parts of their lives, filled with experiences of beautiful times together?  Now is the time to reach out to them and make our time together memorable- it is a gift for us both.

 

Did I Make a Difference?

Parshat Devarim

Did I make a difference?
This timeless question is in Moses’ heart as Devarim, the first parsha of Deuteronomy, as he recounts the trials and tribulations from Egypt to the edge of the Promised Land.
He has led the people faithfully, but the old generation is gone. Moses prepares for his death, Joshua is appointed the new leader and a new generation of people formed and steeled in the crucible of the Midbar prepares to move forward, leaving Moses behind.
Moses’ recollections are slightly different than what we read as things occurred along the journey. Despite pushback from the people and God, he places himself in the spotlight as the true champion in every circumstance.
Elie Weisel suggests, “Some stories are true that never happened.” Indeed, memories often are the recalling of experiences based on the values that helped us understand those experiences and shaped us.
It has been an often-fraught relationship, with the people wanting to rebel and turn back, factions acting out against Moses and Moses saving the people from God’s wrath. Moses recounts things through the filter of his memory and the desire to be remembered for his accomplishments as the person who brought B’nei Israel into nationhood and to the Promised Land, following God’s direction. But now, it is Joshua’s turn as God’s chosen successor.
We sense the tension in the transition as Moses recounts the extraordinary experiences thus far under his tutelage. Although we consider Moses most humble, even he needs to see that his time has meaning, his life was for a purpose and the people he served appreciate all he has done.
We are on the verge of a new chapter. At the edge of the Promised Land, the needs are different. New and fresh leadership is required to meet the new tests, the challenges of a new generation and the new enterprise of taking the land and dwelling in it. But this transition is often abrupt and dismissive, without the respect the elders have earned.
Can we elevate the process by offering sincere gratitude and recognizing this as a “shehecheyanu” moment? Can we maintain a respectful place for those soon-to-be former leaders as curators of wisdom and institutional memory? This kind of transition is a process, not a moment. And the lessons of the Torah are timely. Change a name and the setting, and we are talking about us.
The pandemic accelerated many changes already underway in our culture and society. Legacy institutions have struggled with membership and age; leaders are finding they do not speak a language that resonates with the next generation to engage them successfully; identity is more fluid than ever.
For many clergy leaders, the time has come to leave the pulpit and make way for the new group of leaders. Can we find ways to usher this change along, honoring the past while looking to the future? I suggest that although the methods may differ, the Torah’s enduring values remain constant.
We will lose much if we cannot embrace the old while turning toward the new. It is about giving our people both roots and wings, to liken it to parenting.
It validates who we as parents are, the nurturers and teachers. The values they learn are the values we taught. The ability to find meaning is grounded in the world in which we raised them. This is a moment of extraordinary challenge, and the opportunities are practically unlimited. We brought them along on this remarkable journey to this particular point.
Now they, the next generation, must move forward, leaving us behind, but carrying us in their hearts and minds. This is the underlying message of the phrase, Zichronam Livracha, may their memories be for a blessing.
May we live our lives to bring honor to a tradition grounded in morals and ethics and understand that we live in service to something greater. And may the next generation honor us by doing the same.
This piece was originally published by the Jewish Exponent. 

A Passport- a gateway and a journey

I just received my new passport. The old one was expiring and I dutifully followed the instructions, got a new picture, completed the DS-82 form, mailed it and in the mail was the new passport. But I miss the old one.

I got the old one as I prepared to enter a new phase of my life, leaving a 30-year career in business to become a rabbi. Looking back, it has been a fascinating decade chronicled by this small blue book. Stamps representing my trips to and from Israel as a rabbinical student, my trips through the Former Soviet Union celebrating Pesach in Moscow and cities in Siberia, my honeymoon in Italy with Naomi as a newlywed, the trips to Israel as a rabbi, and a wedding in the Dominican Republic, were all documented by this small blue book with worn edges. Each page is a reminder of a very special experience.

I remember the process of obtaining it, completing other forms and taking other pictures that showed a younger version of me with more hair on top of my head and less gray on the face. The book was empty and new. It was literally and figuratively my passport to my future. Each of those stamps represented an amazing journey. Each was memorialized in that precious little book that I scrupulously guarded but whose inside page I copied just in case my best-laid plans to protect it was subverted.

Extraordinary memories of extraordinary experiences are evidenced in my old passport. It serves as a reminder that we continue to grow and each passing day is another page in our life journey. I reflect back on them and see something I learned and perhaps can share with others. My life is enriched and so too is my capacity to teach.

So now I have the new passport. The picture inside is of an older, current version of me. The pages are clean and new. I can only wonder about the adventures and how those pages might be filled over the next decade. The fresh pages beckon with anticipation and promise. I can only hope that when it is time to replace this contemporary passport, it too will worn and maybe tattered, filled with visas and stamps of exciting travels evoking meaningful memories declaring that my continuing life journey remains a rich experience of growth and sharing.

A New Chapter

 Naomi and I have entered a new chapter in our lives. A new phase in the journey that has brought us to an interesting, sobering and new place.

 I do not have a formal name for it, but people approximately my age/generation are becoming aware of it and those of you in the generation that has preceded us remember this time as well. I guess we are officially “middle age.” With all the talk of 40 being the new 30 and similar reframing, the fact is that in our 50’s we are in the place where mortality is showing itself as a real part of life. We have those krenks and pains, and some body parts are not performing as they once did. But even more sobering, some of our friends are not faring so well. They have real issues, confronting things such as cancer and heart disease, and some have died. Our parents are aging; many slipping, and many of them too are dying. We have entered that phase where these things are becoming the common and expected part of daily life, no more the stories of others from another generation, or the extraordinary event of someone we know. I am not sure precisely what this phase may be called, except for possibly “our new reality,” this next phase of our lives.

 It is strange and as a new experience it creates separation and aloneness. Yet it is a phase that we all experience. This is a time when our older generation can truly reach out to us younger people and help us make sense of this new place; for they have been here and have lived through it. Their experience gives them an understanding that we could use. If we could talk about it, the wisdom of the older would help us make some sense of it. We both would benefit from the conversation and the bonds that this sharing could foster. When we open up about our fears and how we navigate through them, we deepen the relationships between us figuratively and literally holding each other’s hand.