Entering the New Year- What to Keep, What to Leave Behind
This year, in particular, has been a really hard year. Really hard. The ongoing situation in Israel has cast a huge cloud. I worry about the families who have lost loved ones. I worry about the hostages and their families, holding up after almost two years of uncertainty. I worry about the soldiers of the IDF and their physical and spiritual well-being. In the US Army we learned about the negative impact of moral injury- questioning the ethical impact of our actions- an injury that can result in a broken heart that lasts a lifetime. I worry about the people of Israel and their government and the impact on their soul. I worry about world opinion about the Jewish state, and I worry about the new wave of antisemitism that has been unleashed.
I don’t think of myself as a worrier, and yet: I worry about my children and grandchildren and the world they are inheriting. It seems like a starkly less kind and caring place. We’ve all seen how disagreements turn into personal attacks and insults. I worry about our collective inability to have civil conversations with each other. I worry about the impact of social media and AI.
I worry about my own self-image and the legacy of my life’s work. I worry about my health and that of my friends and family. I worry whether I will outlive my resources.
We chant Unetaneh Tokef on these High Holy Days, and list all of the possible negative outcomes the year may bring- who will die before their time? Who will not be at peace? Who will lose their fortune? In our Mussar class, Michael Neer described Yom Kippur as “Our festival of worry, ” and it sure feels that way.
And what does all this worry accomplish? One hundred percent, absolutely nothing. I think about the great line of Glenn Turner- “Worrying is like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do, but it gets you nowhere.”
Sometimes worry is appropriate. Worrying if you are doing enough to bring about tikkun olam, repair of the world. Worrying if you are taking your own spiritual growth seriously.
But, in general, worry is not productive, and that’s what I’d like to leave behind in the year that is drawing to a close. I will try to let go of worry, translate it into concern, and let that concern motivate me towards action.
Unlike worry, concern is healthy and warranted in life. It is good to be concerned about some things because you want to get those things right. That concern heightens your awareness and your attention to detail. Concern leads to careful action, while worry is counterproductive because it just stops us in our tracks. You would certainly want your doctor to be concerned about your medical situation in order that nothing be overlooked. But what good would it do if your doctor just worried about you?
Instead of worrying this year, I’d like to reflect and act on my concerns, up to the point that there is nothing else I can do to impact the situation. Then- let it go. As Rabbi Tarfon wisely taught in Pirke Avot (2:16) “It is not your task to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.” Knowing we’ve done all that we can do leads to equanimity, calm, peace. The Hebrew term is especially beautiful- menhuchat ha-nefesh, restfulness of soul. Wouldn’t it be nice to have more restfulness of soul?
So- worry is the big thing that I’d like to unpack from my bag and leave behind.
And what would I like to bring? These Yamim Noraim, these Days of Awe, starting with the beginning of Elul, are dedicated to cheshbon ha-nefesh- spiritual accounting. When I think about all the negativity in the world, it is easy to be discouraged and disheartened. Then, I come to Temple Chai, and I see rooms full of people who, with all the chaos and busyness in their lives, have set aside time to look within and do better in the year ahead, and, wow! I am inspired and filled with hope.
I am inspired to believethat change is possible and that there are still good people who haven’t given up. What a blessing to be among this kehillah kedosha, this holy community of individuals who are passinately committed to Jewish values of justice and kindness, and living lives where we truly see each other as a tzelem Elohim, an image of God.
What I’d like to bring with me into the year ahead is more of that. More holiness and less judgment. We are so quick to judge each other- and ourselves, by the way- and so reluctant to bring patience and kindness into our interactions. The High Holidays are the season of repentance. Teshuvah. Teshuvah is translated as repentance, but it also means- to return. We return to our best selves. Teshuvah is also an answer. We answer the call to be our best selves.
It’s important to recognize the ways in which we’ve gone off track, and what a gift we give ourselves when we spend time recalculating our sense of direction moving forward. We pray that God will forgive us for our wrongdoing, and the rabbis suggest that as we forgive others, so will God respond to us. In my own mathematical equation, patience plus kindness equals holiness.
In the year ahead, I aspire to less worry and more action. Letting go of what I can’t control or what won’t matter in 5 years or 5 months or 5 minutes, and focusing on where I can make changes. For maybe the last 40 years or so I’ve had a postcard in my office with a quote from Margaret Mead, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” I need to re-read that card more often. In the year ahead, I will translate my values into action. More action on a communal level and more action on a personal level.
And, I want to take with me my desire for family togetherness. When I reflect on my most essential values, family is one of them. And even if it means flying across the country I want to maximize the time we have with each other. A few weeks ago I read a quote by Mel Robbins that stopped me in my tracks- “The time that you have with the people that you love is like a melting ice cube. One minute it’s there. . . The next, it’s gone.” Good news for American Airlines!
I’d like to get over my insecurities and begin to look back on my life with a sense of satisfaction and an appreciation of the positive impact I have been blessed to provide. This year I will, God willing, celebrate my 70th birthday. When you reach this age, if you are fortunate enough to do so, a life review is in order. And if 70 seems very far away, it’s not too soon to think about what would make you proud when you reflect on how you used the gift of your time.
So as I enter this new year, I want to set down the heavy burden of worry and instead carry forward the lighter, holier gifts of concern that leads to action, patience that opens space for kindness, and love that binds us together as family and community.
In this holy season, may we each find the courage to let go of what we cannot control, and the wisdom to act where we can. May we return to our best selves, and may we discover menuchat ha-nefesh—true restfulness of soul.
And may 5786 be a year of health, of hope, of holiness, and of sweetness for us, for our families, for our people, and for all the world.
Shanah tovah u’metukah.”