When the United States Army became a volunteer army, they designed advertisements to entice men and women to enlist. They are still on TV, showing us the type of skills that a person would learn in the army that would be applicable in civilian life. The punch line of the advertisements is one that we all recognize:
Be All That You Can Be.
The obvious implication of that slogan is that we have inner potential, which is waiting to be tapped. The advertisement urges us to take the initiative and make the potential real. The implication is that there is a great deal within us, talents, gifts, and capabilities that are going unrealized. In the army, it suggests, all of these will be brought forth. Yet Paracelsus, a German physician who lived in 1493 – 1541 who also dabbled in theology wrote in Latin, which is not my strong suit, but I cite with its translation:
Non sit alterius, qui suus esse potest.
He who can be himself, let him not be another.
It is important to have a proper perspective about ourselves; otherwise we will never have a sense of inner satisfaction. We will never find inner peace. Early on in my life I knew that I couldn't be a doctor, I didn't like the sight of blood, and to this day, switch off to another channel when the show is too graphic, even though I know it is just a show. I also knew that I couldn't be a lawyer, despite being a devotee of Perry Mason! It is not in my nature to be contentious or enwrapped with the myriad of details that the practice of law requires. According to my mother, my memory fails me, at the age of ten or eleven I already declared that I wanted to be a Rabbi. In retrospect, I now see that then I didn't have the foggiest notion of the Rabbinate. But I felt the attraction of the synagogue, the call of prayer and the summons of Torah, which, though over time I dallied in speculation about other careers, I always returned to my first true love. I learned subconsciously, and now express it in words:
We can't be whom we are not meant to be.
We need to be all that we can be.
All that we should be.
One of the books on my summer's reading list was Second Helping of Chicken Soup For The Soul. You have come to know that I love that genre of books because the stories so poignantly illustrate the vital components of life, particularly those to which we turn our attention during these Yamim Noraim – Days of Awe. In Second Help there were two pieces, one that explains in a picture and the other in words, this theme of being that which we should be.
One of my favorite characters is Dennis the Menace, and on page 103, in the section entitled On Parenting, Dennis is the sitting, you must excuse me, on Santa's lap. He is clearly whispering into Santa's ear:
"Do you believe in yourself?"
The cartoon immediately struck me because, in part, achieving that which we truly can achieve, being the person we really can be and should be, is not always easy. If anyone had told me that it would take ten years after high school until I was ordained as a Rabbi, it might have been very discouraging. There are many other professions that require an exceeding amount of college and postgraduate studies. How many have climbed the mountain of learning, but how many have fallen off? If continuing education is necessary, how go many back to school? Thinking back about my father, I remember him going to night school when I was in high school, being at the same math level and then his surpassing me, in order to add to his skills and knowledge. Ultimately he became a master craftsman, able to fabricate unavailable machine parts, entirely from scratch from raw materials. Believing in ourselves is cine quo non in fulfilling our dreams and reaching our goals. I'm sure that I'm not the only person who questioned him or herself during the climb.
Once we get there, once we've done it all the first time, when it is refreshing and exhilarating, when it is new and exciting, we realize that on the second and third and nth times around the block, the feelings are different. The modern idiom is:"Been there. Done that." Once we have arrived, made it, became who we could become,
Are we satisfied?
Do we still believe in ourselves?
Are we content, do we have a full measure of gratification?
Is there a sense of wholeness, completeness?
Or emptiness?
Rosh HaShanah is a time for inner exploration; to check out ourselves and not who is sitting next to us, nor what is anyone wearing. While it is wonderful to refresh acquaintances, it is more important to refresh our souls. Though here it is usually only we on the bemah who were a kittel, the white robe, fancy or plain, it is a garment for everyone, so that we are not distracted by the latest fashions, and instead focus our vision on our lives. We wear the talit so that we all look alike, in our eyes and in God's. The real jewel is our neshama, not our dress nor suit. We need to seek the unseeable, our hearts and our souls.
Rosh HaShanah, tonight begins a journey, continuing intensely for the next ten days, but never really ending, for as long as we live:
To discover all that we can be, all that we should be,
In our careers,
In our families,
As spouses,
As children,
As friends,
As grandchildren,
As in-laws,
As grandparents;
To be what we must be, to fulfill our dreams and aspirations;
To find satisfaction, contentment;
To find shalom;
To find peace.
As in the story, he had to be a stonecutter and not the merchant,
Not the official,
Not the sun,
Not the cloud,
Not the wind,
Not the stone,
Just to be the stonecutter. At peace.
Silently join me as I pray the following prayer, adapted from one written by another, for us all:
May you become the person you always want to be.
May you fly on the wings of eagles to your destination.
May you hear the harps of pleasure in your moments of sorrow.
May you suffer whoops of laughter – and no greater pain than that.
May you recognize wisdom when it smacks you on the head.
May you live passionately and urgently in the world.
May you squeeze every excess joy from the seconds of your day.
May you remember to skip with joy when the road ahead of you seems too long and winding.
May you learn to give to others.
May you live to see the wings of an angel enfold you and protect you.
May you open yourself to new ideas, but still hold firm to what you have been taught.
May you fulfill your many gifts of life.
May you dance to the lights of the gypsy moths and the line music of whispering butterflies.
May you find within you great courage to get you through your days.
May you come to see how much you can receive love,
and how much you can give love.
May our lives and our families be blessed with peace.
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