Boomer Bust, or The Meaning of Life

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

September 5th, 2003

In the Jewish calendar we are in the month of Elul a time for our personal preparation for Rosh Hashanah, three weeks from tonight. There are several observances added in this month. We recite Psalm 27 morning and night, blow the shofar at the conclusion of every weekday morning service, and recite Selichot, penitential prayers. All of these observances direct us to look into ourselves in order to have a better and more satisfying life. Long ago Dr. Abraham Heschel enunciated the seemingly obvious thought: the answers we seek are all around us. We just don't know the questions. Tonight I would like us to focus on questions and the answers that already surround us.

The term midlife crisis is well known. It is that stage in life when you realize that the major portion is past and the time for significant change is quickly passing by. Another term has recently been coined: the quarterlife crisis, in a book by that name, "The Quarterlife Crisis: The Unique Challenges of Life in Your Twenties," written by Alexandra Robbins and Abby Wilner. This was cited in the Times-Dispatch of July 31 st, in the article entitled Getting Real. It was the titles of the chapters that caught my attention:

How am I supposed to figure out who I really am?

What if I'm scared to stop being a kid?

What if I fail?

How do I know if the decisions I'm making are the right ones?

Those are provocative questions, but when I was in my 20's I knew that I had better figure them out because soon I would have to stand on my own two feet. I didn't think it was an option to move back home. While my ultimate career goal changed, first to being a rabbi, then a history teacher, then a religious textbook writer, and then back to the rabbinate, like most of my circle of friends I decided on a path and committed to it. Now times have changed and besides, these questions are not restricted to twenty-year olds: fear of failure or job termination; job satisfaction and quality of life. People much older than them ask similar if not the same questions. In the Washington Post of June 10 th, there was an article entitled Boomer Bust referring to those of us born from 1943 - 1964, a group well represented in this room. The article is subtitled: "A Generation Learns that the world doesn't revolve around it after all." The punch line is in the very beginning: "We were going to live forever, watched over by angels of infinite possibility. Now it's 2003. What happened? How did it all go so wrong so fast in an era of unprecedented progress, prosperity and peace?" In different words, the questions are the same as those in the book. No one can be aloof from the changes in the financial, political, economic and global world, which come home to roost on our children and grandchildren, if not upon ourselves.

While sitting at the key board communing with my computer in composing this sermon, which is how I usually write, I remembered the wonderful song from Peter Pan: I won't grow up!" But that was a fantasy. For most, being a child means not having to face existential questions. Choices are simple. Responsibilities are limited. If we live, we do grow up and we must discover the real questions and the source of real answers. We must face our fears, our obligations, our commitments and our destiny. We all have questions.

From the Jewish perspective there are really three sources for answers to our questions:

Family Community, and Torah and tradition.

1.) With fondness I hear people relate how their families used to gather on Sundays or other appointed times and discuss everything and anything. The family gathering gave each member a sense of certitude and place, confidence and support. It opened doors and tested decisions. The family embrace said that you were never alone and always sustained. And those were the generations that lived through the Depression and two World Wars. Though my family circle was quite small, I fondly recall listening to my parents, aunt and uncle and grandmother dissecting the world from social security to current events in the most animated bilingual - English/Yiddish - argumentative conversation. In that context those five, and my brother and me were impregnable. The great tragedy of modern times is the fracturing of the family. Through the Shabbat and Yom Tov rituals, personal observances of Hannukah, mezuzah, kashrut, Judaism emphasizes the indisputable need for a strong and vibrant family and home. Judaism extols the educational role of mother and father. In reflection upon the past and dreams for the future, family must come first. In nearly thirty years of the Rabbinate I made it the practice to only be broken by urgent necessity, to eat dinner with my family. And I still do.

2.) Yet I grew up with another circle enfolding me in its grasp. I grew up in the synagogue community, which functioned as another layer of family. In shul I knew the love of people not biologically related to me, yet knew me by name, family and school. I davened in shul every Shabbat with my elementary school principal. Besides knowing that I could never misbehave even if I wanted to, they gave me strength and support, encouragement and assurance. Here I was safe and secure. This community was also a sense of my values, of right and wrong, of place and perspective, of respect of others and to things. Whether it was to stand before my elders or straighten the talitot on the racks or the siddurim in the pews, the community gave me a sense of structure and an understanding of society, even in the microcosm. If my parents had not joined the shul, or had left it, or didn't frequent it, I would have missed out on all of this, and been the poorer for it. That is part of why I want every child of every age to be present in shul, with all their voices and noises. The world in here, the community in here, gives them unconditional love, meaning, security, values and lifts their hearts upwards. Here they hear us articulating questions and answers, answers and questions. Here we make extended families, not necessarily blood related, but families in faith, who love each other's children, and children see adults caring for each other. That's a real career choice.

3.) There is also another treasury and storehouse of answers to the dilemmas of every age. Spanning millenium, our sacred literature of Torah, Talmud, Midrash, philosophy and literature abounds in scenarios, heroes, rituals, laws, moral exhortations and much more upon which we can draw for any question at any time. Just last week the Talmud class delved into the subject of free will and the implications and consequences of the ability to choose between options, whether God knows what we will decide, and thus our place in the scheme of things. We have discussed the role of evil in the world and our part in combating it. Our sacred literature, divine in origin and humanly transmitted, is a reflecting mirror into which to peer to understand ourselves and our world, and share the discoveries with each other and our families. If the books remain closed the answers are never retrieved.

Whether we are twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty-something or beyond, God bless us, we have golden opportunities. Our families are dispersed. Our Menachem is in Mass., Yonina in New Jersey, and we are here, with my father-in-law in Queens, my aunt in NYC and my mother in New Jersey. My brother is in Mass. and his children are in Washington, D.C. For all of us friends take on a special meaning. Besides the quip of choosing one and not the other, friends create a new family structure and function similarly. The Talmud records the quote: "Oh chevuta oh metutah" - "Or friendship or death." We all need circles of people near and dear, even if not related by blood. There are other deeper and meaningful bonds.

This synagogue functions more than just in its formalities.

We are a community where we interact with older and younger, with children of all ages and babies whom we hold and kiss, whose little voices, even shrieks, give us the breathe and depth of life.

We are a community as we pray together and stand in awe at the Creator of the cosmos, who brought Mars so near, whose laws give us the platform of morality and the path upon which to walk and set our children.

We are a community when we eat together at Oneg Shabbat and Kiddush, sharing in each other's simchas, chatting together relaxed and in friendship.

We are a community when we sing together, here in the Sanctuary or in other venues, joining voices that can hold a tune with those who can't, sharing of the spirit and the soul.

We are a community when we study together to discover both the questions and the answers.

Individually we do not control the economy, world events and interest rates, dynamics that affect all of us. We do not control the job market, disease, and the cost of college tuition. Yet there are things we can do:

We may surround ourselves with friends.

We may immerse ourselves in a loving and caring community.

We may delve into the wisdom of our tradition.

Therein lie the answers to all of our questions.

In a book about the part of Jews in South Africa, Glenn Frankel, editor of the Washington Post Magazine ends with a quote: The meaning of life is not a fact to be discovered, but a choice that you make about the way you want to live.

As we approach our New Year, may we resolve to choose friendship, community and our tradition so that our lives will be filled with meaning and purpose.

Shabbat Shalom