Yom Kippur D’var by Faith Schuster
I’m beginning this Yom Kippur d’var with a poem from Vermont’s only Jewish woman governor (so far), Madeleine Kunin, who was born in 1933 just as I was.
I would like to probe deep
write about life and death,
the meaning of existence.
I should have the answers
by now,
when the end is so near.
I procrastinate.
I tell myself
there is still time
Maybe tomorrow
Or the next day
Or the day after that
to write about the meaning
of life,
The meaning of my life.
Have I made a difference?
Have I been kind?
Have I dropped a coin
into a beggar’s hand?
Will I be remembered,
and by whom?
For What?
I’m too tired
No more deep questions, please.
Maybe tomorrow,
Or the next day
Or the day after that.
Well, Kunin’s “day after that ” is today for me. At this stage of my life, and on Yom Kippur, it seems worthwhile to “write about “life and death” and “the meaning of existence.”
Many, many, many years ago, when I wrote a required term paper about Robert Browning, I learned these words that start a very long poem about life:
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made.
As a new young wife with a new young husband, I was entranced by those words, hopeful that Abe and I would grow old together and could look forward to “the best of life” as the years passed. We indeed have grown old together, facing good times and hard times, money problems, raising three children, arguments and reconciliations, and so on. We survived all the ups and downs of daily life intact.
Along with being parents, we both were teachers, lucky to teach in the same school for two decades. As we approached the “empty nest” time of life, we thought that what we’d like to do was buy a vacation house in Vermont so we could be ski bums, and someday retire there to enjoy all the seasons in this beautiful, peaceful place.
Then, when Abe was 54, he was diagnosed with cancer. As he was facing surgery, I asked him if he was scared or worried. He answered, without hesitation, with five words: “No! I’m in God’s hands.” At that moment, I dearly wished that I had the strength of belief that he had, because that would have lessened my fear about what the future now held. Instead, I had myself convinced that Abe had only two years to live. All I could think of was how could we make the best of whatever time we had left together.
At just that time, the school district where we taught was offering a retirement incentive to teachers who were 55. Abe was eligible but I wasn’t, but I was not about to waste two years while Abe was no longer working. So I joined Abe in retirement and we began “the last of life, for which the first was made” together. We sold our home in New York and moved to Vermont. Best decision we ever made…and…Abe did not die!!! Not in the two years I was worried about and not in the next 36 years.
The rest of the Browning quote about growing old together is:
“Our times are in His Hand
Who saith “A whole I planned.
Youth shows but half; trust GOD; see all nor be afraid.”
We found ourselves facing “the last of life” with confidence and joy. I felt that Abe’s strong belief about being in God’s hand echoed Browning’s words —“trust God; see all nor be afraid.” I found that kind of trust growing within me, giving me the courage to face whatever lay ahead.
As the years flew by, the natural losses of aging made us give up things like skiing and tennis, but there were many things we enjoyed together, including the friendships we made in this Jewish community.
When Abe developed Alzheimer’s, then Parkinson’s, life really slowed down. I don’t have to go into details about how our lives changed, because you all know about these two debilitating (and incurable) diseases. The focus of life seems to be on “the long goodbye” with death the inevitable end. We all know, from Ecclesiastes, and from Pete Seeger, that there’s ”a time to be born and a time to die,” but most of us are not ready to die or to see our loved ones die, perhaps because none of us knows what happens when we die. But rather than living with anxiety, despair, hopelessness, or fear, the best thing we can do is cherish every day we have. Abe and I were grateful that “the last of life” came to us after we had grown old together.
During the last years of Abe’s life, it became evident to me that indeed Abe was in God’s hands, and it became evident to me that I must be too, because something had given me the strength and spirit to take care of Abe with grace, and to find peace in each night and joy and love in each day.
The “ last gift of life” for us was the mellow time that we had together. Our love was stronger than ever. We had the time to forgive and forget past misdeeds and mistakes. Scrapbooks of photos and other keepsakes helped us remember the life we shared for 70 years. We had the love of family and friends, and happy memories to keep despair away until it was Abe’s time to go.
In our siddur (on page 196) the prayer “Elohai n’shamah shenatata bi”, translates”My God, the soul You have given me is pure . . .” It is interpreted in a verse on the facing page that begins “Matter is never destroyed, only transformed.” When you are about to lose the love of your life, or when you are near the end of your own life, those words are comforting. To me they say we can live our lives without fear of death because a life may be transformed by death but it is not destroyed. LOVE LIVES beyond death. Abe remains with me every day. He is with us here as I wear his tallis. “Trust God; see all nor be afraid.”
I close with a poem by Rabbi Avnon-Benveniste called, most appropriately, “D’Var Torah.”
Perhaps,
More frightening than death itself
Is the thought
That we’ll find ourselves
Begging for
Our lives
Right before
The end
And perhaps
Less frightening than death itself
Is knowing
That we’ll continue to live
After it as well
In the hearts of others
With no
End.
Livestream Link (D’var is at 3 hrs, 10 min)