Eulogy Vs. Resume Virtues
Rabbi Joe Black
Kol Nidre - 5776
My Dear Friends.
I want to begin
tonight with a story.
Two brothers, Sam
and Seymour, worked together in a small town.
Over the years, they earned a well-deserved reputation as two of the
most callous, corrupt, coldblooded businessmen ever. They drove other stores out of business; they
monopolized commerce; they abused their employees; they deceived their
customers. They used every trick in the
book, and a few they wrote on their own, to enrich themselves while despoiling
others. Throughout the city, people
despised them. Their reign of terror
lasted many years.
Eventually, as
it happens, Seymour died. Sam went to
talk to the rabbi about the funeral. He
walked into the rabbi’s office and declared: “Rabbi, I am prepared to make a
gift of five hundred thousand dollars to this synagogue. But there is one condition. At my brother’s funeral tomorrow, you have to
say that he was a mensch.” Regretfully,
the rabbi replied, “I’m sorry, but there is no way I can do that. His actions hurt too many people. The whole congregation will know that I am
lying, and I cannot compromise my integrity that way.” Sam responded, “I will make it a million
dollars.” The rabbi hesitated for a
moment, but then he shook his head again and answered, “I can’t do it. Everyone in town knows how he lived his life. I can’t say something that is so blatantly
untrue, even for a million dollars.” Sam
retorted, “Two million dollars, Rabbi.
I will give you a check right now for two million dollars, if you
promise to say these exact words: ‘He was a mensch.’” The rabbi caught his breath. Two million dollars was a lot of money. The things the synagogue could do with two
million dollars—the people it could help, the lives it could inspire, the gaps
it could bridge. Finally, the rabbi
agreed. He took the check, immediately
deposited it, and wrote the eulogy.
The next day,
the funeral was crowded with people curious to hear how the rabbi would
eulogize such a man. At the appropriate
time, the rabbi began to speak. “We all
know what kind of a man Seymour was. He
lied. He cheated. He swindled.
He had no sense of right and wrong, and he ruined people’s lives without
a second thought. And yet,” the rabbi
concluded, “compared to his brother, he was a mensch![i]”
----------------------------------------------
Sitting around a table with a family preparing
for a funeral is one of the most meaningful responsibilities that I am
privileged to perform as a Rabbi. Over
the past few weeks I have had the sad task of having many such meetings. These are sacred conversations – filled with laughter
and tears, joy and sorrow. When we first
sit down together, I often ask families to “Paint a picture with words” about
their loved one. As family members share
with me their thoughts, feelings and history with the deceased, a portrait
begins to emerge. We usually start with basic
facts, but soon anecdotes and memories come to the surface. These conversations
often do not have a linear flow to them.
They ricochet from topic to topic – from generation to generation –
depending on the perspective of who is sharing. But once the gates of memory
are opened, more and more recollections, reminiscences and beautiful stories emerge. Eventually, the impact of a lifetime of
relationships begins to take shape in front of me: Personal influences, values, courtship and
marriage, parenting, grandparenting, travel, friends, hobbies and talents all come
spilling out.
People are often curious about the
process of writing a eulogy. “It must be
hard to write about someone you’ve never met,” they say to me. My answer is always: “Not really.
As a matter of fact, sometimes it’s better if I didn’t know the person, because then I won’t have to extricate
myself from the text.” Creating and
delivering a eulogy is one of those times when we, as clergy, are able to truly
have an impact on people in need. Our task
is to take the love, experiences and relationships of family and friends and
put them into words. If a eulogy brings
comfort – it is because the truth has been told. A eulogy should not “sugar coat” the life of
a person. But it should reflect the
overall character of the deceased and help all those who knew and loved him or
her begin the journey towards healing.
Some eulogies are more difficult to
write than others – especially when things are left unsaid around the table;
when traumatic memories or unfinished business cause those left behind pain. Other eulogies, however, write
themselves. I can always tell when a
family’s grief is not blocked by the ache of things left unspoken. Their grief is palpable, but they have no
regrets about the way that their loved one lived his or her life. Even when death comes too soon – when, God
forbid, a young person tragically dies – as we as a community have recently
experienced - if he or she left this earth with healthy relationships and a
sense of their own self-worth, the pain of grief –while palpable and often
paralyzing - can at least be tempered by an awareness of a life that was fully
lived – however brief it may have been.
Sometimes these eulogy conversations are
heavily weighted towards accomplishments:
jobs held, awards presented, titles and degrees achieved – and these are
important – but not as important as one might think. There is a difference between a Resume and a
Eulogy. A resume tells us what a person did. A eulogy reflects on who a person was and how she lived.
This past summer, I read a book by New
York Times columnist David Brooks titled The
Road to Character. In his book, Brooks writes about how our vision of
success and meaning has changed over the last few generations – beginning in
the post WWII era where we formulated the concept of the American Dream. We have shifted, he posits, from a culture of
humility and service to one of self-love that can swing quickly to
self-absorption.
All one has to do is look at today’s
“Selfie” obsession to find evidence of how much this concept has taken
hold. The cost of focusing on the self
can be measured in its impact on the general well-being of society as a whole.
In a recent article, Brooks writes:
“Commencement speakers are always
telling young people to follow their passions. Be true to yourself. This is a
vision of life that begins with self and ends with self. But people on the road
to inner light do not find their vocations by asking, what do I want from life?
They ask, what is life asking of me? How can I match my intrinsic talent with
one of the world’s deep needs?[ii]”
Brooks goes on to write about two different
concepts that he calls “Resume Virtues” and “Eulogy Virtues.” Simply put, Resume Virtues are those
qualities that are focused on our own accomplishments: Jobs obtained, salaries negotiated, bank
accounts accumulated and awards received.
Eulogy Virtues, on the other hand, are
those aspects of our character that will be cherished long after we are
gone: our relationships, our ability to
touch other people’s lives for the better, our laughter, our tears, how we made
a difference in the world through giving of ourselves to others.
Now there is nothing wrong with striving
towards success in one’s business or profession. Setting up goals and achieving them is an
important part of living a full life.
But when our desire for fame and fortune eclipse our connections with
family and community; when our self-aggrandizement becomes the be-all and end-all
of our existence, we need to take a step back and reconsider our priorities.
Brooks does not make an explicit value
judgement between these two differing modes of measuring our lives – but his
message is clear nonetheless. He refers to
the great modern Orthodox Rabbi Joseph Soleveichik’s masterpiece, The Lonely Man of Faith where we learn
about two different creation stories in the Torah. He labels them “Adam I” and “Adam II.” (One caveat here – when Soleveichik – or I
for that matter - uses the term “Adam” or “Man” “he” , we means human being – not simply males….)
Scholars have long pointed out that the
first two chapters of the book of Genesis tell very different stories. In
Genesis Ch. 1, we are presented with Creation in very broad strokes. In each successive day, God creates the world
as we know it – culminating in the forming of Man and Woman. Humans are given the mandate to subdue
and master nature. All of the earth’s
bounty is created for our pleasure and consumption. The first person – whom
Solevetchik calls “Adam I” - approaches
the world and relationships—even with God, in functional and pragmatic terms. Being
created in the Divine Image, in this instance, means that Humanity’s ability to
conquer the cosmos is our birthright – our destiny. Simply put, Adam I is the career-oriented,
ambitious side of our nature. Adam I is
resume virtues. This aspect of our self
wants to build, create, produce, and discover.
For Adam I, it’s all about status and accumulation.
Adam
II, on the other hand, is the main protagonist of Genesis Chapter II. He represents a different kind of person – someone who is
looking for meaning and purpose in life. Here we find the story of the Garden
of Eden, the Tree of Knowledge and the snake. Adam II does not rule over the
garden, he takes care of it – he nurtures it. He is introduced by the words,
"It is not good for man to be alone" – and through his sacrifice of a
rib and the creation of Eve he gains companionship and the relief of his
existential loneliness. Adam II has a
calling, a sacred purpose; he experiences joy and failure, loneliness and love. He is tasked by God with naming the animals
and establishing relationships – with the entirety of God’s Creation. While Adam I subdues nature to accommodate
his own needs, Adam II realizes his
sacred purpose in life. He represents,
you guessed it, eulogy virtues.
Adam I and Adam II are not polar
opposites. We need both to be fully
human. Our rabbis taught that if we did
not have drives for success, power and money, nothing would every get
accomplished in our world[iii]. And yet, if our lives are only
spent accumulating status, prestige and money in lieu of relationships, service
and spiritual growth – we lose our ability to fully appreciate the true meaning
of the gift of life in all its glory.
Tonight is Kol Nidre. For the next 24
hours, we acknowledge our mortality, our fragility and our frailty. We refrain
from eating and drinking. We confess our sins – to one another and to God. Traditionally, Jews wear a kittel on yom Kippur – a white garment
that is reflective of a burial shroud.
The imagery is real and jarring.
In the Unetaneh tokef prayer we read:
“You write and You seal, You record and recount. You remember deeds long
forgotten. You open the book of our days, and what is written there proclaims
itself, for it bears the signature of every human being.[iv]”
In
a very real sense, the message of the Unetaneh
Tokef is that God is challenging us to ask ourselves: “What will be written in my eulogy?”
When we hear the question: “…who shall
live and who shall die..” , it’s hard not to think of the conversation that
will take place around our kitchen table with the Rabbi or the Cantor after we
are gone. What will our loved ones say
about us? Will they talk about what we did, or who we were? Will they recite our
resume, or highlight our humanity? Will the tears and laughter mix mix together
to paint a beautiful portrait or will the conversation be stilted and filled
with meaningful and painful silence?
Over the next 24 hours we will contemplate
our lives, our purpose, our values and our vision. We will acknowledge that things are rarely
black and white. We know that there are
times when we rise to our highest destiny – when we are selfless in our
thoughts and deeds – when, like Adam II, we work for the betterment of our
world. But we also know that there are times when we focus on getting ahead, on
accumulating stuff, on bending the people and the world around us to our will;
when we look at the world around us through the prism of Adam I.
Tonight, our tradition teaches us to
take a long and hard look at the question:
How am I living my life? Do my actions
reflect Eulogy or Resume virtues? For most
of us – the answer will be….. both. They key is how we manage to tip the scales
in favor of our humanity and away from our hubris. Some of us may not like what
we see. We may feel that we need to
change- to shift our priorities. But
change, as we all know, is difficult.
It’s painful. It’s unsettling.
The same prayer that shakes us to the
very core, the Unetaneh Tokef – with
its message of mortality – also provides us with a channel for change. In the very last line we find the
following:
Uteshuvah,
U’tefillah, Utzeddakah maavirin et roa hagezerah
Repentance, Prayer and Acts of Righteousness temper
judgement’s severe decree.
These three concepts: Teshuvah, Tefillah and Tzeddakah –
in a very real sense can provide us with a roadmap that can help us to
negotiate the tricky pathways between Adam I and Adam II – our Resume and our
Eulogy Virtues.
Teshuvah, loosely
translated as “repentance,” requires that we look deep inside ourselves and ask
if our actions and our values are in synch with one another. And when we come to realization that they are
not (as is often the case…) we need to work hard to rectify this
imbalance. It takes guts to admit our
wrongdoings. It takes even more guts to
ask for forgiveness – but this is our task on this most sacred of days.
Tefillah – prayer – is
the act of verbalizing and acknowledging our deepest joys and fears. Praying is not easy. It takes concentration and practice to be
able to speak to God – however you define God.
But unless we are able to strip away the layers of self-absorption and
denial that accumulate over the years, we deny ourselves the ability to be
completely open and honest. True prayer
does not change the world – but it
can change our souls – when we allow
ourselves to let go of the inhibitions and expectations that society places
upon us. Prayer is at one and the same
time a solitary and a communal act. As I
said on Erev Rosh Hashanah, one of
the key purposes of religion is to teach us that we are not alone. Jewish prayer takes place within the context
of community. We share our frailties and
vulnerabilities with one another. Our
prayers are deliberately written in the plural form: “Avinu,
Malkeynu, Chatanu”: OUR
Parent, OUR Sovereign, WE have sinned…. Not ME, MYSELF or
I. And yet, we cannot allow our communal
supplication to overshadow the fact that each of us has fallen short of where
we want to be – where we need to be….. And so, we pray –
opening our hearts and our mouths as we cry out to the source of mercy and
meaning in our world. When our prayers
come from the depths of our souls, we can begin to reflect on who we are and
who we truly want to be.
And this brings us to Tzeddakah.
If all that we do on this Yom Kippur is to
acknowledge our sins and ask forgiveness – but if we do not leave this sacred
place committed to putting our humility and desire for change to work – we have
accomplished nothing. Tzeddakah does not mean charity. It means Righteous acts. It means looking at the world, seeing
inequity and injustice and doing all that we can to repair the damage that has
been done. It means finding ways to give
of your time and your good fortune to build up and support the institutions,
organizations and individuals who labor on your behalf to make the world more
whole. Tzeddakah is not merely writing a large check to the Temple (although
that IS a start.) Tzeddakah means that you realize that each of us was put on earth
for a reason. It means transcending the
self-centeredness of Adam I and opening the doorway for Adam II –inviting him
into your life and committing to emulate what he stands for.
What are you passionate about? How do you want to make a difference in life?
There is a phrase attributed to Socrates that states: ‘The unexamined life is not worth living.[v]’
Now is the time for us to commit ourselves to creating a legacy of character
My friends – change is not easy. It involves sacrifice and practice. It does not happen overnight – but it does requires
that each of us take the first step. Tonight
and tomorrow, as we delve deeply into the recesses of our souls, we have a
sacred opportunity to commit to changing our lives – our character, our values
and our vision. Now is the time.
I want to conclude with a story:
Once there was a father who had a son
who was very rebellious. Every day, this
boy would test his father through his actions.
He refused to listen. He rejected
authority. He caused his father great
pain. One day, the father went to the
store and bought a hammer and a bag of nails.
He went into his yard and he pounded a nail into the fence post. Each time his son acted out, he would take
another nail and hammer it into the post.
As the days and weeks went on, the nails accumulated until the fence was
completely covered. One day, the boy
asked his father about the nails in the fence.
His father explained that each time he disobeyed, another nail would be
added. He also said that, if the boy
started to obey and change his ways – every time he saw that happening, he
would remove a nail. All of a sudden, the
boy had a change of heart. He saw the
nails and realized the pain he had caused his father. And so, he began to consciously think about
his actions. He listened. He began to show his love and affection. And each time he did this, another nail was
removed. After a short period of time,
the nails were all gone. The father came
to his son and told him: “Son, I’m so
proud of you. You’ve learned an
important lesson.” The son, with tears
in his eyes said, thank you father – but as I look at the fence – I still see
the holes where the nails used to be.
His father replied – those holes are reminders of the past. That cannot be changed. But each time you see them you will be
stronger as you look ahead to the future.[vi]”
My friends, as we travel together
through the rest of this holy day, may we all resolve to find ways to improve
ourselves and our souls. May we find the
courage and the character to change – to make ourselves and our souls more
complete. We know that change can be
painful. It means that we acknowledge
that the path along which we have been travelling may not be right one for
us. And yet, if we commit ourselves to
truly accepting the fact that our lives and our legacies make a difference,
then we are making the most of the gift of life that God has bequeathed to each
of us.
And when the time comes for our loved
ones to look back and tell the story of our life may our eulogies reflect our values
and our vision for a better world.
AMEN G’mar chatimah tovah[vii].
[i]
Thank you Rabbi Ken Karr for this version of an old joke….
[ii] David
Brooks: “The Moral Bucket List” – NY
Times – April 11, 2015
[iii] Bereshit Rabbah 9:7
[iv]
Gates of Repentance (GOR) p. 312
[v]
Plato, Apology 38a
[vii]I
want to thank Rabbis Dan Gropper and Stephen Reich for sharing their thoughts on
Brook’s book with me. I appreciate their
generosity of spirit and character.
Thanks for sharing us.
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