Dear Friends,
Two
years ago, on Yom Kippur, I gave a sermon in anticipation of the wedding of our
daughter, Elana - to her (and our) beloved Greg. In that sermon, I shared a
letter to Elana, and I concluded that sermon with the words:
“[Elana,]
…I promise that I won’t make you the centerpiece of another public letter on
the High Holidays…for a while at least. I’ll save the next one for our
Grandchildren.
No
pressure….
Love –
Dad”
I am
nothing, if not a man of my word. So here is a letter to our first grandson.
My Dear
Ezra Ray,
During
the 9 months prior to your birth, your Grandma Sue and I were so excited! All
our friends who were grandparents told us how amazing it was going to be. “You
can’t understand it until you experience it...”- they would say. “It’s the best
club in the world.”
And you
know, they were right.
Ezzy -
the love that we feel for you is overwhelming.
We felt the same way when your mother and uncle Ethan were born. And yet
it’s not the same – because WE are not the same.
You see,
there’s a difference between imagining something and experiencing it firsthand.
It reminds me of the story of the man who commissioned a brand-new sidewalk in
front of his house. As it was curing, he
put up a large sign that said: “NO kids or dogs on the sidewalk!” He sat on his front porch to keep guard. Sure
enough, a group of children approached the sidewalk and were about to draw in
the wet cement when the man saw them and started to scream: “get away from
there you little monsters!” One of the mothers of the children ran to comfort
her upset child and said to the man: “Sir – you don’t have to scare them like
that! Don’t you like children?” He replied, “Madam, I like children very much
– but in the abstract, not the concrete!”
Ezzy -
not everyone wants to be or can be a parent – even fewer are given the
opportunity to become a grandparent – I understand this. When I was writing
these words, I struggled with how deep I should go. I knew that there might be
some here this morning for whom my words could be painful– especially those who
are unable to have, or are estranged from children or grandchildren. It’s also
important for you to know that there are multiple ways to raise the next
generation. There are many loving and caring adoptive, step and “honorary”
moms, dads, and grandparents. Teachers, mentors, coaches, and counselors all
play a huge role in supporting and nurturing our kids. The love that they bring
is just as beautiful, life-affirming, and monumental as what we feel for you.
So, for those who may see yourselves in this category – know that I see you. I
feel you. I understand your pain.
Ezzy - I
need you to know that becoming a grandfather – a Saba – as I hope you’ll call
me – has impacted me profoundly. I am a different person today because of you.
And for that, I am eternally grateful.
Truth be told Ezzy, we all have key moments in our lives that help to put everything into perspective.
- When we stand under the chuppah with our beloved life-partner
- When we graduate from college, or change careers
- When we lose a loved one
- When we receive exciting news
- When our doctor gives us the diagnosis that confirms our worst fears…
- When world events shake our souls with joy, wonder, or concern….
All
these – and many other - moments change us and cause us to see ourselves and
our world in a new light. They also have the potential to teach important
lessons. YOU, Ezzy have taught your family so much in the 9 weeks since you
have been born. So today, on this first day of a new year, I want to share
three of the lessons that I have learned from you.
The
first lesson is: WE ARE NOT IN CONTROL
When you
were born, Ezzy, many people reached out to us with love, joy, presents, and
advice. One gift we received from dear friends was the book, Nanaville by Anna
Quinlan. This short memoir teaches many important lessons. The number one lesson it imparts is that
grandparents must allow their children to take the lead in raising their
offspring. The only time to offer advice is when we are asked – even when we
think we may know that we could do things better. We need to keep our opinions
to ourselves..
I know this firsthand Ezzy – I have been told quite clearly by your mom and dad that I must limit the number of pictures of you that I post on social media AND that I am not allowed to share them without their permission. This is a hard pill for me to swallow….and …..your parents are absolutely correct.
But
sometimes it’s more complicated…
As
clergy, my colleagues and I often meet with congregants who are dealing with
painful situations. Some of the most gut-wrenching conversations I have had
over the years have been with grandparents who are prevented from seeing their
children and grandchildren. Sometimes it is clear why they are kept away. Other
times – it is harder to understand. Families are complicated. Grudges and feuds
can be destructive. The pain and frustration that all sides feel can be
overwhelming.
But it
isn’t always that extreme. I recently was asked to join a Facebook group for
Jewish grandparents. I initially thought it would be fun. It would be an
opportunity to share photos, joys, and shep naches (share joy…). But I soon realized that, along with cute
pictures and advice on the best place to take the little ones for ice cream,
there were also posts from people who were frustrated, angry and hurt that
their children would not listen to them or allow them to see their precious
grandchildren as much as they wanted. There was a lot of “Why won’t my children
listen to me? They have no idea what
they are doing! I did a good job of
raising them! What did I do to deserve this?”
Now,
while I’m sure that the pain and frustration that these grandparents are
sharing is real – the truth is, what most of them are experiencing is the vital
process of their children setting boundaries with and for them.
There’s
a saying that every grandparent knows:
Becoming a grandparent is the reward for being a parent because we get
to spoil our grandchildren – and then give them back to our kids. I’m sure that
this is true. The flip side of this, however, is that it is also our job to
love and support their parents – on their terms – not ours. As fun as it is to
see our children dealing with the same frustrations that we dealt with when we
were young, we aren’t calling the shots anymore.
The
concept that we are not in control is also one of the central themes of these
Yamim Noraim¬ – High Holy Days. Each year, we stand before God, confess our
sins and shortcomings and greet each
other with the words: L’Shanah Tovah Tikateyvu – May you have a good New Year
and be inscribed for blessing in the Book of Life. If you think about it,
that’s an intense greeting! It means: “May you live another year!” As much as
we want to control our fate – and that of those whom we love – we cannot. The
words of the Unetaneh tokef - “Who shall live and who shall die…?”- are both
problematic and powerful. We don’t know what the future will bring. But we
work, hope, and pray for the best. In light of all this uncertainty, our task
is to strive to be a blessing to ourselves and our loved ones.
And this
brings me to my second lesson that I have learned from you:
SAVOR
EVERY MOMENT.
Ezzy –
you and your parents live so far away! We wish we could see more of you!
The
truth is – we’re not moving to New York – where you live, and your parents
probably aren’t moving here to Denver anytime soon.
As such, your grandma Sue and I relish every moment we get to share with you and your parents. We’ve been fortunate over the past two months to spend time together –
- when you were first born,
- last month at a family wedding in Minneapolis
- and now you are all with us for Rosh Hashanah.
But it’s
not enough – it’s never enough. We will always want more. During your first
week of life, Sue and I took turns every other night rocking you in your
nursery so your parents could get some rest. We didn’t sleep much – but we
didn’t care. I never tired of gazing at your beautiful face. I loved every
second – even the non-stop crying and the dirty diapers…. Every moment was and is a gift.
In the
torah portion we heard chanted so beautifully this morning, the Akeydah – the
Binding of Isaac – We read the following text from Genesis 22:1-4
Some
time afterward, God put Abraham to the test, saying to him, “Abraham.” He
answered, “Hineyni - Here I am.”
“Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I will point out to you.”
So early next morning, Abraham saddled his ass and took with him two of his servants and his son Isaac. He split the wood for the burnt offering, and he set out for the place that God had told him.
On the
THIRD day Abraham looked up and saw the place from afar.
There’s
a lot going on in this text. This morning, however, I only want to focus on how
the passage of time shifts during the narrative. The wording is sparse,
emotionless. Three days go by in a flash.
Later,
however, everything changes, and time shifts. In verses 9 -11, the description
of Abraham’s thwarted attempt to carry out God’s horrific command seems to take
place in slow motion.
They
arrived at the place of which God had told him. Abraham built an altar there;
he laid out the wood; he bound his son Isaac; he laid him on the altar, on top
of the wood.
And
Abraham picked up the knife to slay his son.
Then,
(at the last moment possible,) a messenger of יהוה called to him from heaven: “Abraham!
Abraham!” And he answered, Hineyni “Here I am.”
There
will be moments in your life, Ezzy, when everything seems to be happening too
quickly. At other times, each second will seem like an eternity. I’m beginning
to realize that the older I get, the faster time passes. This is going to sound
cliché – but it doesn’t seem all that long ago that we were holding your mom ,
and then your uncle, Ethan - sleep deprived- and rocking them to sleep.
One of
the key words in our Torah portion, Ezzy, is Abraham’s response to God’s call:
“Hineyni – Here I am.”
Ezzy, as
you grow, I pray that you will allow yourself to be fully present – to
appreciate the beauty, the love, the successes and even the mistakes you make –
and you will have plenty of both. Time is precious, my beloved grandson. Savor
every moment. Answer the call with Hineyni¬ -Here I Am!!!
And
finally, the third, and perhaps most important lesson that I want to leave you
with is:
Leave a
Legacy.
It may
sound strange to talk to a 9 -week-old baby about leaving a legacy, but you
see, Ezzy, you are already part of multiple legacies. As your parents shared so
beautifully at your Brit Milah ceremony, your middle name – Ray (Raviv in
Hebrew) - is in honor of two powerful women of blessed memory: Reva Rosenbloom and Rachel (or Ray) Gleitman.
Reva was your mother’s grandmother. She was a community leader in Minneapolis
and a past president of the Minneapolis Jewish Federation. She had a passion
for tzedakah, beauty, and the Jewish people. Your other namesake, Bubbi Ray -
your father’s grandmother – was a survivor of the Holocaust who, despite the
horrors she experienced, looked at the world with joy and passion – and she
shared it with everyone she met. You have inherited a powerful legacy of
caring, perseverance, service and love that will remain with you throughout
your life.
Returning
to our Torah portion, Commentators throughout the ages have struggled with
multiple aspects of our narrative. Abraham is faced with a quandary. The same
God who – just a few chapters earlier – had told him that his ancestors would
be as numerous as the sand in the sea or the stars in the sky has just told him
to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac. Abraham experiences an existential crisis:
If he wants to preserve his legacy, he must disobey God. If he carries out
God’s brutal command, then God was lying about his legacy. Either outcome was unacceptable.
As we
know, Ezzy, Abraham, in the end, was stopped from carrying out this horrible
deed. And yet, his dilemma represents – in the most basic and primal form – the
eternal fear that our legacy will not live beyond our current generation. We
have so many hopes for you! We want you to live a long, joyous, and healthy
life. We want you to become a good Jew -
a good person: kind, caring and creative. We want you to study Torah, rejoice
in Shabbat, and give back to our people. We want you to love music and the arts,
to explore the mountains and learn to ski. We want you to have a good sense of
humor. We want you to go to summer camp, travel to Israel and around the world,
and most of all: be a mentsch- and, knowing your parents, I have no doubt that
you will be.
Ezzy –
as I look at you and marvel at how much love you inspire in me – and everyone
who meets you – I am also reminded that you also represent your grandparent’s
personal legacies. Long after we are gone, you will be carrying forth our
genes, values, and history.
But
there are many other kinds of legacies. You don’t need to be a parent or
grandparent to make a difference. There are teachers, mentors, artists,
philanthropists, scientists, healers, and thinkers who change the world through
their love, caring, generosity, and brilliance.
As our
president, Wendy Nekritz shared in her remarks earlier this morning, this year
marks Temple Emanuel’s 150th anniversary.
For the next 12 months, our holy community will be lifting up the
Heritage and Harmony that has defined our spiritual Home. We will not only be
celebrating, we also will be learning, sharing our history, envisioning the
future, traveling together, performing acts of service, and embarking on an
aspirational and life-changing fund-raising campaign that will help to ensure
our congregation’s legacy as we begin the next exciting chapter of Temple
Emanuel’s history. This historic milestone is also a watershed moment - a
challenge - if you will. Can our community step up, raise these essential
funds, and commit to ensuring that the generations to come will be able to
share in what we are building today? I believe that we can, and we will because
we must. We owe it to the generations to come.
Ezzy –
we can’t wait to watch you grow and see your already strong personality
continue to develop. The love we feel for you is immeasurable. Although you’re
only 9 weeks old, you have already taught us so much. You have shown me that,
even though I am not in control, I will savor every moment that I can, and work
to create a legacy for you and all who will come after you. I promise that your
grandma and I, your uncles, aunts, cousins and parents will always be there for
you.
Oh…. And
I also promise that the next letter I share publicly won't be until your bar
mitzvah.
L’shanah
Tovah - Love, Saba
No comments:
Post a Comment