October 4, 2022
Author(s): Rabbi Wes Gardenswartz,
Yom Kippur
October 4-5, 2022 — 10 Tishrei 5783
Show Up. Step Up. Clean Up.
Temple Emanuel, Newton, MA
This summer I studied with my 94-year-old father-in-love a classic text that I had encountered before, but seeing it at the age of 61, I saw something I had never seen before, which now seems obvious. We were studying Robert Frost’s poem about being at the crossroads which famously concludes:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
What I picked up this summer is the narrator’s lingering uncertainty, wistfulness, regret, about whether the decision at the crossroads was the right decision. The title jumped out at me this summer: The Road Not Taken. The sigh jumped out at me: I shall be telling this with a sigh. Maybe I messed up. Maybe I should have taken the road not taken.
The Road Not Taken is a classic because it is true. Often, after we make a decision at the crossroads, we are left with nagging concerns: I should have, I would have, I could have, done it differently.
So this morning, I want to offer you moves at the crossroads that are regret-free because there is clearly a right move and clearly a wrong move. There are three crossroads at which all of us stand. There are three crossroads that are impossible to avoid. The good news is that we can make a choice at each of these crossroads that we know for certain will make a positive difference, three moves that will allow us to live regret-free.
One universal crossroad is: should I show up, or should I not show up, for a person at a particularly important moment in their life. Showing up can take different forms. It can be a phone call. It can be a check-in. It can be a personal visit. It could be more of a tzimmus. It could be a day of your life. You have to get up at 4:00 a.m. to get to Logan, to take a 6:00 a.m. flight, and you don’t get home until midnight that day. It could be more of a tzimmus still. It could be a weekend. You have to leave on Thursday, or Friday, and be out of your own life on Saturday, on Sunday, and you don’t get back until mid-day Monday.
I once heard some good advice on this score. I don’t know the origin of this advice. I didn’t make it up. I am only passing it along. When it is hard and uncomfortable to pick up the phone, to make the call, that is when it is most important to pick up the phone and make the call. In fact, your own unease at making the call is your moral compass that you need to make that call. When it is hard and uncomfortable to get on that plane, that is when it is most important to get on that plane.
Showing up means I see you. I love you. I care about you. I make you my priority.
But if showing up is all these wonderful things, what is the issue? Why would anyone ever not show up? The truth is all of us at various points have not shown up for people we care about. When we don’t show up, why don’t we show up? The simple answer is that it is harder to show up. It is much easier to not show up, and therefore we are always ready prey for rationalizations that could justify why we are not going to show up.
The story is told of a fundraiser who was raising money to build a cancer research institute and was making a pitch to a wealthy industrialist. The fundraiser was organized, persuasive, passionate. After the presentation, the industrialist says thank you for your presentation, but no, I am not interested in contributing. The fundraiser responded: May I ask you why not? Did you find the cause not compelling? Do you not believe in the cancer research institute? Was something lacking in my presentation? No, the industrialist responded. It was none of the above. Then may I ask why you said no? The industrialist responded: Because I don’t like plum pudding. Plum pudding? What does plum pudding have to do with this cancer research institute? The industrialist responded: If you don’t want to do something, any reason will do. I don’t want to contribute because I don’t like plum pudding.
Here is the thing about plum pudding. The factories that make plum pudding never experience supply chain problems. Whenever you go to your grocery store, the shelves will always be stocked with plum pudding. Because we are always in the market for plum pudding.
I’d like to go, but I can’t. I am too busy. Plum pudding! Being too busy is always plum budding. We are never too busy to do what we want to do. We are only too busy to do what we don’t want to do. The kids’ schedules. Plum pudding! Work is crazy. Plum pudding! Out of vacation days. Plum pudding! Travel is a hassle. Plum pudding! You know it. And the other person knows it, too.
But here is the flip side to showing up. When you do show up, your showing up is received as this deep gesture of love and friendship. Your showing up really lands. I saw this happen in real time with my own eyes. I was at a shiva for a daughter who had lost her father, to whom she was exceptionally close. At the shiva, she talked about how relatives flew in from New York, from California, from Albuquerque, New Mexico, from Canada, to honor her father’s memory, and to be with the family. Your being here heals my soul.
When you are at the crossroads, and you can show up, or not show up, show up. If you show up, you will never regret it. You will only regret it if you don’t.
Which leads to the second crossroads: step up or not step up. All of us will be summoned by life. We will be minding our own business, making it through the day, making it through the week, we are fully engaged. We are not looking for more. We are good. And then, something will summon us that will direct our attention to some larger cause elsewhere. In our Rosh Hashanah reading, God summons Abraham, and Abraham answers hineni, I am here. We will all face hineni moments. And the question is, when we face our hineni moment, will we say hineni?
Here is the thing about hineni moments. The timing is always bad. The timing is always inconvenient. You are always already doing something else. And when we’re summoned, it is going to be long. It is going to be difficult. We don’t know for how long. We don’t know how it will end. But we do know one thing. When we are summoned, and we step up, we will always be glad we did.
I was speaking with a person whose father had taken ill. The father lived out of town. The son put his own life on hold to be with his father for weeks on end. His colleagues took care of his responsibilities at work, his wife and children missed him but understood that he was attending to his ailing father, so they picked up his responsibilities at home. This son knew that being away from his life for so long would discommode his colleagues, his wife, his children. His inbox was like a weed garden grown wild, he was with his Dad so he could not be with his emails. Stepping up was the opposite of easy, but it felt right. When his father died, the son was deeply consoled that he had stepped up.
Harold Kushner would often say: when you eat healthy, you feel healthy. When you eat whole foods, you feel good inside. The same is true with stepping up. When you are summoned and you step up, when you say yes to the moment at hand, even though it is hard, even though it is long, you have the deep feeling of spiritual health: that you are doing the right thing. Ernest Hemingway observed that you know something is good for you if it feels right not while you are doing it, but if it feels right after you have done it. This son will feel good forever that he did it.
When you are at the crossroads and you can step up, or not step up, step up. If you step up, you will never regret it. You will only regret it if you don’t.
Which leads to our third crossroads: clean up or not clean up. All of us have mess, unfinished work. So often that mess is ongoing. We schlep it along from Yom Kippur to Yom Kippur. Looking at the smorgasbord of unfinished work in our lives, our question now is, is there some piece of that mess that we can resolve today to clean up this year so that we do not carry it with us to next Yom Kippur?
Stephen Curry attended Davidson College for three years, from 2006 to 2009, but he left without graduating to attend to his day job: NBA superstar who led Golden State to four championships and also transformed the pro game with his 3-point artistry. As is well known, he is the leading 3-point shooter in the history of the game; he inspired generations of players to launch the ball from far away; he has balletic moves to the basket; he is graceful and unstoppable and is the heart and soul of a dynasty. But through it all, the one thing he never did was to graduate from college, and it bothered him. The fact that he did not earn his college degree was his mess, and he carried it with him for the last 13 years.
But he chipped away at it. For the last 13 years, he would take courses. He would take exams. He would write papers. Chip, chip, chip. Finally, this year, he amassed enough credits to earn his B.A. in Sociology. Davidson College was holding its graduation this past May, and Steph Curry could have attended and received his degree. Sadly, on the day of the graduation, he was busy beating the Celtics in the NBA finals. So this past summer, in August, Davidson College held a graduation for one graduate: Steph Curry. The entire university community showed up. His parents, his wife, his three children, all came as Steph Curry was awarded his BA in Sociology. At the graduation ceremony, the president of Davidson, Doug Hicks, observed “Every president at every commencement makes hopeful statements about graduates’ futures. In that spirit, I hereby predict, with confidence, Stephen Curry, that you will enjoy considerable success in your life and career after college.”
After 13 years, Steph Curry cleaned up his mess. This Yom Kippur he is not carrying that anymore. What is our version of that? What is our mess that we will commit to cleaning up this year so that we no longer carry it next Yom Kippur, and what is our plan for getting it done? Because one thing is clear. If we clean it up, we will never regret it. We will only regret it if we don’t.
It turns out that not all crossroads are alike. There are Robert Frost crossroads. Should I go to this college or that college? Should I move to this city or that city? Should I marry this person or not? Should I take this job or not? Should I make a major change in my life now, or stay as is? Those crossroads do yield the sigh at the end of the poem, for who knows which is the right path. The best wisdom for these crossroads comes from my father in love: Decisions are not right or wrong, they are made right or wrong.
But other crossroads are much simpler, and there is a right answer.
When you can show up or not show up, show up.
When you can step up or not step up, step up.
When you can clean up or not clean up, clean up.
If we show up, step up, and clean up, we will be forever glad that we did. And the sound at the end of our stanza will not be a sigh. It will be the sound of joy and gratitude. G’mar chatimah tovah.