Dear Friends,
I am not a sports fan. There’s the once-a-year trip to Citi Fields with my older daughter, my son-in-law, his parents, and my elder grandchildren on Father’s Day, a tennis match or two on TV during the Open usually to avoid writing for the High Holidays, and occasionally ice skating. Team sports like football and basketball are just too fast for me, and I find golf, well, boring. The only team sport that really interests me is ballet. But every four years I glue myself to the TV to watch the Olympics. I like the pageantry of it all and watching the collection of diverse nations duking it out on a ball field or in a pool. I especially look forward to track and field, culminating in the original Olympic sport, the Marathon. I didn’t miss a minute of this year’s Men’s and Women’s Marathon. Some of it had to do with the backdrop. Paris, a city that I know and love, is second only to NYC for a city-bound run. And then there’s my personal connection. I, too, have run through the streets of Paris in my time though never against the clock nor more than five miles at a time.
Running began as a necessity for me. My internist suggested that running would lower my cholesterol and help me to control my weight. Fortunately, I quickly fell in love with it. Part of it had to do with my inability to play sports as a kid. I could never catch or bat a ball, and I never got the hang of cycling. But it didn’t take anything more than a pair of sneakers to make me a runner, and I could do it anywhere and at any time. I remember the sense of accomplishment I felt the first time I ran five miles, and my sense of pride the first summer I averaged thirty miles a week. It took years for me to get to that point, but I stayed with it for decades until the minor injuries associated with long-term running came into play. So, I shared the exhilaration experienced by Timrat Tola and by Sifan Hassan when they crossed the Marathon finish line a fortnight ago. I knew what it took – day after day and year after year – for them to triumph.
Of course, no one would attempt to run a Marathon without significant preparation, and yet so many people come to the synagogue in person or by Zoom for the annual day-long spiritual marathon called Yom Kippur. What helps us limp through is that do not run alone. We run the YK marathon with everyone else in the congregation and with other congregations throughout the Americas and the world. We run in a dense pack, which covers the globe. Still, we come to the day without even having stretched our psyches and our souls before.
That’s why I’m writing to you about Yom Kippur a month and a half before this year’s observance. Although Yom Kippur will fall on the tenth day of the month of Tishri as it has since biblical times, given the quirks of the lunar-solar Hebrew calendar that needs adjustment nine times every seventeen years, Yom Kippur will begin on the eleventh of October, a full month later than usual on the secular calendar. The good news is that this gives us more time to take stock of our lives before we come to the starting block called Kol Nidre. So, it’s not too soon to ask ourselves hard questions. Regarding this past year, we might query: In what ways did I miss the mark this year? What could I have done better? How did I fail myself? How did I fail others? If I could take back one word or one act, what would it be? And let’s think about the present burdens we will take into the new year and take into account our strengths too. What disappointments and resentments will I carry over? What anger is still with me? More importantly, what qualities of character helped me meet the challenges can I rely on with the turn of the page of the calendar? Who do I have in my life will support me? How does my RSNS community help sustain me? Looking to the future, recognizing that our fate is not complete until ‘the end’ according to our tradition, we might ask, what is in my power to inscribe myself in the Book of Life?
Of course, each of us will have our own set of questions about our lives – past, present, and future. But then our questions are always more important than answers. Answers are ever-changing, but the questions are eternal. And so is our ability to change in time and if our hearts are open to the possibilities.
Let’s stretch our imaginations and our souls in preparation for the Big YK, our annual spiritual Marathon. Ready or not, I’ll see you at the starting line five weeks from now. I’m relying on it. May your training in anticipation of our meeting be fruitful and good.
Wishing you a thoughtful journey, I am, faithfully,
Rabbi Lee Friedlander
