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Our
Fragmented Sense of Time
by Rabbi David Zaslow
September, 2003
As
I think back about my father's life, the distance between
1930 to 1963 seems to be vast. So many stories took place
within those years: the Great Depression, World War II, the
50's, and the start of the 60's. Yet, in an odd way, the distance
in time within my own life between 1970 and 2003 doesn't seem
so vast in comparison. Historically, of course, there have
been huge changes within the past three decades: the cultural
changes brought about by the Civil Rights Movement, the Vietnam
War, feminism, all the way to the technological revolution
as we entered the Information Age, personal computing, and
the Internet.
But
I'm referring to the subjective sense about the passage of
time. My father's life seems to have passed slowly. My life
seems to have passed quickly. There's nothing "true"
about what I'm saying. After all, thirty-three years is thirty-three
years whether it's 1930 to 1963 or 1970 to 2003. But's it's
our personal, subjective sense of time that gives us memory
its reference points. I remember when I came to Ashland in
1970. I remember when my daughter was born in 1981 and when
my son was born in 1983.
Today
Rachel is a college graduate working in the "old country,"
in Brooklyn. Of all places, she picks Brooklyn! I'm off to
college in 1965 during the first major East Coast blackout.
She's out of college and in Manhattan walking back to Brooklyn
during the last blackout in August. I remember leaving for
college in Bridgeport, Connecticut in 1965, and here I am
thirty-eight years later preparing to drive my son to for
his first days in college in Lewiston, Idaho.
So,
what does all this temporal measuring and sentimental reminiscing
have to do with the upcoming High Holidays? Everything, I
suspect. Everything. After all, what is autumn all about if
not for returning and remembering? If not for looking back
and looking forward? If not for the most personal, personal
examination of missed opportunities, successes. The High Holidays
isn't just for the big stuff - the major sins of commission
and omission that we commit. The High Holidays is not necessarily
about the maco-dramas of our lives. No, it seems to be about
all the small stuff. All the small stuff that when collaged
together form a picture - a picture of our fragmented lives
during the year that has just passed.
In
Autumn the leaves begin to fall, and internally we begin to
fall as well. The days grow colder, and we grow colder as
well. Nature returns to it's Source and we return to that
same Source as well. The four step program of the Jewish sense
of time follows the rhythm of nature: the public gratitude
we express to Hashem on Rosh HaShanah; the private yet communal
inwardness we experience during Yom Kippor; the outwardness
we live during Sukkot, and the synthesis of the inner and
outer during Simchat Torah. Together all four holidays form
a single picture, a mirror of our lives.
By
taking the time to experience all four of the high holidays
we are saying, "Yes" to the Creator. "Yes,
create a new person within each me. Yes, may I examine the
past so that I may be present in this moment. And may my presence
in this moment give me the courage and momentum I need to
reach my tomorrow." May the Holy One bless each of us
with good memories and changes that are as natural as the
seasons themselves.
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