Sitting in a hospital waiting for doctors to come and talk about test results for a loved one, the words from the High Holiday liturgy, the Unetanh Tokef, flashed through my brain. On Rosh Hashana it is written, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed, how many will pass away and how many will be created; who will live and who will die; who will die at the predestined time and who before that time; who by water and who by fire, who by sword, who by beast, who by famine, who by thirst. These words, attributed to Rabbi Amnon of Mainz (Germany) have always moved me, a reminder that life is short and to not put off what is important until tomorrow.
Oscar, a man I knew who came from Krakow Poland told me that on Yom Kippur he used to see people in shul with tears streaming down their faces. For them, these words were not poetry but fact. They were pleading with the Ruler of the Universe to be merciful, to accept their teshuva (repentance) and to grant them life in the year to come. In the midst of this crisis, those words took on a much more frightening reality for me. They were not words of poetry. They were real. They declare the case has already been judged and that the sentence has been passed. It is too late. The next physician who walks through the door may deliver the terrible news. There is no more time. There are no more opportunities.
There is no doubt that the words of our High Holiday liturgy were written long ago, in a different age. Yet life is no different. Our world changes so rapidly. Humans have not changed. We face pain, illness, discouragement and loss. We face exactly the same issues as Rabbi Amnon. We need to look at the words of our tradition and apply them to our own lives. I am not always successful in doing so with all parts of the service. This year, sitting in the hospital, between calling family and friends to update them on the situation, trying to provide comfort and support, optimistic on the outside but filled with dread on the inside, one part of the service, the Unetaneh Tokef became crystal clear. It is not just a warning to use time wisely, it is a notice that there may be no more time, no time to be with those for whom I care, no time to complete my dreams, my hopes, there may be not time for anything. I can only pray that it is not too late.
Kim, Evan, Seth, Micah and I wish all of you a sweet joyous New Year filled with health and time to be with those whom you love.
Rabbi Eric R. Slaton
