Kind of reminds me of that joke about Thanksgiving.
It was told by Jay Leno, an astute commentator on the human condition.
Leno noted how on Thanksgiving, restaurants give away free meals, soup kitchens pop up all over the place, all kinds of groups provide all kinds of food to the poor.
But, Leno pointed out, for the most part, all those who help out do so only on Thanksgiving.
“We give these people one big meal a year, really stuff them and tell them, `That oughta hold you. See you next Thanksgiving.'”
Leno’s message was that we need to carry the spirit of Thanksgiving into the rest of the year.
I think a lot about Leno’s joke at this time of the Jewish year.
From a few days before Rosh Hashanah to a day or two after Yom Kippur, we’re all a little more careful about what we say and do.
We’re a little nicer to our fellow Jews, wish everyone “a good year” and are more inclined to give others the benefit of the doubt.
And it makes a difference. It’s really nice to run into Jews this time of the year. We are, in short, on our best behavior — both in our relations with other Jews and in our relations to God.
Personally, I am working hard to be more aware of and more grateful for everything God does for me and gives to me. Everything.
The fact that I am alive and, thank God, healthy gives me so much more than so many other people have.
That I have so much more — a roof over my head, food on my table, clothes on my back — fills me with a sense of gratitude that almost overwhelms me. That I have a family that cares about me and a job I find fulfilling truly fills me with awe.
My problem, my shortcoming, is that it most fills me with awe during the Days of Awe. Too often during the rest of the year, I am too quick to get mad at God when I don’t get what I want or things don’t go as I wish.
Too rarely during the rest of the year do I stop and acknowledge all the incredible blessings God gives me every single second — blessings I too often take for granted. Too often I focus on what I don’t have; too infrequently do I notice all I do have.
Rosh Hashanah changes that. But I need to acknowledge all God does and all I have during the 355 days of the year that are not the Days of Awe.
And so, I believe, all of us need to expand our Rosh Hashanah attitudes.
I recently got a phone call from a woman whose father died several months ago. In her voice, I could feel her pain, almost literally touch it. She had been very close to him, admired him greatly and loved him deeply. She was having difficulty dealing with her loss.
And so, understandably, she turned to places Jewish, to people Jewish. She believed a support group would be most helpful.
And so she turned first to a Jewish agency whose purpose it is to work with family issues. She was told the only category of loss addressed by their support groups was spousal. And that was that.
She then turned to her rabbi, who was sympathetic, but told her there were no bereavement groups of any kind conducted by their large synagogue. And that was that.
So, in pain and in need, this committed Jew, this wonderfully feeling person, was forced to turn to the places that were there
for her: church support groups and groups often led by a minister.
She told me that they were wonderful to her: warm, welcoming, caring, compassionate. And they made no attempt to convert her. They were there simply to help, to understand, to reach out to a fellow human being.
Still, she’s uncomfortable about it. She wishes there were Jewish places she could go, places that didn’t charge high therapist fees. She wishes Jewish places offered support groups.
“And we wonder,” she says, “why our young people are turning away from Judaism, why assimilation and intermarriage are on the rise.”
While this was perhaps the most poignant such story I’ve heard, it is far from the only such story.
Too often have I heard that while Jewish groups and synagogues are very good at holding forums on anti-Semitism, raising money and examining the peace process, they too often ignore the human side of Judaism. The Jews.
And so it is no wonder that Jews make up 50 percent of cult membership and no wonder that Jews are intermarrying at a rate of more than 2-to-1. It is no wonder that Jews are failing to join organizations that seem cold, impersonal and unconnected to their lives.
We need to remember that the core of Judaism is teaching compassion.
“Do not do unto others what you would not want done unto you,” is the major principle of the Torah, the sage Hillel said. “All the rest is commentary.”
When it’s not Rosh Hashanah, we too often forget that.
During this season, we make it our business to say “Shanah Tovah” to one and all. That’s nice.
But even nicer, even more important, is saying “Shabbat Shalom” to each other every Friday or saying “How are you doing?” when we run into each other at the grocery store, car repair shop or the movies.
For just as hungry people need to eat the day after Thanksgiving so, too, do Jews need to remember the lessons of Rosh Hashanah only really make a difference if they’re applied the day after and the day after and the day after.