blogs/rabbi-huberman

About five years ago, students from my former elementary school class gathered on Zoom to catch up for the first time in more than 50 years.

Growing up in the 1960s, we were a class of 24—12 boys and 12 girls—who graduated Hebrew day school together.

It didn’t take long for someone to ask me, “How did you end up becoming a rabbi?”

I recall the words “gob smacked” being used.

We all shared a laugh, as one by one we realized how far each of us had come. We are physicians, photographers, lawyers, mediators, accountants, businesspersons, teachers, mothers, fathers and grandparents—and so much more.  

I recall smiling as we logged off, realizing that somehow, through many turns—50 years later—we were where we were destined to be.

I thought about my old class when I reread this week’s Torah portion—Ki Tavo—words from Moses to the Israelites as they prepare to enter the Promised Land.

Moses’ words revolve around a central theme: If you live a life of integrity and kindness, God will uplift you with blessings, and if not, misfortune will pursue you wherever you go.

It’s a binary idea, with which I’m not sure I agree. But the notion carries a central Jewish teaching: Everyday, each of us has a choice—to embrace either life’s blessings or its curses.

Moses counsels us throughout the final book of the Torah: Despite all the challenges we face, individually and as a community, we must incline ourselves toward life.

It’s a matter of survival. For given all that we as a people have endured, we have persevered by choosing life.

This week also marks the 59^th anniversary of my bar mitzvah, which was celebrated on September 4, 1966. 

Like most B’nai Mitzvah students in 1966, I paid little attention to the words I was chanting. Like many, I was coached to repeat, practice and deliver.

It took me many years—after rabbinical school and as I began to lead this congregation—to take the time to actually read and understand my bar mitzvah portion.

It speaks about the hardships that the Jewish people will encounter throughout history and ends with a sentence, which I wish I would have reflected upon decades ago.

Loosely translated, Isaiah predicts, “God will speed the coming of a better day—in its time.”

What an amazing piece of prophecy. “In its time” referred to the coming of the messiah, but the thought so closely reflects the reality of our lives today.

How I wish I would have used those words as a roadmap—from those days in grade school to high school, to embracing music and songwriting, to journalism in the 1980s, politics in the 1990s, and to the beginning of my rabbinical journey 20 years ago.

Like many of you, I have wandered, been unsure, struggled and erred. But at every point, I developed spiritual antibodies that have made me whoever and whatever I am.

So, as I reread this week’s Haftorah and Isaiah’s closing line, it occurred to me that two decades ago, all those roads travelled converged—and somehow, I ended up becoming a rabbi.

When it was time.

As we enter the final week before Rosh Hashanah and prepare to tune out the noise surrounding us every day, I reflect upon what awaits us this year.

Many factors remain out of our control, but so much of life remains within our grasp.

Blessings and curses. Life and death. Which have we chosen this past year?

In advance of the High Holidays, I have ordered a few boxes of polished stones for this year’s services. Each will feature a word, and I’ll encourage everyone to tuck one into their pockets.

Forgive. Gratitude. Kindness. 

If you were to choose one of those stones today, what would it be?

Are we happy where we are? What or who is holding us back. 

Are we truly gracious for the privilege of life and all we have?

And perhaps most of all—within this world of conflict and disharmony—have we lost our capacity to be kind?

On this, on the anniversary of my bar mitzvah, I am reflecting upon the times where I asked God—either officially or informally—“Where is my life leading me?”

I am still in touch with many from elementary school. We often share the stories of our lives. Now that many of us are losing parents and others close to us, we remain a source of comfort and support for each other.

I treasure those connections and how those relationships have evolved over time.

As the sun sets on another week—and another year—I reflect upon the passing of time and Isaiah’s prophetic words chanted at my bar mitzvah.

For there is still so much for us to do and learn. “New dreams, better dreams and plenty.”

Let us, therefore, be holy travelers along that journey.

As Moses and Isaiah prophesized, if we just choose life, maintain our connection with God, our people and tradition, there is an increased probability that we will be blessed with goodness in the year to come.

For there is a destiny that awaits each of us—in its time.

Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv

Rabbi Irwin Huberman