It’s hard for me to imagine, but I stand here now, the fiftieth time I have observed these High Holy Days with this congregation.  Or as one of you pointed out, I have no doubt had more so-called “appearances” on this stage than anyone throughout the years.  Fifty years of growing together, of learning together, and laughing together, and so many times it seems of crying together.  Fifty years of building something so worthy as this community of people who make up Shaaray Tefila.  And let me say that I am grateful for this opportunity to share some thoughts about the meaning of this day, and how it relates to the awareness that life so often feels that it’s passing so quickly, especially as we get older.

Yes, we pray for blessed tomorrows for our loved ones and for ourselves, even as we recognize that some things are just out of our control, and that we need to make the best of the control that we do have.  The control that is choosing to live by noble values and doing acts of kindness.  The control that is having worthy priorities to which we strive to be faithful.  Yes, Yom Kippur speaks to all of us of the struggle that it is to be human, and our capacity to renew ourselves, our intentions and our actions.

And of all the words and prayers that we recite during these holy days, there are none quite so compelling and perplexing as the declaration:  “On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed, who shall live and who shall die.”  Yes, each and every year I wonder:  Can it really be that this evening by 6:30 that God will have decided who shall live and who shall die in this coming year?  And as I think of those among us who passed away during this past year, can it really be that God decided last Yom Kippur that their days upon this earth would come to an end?

No, I do not take those words literally.  I don’t believe that God decided that this one would be stricken with cancer, or that that one would be killed in an automobile accident, or that so many would suffer, or lose their lives, through Israel’s war against Hamas.  No, I cannot accept, nor can most of you, that all of this is part of some divine plan that we are not given to understand.  I cannot believe that a good and loving God would have any kind of active hand in the suffering of any good and worthy person.

But still, those words “who shall live and who shall die” have great meaning for me, and I hope for you also.  They speak of the urgency of life.  They speak of the tenuousness and vulnerability of life.  They speak to the reality that life is in fact too short to be too little.

An 18^th century sage named Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav taught that “if a person does not judge himself, all things judge him, and all things become messengers of God.”  That is to say that there is a metaphoric book, and there is a metaphoric pen, and we do, every day, make entries into that “Book of Life” concerning how we are living and what we are living for.  And no, there can be no escaping judgment.  Not the judgment that we make upon ourselves, not the judgment of others, and not the judgment of the One whom we call “God.”

And so the compelling questions of Yom Kippur:  Am I living as fully as I could be living?  Are my actions consistent with my words and with my capacities.  And do I place enough value upon the right things, or too much value upon the wrong things?  Yes, those are the questions that are behind the prayers that we speak together, and they are the questions that challenge our hearts and our souls.

I recall a short story that I want to share with you.  It’s about a father and daughter who are standing together at the airport just before the daughter is to leave for what might well be the last time that she sees her aged father.  And as they announced the departure of her airplane, the father and daughter hugged and he said to her: “I love you.  I wish you enough.”

And she in turn said, “Daddy, our life together has been more than enough.  Your love is all I ever needed.  I wish you enough too, Daddy.”  And as a woman who had observed this scene watched the man walk away very sadly, she approached him and asked: “When you were saying goodbye I heard you say, ‘I wish you enough.’  May I ask what that means?”  And the old man smiled: “That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations.  My parents used to say it to everyone.  When we said ‘I wish you enough,’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them.”  The old man smiled, and as he walked away he said softly, “I wish you enough.”

Yes, that little story speaks an important message, I trust, to all of us.  To be able to feel and to acknowledge dayenu, “I have been blessed with enough.”  To realize, especially on this day of seeking life and blessing, that the richest and happiest people in life are not the ones who have the best of things, but rather, they are the ones who make the best of things.  Or, as one of our rabbinic sages put it: “Who is rich?  The one who rejoices in his portion.”

And so on this day of Yom Kippur, I too want to wish you “enough.”  For those among us who have lost a loved one and who feel alone and lonely, I wish you enough warm memories and caring friends to keep your spirit alive.

And for those among us who confront threatening physical illnesses, and for those who battle against accusing inner demons, I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright, and enough vision to see beyond the wall that confines you at the present time.

And for young people, and teenagers among us who face many different choices and paths, I wish you enough courage and self-confidence to be able to stand apart and separate when you know that to be right, and enough determination to persist in making your hopes come true.

And for the husbands and wives among us and the children and parents who have let too much distance come between them, I wish you enough benevolence and tenderness to rediscover one another, and to rekindle that spark of love which is still there.

And for those of us who sense the years passing quickly, may it be that we still carry enough dreams to outweigh our regrets, and enough wisdom to realize that the greatest wealth we possess are those things in our lives for which we would not take any amount of money….the people we love, the friends who so enrich our lives, and the values and ideals by which we’ve lived.

I want to share a few words of wisdom that were sent to me by one of our congregants, Hillary Kerpel, who recently died after a thirty year struggle with a form of cancer from which my own mother died, and which my brother is fighting at the present time….a form of cancer known as multiple myaloma.  I’ve quoted Hillary’s words before, but now they are a lasting legacy which she leaves to me and to all of us.  Many years ago she wrote: “We must face each day with joy and determination, and live each day as if it were our last.  Life is to be celebrated, and not merely lived.  Life is a gift.  It is a privilege to live in the garden of life with all it’s beauty, splendor and infinite possibilities….”

And then, speaking as our sages did of Yom Kippur, she comments: “What people learn in illness, most people will never know in health.  You only have one life, one chance, and it goes by quickly…..Why does it take a tragedy to make us stop and take stock of our life?  Don’t wait until it is too late to live, to live a life of generosity, of kindness, a life full of love and laughter.  And remember to share all your good fortune.”  Yes, there you have the real message and challenge of Yom Kippur….that we might strive to live as fully and richly as is in our power to do.

Let me close with an account from the Torah which has always spoken to me.  It concerns our patriarch Jacob.  On the night before he is about to confront his brother after more than twenty years, no doubt feeling great fear of what lay ahead, the Torah tells us that Jacob struggled (or wrestled) with a mysterious man throughout the night.  The man was stronger than Jacob, but Jacob persisted and refused to let go until the so-called “man” would bless him.  And it’s at the end of that encounter that Jacob’s name is changed to Israel, “the one who prevails with God.”  And yes, I believe that we’re all like Jacob; all of us with a sense of the person we could yet be.  All of us knowing something of the blessing and something of the struggle that is life.

I think that more than anything, Yom Kippur is supposed to remind us of the preciousness of life, and of the things that should matter most to us.  And for sure, Yom Kippur comes with the summons that we don’t have an unlimited amount of time to learn how to live better and richer lives.   “This day,” says the Torah, “This day I set before you the way of blessing and the way of curse.  The way of emotional and spiritual death, and the way of life.  This day choose life.”

May God grant each of us “enough” in this new year, enough of fulfillment and love and health, and may it be that we will be wise enough to know how blessed we are.