Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year? (Seasons of Love, from Rent written by Jonathan Larson)
Wednesday, at sunset, many Jews across the Earth will begin to rediscover themselves as the Days of Awe begin, starting with Rosh Hashanah and finishing with Yom Kippur. These ten days will begin with celebration, anticipating the new year and the many secrets yet to be discovered in our lives, it will finalize with a day of fasting and atonement, a 24 hour period in which we realize how fragile, frenetic, futile and fantastic our lives can be. Many of us, will pray in the Temples, or Shul’s and some of us will contemplate the greatness of our interpretation of OUR God, sitting on the cliff of a mountain, the edge of the sea, in the middle of a forest, or among the people we call friends and family. The High Holy Days will once again remind us that the Book of Life is a precarious, yet precious publication, in which no two copies are the same. Some will ask for forgiveness, some will receive the words, of course so, some will pledge to be better humans, and some will forget those words as the Torah is closed, and the next best thing arises. For some there is tradition, for some it is a religious responsibility, some will wonder why me, and others may quietly mutter, thank goodness it was not me. A year ends and a year begins…Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes.
This year ending, for me, leaves me seeking answers, as to why it seems good people, must do a whole lot more good, just to keep up with bad people, who seem to get a way with doing less. This year ending, has reinforced my belief that I must be aware of my capacity to first change myself, (as if I were in an airplane, placing the oxygen mask on my traveling companion), then fight as hard as I can for change to affect those many around me.There are not endless minutes in a year, and if I am to be blessed that the last chapter in my book of life, reads: surprise, you got a whole new book coming up, I must make those minutes count. “How do you measure, measure a year?” Shana Tova!
