Gut yontev.

            As much as I relish baby-namings, bar and bat mitzvahs, weddings, and other happy life cycle events, it’s the funerals where I pour out my heart and soul.  I feel if a person has been busy living a life, the least I can do is elevate that life as a way of giving comfort to the mourners, and respect to the deceased.  I spend far more time gathering information and then trying to organize random memories into a coherent tribute than I do for high holy day sermons.

            I have had a few weeks to try to ponder the death of 53-year-old Hayim Weiss.  Unlike Jed, he was not a member of Temple Beth El.  Rather, for all 20 years of my service at Congregation Beth Shalom, he served as our High Holy Day Chair.  He also served as Vice President of almost every committee of the board and as editor of our monthly newsletter, The Kol Shalom.  And his reach was far greater than Beth Shalom.  He was ever present at the Siegel JCC, and more important, he served as the Administrator of Lodge Lane, providing dignity, love and attention to our Jewish seniors who helped build the Jewish community of Delaware we enjoy today.

            There are a few things I take away from his death that I wanted to share with you today, as we begin to get ready for Yizkor.  Sharing these insights is a way of addressing my own grief, but I hope by sharing these things, you, too, will benefit from the extraordinary life Hayim led in his far-too-brief 53 years, leaving behind his beloved wife, Meri, and a community who adored him.

            First, we thought Hayim would be with us forever.  We took his longevity for granted.  He was an institution. In truth, my dear friends, none of us will be here forever.  As the Unetanetokef prayer of our upcoming Musaph service states, in the year just ahead of us, we do not know who will live or who will die. We should not take any of our relationships for granted.

If there is someone you have been meaning to call, after Yom Kippur is over, call them, please do not wait.  If there is someone in the synagogue or in the community or in your work place you have been meaning to have lunch with – don’t wait.  As soon as I blow the shofar ending our Yom Kippur fast, open your Outlook calendar, get on the phone, and book that lunch. If a parent, a child, a student or a co-worker has been extraordinarily helpful to you, don’t wait to thank them.  Get out an email.  Better yet, break out the stationery and write a handwritten note – so old fashioned, I know – but therefore, so memorable for the receiver.

            Second, Hayim, if looking from above, can look at his life with pride.  He did not leave anything undone, or unsaid. I’d like to share a story with you.  It comes from Torah. 

Genesis 48:1 opens with these words: “Some time afterward, Joseph was told, ‘Aveecha HOLEH,’  ‘Your father is sick.”  The word “holeh” was never used before this time.  Our ancient ancestors up to this point, got old and then died.  There were no warning signs. According to a tractate of the sixth century Babylonian Talmud called Baba Metziah,  Jacob prayed to God that he would get sick before he died so he would have time to bless his children and grandchildren, reflect on the lessons of his life, and articulate his hopes and wishes for his family’s future.

            Hayim did not have any outward signs of illness.  He simply died in his sleep.  And based on the story of Jacob as retold in the Talmud, that would be tragic because he did not have a chance to let people know what he felt.  But the next lesson to learn about Hayim’s passing is that he left NOTHING on the table.  All his friends and family knew how he felt about them.  More than that, Hayim let people know how he felt about society as a whole.  The day before he died, he had a powerful FaceBook post about the reactions to conservative political leader Charlie Kirk’s assassination.  Hayim’s wish was that people could come together and embrace their shared humanity rather than withdrawing into feuding political camps. 

I implore each of us to communicate deeply and fully with those we care about – not leaving our passions and concerns to be interpreted by others. 

            Finally, we don’t really know what took Hayim at age 53.  It has driven people I know crazy.  You know why?  Because if they knew the cause or conditions, they could reassure themselves that they don’t have that particular condition, so they will be safe. But as I already observed with the Unetonetokef prayer, we don’t know when we will die, or what will be the cause. That is simply the human condition.  All we have for certain is this very moment.  So, let us make the most of it. 

            Frankly, I am glad we do not know what was the cause of my friend Hayim’s death. When we learn of people who die of a disease, like Cancer, or MS, or Parkinson’s or whatever, the person often becomes the disease: as in “he is a diabetic.”  We are far MORE than our diseases.  And we should not be remembered by how we died, but rather, how we lived. 

When a loved one dies, I try to gather the family together ASAP.  The outward excuse is that they are going to share memories to help me write my eulogy. 

But, can I tell you the truth?  I am trying to get the loved ones to think beyond the death of the person, by flooding them all with memories of their beloved in the full bloom of life – from childhood, to first romance, to how he popped the question, to where did they honeymoon. I ask about a favorite dish their mom or bubba used to make, and maybe even for a recipe to be distributed at shiva.

            Think about it.  According to the 1^st century sage, Hillel, the greatest mitzvah is: “that which you find hateful do not do unto others.”  Would any of us gathered in this sanctuary wish to be remembered by a death we could not control? I think NOT!  Rather, we would, each, wish to be remembered by the extraordinary lives we lived, the people we touched, the events or institutions we impacted, our cherished values articulated for all to hear.

            Therefore, as we enter Yizkor on this Yom Kippur 5786, I invite each of us to take sacred moments to remember parents, bubbies, zaydies, aunties, uncles, cousins, friends, and God-forbid, children, who have touched our lives. I pray you won’t remember their illnesses or the ravages of old age. 

Rather, with God’s help, may we each remember our loved ones as they would want us to remember them, and through their example, may they inspire each of us to be the best version of ourself.

            May we say of our loved ones and friends, zichronam l’bracha, may their memories all be for a blessing, v’nomar, and let us say, amen.