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Remembering Moses, Remembering Ourselves
Remarks delivered by Sig Cohen, Yom Kippur Morning, September 23rd, 2015  

I'm so honored to have been asked to address you today.  As I look around, I see multiple generations, and my heart is uplifted because you represent the legacy of the Children of Israel whom Moses led into a new land.  In my eyes, you are the storied past, the challenging present and the hopeful future, all under one roof.   

The traditional Torah portion for Yom Kippur is Acharei Mot, a chapter that consists of a multidimensional set of passages headlined with an operating manual on how to develop a scapegoat. That's followed by detailed instructions on how to carry out a sacrifice.

As an elder of this community, I identify more strongly with last week's Torah portion, which focuses on the importance of legacy, so I'm taking the liberty of drilling down on last Shabbat's parsha: Vayelech, instead.  I feel it has particular relevance to all of us on this Day of Atonement, when we are asked to take stock of ourselves.    

The Torah portion Vayelech recounts Moses' last days.  Let me take you there for a moment.  Moses is 120 years old and the Children of Israel are on the verge of entering a new land.  You may recall that Moses is bidding farewell to Bnei Israel.  He shares a lot of advice -- some merciful and some less so.  But beneath it all is regret, a sadness we all seem to share about Moses -- that God has forbidden Moses to accompany his flock into the land of milk and honey.  Why?  Because earlier during their 40 – year schlep through the wilderness, Moses struck a rock to yield water for bnei israel rather than speak to the rock as God had earlier instructed him to do.

Mind you, Moses never sought this responsibility.  Content as a shepherd and now approaching eighty he never felt compelled to take a leadership role, much less that of a community organizer, sorcerer and most significantly a lawgiver.  And yet, somewhat grudgingly he accepted his role (not that he had any option to reject God's command) and despite all odds fulfilled it

As an elder, I look upon Moses as a fellow senior citizen who experiences the two most profound challenges of aging, challenges that all of us either now or will confront in the future.  Never would I compare my or any other elder's life with that of Moses.  But I do sense parallels that on this Day of Atonement merit mention.

The two challenges of aging are loss and legacy.  Moses lost whatever opportunity he might have had to determine how he'd spend his 'golden years.'  No golf, no bridge, no Elder Hostel trips, no zip lining through a rain forest or whatever bucket list activities might have then existed.  God fore-ordained that Moses (as an octogenarian, no less) would lead the children of Israel out of bondage in Egypt and into freedom and a new land.  In the end, the loss of Moses' privilege to lead his people on that final trek across the Jordan River did not it diminish his legacy. 

And what an incredible legacy it is: No matter how the sages and redactors stitched together the patchwork quilt-like fabric we call the Old Testament, the Hebrew Bible, or the Five Books of Moses, Moses' legacy remains a central pillar in the architecture of Western Civilization. Despite some of the blood thirstier acts attributed to him, Moses will forever remain the central character, the leading man of our faith, and indeed a key figure in the Abrahamic triad.

What does this mean for us?  As I and possibly others in my demographic consider our pasts, we also confront these two challenges of loss and legacy.  How many of us have aging parents or, perhaps, have already experienced the loss of a parent or a grandparent, a spouse, a teacher, a friend, a mentor?  Think, for a moment about their legacies.  Not in terms of material wealth, but of the intangible gifts they left for us.

As the years pass by, we become more aware of experiencing the loss of our health, our capacity to perform activities of daily living, and often the slow, cruel, unremitting loss of our ability to even understand the world around us.

Now take a moment to consider another side of all this: our legacy.  While there maybe little we can do when a debilitating illness strikes, or death approaches, there's much we can do now to ensure that our legacy is lasting and positive.  These are questions we can ponder -- not about our legacy in a material sense -- but as David Brooks writes in his recent book “The Road to Character” – our eulogy values versus our resume values. 

In other words, a legacy that ensures that our children's mental scrapbooks about us will feature memories about our generosity, our patience, our capacity to listen, to forgive, to inspire, and of course, tikkun olam, to make the world a better place for our children and grandchildren.  In other words, how do we want to be truly remembered?  

And what better day to think about our legacy than on Yom Kippur.  A day for introspection.  Of summing up.  Of apology and forgiveness.  And, indeed, a day of decision and resolve.  As we depart this sanctuary, this house of worship, and enter the sanctuary of our mind, let us take a moment to dwell on our legacy and what more we can do to enhance its meaning for and its impact on those who come after us.

Fri, March 29 2024 19 Adar II 5784