Present in the Present

I’ve told this story before but I was thinking about it again recently.  Our oldest son was born when we were living in Riverdale, along with many other rabbinical students.  The day after they came home from the hospital, Deanna asked if I could go down to the nearby pharmacy and get some diapers.  

I said sure, and then I started to get emotional and I said, you may think this is crazy, but I started to imagine standing with our son under the chupah and wondering what I would say.

And she said, that’s beautiful. And then she said, please go down to the story and get diapers.  The smallest size they have.

It’s fun to dream about the future and it can be illuminating to reflect on the past.

However, I believe that many of us, from time to time, find that we prevent ourselves from appreciating the blessings and the opportunities of whatever moment we are in.  

If you have ever catapulted yourself out of the present by rushing toward the future, or getting stuck in the past, these next few words are for you.

I’ll use myself as an example in the hope that you can relate.

When I was a child, I couldn’t wait to get older.  To be able to ride my bike around the neighborhood by myself, and then to drive, to go to college, to move out of my parents’ house.

When I was dating, I couldn’t wait to meet someone; I met someone I wanted to marry, we got engaged, then I couldn’t wait for the engagement to be over, couldn’t wait to have the first child, and once all three arrived, I said to myself, can’t wait for the day that I don’t have to bathe them all, then can’t wait to not have to go to Parent Teacher conferences, then can’t wait to be done paying college tuition, and lately, though I love my work very much, I’ve started to think about what it would be like to retire.

That’s soundtrack #1 and here is soundtrack #2.  I miss when my children were little and all fit in the bathtub, I miss the fun, sarcastic exchanges we had when they were teens, I miss having my parents around to enjoy all of it.

This morning we read the tokheha - the list of consequences, some would say curses, that God threatened would happen to the children of Israel if they didn’t obey God’s commands.

Some of them are gruesome.  Diseases that won’t go away.  Returning to Egypt.  Destructive weather.  Cannibalism.

Among the curses is the following statement which I have reflected on from time to time, and in the weeks before Rosh Hashanah it is especially worth considering:

בבקר יאמר מי יתן ערב ובערב יאמר מי יתן בקר מפחד לבבך אשר תפחד וממראה עינך אשר תראה

Ba’erev yomar mee yiten boker uvavoker yomar mee yiten eren mipahad levav’kha asher tif’had umimar’eh eineikha asher tir’eh

In the morning you will say, if only it were evening; and in the evening you will say, if only it were morning.  Because of what your heart shall dread and your eyes shall see.

Of all the horrific things the Torah lists, is this one so terrible?  In the morning you’ll say, I wish it were evening; in the evening you’ll say I wish it were morning?

Two ways to look at it.  The first, most likely the p’shat (the meaning in its original context), is that things will be so bad that you’ll want relief from them all the time, as in, ‘Get me out of this moment!”  But another way to look at it is that our attitude will prevent us from embracing the moment.  We will eclipse the present moment by wishing for the future or yearning for the past.

In the weeks leading up to Rosh Hashanah, and especially in between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we are asked to do heshbon hanefesh, self-reflection, and to try to make changes we deem to be warranted.

If we are obnoxious to other people, we try to be less obnoxious.  If we lack patience, we try at least to show more patience.  If we did wrong to someone, we try to find the courage to apologize and then we try not to do the same wrong thing again.

Embracing the present moment doesn’t mean being complacent.  It doesn’t mean that we stop wanting to be better, to do better.  And it doesn’t mean avoiding thinking about the future. 

Embracing the present can mean releasing ourselves from the anxiety and distraction that can come from being too focused on the future or mired in the past.

The present - as in, the conversation I’m having now.  The book I’m reading now.  The challenge I’m facing now.  The pleasure I’m enjoying now.  Deserves its moment.

When it’s morning, literally or metaphorically, what does it take for us to feel, “good that it’s morning”?  Are we so worried about the inevitable things that will come up eventually that we can’t really enjoy or even focus on anything in the moment? 

I’d like to recommend a spiritual practice.  You know that we say the blessing she’heheyanu at key moments to thank God that we are alive right now.

So here’s my recommended practice.  When you feel you brain or heart rushing you away from the moment.  

You're shopping for the holidays and a part of you is thinking, can’t wait till I get older so someone else invites ME for the holidays.

You’re at back to school night and a part of you is thinking, can’t wait for my kids to be grown up so I don’t have to wait on line any more to see their life science teacher.

You’re helping an elderly parent and a part of you is thinking, I wish it was 30 years ago, or I wish I didn’t have to do this altogether.

You’re at Rosh Hashanah dinner and you spend so much energy thinking about who isn’t there that you can’t fully enjoy who is.

By the way all of those thoughts and feelings are legit - they really are - but they pull us away from the reality and beauty of the moment...

So when those thoughts come up, I’m encouraging you just to say the word sheheheyanu.  You don’t have to say the whole blessing - you’ll know what it means.

Here I am shopping for the holiday.  Sheheheyanu.

Here I am talking to Jonny’s teacher about his report on photosynthesis.  Sheheheyanu.

Here I am with my elderly parent who may need a lot of support.  Sheheheyanu.

Here I am with people I love sharing a holiday meal.  Sheheheyanu.

It’s admirable to acknowledge the past and admirable to plan for the future and admirable to wonder how we can improve on ourselves and our surroundings.  

But not to the point where we are not fully present in the present.  

Here's a revised version of the verse from the Torah I quoted earlier.  I’ll call it the in-verse.  And I offer it to us as a blessing:

When it’s morning, let us say, good that it’s morning.  When it’s evening, let us say, good that it’s evening.  From the joy our hearts feel, and the bounty that our eyes see.  Amen.

Originally shared at Temple Israel of Great Neck on September 21, 2019