"A WORD ABOUT CONTENTMENT"
January 4, 2002
Rabbi Edward Paul Cohn
Temple Sinai
New Orleans, Louisiana
Sir John Gielgud, the renowned British actor, producer, and director, was widely known not only for his Shakespearean roles, but also for his television and film credits. You may remember him for his Oscar-winning performance as the valet in the film, Arthur. In his early acting years, Gielgud was attempting to jump on a moving bus, and only partially succeeded. Dangling precariously and dangerously from that vehicle, Sir John cried out, "Stop, stop! You're killing a genius!"
Erich Fromm suggests in his writings: "Man's task in life is to give birth to himself, to become what he potentially is." Well, I wonder, if you and I think of ourselves, as apparently as Gielgud thought of himself, as geniuses? Are we content with who and what we are? When is contentment a good thing, and under what circumstances ought we to avoid it at all cost?
Our tradition teaches that the rich person is the one who is contented with what they have. I don't think, however, that the rabbis desired our speedy acceptance of the status quo. Far from it, I believe that our Judaism teaches positive thinking and urges us to seek to achieve more and more throughout our lives.
This is the first time we have met since the arrival of the New Year 2002, and I thought I would talk with you this evening about the importance of continuing our efforts to achieve or to accomplish as long as we have life and opportunity. The arrival of a new year is always a poignant reminder that you and I are only privileged to welcome so many. Life goes by so quickly. A modern quipster put it this way:
Robert Louis Stevenson put it this way: "Sooner or later we have to sit down to a banquet of consequences." That was Stevenson's effort to remind us that we will all look back, at some point in the future, and challenge ourselves-in fact, judge ourselves-on how much we did with what we were given.The baby hasn't any hair,
The old man's head is just as bare.
Between the cradle and the grave
Lie but a haircut and a shave.
On this first Shabbat of 2002 we Jews will read from the very first Parasha of the Torah's second book, the Book of Exodus: Shemot. You'll remember that in Exodus we revisit that wonderful story of God's call to Moses from the bush which burned but did not burn up. Up until this point in his life, Moses had been richly privileged and fortunate. A Hebrew baby, saved from certain death, he had been adopted by Pharaoh's daughter, becoming a member of the royal household.
Moses had it made! He had earned an Ivy League degree, he was driving a BMW chariot, he enjoyed influence, wealth, love, and a promising future in the Egyptian governmental bureaucracy. And yet he wasn't content? Moses sensed a missing piece which just wouldn't allow his life and innermost spirit to fully add up! Sometimes you and I feel that some discontent, a hunger of the spirit which presents itself despite all that we have and are.
But let's get back to Moses for a minute. It happened quite unexpectedly that Moses witnessed an Egyptian taskmaster beating a Hebrew slave. Apparently without any hesitation, Moses proceeded to rescue the hapless slave by killing the Egyptian. That was a life-altering decision. Moses fled to Mideon and there became a simple shepherd of Jethro's flock. Enter the burning bush and the compelling voice which called out to Moses, bidding him to serve God by helping to liberate His people.
Says Rabbi Lawrence Kushner,
A Midrash instructs us that many people passed by that bush without pausing to acknowledge its uniqueness, and hence, they did not hear the voice of God calling to them. Only Moses stopped. And thus began his journey. Our journey begins also when we're able to overcome our contentment with the status quo, and to see and hear the divine presence and call in the ordinary events of our lives. Our truest journey begins when we are able to experience the sacred in the realm of the mundane.The burning bush was not a miracle. It was a test. God wanted to find out whether or not Moses could pay attention to something for more than a few minutes. When Moses did, God spoke. The trick is to pay attention to what is going on around you long enough to behold the miracle without falling asleep. There is another world, right here within this one, whenever we pay attention.
Believe me, I am not here tonight to condemn contentment. Far from it. But our truest contentment only comes when we know we have fulfilled our possibility, or at least given it our very best. There is such a thing as being too soon contented with too little! What I'm calling for this evening is vision, that saving perspective on our lives which will prevent us from becoming as Elizabeth Barrett Browning described in her famous poem, "Those who walk on holy ground without so much as knowing it; who are unaware that the earth itself is crammed with heaven, and are so intent on plucking blackberries that they fail to notice every common bush afire with God."
Do you remember how Wordsworth described a man of this unhappy sort, who never saw more than met his eye?
A primrose by a river' s brimIt's for this reason, then, out of a concern that we miss the life in our living, that I am urging us all to examine our lives as we sit here on this first Shabbas of 2002. I hope we are not too fully content. We need to keep our dreams alive and cherish, as yet, unaccomplished goal of worthiness to be realized only by our own further reaching toward another's benefit.
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more.
I fear that, too often, you and I save ourselves from stretching; from the discomfort of risk and from the potential embarrassment of failure. Oh, we always have an excuse as to why this isn't the opportune time to leave the safe and the secure, the known and the comfortable, to set out toward claiming our real and highest selves. We always have an excuse, don't we?
But let me tell you this. One new year will inexorably follow another, and time will just slip away whenever we so cowardly back out of our lives.
Says the poet Marguerite Wilkinson:
Are you getting the point! Do you see what I am trying to say? You and I don't want to be haunted night and day by all the deeds we have not done, do we? Do you want to turn upon yourself at some future point with remorse and lament:I never cut my neighbor's throat;
My neighbor's gold I never stole;
I never spoiled his house and land,
But God have mercy on my soul!For I am haunted night and day
By all the deeds I have not done;
O unattempted loveliness!
O costly valor never won!
Oh, unattempted loveliness!
Oh costly valor never won!
Of course not!
Listen to this. Jason Lehman writes:
Moses stopped to look at that amazing bush which burned but which was not consumed. And when God saw that Moses had stopped, and cared enough to really see, God called to him out of the midst of the bush-"Moses, Moses"--and he answered, "Here am I." And the real adventure began at that moment. Moses' real life was only just starting.It was spring, but it was summer I wanted, the warm days and the great outdoors. It was summer, but it was fall I wanted, the colorful leaves, and the cool dry air. It was fall, but it was winter I wanted, the beautiful snow and the joy of the holiday season. It was winter, but it was spring I wanted, the warmth and the blossoming of nature.I was a child, but it was adulthood I wanted, the freedom and the respect. I was 20, but it was 30 I wanted, to be mature and sophisticated. I was middle aged, but it was 20 I wanted, the youth and the free spirit. I was retired, but it was middle age I wanted, the presence of mind without limitations. My life was over, but I NEVER GOT WHAT I WANTED.
What's your name? You put your name in instead of Moses'! You never know, dear friends, what can yet happen when we listen to the voices that call us to life; voices that bid us wake up and fly higher and freer. Don't let your world become too small and don't turn your back on loveliness yet to be embraced or on valor yet to be won.
Amen.