A short while ago we read excerpts from the Biblical Book of Ecclesiasties or Kohelet as it is called in Hebrew. Kohelet is an example par excellence of the tradition of Near Eastern wisdom literature. In our wisdom tradition, we find two main types of literature: Practical Wisdom: for example, the Book of Proverbs; and Skeptical, Stoic Wisdom: such as the Book of Job. In the case of Ecclesiastes, the choice is very clear. What we have here is the paradigmatic example of skeptical wisdom, and it is easy to see why!
The Book of Kohelet is officially attributed to Kohelet Ben David, Melech Biy’rushalayim, or Kohelet the son of David, King in Jerusalem. This led the traditional rabbinic commentators to explain that this is one of three books written by Melech Sh’lomo, King Solomon.
When I read Kohelet, I am struck by how much it reminds me of the opening lines of Albert Camus’ existential classic The Stranger: “Mother died today. Or, maybe it was yesterday; I can't be sure.” In a similar vain, our Book of Kohelet opens with the famous,
: הֲבֵל הֲבָלִים אָמַר קֹהֶלֶת הֲבֵל הֲבָלִים הַכֹּל הָֽבֶל
“Utter futility – said Kohelet – Utter futility! All is futile!”
And indeed much of this book echoes this theme that the only morsel of consistency in our world is that everything is impermanent.
But interestingly enough, the most famous section of our book this morning, is familiar to us as a message of comfort in moments of melancholy. In chapter three we read the famous verses:
“A season is set for everything, a time for every experience under the heaven:
A time for being born and a time for dying,
A time for planting and a time to uproot the planted,
A time for tearing down and a time for building up,
A time for weeping and a time for laughing,
A time for wailing and a time for dancing;
A time for throwing stones and a time for gathering stones,
A time for embracing and a time for shunning embrace,
A time for seeking and a time for losing,
A time for keeping and a time to let go,
A time for silence and a time for speaking,
A time for loving and a time for hating,
A time for war and a time for peace.”
Many of us are familiar with this selection from its use at funerals, more of us are know these verses by their other title “Turn, Turn, Turn,” the popular song written by Pete Seeger and made famous by the Byrds; but all of us, can relate to its central message.
Sometimes it feels as though we live in a binary world, a world filled with dichotomous truths. We are all born, yet we will all pass away. We experience happiness, but we also experience the pangs of suffering. We know from peace and war, brotherhood and bloodshed, cooperation and destruction. We find love, we lose love. We laugh, we cry. We dance, yet we also collapse in grief. Such is the nature of our world: There is a time and an experience for everything under the heavens.
But often I wonder if it is really this simple? Are we human beings really comprised of zeroes and ones? Are we destined to experience only highs and lows, the zenith and the nadir, with no area for confusion or complication? I don’t think our lives are really this simple, truly comprised of only black and white. In reality, we experience a hurried jumble of emotions on a daily basis, often struggling to sort the good from the bad.
I would like to turn your attention now to a poem by the great Israeli poet Yehudah Amichai, who like Kohelet, sat on a throne in Yerushalayim. Amichai was the King of Israeli poetry while he lived, and he often sat, perched on a chair in his favorite café, watching the people below.
This poem, entitled “A Man in His Life” reads as follows:
A man in his life has no time to have time for everything.
He has no room to have room for every desire. Kohelet was wrong to claim that.
A man has to hate and love all at once,
With the same eyes to cry and to laugh
With the same hands to throw stones and to gather them,
Make love in war and war in love.
And hate and forgive and remember and forget
And order and confuse and eat and digest
What long history does in so many years.
A man in his life has no time.
When he loses he seeks
When he finds he forgets
When he forgets he loves
When he loves he begins forgetting.
…..
In autumn, he will die like a fig,
Shriveled, sweet, full of himself.
The leaves dry out on the ground,
And the naked branches point
To the place where there is time for everything.
This is clearly Amichai’s attempt at his own brand of wisdom literature and I think he is right. In reality, our world does not allow for us the safe space to fully experience both the good and the bad, joy and sorrow, laughter and tears. In truth, we only have one pair of eyes, which must cry tears of joy and tears of sorrow alike. We have only one set of hands which sometimes build up and tear down simultaneously. We have only one life; and in it, we simply do not have the time to experience every emotion ke’she’l’atzmo, in and of itself.
In 1969 Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross wrote a book called On Death and Dying, and with it she helped to change our perceptions of the both the act of dying and the art of mourning. Her most famous contribution to our modern vocabulary is what is now known as the Kubler-Ross Model, commonly referred to as The Five Stages of Grief. They are: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. And for many years it was assumed that these stages were part and parcel of the experience of most anyone dealing their impending death, or with mourning the loss of a loved one.
As the stages go: first we deny the inevitable, and then we grow angry with God, with fate and with those around us. This eventually gives way to bargaining, thoughts of “if only I were to get better I would promise to…” or “please God if you make my mother survive I will surely…” This leads to moments of sheer depression when we realize that our prayers will not be answered, when there is nothing that can be done; and finally we reach a stage of acceptance, and hopefully with it, the inner-peace that comes with coming to terms with the inevitable.
But in actuality, Kubler-Ross went to great lengths to explain to us that this is most certainly NOT the way things go. She explained that these stages do not always occur in a strictly linear fashion, nor do they occur one at a time. In actuality we can feel angry and depressed; we can have moments of acceptance followed immediately by utter denial. In fact, some of us may skip over denial and head straight to anger, and unfortunately, some of us may never reach the promised land of acceptance. In short, Kubler-Ross teaches that we are not machines who can be programmed in binary code; who are taught to move swiftly along a series of appropriate reactions.
In truth we are a complicated mess of emotions. Upon losing someone dear to us we can at the very same moment experience feelings of anger, sadness, relief and guilt for feeling a sense of relief. We can feel the sudden urge to rush under the covers and hide from the world while at the same time the need to move forward and go on with our lives. We have all been to houses during the week of shivah where laughter and tears become one and the same; where sobbing and smiles exist in harmony. This is what it means to be human; it means that we simply don’t have the time to experience everything under the heavens in neat and tidy increments.
In a moment we will recite the Yizkor prayers. I am conscious that some of you are saying Yizkor in memory of a loved one who passed away recently, and that you may currently find yourself caught in the tangles mess of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I am also aware that some of you are consciously marking the years and the decades that have passed along with your beloved. I hope you too will remember that we are too human not to cry. We are too complex not to feel the pain afresh, experience the pangs of sorrow we otherwise tightly pack away beneath the surface of our smiles. Finally let us recall the closing lines of Yehudah Amichai’s poem and remember that ultimately, each of us is like a fig, full of sweetness yet destined to shrivel away; let us remember to make the most out of our lives, to pledge Tzedakah and justice in the name of those who have left us, and let us live our lives according to the holy ethics of our God in Heaven as we rise and we ask:
“Adonai, Ma Adam Va’tae’da’ayhu, Ben Adam Va’t’cha’sh’veyhu”
“What are humans that you should know us, Eternal God; who are mortals what you should be mindful of us?”
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