Summertime

At this time of year I remember the soon-to-be freedom of summer of youth.  Doors would open and release its long pent up hostages after an interminable winter.  Windows would be raised letting in the warm spring air to diffuse the staleness of closed homes. 

Summer meant there were frogs to catch, adventures in the woods, and throwing myself into the brisk waters to get relief from the sun.  Summer, most of all, was the time of assimilation: an opportunity to review everything that happened during the year and put it into perspective.  In other words, summer represented growth.

A lot of life is spent is reactive mode.  We need “down time” to assess what has happened and gain perspective.  Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz has written, “It is not what a person says or performs.  After an experience, change must be affected or the total experience has been wasted.” 

Life happens to us but the ways in which we respond to those events is the measure of us.  And what good is longevity of life if not to learn from the good and bad?

Rabbi Sidney Greenberg used to tell the story of a town hall meeting where the discussion centered on the use of a new electric chair for the condemned.  One man stood up and shouted, “Hanging was good enough for my father.  It’s good enough for me!”

From birth we move and grow.  What was good enough for daddy requires personal analysis.   It may be good enough for us.  Or not.  The wisdom of Torah always steers us toward positive change.  In fact, one could argue that the whole purpose of Torah is to take a clay human being and remake him into “little lower than an angel.”  This can only accomplished by ongoing growth, learning from mistakes, and being willing to accept the possibility that we are wrong.

Of course, at the end of summer, we are inevitably asked, “Nu?  So how have you changed?”  This is the question posed by Rosh Hashanna as God peers at us and asks, “What’s new?  How have you grown?”

On the other side, we also have an obligation to allow others the same luxury of growth.  George Bernard Shaw once remarked, “The smartest man I know is my tailor.  Whenever I go to him to be fitted he always measures me. “  The tailor assumed his customers would change by the time he next saw them.  Shouldn’t we look at people the same way?

Here’s a puzzle to ponder.  Is the following a compliment or insult? 
“You haven’t changed a bit.”