On 9/11, for the first time in the history of the
world, we heard the recorded phone calls of people minutes before their deaths.
What did people say in those last phone calls? I love you Mommy. I love you
Daddy. I love you my son. I love you my daughter. I love you Grandpa. I love
you Grandma. I love you my wife. I love you my husband. And what does a
person do when they have one minute left to live? One hour. One day. One
year. What do we do when time is running out? If we knew we had one year
left to live what would we do?
It never seems like anyone has enough time
But the truth is that the moment that we are born, we begin to die. Given how
quickly the years pass, it never seems like anyone has enough time. And
it's true. It isn't enough time if we view our lives as ends in themselves.
However, if we remember that each of us is a link in the precious, eternal
chain of Jewish history, then we realize that we are given exactly the amount
of time we need to fulfill our unique missions in this world. Each link in the
chain has its own strength and purpose. But what if we don't fulfill our
individual missions in this world? What if we don't even know what they are? No
one wants to leave this world without having fulfilled their potential…
I have heard different
opinions about figuring out your mission in this world. One is to look at your
weakest character trait, and then approach every experience in your life as an
opportunity to transform that deficiency into a positive characteristic.
Another approach is to find out what your greatest strengths and talents are
and then look around you at what your community needs. With both of these
approaches, a person's mission may look very different on the outside at
various stages in his life. But one aspect remains the same: each of us
has a mission. Each of us has an obligation to search for and relentlessly
pursue her unique role and purpose in this world. Because when we fail to
build our own links in the chain, then the whole Jewish nation suffers.
There is no room for apathy
In every generation that the Holy Temple isn't rebuilt, it is considered as if that
generation destroyed Jerusalem.
There is no middle ground. There is no room for apathy or disunity in our
history. We are either building or destroying. We cannot remain passive; we
must focus on revealing and then fulfilling our missions.
When we were given the Torah, Moshe told each and every
Jew where to stand. If even one of us was out of place, then we couldn't
receive the Torah. Each person received his own specific portion of the Torah
and without that person's portion, the whole Torah would be incomplete. This is
still true today. Each of our souls is created to receive a specific part of
the Torah, but we need to be standing in the right place. We need to be open to
receiving our own blueprints for our missions.
Since I was little I've been the type of person who loves upside-down roller
coasters and intense sports. I never understood the reason until
recently. On Chanukah this year, I was running around with my kids at an
amusement park, and we were having a blast going on all of the rides.
Then we decided to try the "Skycoasting" ride, which is like bungee jumping for
beginners. I was in the middle, and my two girls were on either side of me as
we were pulled up a hundred feet into the air. And when we reached what
felt like the sky, the guy at the bottom yelled: "Fly!" And my daughter
was in charge of releasing the latch that was holding us to the top rope.
She's only ten-years-old; personally, I'm not sure I would have been able to
release that latch. But as terrifying as the hundred foot free fall was, it was
definitely among the most exhilarating experiences I have ever had. We were
flying! We were on the physical edge of everything that we could be, even if
just for a moment. And that's the same thrill of racing upside down on a roller
coaster; you can feel the unbelievable intensity of the edge of
existence.
We all have these latches
But I kept thinking about how much courage it took for my daughter to release
that latch on the rope. And then I realized that we all have these latches in
our lives—different defenses and fears that hold us back from learning how to
fly. We're scared of change. We're full of doubts. We are more
comfortable on the ground. We think that we'll get hurt if we try.
But we all know there is a voice that is calling (although sometimes we can
only hear its echo). "Fly!" it cries. "You need to release your
latch. It's time to fly!"
And when we gather the
courage to climb to our spiritual heights, then we can place each of our own
unique bricks into the broken walls of Jerusalem.
And we can reconnect our broken chain as we each take our places with pride.
And when G‑d calls to us: Let go of your latches. It's time to fly—we
will be ready. Ready to release the latch, to rebuild all that is
broken. Climb to the edge of who you are. And here is the message I
want my children to hear, not a year or an hour or even a minute before I die,
but right now: You can fly. You have the courage to release your latch.
You are a special treasure in the Jewish nation. Without you, the chain
can't continue. Without each of you, the walls of Jerusalem cannot stand.