Beth Shalom
Oceanside Jewish Center

Cast Us Not Away.....
Yom Kippur 5763
September 16, 2002
By Rabbi Mark B Greenspan

Have you noticed that nowadays, when you turn on the television, there's a good chances that you'll be confronted by reality TV. It's all the rage -- real people struggling with real life situations. To be honest, I'm not sure I consider this to be entertainment, but it's certainly compelling. We see people wrestling the dilemmas of life and the complexities of their relationships. Reality.

Today as we mark Yom Kippur I want to talk to you about reality religion: faith struggling with the most basic conflicts and dilemmas of life. And it all begins with a verse in our Machzor.

If there's a single passage in the High Holy Day liturgy that touches us, it is the well known verse taken from the book of Psalms which appears in the Selichot service: "Al tashlichaynu li'et zikna, kikhlot kokhaynu al ta'azvaynu." "Cast us not away in old age; when our strength is gone, do not abandon us."

Like many verses in the liturgy, this passage speaks of the realities and struggles of life. There's nothing abstract or esoteric about these words. The Machzor may be written in profound and exalted poetry, but it's a product of real life. And the cantors who chanted these words, knew this. When they said, "Don't cast us off in our old age," they did so with an urgent and pleading tone. At that moment, everyone knew that the cantor wasn't merely chanting words from a book -- he was talking to God. This was personal.

Writing about this passage, my colleague Rabbi Jack Reimer has commented that "al tashlichenu" has taken on more meaning as he continues to grow older. No longer can he assume that these words are addressed to someone else when the person he sees in the mirror each day looks more and more like a senior citizen. He writes: "When I was young, I thought that old people were a class apart. Now I know better. I know that they are us -- a little further along the same road that all people travel..."

Our ancestors understood this. They took the plea not to be abandoned in their final years quite literally. Worse than death, they feared an old age in which they were robbed of well-being and dignity. They had nightmares not of dying, but of dying alone. Using an old Yiddish aphorism, they would ask why one parent can support ten children while ten children have difficulty supporting one parent?

Nothing has changed...

This year as I say "al tashlichenu li'et zikna," these words have taken on personal meaning for me, not because of my age but because I'm now a member of the so-called Sandwich Generation. Caught between my concern for my aging mother and my responsibilities as a father, a husband and a Rabbi of a large congregation, I find myself torn betwixt and between, along with millions of other Americans.

Becoming a member of the Sandwich Generation didn't happen overnight. It began nine years ago when my mother, an active and independent senior, moved from Miami, where I grew up, to Harrisburg, where I was serving as a Rabbi. Close to eighty years old, and in need of some surgery, my sister and I convinced Mom that it would be better for her to live closer to her children, and that this way, she would be able to see her grandchildren grow up in a small but close knit community. Why spend her golden years alone?

To relocate any time in life is difficult. But Mom made the transition. She moved into her own apartment and became an active community volunteer. After all, she had a special place in the community -- she was the Rabbi's mother. Though she proudly guarded her independence, she knew that she could always call us if she needed help.

But life doesn't always work out the way we plan. Five years ago I moved to Oceanside. For me, professionally, and for my family it was a great move. For my mother it was a disaster. She had come to Harrisburg assuming that this is where she would spend her final years. Suddenly she was alone. As so often happens, her golden years had become tarnished and uncertain.

Still, Mom wasn't prepared to pull up roots and start all over again. She liked her apartment, had many friends, and enjoyed her volunteer work. "You get settled in Oceanside and then we'll talk about my moving closer to you," she said. One year turned into two and soon into five. At eighty eight, a move would be traumatic to say the least. For five years my wife and I, as well as my sister and her husband (who live in California) have made a regular commute to see Mom. The one thing that Mom knew she didn't want was 'to live with us or to be a burden to her children.'

This summer Mom became ill. After two hospitalizations her doctors said that she could no longer live alone. But Mom wasn't ready to give up her independence, either. In the course of three months, Marilyn and I traveled back and forth between Oceanside and Harrisburg no less than ten times. And I began to understand what people meant when they spoke of the 'sandwich generation.' Caught between conflicting responsibilities, I never felt at ease. My life seemed out of control. When I was in Harrisburg I worried about my congregation and family, and when I was in Oceanside I felt as though I wasn't fulfilling my filial duties as a son. I would wake up in the early hours of the morning in a panic. Mom had always been there for me -- how could I help her now when she needed me?

I looked at families in our congregation who were able to open their homes to elderly parents and I felt guilty. But what works for one family doesn't necessarily work for another. My sister and I struggled with how to help Mom. How could we protect her and still respect her independence?

Thankfully, I have a wonderful wife, a supportive sister and brother in law and caring friends who worried about me. But that did not make the pain of wresting responsibility from my mother for her own life away from her any easier to accept. My sister and I were greeted with anger and a deep sense of betrayal. After being on her own for over thirty year, how dare we tell her how to live! The guilt and anxiety that we felt wasn't based on logic -- we knew that we were making the best possible decisions for Mom under the circumstances. But it didn't make us feel any better, or less conflicted.

I share this story with you today because I know that it may not be so very different from your's. Many members of our community are struggling with concerns for aging parents and relatives. Today, it's not uncommon for individuals who have reached their so-called senior years to care for even older parents or relatives. We are living longer but not necessarily better lives. There are a growing number of caretakers in America today, many of whom have situations far more complicated than mine. The demographics suggest that the number will become even greater in the decades ahead. Like me, they find themselves betwixt and between, negotiating difficult and sometimes impossible circumstances, trying to do everything and feeling like they're accomplishing nothing.

Unfortunately, society does little to aid us in dealing with these dilemmas. Facilities for the elderly are often exorbitantly expensive if you're able to find one that even has an available room. Do you bring a parent to live with you? Do you help them to remain on their own? In a generation when so many families are made up of two full-time working adults, opening one's home to an elderly parent presents its own challenges. How do you find someone to care for them? Each solution presents a whole series of other problems and conflicts.

But the facts speak for themselves: A recent survey claimed that there are 54 million caregivers in America today and that number will only increase in the next two decades as yesterday's baby boomers become tomorrow's golden agers.

The problem is not just one of numbers but also an issue of attitude. In an age in which we judge a person's worth based on his or her productivity, the elderly are often seen as a burden. We spend millions of dollars each year hiding our age. Not only does society reject the elderly, but we have taught the elderly to reject themselves. In his essay, To Grow in Wisdom, Abraham Joshua Heschel writes, "We must seek to overcome the traumatic fear of being old, the prejudice, the discrimination against those advanced in years. All men are created equal including those advanced in years....The effort to restore the dignity of old age will depend on our ability to revive the equation of old age with wisdom..."

In the face of these overwhelming issues, I'd like to suggest that communities like ours have a two-fold responsibility, today -- first to provide support and care for the elderly and for their caregivers, and second, to aggressively advocate a change of attitude regarding old age. Instead of each individual re-inventing the wheel, we must join hands and hearts in helping one another to manage the lives of those in need assistance and to support those who are caring for the elderly.

It needs to begin right here, right now in our own synagogue, in our own community. For those of you sitting here thinking, "this is not my problem," let me suggest that it is, for two very good reasons.

First, whether or not you have elderly parents or relatives, the truth is this is a path we must all inevitably follow. If we are fortunate enough to live long and full lives, then we will face the problems of growing older. How we respond now, how we care for one another and create a caring community will shape our own future.

And second, a positive attitude toward growing old may be the most important legacy we can leave our children. Teaching them reverence, teaching them the importance of being wise and not merely productive is essential if they are to be full human beings, sensitive and caring. If our children worship youth then they will have nothing to look forward to in life, and nothing to strive for! If we can teach them to equate old age with wisdom then they will come to see their elders as a gift.

We also need to look more closely at our own community of Oceanside -- I don't mean the synagogue but the greater community. For someone growing older here, this is simply not the place to be. Housing is not available for the elderly and shopping is all but impossible if one lives here without transportation. We need to look more carefully at what the needs of our aging members are and then reach out to them in support, and caring, and love.

We can't change the world or even society as a whole but maybe we can begin to build a caring and supportive community for the people right here in our midst. In an effort to do this, I'm pleased to announce that we are creating a support group this coming year for caregivers that will meet once a month so that those who are caring for elderly parents and relatives can find solace and support from one another. We've also invited JASA to set up regular hours in our synagogue to provide helpful resources and information about eldercare for those who are looking for it.

Most important, we need to remember that we have so much to learn from and give one another. A community that is not multigenerational, that does not provide opportunities for the young and old to come together in dialogue and celebration, is impoverished. In the words of Heschel: "There is no human being who does not carry a treasure in his soul: a moment of insight, a memory of love, a dream of excellence, a call to worship." Instead of worshipping the young we need to teach them. There is no greater gift we can give our children more precious than reverence for the elderly.

Society can be judged by the way it treats its elders. If this is true, then our country is now facing a major challenge to its future. Implicit in our attitude to the elderly are a whole series of ethical and moral questions. By exploring our attitudes toward the elderly, we can make a important statement about the dignity of all human beings. Do we truly believe all human beings are created in the image of God? How we view the elderly says a great deal about who we are.

The elderly will continue to face challenges and obstacles. I can only pray that we not become one of those obstacles... For if we can truly learn to honor and care for our parents, then the world we live in can begin to become a better place.

This is the ultimate reality: Cast us not off in our old age, O Lord, and help us to learn who we truly are.

Shannah Tovah!