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Sermon by Rabbi Paul J. Kipnes delivered on 6 Shevat 5759(January 22,1999) at Temple Beth Hillel, Valley Village, CA.
Reb Nachman tells the story of a village which was hit with a plague which would temporarily erase memories. The townspeople, fearful of the chaos to come, searched high and low for an antidote to the disease, buty to no avail. Finally, their attentions turned to how they would endure the plague. No one knew what to do. Suddenly, a man walked up to the massive boulder at the center of the village square and wrote upon it the four Hebrew letters- Yud-Hey-Vav-Hey- of God's divine name. Curious, the villiagers questioned his action. He responded "that we will soon forget the past is unavoidable. How that will affect our present and future is unknown. The letters of God's name which according to the Torah connects to the eternality of existence, will indicate to us that there once was something that was enduring and had meaning. Let these letters, expressing the sanctity of existence, anchor our present and future to the abiding nature of our existence. Let God's eternal love transcend our momentary forgetfulness."
Jews are keenly aware of the power of remembering. On the most sacred of our holy days, Yom Kippur, we recite the prayers of Yizkor, Rememberance. Even as we are engaged in poignant self judgment, hoping to be sealed for a future in the metaphoric Book of Life, we pause, look backward and remember those that preceeded us
At Yizkor we bring to mind the memories of our parents and grandparents, brothers and sisters, and friends, all those who touched our lives. Yizkor Elohim nishmot yakeyrai, we recite, "May God remember the souls of my loved ones."
Rabbi Jeffrey Marx of Santa Monica wrote, "We remember, not just for the sake of those who are dead, but for our own sake. To remember those who came before us is to know who we are." In remembering the past lies the key to the present and a path to the future. In remembering, lies the the secret of redemption.
Shabbat, our weekly holy day, is ushered in with 2 candles: one each to remember the different articulations of the commandment of Shabbat in the two different sets of Ten Commandments. One candle is lit for Shamor, the commandment to keep Shabbat while the other is for Zachor, remember shabbat. We sing L'cha Dodi, saying shamor v'zachor b'deebor echad, that these two words were recited simultaneously in one Divine utterance. It teaches that by remembering we simultaneiously keep shabbat obeservance alive and thourgh it, our people alive.
What happens then, when our memory begins to fail? When bits of data, elements of who we are, cannot easily be recalled? I recently acquired a Palm Pilot, that palm sized computer in which I store my address book, calendar, lists of birthdays and anniversaries, my to-do lists and even a plethora of ideas for future sermons and projects. My wife says it is just a toy, for me it is my life. One evening the palm pilot began to fade out. I could not access critical pieces of information. Before my eyes, I was losing the record of my past, even as I saw the hopes and dreams I had stored about the future fizzle out. Fortunetly, it was temporary. Replacing the batteries does wonders! And I had a back up copy of everything on my home p.c. but what if...? If losing a computer record of my past upset me so, how would I feel if I truly began to lose my memory? And then I remembered Esther...
Esther, older, sick, greets her son with a smile, as if he were her husband. She does so, not because he looks like her husband for the resemblance is only slight but because she doesn't remember that her husband Eddie died some eleven years before. She regularly forgets that her daugher visited her or called on the phone. Smiles from the grandchildren do bring her joy, yet you cantell that she cannot quite place them beyond the fact that they are .. prabably.. mishpacha, family. Day after day, she loses more and more tidbits of information. Week after week, she forgets where she is or what she is doing. Her son visits and watches, considers and becomes frustrated. Nothing he or anyone can do will arrest the slow, plodding deterioration of her memory.
If I forget thee O Jerusalem, writes the Psalmist, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth.. As Esther forgets more and more, her ability to care for herself deteriorates with her. Slowly this once vibrant woman becomes a mere shell of her former self.
Denise Cooper, watching a similar tragedy play out as she cares for her loved one stricken with Alzheimer's Disease, composed these beautiful words, entitled "The Watcher"
I watch you as you sleep, wondering if tomorrwo will bring you peace. I grieve for you.
I watch you as you laugh, wondering if it will be the last. I love you.
I watch you as you speak, wondering if the words will come. I am inspired.
I watch you as you roam, wondering if you are looking for home. I miss you too.
I watch you as you walk, wondering how you bear the pain. I hurt for you.
I watch you as you sleep, wondering if tomorrow will bring you peace. I mourn you.
Denise's words capture the worry, pain, wonder and fear that accompany the reality of Alzheimer's Disease. It often begins gradually, with symptoms that sometimes develop and go unnoticed for a long time. Little things like difficulty performing familiar tasks, disorientation of time and place, misplacing things, problems finding the right word to say continue until the memory loss affects job skills or leads one to substitute inappropriate words in sentences, making them incomprehensible. Each symptom is frustrating alone. Taken together, they indicate possible Alzheimer's Disease.
The Alzheimer's Association estimates that one in ten American families has a loved one with Alzheimer's Disease, and that one in three adults knows someone iwth the disease. Chances are, you do too. The Alzheimer's Association explains that people with Alzheimer's face an uncertain future, adjusting to new schedules and changing roles and responsibilities. Even as they strive to maintain an active and independent lifestyle, they know that while they may look the same, they act differently. Many people struggling with this memory loss worry about eventually overwhelming their family caregivers as the disease progresses.
The Alzheimer's caregivers have their own issues. Many are scared and overwhelmed. Can you imagine having to become a caregiver, the responsible parent to those who raised you, or watching the mental deterioration of one whose arms held you and gave you strength. Caregivers describe feeling alone and disconnected from friends. Like many, they need asistance but are reluctant to ask. Needing a break from caregiving, they may not have anyone to relieve them. Experiencing stress, sometimes severe, they are looking for someone to listen. Families of people with Alzheimer's need us. Yet so many of us do not know how to respond. We may want to offer help, but worry that we will say or do the wrong thing. I am told that basically they need us to listen. They need us to reach out. We need to make it a point as individuals and as a community to keep in touch by phone, to send cards, and to make extra portions of meals and drop them off for the caretaker. We can offer to stay with the person with Alzheimer's for a short period so that the family member can run errands, attend a support group or take a short trip. We can visit offering a shoulder to cry on or a sympathetic ear to listen. Moreover, we can visit with the person with Alzheimer's and talk to him or her the way we would want someone to talk to us. The person may not be able to show it, but he will appreciate our visits.
Here at Temple Beth Hillel, our new Caring Community Task Force this week begins to effectuate a project wherein Temple members reach out and call weekly other homebound members. On the list to receive a call was a long time member stricken with Alzheimer's. A short discussion ensued regarding whether he should be called since he could not develop a relationship with the caller, an important aspect of the program because he would not remember the call. Members of the Task Force decided to include him becasuse the mitzvah, obligation was to reach out and help. How the recipient internalizes our overture is a separate issue. More importantly, the point is that for that moment of our call, the person with Alzheimer's, his family and the whole congregation all know that we remember that he is connected to us and we to him. This connection exists l'dor vador, from generation to generation, whether he remembers it or not.
When memory deteriorates or ceases to function, when zachor, remembering the past becomes difficult, we can still find and offer a sense of shalom, wholeness in the present. In our Shabbat service prayher, Adon Olam, we sing, v'hu haya, v'hy hoveh, v'hu yhiye b'tifarah that God was, God is and God will be forever more. Judaism teachers here that through God, the past, present and future are all connected. When we say Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adoinai Echad(Hear O Israel, The Eternal our God, the Eternal is One), we are connecting ourselves to our Creator, thereby recognizing that God's oneness transcends what we can remember in the past and what we can envision in the future. Where the person cannot remember for herself, we will remember with her and for her. We can reach out to show her that we remember her, who she was and who she is. We can ground her and her family in the Knesset Yisrael, the community of Israel. We can be that beacon of light which provides a sense of safety and security, a sense of connectedness. We can replace lost memory with unending love.
Jerrold L. Ham, an Alzheimer's caregiver who I met over the Internet, captured this notion beautifully in his poem. He writes
You give of your heart, your love and your life,
To a grandparent, parent, husband or wife.
You dress, you feed them, you clean up the mess,
for months, maybe years , you give of your best.
At times you can laugh, more ofteh there's tears,
As you watch them decline, year after year
So often you feel like there's nobody there,
No one to talk to, no one who cares
Then late at night, you'll sit up and cry,
"It all seems so hopeless, so why do I try?"
And then comes a voice, so soft and so clear,
You look all around you, but no one is near.
Again comes the voice, as soft as can be,
"You know why you try, just look and you'll see.
"You do it for love, you know that is true.
."This love that you have, will help see you through.
"You are not alone, there's someone who'll share,
"The burden you carry, I'll help you bear."
Then in the darkness, a warmth you can feel,
A soft gentle presence, you know it is real.
As you drop off to sleep, (a voice) from above,
Echoes the words..."You do it for love."
so that is what we do. When memory fails, we let love take its place. Shabbat Shalom
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