Drafting a letter to my future-self prompts me to reflect on
human mortality.
Surrounded as I am by beings of finite years, statistically speaking, when I read this letter on the eve of next year, not everyone in my life will be as alive and well as they are today. Some will have passed having been blessed with length of years, some will have succumbed to illness and some will have died tragically. “Who will live and who will die?” the high holiday prayer book asks. None of us knows for sure.
All of which begs the question: If I don’t know what the future holds for my family and friends, my colleagues and companions – then how shall I spend the year ahead? Will I fill my relationships with love and understanding, with patience and forgiveness? Having been granted the divine gift of free choice, will I deploy that gift towards performing acts of kindness and compassion? God forbid I should arrive at next year filled with regret that I didn’t say what needed to be said, forgive what should have been forgiven and love according to the capacity
of my being. The fleeting nature of the human condition is a constant reminder that NOW is the time to be my best self.
Ultimately, of course, the lens of human mortality must be turned upon myself. There is a chance that this letter will be read not by me, but posthumously by others. So I ask myself: With a limited and uncertain road ahead – how shall I spend the minutes, hours, weeks and months of the year ahead? I pray that my time will be spent lovingly, purposefully and generously. In other words, faced with death – I choose life.
L’chaim,
Me
Elliot Cosgrove is the Rabbi of Park Avenue Synagogue in Manhattan. www.pasyn.org
