Long Days, Short Years
I wrote this piece two years ago, as a synagogue newsletter article. From the day I first penned it, I have had a particular affection for it and always have wanted to provide it with a wider audience. So now I wish to share it with you, here on my blog, in hopes that it may be read by some who never got the chance to do so before. Taking an author’s privilege, I have made some slight alterations to it and have made it current in its references to the passage of time in my life.
There was that one evening that I found myself sitting in the library of the Tri City Jewish Center, in Rock Island. It was 7:10 p.m. and I was waiting for people to arrive for a 7:00 p.m. meeting. Tapping my fingers impatiently on the library table, I was filled with the thought that it had been a long day and I was more than ready to see it end.
Sitting there, the thought of long days brought to mind a piece of wisdom shared with me by a good friend on the day of Shira’s (my eldest daughter) Brit Chayim ceremony. As my wife’s and my parenting adventure was just getting started, he told me that parenthood was a matter of long days and short years. I have never forgotten that statement and to this day I often share it with new parents as we plan for welcoming their first born into the Jewish community. With each passing year, I find the truth of that statement increasingly reaffirmed. With my eldest having received her master’s degree and my youngest (Helene) in high school, at times I am overwhelmed by the thought of how long were several of those days yet how short were all of those years. Nora am I alone in this. Ask any parent who has sent a child off to college.
As I sat in that library, waiting for the rest of that committee to arrive, eager myself to end the day, it likewise struck me that my friend’s wisdom is not restricted to parenthood. For what is true of parenthood is true of life itself. Our lives are a matter of long days and short years. For me, many are the days that I do not return home until 9:00 or 10:00 p.m., sometimes even later. Yet here I sit, 60 years old, having been both a rabbi and a husband for 35 years, having been a parent for 29 years, and rabbi of Temple Emanuel for almost 25 years. Still I cannot fathom where the time has flown. It seems like only yesterday that I arrived in Iowa; like only yesterday that Shira was born; like only yesterday that my wife and I stood under the chupah; like only yesterday that I was ordained; like only yesterday that I wa a child myself living with my parents, my grandmother, and my sister on Astor Avenue in the Bronx, going to school, sleigh riding down the Wickham Avenue hill on winter afternoons and playing baseball on the green space next to Pelham Parkway and going to Orchard Beach in the summer. I am not an old man, though at times I may sound like one. Still, with more years behind me than ahead, I am astounded by how all my long days have amassed themselves into all those short years.
It gives one pause to consider what really counts in this life. The years are so short that we must never undervalue how precious is our time on this earth. Yet when it comes to our days, while they may be long, to judge them solely, or primarily, by their length is a mistake; a profound mistake. At the end of each day, the question we should be asking is not “How long was it?” but rather “How good was it? How much did we accomplish during it?” and most important of all, “How much of a positive difference did we make in the course of it?” Long days are not so bad if, at the end of those days we can say to ourselves, “My efforts today have made a difference for the better. I have touched the lives of others, and by so doing have their lives a little easier or a bit more pleasant. I have not only dwelt upon my own needs and interests but also have made a little investment in a brighter future for all people. I have spread at least some seeds of love and caring, gentleness and kindness, knowledge and wisdom, insight and inspiration. I have been grateful for the people I have encountered and conducted myself in such a manner that just perhaps they are likewise grateful for having encountered me.”
Whether or not we are of a theological bent, if we live our lives in such a manner, then we are truly God’s servants on earth, spreading God’s messages of love, respect, and responsibility. As our short years fly by, may we be able to reflect on them with pride, knowing that we filled them with quality living.
Tags: Brit Chayim Ceremony, Helene Karp, Henry Karp, Iowa, Living a Quality Life, My Children, Parenthood, Quad Cities, Quad Cities Jewish Community, Relationships, Shira Karp, Temple Emanuel of Davenport, The Passage of Time, Tri City Jewish Center, ValuesYou can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.