Rosh Hashanah, Year 5770

I'm sitting here in the synagogue in Henderson, Nevada, typing away on a borrowed computer. It will be Rosh Hashanah in a few hours.

In trying to figure out what Rosh Hashanah means to me, I've spent the last week wondering, sometimes aloud, on that very topic, all the way carrying on all the daily tasks one does. It's 95 degrees out. What do people here do about the heat? Why aren't there more people out and about in this neighborhood? Is it simply the heat, or is it because many of those people lost their homes and are no longer IN the neighborhood?

And then I heard about one congregant, whose name I don't know and will never know, who has had a frightfully bad time of it. Her husband died several years ago, and she not only misses him but the life they used to have, when they had money. He ran his own business, apparently well, but after he died, she leaned upon some friends of his who gave her their bad financial advice. As a consequence, she has lost her home, her car, her way of life. Friends wonder if she's thin because she's getting older - she's in her late sixties. Or because she can't afford the food.

There are many more stories like that. You know the stories. Some of them involve friends of yours, relatives of yours. The last two years have been financially devastating. I don't have to tell you that such a bad economy preys upon the elderly moreso than the young. The young have time to recover, resources to plumb. The elderly rarely do unless they've socked a lot away.

But I don't have to go all that far afield from my (extended) family for some hard-luck stories. I have a relative who is struggling not to lose his house. I have another relative who is living with a friend, thank goodness, but is just several inches away from homelessness. I have a young relative who is lost and separated from us, and doesn't know what to do. I have two close friends, probably more, who are struggling with day-to-day depression, some on medication and under doctor's care for that malady. I have a relative with an illness he was born with, one that every day denies him a normal existence.

So what does Rosh Hashanah mean in regard to this rather depressing topic. I think it means that we need to find our own meaning to life. What does life mean to us. I don't expect God to help that first woman I referenced, just dump a barrel-full of money at her feet. I expect humans to wade in there and give her a helping hand. If they can't themselves, perhaps they know of some social organization who can.

And the inevitable conclusion is that I need to wade in more and help my relatives, first and foremost, to deal with the lousy cards they've been dealt. And then, if I have anything left, I can help those people, like that aging congregant who lost everything.

I think the only meaning I'll get out of my remaining decade (or possibly two) will ooze out of the relationships I form. And the care I give to them.

L'shanah tovah. A good year.