Like a Passing Shadow
All year he had driven past the cemetery on the way to work
without even a glance. But suddenly, as Yom Kippur drew
closer, he began to notice the tombstones, lined up in silent
rows against the morning sky. And then one morning, the
thought cascaded down upon him like an unexpected downpour of
rain.
One day I'm going to die.
He pulled over to the side of the road and watched a slow-
moving funeral procession making its way down the winding
road. And for some reason, for the first time in his life, he
realized that he didn't know when his time would come. It was
true that he was young but so were many others who had
abruptly passed away without warning. And he thought about
the prayer that they had just said on Rosh Hashanah. Man is
like a passing shadow. Like a fading dream. Like a dying
wind.
This realization filled him with fear. It wasn't just that he
was afraid of death. He was terrified because he had allowed
himself to become so entrenched in the mundane struggles of
daily life that he had only been using a fraction of his
potential. His soul was wasting away. He couldn't even
remember what his purpose in life was anymore.
Had he ever known? And how was he supposed to figure it out
now? What if he ran out of time before he could accomplish
what he needed to in this world? With a quick glimpse at his
watch, Moshe realized that he was going to be late. What was
wrong with him? Here he was, pulled over at the side of the
road, staring at the cemetery. And with a sudden sense of
shame, Moshe realized that his cheeks were wet with tears.
He thought about the people he had said good-bye to so far in
his life. Somehow when he thought about the dead, all he
could remember were their smiles. Why was that? And he
grieved over the thought that his life would inevitably be
filled with more loss, more good-byes, more movement towards
that final truth that nothing in this world lives forever.
He remembered a Rebbe of his who used to tell them, "On the
day that we are born, we begin to die." That thought seized
him now with renewed meaning. How many days, how many hours
had he wasted in the past year? And soon the books would be
sealed, and he still had no idea how to change his life.
That Yom Kippur he walked into shul and began to
tremble as soon as Kol Nidre began. As he sobbed throughout,
he began to hear an answer to his confusion. It was a faint
answer at first, but it grew stronger as the day passed. And
as he realized what his tafkid in life was, he asked
himself: If we begin to die on the day that we are born,
could it also be that, if we have fulfilled our purpose in
this world, we begin to live on the day that we die?
