Ten days ago we began with Breshit, the Book of Genesis, and "Talking Torah", we arrive now at the last of the Five Books of Moses- Devarim-Deuteronomy. This book is Moses' summation to his people; a revisiting of so many of the miraculous and awesome experiences which had been theirs since they left Egyptian slavery.

Here in Deuteronomy, in elevated and grand imagery, we are urged to choose life over death, the good over the evil, the blessing over the curse. We have another articulation of the Ten Commandments, the law of "an eye for an eye" - lex talionis, details of dietary laws, statutes of love of neighbor and the pursuit of justice, and of course, that fundamental confession of our faith: "Hear O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is One." And so it proceeds from chapter to chapter, with Moses lecturing in earnest, hardly pausing to so much as take a breath, and we know why, of course. For when this final sermon is finished, this great shepherd of his people is to die. Said God:

Because you trespassed against Me in the midst of the children of Israel at the waters of Meribah-Kadesh, in the wilderness of Zin, because you did not uphold My holiness among the Israelites, you shall not go into the land which I gave to the children of Israel.

Even in the fantasy world of Midrash, a sense of tragic futility obtains. Moses will view the Promised Land from afar, but will not set foot upon its soil. Set adrift as a babe in a hostile world, following God's charge to lead his people to the Promised Land, faithfully leading a long and frustrating life in pursuit of a goal that always eluded him, now Moses is to die a lonely death. In fact, God Himself, will bury Moses in an unmarked grave.

Says a Midrash of that last moment-
 

God bestowed a single tender kiss upon the lips of Moses, gently drawing out his last breath of life and, along with it, the reluctant soul.

Our tradition makes it unmistakably clear in syllogistic fashion. All men and women are mortal. Moses was a man. Therefore, Moses was a mortal. And so too are we!

And so were those beloved ones whose memories we dearly cherish, and whose palpable presence enhances and sanctifies this memorial hour.

Over and over again in Deuteronomy, Moses counsels his successor, Joshua, and all of his people:

Be strong and of good courage.

Fear not and be ye not dismayed.

Says W.H. Auden in his famous "Funeral Blues":
 

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos, and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday Rest.
My Moon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought love could last forever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

This Atonement Day, our Judaism, in ordaining this Yizkor Service of Memorial, confronts us with the Jewish response to the question: "When does death really occur?"

Judaism's Answer?

It is not when the heart stops beating or the brain waves are indecipherable, but when the person is no longer remembered by anyone.

So for us, life becomes a struggle of memory versus forgetting, and for those of us who remember, our dear ones now gone are at the very least Dead and Alive!

We need to make three short observations about this.
 

Deuteronomy's ultimate message is a reminder that, in so many ways, human experience destines us to remain on the Jordon's far side, short of our dreams' fullest realization. Life is an unfinished symphony.

This year we say kaddish for Charles Schultz. His saga of Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Lucy and Linus, say many experts, "is arguably the longest story ever told by one human being" - 18,250 cartoon strips over nearly 50 years.

On October 2, 1950 the first "Peanuts" strip appeared. It depicted two children sitting on the sidewalk discussing a mellon-headed boy who was approaching them.
 

Well, here comes ol' Charlie Brown!

... Good ol' Charlie Brown.

... Yes, sir! Good ol' Charlie Brown.

How I hate him!

All the loves in the strip are unrequited: All the baseball games are lost; all the test scores D-minuses; the Great Pumpkin never comes; and the football is always pulled away.

Schultz did allow Charlie Brown to hit a home-run, but it took nearly 43 years of strike outs before he did so! And I learned that early in his life a red-headed girl did in fact break his heart.

Well everyone's life contains its share of "Charlie Brownness"! And we are worthy of love- the love of our dearest and the love of God, even though we aren't perfect and never will be, and will always live in a world where kites get eaten by the tree and where we never give up hoping that our brother or sister will one day just hold the ball so we can kick it. Moses learned it too: At its essence, life is an unfinished symphony.
 
 

Yet we need to make a second observation. For Jews, there is that crucial role in life for memory to play. It is often said that the dynamism of the Jewish community derives from the fact that ours is not only a horizontal one (that is the Jewish world in which we are living at this moment), but ours is also a vertical community, stretching backward and forward in time passed and time yet to be.

We are the product of nearly 4000 years of experience and traditions. Countless are the generations of our People, and every time we recite the Kaddish prayer, we recall all of those who came before us. We do more than light a candle and say a prayer or two. We think about their lives- what they meant to us when they were here and what priceless insights and lessons they continue to teach us, as in vivid memory, we still hear their words and see their precious faces. I say they are Dead And Alive because they still summon us to claim our nobility! We know it, we sense it, we long to do it! And if that weren't so, we wouldn't be here right now on this Holy Day in such numbers.
 
 

And that brings us to legacy: Everyone of us leaves a legacy! We mentioned Charles Schultz. Last November he was hospitalized for cancer and started chemotherapy. On December 14th he announced that there would be no more new "Peanuts" cartoons. But thoughts of death had long before seeped into Charles Schultz' work. Remember the one where Linus asks, "After you've died, do you get to come back?", and Charlie Brown replies-

If they stamp your hand.

I have been allowed to come to the discovery that this precious gift we call life is ours to make of what we will. This above-ground, 'fleshy phase' of our existence is a precious opportunity we are given ... to come to know what we are called to do here, and to create a legacy that will endure ... It is death that wakes us to living.

"It is death that wakes us to living." That is exactly what happened with Alfred Nobel, the Swedish chemist who made a fortune from his invention of dynamite. One day Nobel's brother died, but a newspaper erred and printing Alfred's obituary instead. The death notice quite accurately identified him as one whose wealth was derived from supplying nation states with new and unequaled deadly power to kill on the battlefield.

Well, Nobel sat there reading and pondering his own obituary. I think you will agree that that's a pretty unique opportunity. And how shocked he was to preview how and for what he seemed destined to be remembered. It was, in his opinion, an unworthy legacy. So Alfred Nobel took his fortune and established awards for persons who contribute to the well-being of humanity- the Nobel Prizes.

Listen, do you ever look up at the nighttime sky and marvel at the stars? Poems and music celebrate their splendor and their mystery. And yet, I learned when we visited the fabulous new Hayden planetarium on New York's west side that those stars which we admire in the sky today may not even be there any longer. Did you know that?

When we gaze at a star a thousand light years away from us, what we actually see is that star as it appeared a thousand years ago and which has taken a millennium to reach us.

We have absolutely no way of knowing what the star looks like today. It could have burned itself out hundreds of years ago. Now, let me ask you this.

If a star can influence and inspire us so long after its demise, who can estimate the impact of a human life, with its spark of divinity and the legacy it can leave behind?

Who can estimate the impact of a human life? Even small acts of kindness, mercy, and nobility can shine on and on after we have left this life. Think about it, our light, great or small, could well be the very star that guides someone else further along on their soul's immortal journey. Every life will leave its legacy!

Moses at 120, wasn't at all ready to leave this life. His story in Deuteronomy, his great and unforgettable saga as told in Torah, serves to remind us- Life is an unfinished symphony. The Memory of our Dead plays a crucial role in our lives and everyone of us will, for good or ill, leave a legacy behind.

The more we ponder it, the more we come to understand why it's often said:
 

...We must treat the living as if they were dying, and the dead as if they were alive.