I don't mean to be impertinent, but have you selected your gravesite? Some of us will decide to be cremated and scattered. Some will donate their bodies to science, but most will be buried, and sooner or later, many of us will choose the site. In a whimsical poem from her new book, Suddenly Sixty, Judith Viorst tells us how, along with her husband and another couple--their longtime and very best friends--she made that final real estate purchase. Viorst writes:
 

The plan was to go on the ultimate double date,
Buy resting places for four in a charming location.
We thought of it as a very extended vacation,
For which we'd pay well in advance so as not to be late
And miss being able to pick from the widest selection
Of tombs with a view, on a hill, in the shade of a tree.
What a sensible foursome we are, although secretly
(While we've given a great deal of thought to how we would choose them)
None of us believe that we'll ever use them.

Now we've been thinking about the Prophets--about their message for our lives and for our times. Last night and earlier today we focused on Micah's famous and beloved statement of God's three ingredients of the upstanding human life. Thus far we've examined:

Asot Mishpat--Do Justly:

Keep on Keeping on.

In looking back, cut yourself and your children some slack.

Don't dream too small a dream for yourself.

Ahavat Chesed--Love Tenderly:

Isaiah-Is this the fast?

Stanley Milgram's experiments on The Perils of Obedience.

Yan Gross' book-Neighbors- not a dog eat dog world for the Jew!

And now the third: Hatznayah Lechet eem Elohehcha--Walk humbly with your God. Said the rabbis of the Prophet's third requirement, if we are humble in the conduct of our lives, then God will walk with us all the way from this world to the next.

This precious hour, this memorial service, is a time unlike every other of the year. This is a moment of uncommon truth and humility.  The fact of our mortality is humbling, even if, as Viorst's little poem instructs, we don't always believe it, believe that we will use those graves we purchase. Surely this moment must rouse us from such denial.

Father Richard Neuhaus put it so well:

Death is the most every day of every day things. . . the warp and woof of existence in the ordinary, the quotidian, the way things are. It is the horizon against which we get up in the morning and go to bed at night. . . .

Oh, we may be "valiant dust" as Shakespeare puts it, and "Little lower than the angels" as the Psalmist insists, but though the human pilgrimage may traverse a million paths, all roads lead to the grave.

There is a little verse found in an old English cemetery, which reads:

Remember man, as you walk by,
As you are now, so once was I,
As I am now, so shall you be,
Remember this and follow me.

To which, in reply, someone scrawled this graffiti upon that tombstone:

To follow you I'll not consent,
Until I know which way you went.

There is no doubt that were we to gather together Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos, Micah, Hosea, and Elijah into a large huddle and seek their advice, that these timeless luminaries would remind us, and in no-nonsense terms, that between life after birth and life after death, we must assign top priority to the former. Judaism trusts in an afterlife, but Judaism places its priority in "This Life." Even as men of faith, these Prophets would insist, life after birth is a sure thing--so don't blow it!

We're here right now to honor the memories of those individuals whose lifetimes of selfless love and sacrifice, whose brave example and loving instruction, have illuminated our lives with uncommon and unforgettable love and beauty and grace.

Often, despite great obstacles, and daunting challenges, these individuals came through for us, didn't they? So often, despite ourselves, these dear ones refused to give up on us or to hide behind excuses. And so they were there at every turn in the road.

Says the ancient Midrash: people really have three names. One that our parents give us, one that our friends call us, and that one we earn ourselves. Well, our presence at this tender Memorial moment testifies to and confirms the good name that each one of our beloved dead so worthily earned in the course of their lifetime here on earth. So, we know that the Prophets would urge us, do all that you can during this life and regard the world to come with faith that all will be well.
 

Second, I have no doubt but that the great Prophets of our people would also urge us to take a chance on love. Yes, between the risk of love and the certainty of indifference, the Prophets would have us dare to love.

An elderly woman had a wonderful phrase with which she used to welcome her house guests. She'd say to them, "I almost wish you hadn't come--because I'll miss you so when you're gone." Don't we understand what she meant by that? Count up the names which you and I have tenderly inscribed in this Memorial book, and just imagine the sum total, the accumulated pain of loss! What is the alternative, though? To never give your heart away?

When poet William Butler Yeats was only 24, he set his eyes upon a certain young woman named Maude, and he was stricken by her beauty. Indeed, she was the love of his life. He proposed to her five times and on five occasions she said no. Here is how Yeats reflected upon the very moment he first met her and knew he had fallen in love. He wrote:
 

The troubling of my life began. (Now what did he mean?)
Relationship is a hassle! Another person in one's life is a complication! To love is to be vulnerable. Some would rather not give their hearts away, but then what will life become?

If love should count you worthy, and should deign
One day to seek your door and be your guest,
Pause! Ere you draw the bolt and bid him rest,
If in your old content you would remain.

For not alone he enters: in his train
Are angels of the mists, the lonely quest,
Dreams of the unfulfilled and unpossessed.
And sorrow, and life's immemorial pain.
He wakes desires you never may forget,
He shows you stars you never saw before,
He makes you share with him for evermore,

The burden of the world's divine regret
How wise were you to open not!--and yet,
How poor if you should turn him from the door.

My dear friends, at this Memorial Service, need we even say it? There is no troubling like the troubling of love. It is so deep, but it is in our loving that we discover our joy! How poor indeed, we would be right now, had we turned out love from the doorway of our lives! And yet, of course we grieve, for we have suffered irreplaceable loss.
 

I. Between Life After Birth and Life After Death, assign priority to the Former.

II. Between Love and Indifference, Dare to Love

Which must bring us face to face with the Prophets' third admonition: between hope and despair, cling always to hope!

We noted how critical the Prophets were of our ancestors' values, their morals and priorities, their devotions to genuine faith, of honesty, compassion, the pursuit of peace. And often, as they looked out at the world before them, the Prophets were forced to deliver the bad news--defeat and exile were inevitable!

But, listen carefully, because there wasn't a single Prophet who didn't offer the ultimate expectation of a better day in the future. Very much like the message of Yom Kippur Day, there comes the inevitable promise of homecoming, forgiveness and reconciliation. Every Prophet foretold the end of exile and the renewal of hope.

Ours, too, is to hope over despair. In the exile of our own personal grief and loss, perhaps we need to listen to and embrace these hope-filled words which I first heard on a grey winter's day when, during our Sabbatical, I attended a stranger's funeral. I don't even recall her name, her age or circumstances, but this I remember--these words which she left for her dear ones:

When I die, give what is left of me to children.
If you need to cry, cry for your brothers walking beside you.
Put your arms around anyone and give them
what you need to give to me.

I want to leave you with something,
something better than words or sounds.
Look for me in the people I have known and loved.
And if you cannot live without me,
then let me live on in your eyes, your minds and your acts of kindness.

You can love me most by letting hands touch hands
and letting go of children that need to be free.
Love does not die, people do.

So when all that is left of me is love. . .
Give me away. . . .