Before You Can’t (Shabbat Acharei Mot-K’doshim 10.05.2025)
You can listen to Rabbi Eleanor's sermon here or read it below.
Recently, I messed up. I didn’t exactly forget what was a special occasion for my parents: I texted and had arranged for a gift to be sent; but I didn’t call them, or even send a handwritten card, because work was busy. I seemed to have time to feel guilty, but not to do anything about it – so much else was supposedly urgent and filling my to-do list. Then at the end of a long day, too late to call without giving them palpitations, I got into the car to come home and heard Cody Johnson singing this on the radio:
“So take that phone call from your momma and just talk away
’Cause you’ll never know how bad you wanna ’til you can’t someday
Don’t wait on tomorrow ’cause tomorrow may not show
Say your sorries, your I-love-yous, ’cause man you never know” (from ’Til You Can’t).
You never know… This idea, that we are mistaken when we assume there will always be another day to get to around something, could be just another very pointed reminder to call your mother! But I think it actually asks a deeper question that each of us needs to ask ourselves periodically: what is it that you need to do, before you can’t? What is it that, when time runs out, you will regret not doing? And I don’t just mean registering to vote in the World Zionist Congress elections, before time runs out on Monday, important though that is. I mean something more fundamental: what is the real work that we’re in this life to do? What defines us and who we want to be?
For some ideas of what we should be making time for, even in our super-busy lives, I’d like to take a look at what’s on God’s to-do list for us. Parashat Acharei Mot-K’doshim contains these words, almost as a heading: “קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י יְהֹוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם׃ You shall be holy, for I, the Eternal your God, am holy.” (Leviticus 19:2). This seems to be a guiding principle – “be holy”, because God is holy: so to try to understand what that means for us, perhaps we can look at the items that follow: “אִ֣ישׁ אִמּ֤וֹ וְאָבִיו֙ תִּירָ֔אוּ וְאֶת־שַׁבְּתֹתַ֖י תִּשְׁמֹ֑רוּ ׃ You shall each revere your mother and your father, and keep My sabbaths” (Leviticus 19:2-3). Item one, God tells us, is “revere your mother and father”; item two, “keep Shabbat.” Only after these does Torah turn to things like prohibiting idols, prescribing sacrifices, and caring for the poor – the things that Torah puts first in trying to be holy are these apparently basic things: how we relate to the people closest to us and our ability to pause and reconnect with our souls.
Revering your parents and keeping Shabbat also appear in another big list, better known as the Ten Commandments. There’s a rabbinic principle that there are no unnecessary words in Torah, so when something is doubled, there must be a reason for it. It seems that here, the repetition reminds us that this is not a conditional commandment: Torah doesn’t say, ‘if you feel like it,’ or ‘if the world is calm and peaceful,’ or ‘if work is quiet enough.’ It applies at all times, in all conditions. Whether it’s the world or your inbox that’s burning, some behaviour remains unacceptable: even in times of trouble, good behaviour – holy behaviour – matters.
The rabbis of the midrash (Sifrei D’varim 43:4) develop this idea through one of their favourite devices, a mashal or parable. They liken it to a king who was angry with his wife and sent her back to her father’s house. The king said to her: “Continue wearing your jewels [while you are there], so that when you return [to a better situation], they will not feel new to you.” So too, say the rabbis, God says to the people in the dark days of exile, “My children, keep My mitzvot, My commandments, so that when you return, they will not feel new to you.” The jewels include things like acts of lovingkindness, giving care and spreading goodness: we need to practise living with these jewels of good behaviour while the world is far from where we want it to be, so that we won’t have forgotten how when better times return. Even tough or downright terrifying times – times like now, when we face the reality of war in multiple countries and threatening environmental catastrophe – are no excuse for behaving hurtfully towards each other. To refuse to be less than the holy people we are, to persist in behaving in loving ways, supporting and lifting each other up, is an act of faith that things will one day get better, and that we will be ready to live in (and live up to) those times.
Even while we enact that faith, however, Jewish tradition is rarely keen on relying on that future time coming. Our tradition repeatedly reminds us that the very finite nature of our lives makes every moment precious, and urges us not to put off acting the way we know we should; while second chances may come, we shouldn’t rely on having another chance; we need to get on with holy behaviour in the here and now. Pirkei Avot (1:15) asks us, “וְאִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתָי – if not now, when?” Or, in the words of the song that tormented me when I’d slipped up: “Don’t wait on tomorrow ’cause tomorrow may not show / Say your sorries, your I-love-yous, ’cause man you never know.”
You never know: illness, accidents, wars – there are so many things beyond our control that may cancel tomorrow. The Jewish response to this reality is not to despair, but to get on with living this life well, and living it now; to make positive choices about spending your time in ways that live up to the holy people we’re called to be. Do all those things that you might not know how badly you’ll want to, until you can’t: write that thank-you card to your grandparents; go to that match with your son; call your mother. Take time out for gratitude or appreciation, remind yourself that you have a soul as well as a body, practise speaking to others with kindness. If tomorrow fails to show, you won’t regret it, and if better times come, you’ll be ready to live up to them. So very simply: what is it that you need to do, before you can’t? and when will you make a start?
