Well, Susie and I are back in Valdosta after three somber weeks in Boston. 2016 and 2017 ended and began on a sad note in the Schmier household. In mid-December, we flew off to the West coast for a holiday of joyous grandmunchkin spoiling. Our celebration, however, was cut short by a sobering call from Boston. Susie’s brother, Larry, in declining health for several years, had taken a serious turn for the worse. We hurriedly changed our airline tickets and arrived at her brother’s bedside in the late afternoon of the 29th. He died the following morning. So it was that the New Year for Susie and myself, and our family, arrived without a toot or toast. Instead, it began with a heartbreaking funeral on the 3rd.

It is said, “You should only bury angels.” That is, say only the good things at this time of grief. In Larry’s case, that was not difficult. As we were putting Larry to rest, as I heard the tearful deserved eulogies, as we wept in his grave, as we talked about this gentle soul during the following three mourning days of Shiva, I silently and constantly recalled the beginning and ending portions of Linda Ellis’ short but profound “The Dash.” For those who are not familiar with her poem. She begins it with these words: “I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning…to the end. He noted that first came the date of birth and spoke the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years. For that dash represents all the time that they spent alive on earth. And now only those who loved them know what that little line is worth. For it matters not, how much we own, the cars…the house…the cash. What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash. So, think about this long and hard. Are there things you’d like to change? For you never know how much time is left. that can still be rearranged.” The poem ends with the question: “So, when your eulogy is being read, with your life’s actions to rehash…would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent YOUR dash?”

That dash is a message that life has an expiration date; in everything we do socially, personally, and professionally, we had better use it wisely and meaningfully while we can. At 67, Larry died too young too early. Over the two weeks following the funeral, Susie and I remained in Boston to console and help his widow, his children, others—and ourselves—begin adjusting to his absence and dealing with the grief-stricken hole in our hearts. As is usual for me, I always arose early, brewed some coffee, sat and sipped at the breakfast table, and walked especially now appropriately named “Heartbreak Hill.” Always reflecting and often later jotting down some emerging thoughts. Summed up, whether in the warm Victorian house or out on the frigid streets, I silently asked myself, what expectations was I meant to live up to? What does my “dash” look like?

My Jewish tradition teaches us in the Talmud that, upon arrival at the gates of Heaven, each person is given a sort of divine entrance exam, and is asked six questions. They’re designed to probe overall character. They ask how a person’s spirit developed during her or his lifetime. They seek a glimpse at what is or should be at the heart and soul of each of us, what each of us is or should be all about. These six deep and important questions of ourselves, as well as the often unwanted, uncomfortable, and even painful answers would give meaning to our life. I got a bit beyond six. Here is what I put together. Like the six Talmudic questions, mine are not so much indicators of accomplishment as they are measures of commitment to use faith, hope, and love in service of myself and others.

Did you see and stop to appreciate the beauty in all around you?
Did you see and stop to appreciate the sacredness, nobility and uniqueness of those around you?
Did you avoid spiritual sloth?
Did you avidly search for truth, even though you knew you would probably not find it?
Did you have a guiding vision for both your personal and professional life?
Did you acknowledge the power that is in the potential of each person?
Did you help—unconditionally—each person to strive for her or his potential?
Did you take care of loved ones?
Did you act caringly rather than merely saying you cared?
Were you trust worthy?
Did you trust?
Did you offer your arms in embracing hospitality?
Did you seek to understand?
Did you unconditionally support and encourage others?
Did you bemoan instead of counting your blessings?
Did you have compassion for yourself?
Did you have a loving kindness toward others?
Did you respect differences in others?
Did you deal honestly with others?
Did you blame or assume responsibility?
Did you appreciate your gifts and strengths?
Did you take risks, push yourself to the limit, learn from their challenges, and did you discover what you could truly do?
Did you maintain hope and have a positive outlook?
Did you give the time and attention to love?
Did you give the time and attention to show love?
Did you have unconditional—no exceptions—faith in all, especially those who needed you the most?
Did you have an unconditional—no exceptions—faith, hope, and love that nurtured?
Did you have an unconditional—no exceptions—faith, hope, and love that weeded out weeding out?
Did you have genuine concern—no conditions—for the welfare of others?
Did you see your mission in life as making a difference in the world at large and leaving it a better place?
Did you fiddle away precious moments?
Were you true to yourself?
Were you humble to know you didn’t have all the answers?
Were you humble to know you weren’t better than others?
Did you live up to your potential by using all the strengths and gifts you possessed?
Did you really know what was most important in your life?
What do you want to remembered for?

Think about them. At their core are faith, hope, and love. Faith, hope, and love, as too many asserted, are not fluff, wishy-washy, soft, emotional bosh. In modern technological parlance, they’re not mere emojis. There’s nothing more important then these questions because in the end the answers are how we act and with what we fill in our dash. Taken together the questions and answers are about contemplating the interrelationship of all of us, the reality of the interrelated, communal, structure of society in general and the classroom in particular; that, as Martin Luther King wrote from the Birmingham jail, “All men are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be, and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be.” Is that not at the core of teaching?

The answers, then, to those questions—if you get them right—if you find the paths to “yes,” if live those “yeses,” will reveal not just who you are, but who you can be; not just what you are doing, but what you can do; not just what you have, but who you ought to be. If you let them test you to the hilt, they will form the actualization of the truest meaning of what we call tzedakah: righteousness, justice, responsibility. Justice is mobilized faith, hope, and love on public display. Faith, hope, and love are fierce and unconditional sustainers that overpower hesitation and reluctance. Faith, hope, and love neutralize debilitating and corrosive frustration, disappointment, resignation, and anger. Faith, hope, and love are inoculations against skepticism, disapproval, depreciation, diminishment, disavowal; they don’t allow negativity to get to you and to swallow you up. They are the empowering energy that constantly keeps your tanks filled. They form the guide to living a line from Rumi: “You and I have to live as if you and I never heard of a You, and an I.”

I think I’ll put these questions above my computer, look at them each day as daily reminders, think about them, and struggle harder to get the answers right, and live up to those “right” answers for each of them each day.

Louis