Be an Amanda

Yom Kippur 5766

by Rabbi Jared Saks

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One of my closest friends, Amanda Abeles, was dealt a terrible hand in life. From a young age, she had problems with her right leg that caused her more pain than any of us will likely bear in our lifetimes. Amanda had arteriovenous malformations that caused a back-flow of blood in her leg. Her heart had to work overtime in order to circulate blood throughout her body. In addition to her own ailments, Amanda lost her mother, Susie, to cancer when Amanda was seventeen years old. As time went on, Amanda’s health deteriorated. Eventually, her leg had to be amputated. Ultimately, at the much-too-young age of 25, Amanda’s life was cut short.

Though I always knew that Amanda wouldn’t live to see a ripe old age, it had never occurred to me just how short her life would be. Just before leaving for my last summer at the Henry S. Jacobs Camp in Mississippi, I drove from my mother’s house to my apartment in New Jersey. The route took me right by Amanda’s house. Knowing that I would not see her again until the end of the summer, I made plans to stop by, though I really only had about 45 minutes to spend with Amanda. As usual, Amanda captivated me and talked my ear off. I must have been at the Abeles house for a couple of hours. Knowing I had to get home and finish packing for camp, I finally left, saying good-bye to Amanda for what I would soon learn was the last time.

I’m not telling you about Amanda Abeles because of how or why she died, but rather because of how she lived and what she taught me about life. It was beyond Amanda’s power to choose to live; however, she refused to let that get the better of her. She couldn’t choose how long she would live, but Amanda most certainly chose life. I first met Amanda during middle school and by then the problems with her leg already caused her to walk differently from everyone else. As we know, kids can be cruel, and regretfully, I was no different. Amanda and I were in the same classes during both fifth and eighth grade. During fifth grade, I took part in my peers’ teasing of Amanda. By eighth grade, though, my closest friends and I had grown apart, leaving me with very few friends. I’d like to think that I had grown up a little, too. And so, in the eighth grade, either out of necessity or maturity, Amanda and I became friends.

It would be many years, maybe even six or seven, before I finally apologized to Amanda for how I had treated her in fifth grade. That moment is one of the times that stands out in my memory, exemplifying Amanda’s compassion. She said that it was okay, that we had grown to be so close that it didn’t matter, and that she didn’t even remember. While it’s possible that I was just one of many and that she truly didn’t remember, it is more likely that Amanda wanted me to be at ease. Forgive and forget was her approach. And even when people truly hurt Amanda, she resisted being hateful towards them. For Amanda, life was better spent on things that made her happy, and anything else was a waste of time.

Amanda loved bringing happiness to others as well, an activity that can be difficult for people who have spent as much time in hospitals as Amanda had. I remember being with her at Columbia-Presbyterian in New York and at Children’s Hospital in Boston. Any time I wheeled her out of the elevator, anywhere in the building, there wasn’t a person who wasn’t thrilled to see Amanda, to give her a big hug or a great big smile. And Amanda cared about each and every one of those people. She knew about their families and was concerned about their hardships. She made a point of introducing herself to the other patients, encouraging them to have the strength to get through whatever they were facing. So many people drew from Amanda’s energy.

While writing this sermon, I Google-d Amanda Abeles. I found a posting she had made at a website called The Andy Fund, where Amanda wrote:

I hope that Andy is still doing well. I met you guys from July 18th to 20th on 7 East. I am doing about the same and have started my experimental drug. They think that it will be a while before I see any difference. I will be back up at the end of August or beginning of September to have check-ups so I will definitely come and see you if you are there. I love your tips for parents in hospitals. They are perfect and extremely truthful. I have problems with my veins and am in a wheelchair if that helps you remember me. I am 23 years old. Say hi to everyone on 7 East for me and give Andy a big hug and kiss for me. I think [of] and pray for him daily.

There is no doubt that when Amanda returned to Children’s Hospital she did look for Andy. I’m sure that he remembered her, too. And when Amanda asked Andy to say hi to everyone on the floor, she meant it.

The reason I’m telling you about Amanda is because of the words of Torah we read this morning from the book of Deuteronomy: Ha-chayyim v’ha-mavet natati l’fanecha, ha-b’rachah v’ha-k’lalah, u-v’chartem ba-chayyim l’ma-an t’chiyeh atah v’zarecha – I have placed life and death before you, blessing and curse. Choose life so that you and your offspring may live. That verse doesn’t seem to make sense. Choose life so that we can live? What else would we do if we chose life?

Our tradition offers an explanation of this that is too simple for me. Sages of the school of Ishmael taught: “Choose life” means: Choose a craft; parents are instructed to teach their children a trade. Saying that choosing a trade will enable a person to live sidesteps clarifying the circular argument in God’s commanding us to choose life so that we can live.

One of our tradition’s teachings tells us that God has granted us free will. We have the ability to choose the course of our lives. Another teaching tells us that everything is predetermined by God. We can understand this contradiction by seeing that we can choose how to live our lives even at the time our deaths. We are taught that even though when we die might lie with God, how we live and how we die is up to us. In order to be given the chance to live better, we ask God today to seal us in the Book of Life so that we may be blessed with another year of life. This is how we can understand the apparently impossible commandment of today’s Torah text: choose life. It is not choosing to live, but rather choosing how we live.

Who we are is the result of three things: nature, nuture, and those things that are beyond our control. Nature and nurture are parts of our lives over which we can exert some power. There are medical and psychological therapies that help us with problems in our genetic codes and with our upbringing. We cannot, however, prevent the random occurrences in our lives. Our only choice is to deal with them as they happen. How we handle the cards we are dealt is how we can choose life. It defines who we are.

Throughout our lives, we have all seen people who, like Amanda Abeles, have been dealt a terrible hand. We have even been those people at times. Being commanded to choose life over death is the commandment to handle both prosperity and adversity with strength. God did not command us u-v’chartem l’chiyot, choose to live, but rather u-v’chartem ba-chayyim, choose life.

Amanda Abeles taught me through example how to choose life. She was kind and compassionate with others, even when they weren’t always kind to her. She was patient and gentle. Amanda lived life on her own terms. She never let others’ anxiety or discomfort about her illness get her angry or get in the way of being herself. She was Amanda through and through.

Looking at this morning’s Torah reading, Rashi, the eleventh century French commentator, explains that choosing life means choosing to do good and to be good. When we strive to be good people, we have chosen life, and in turn, we have chosen to be closer with one another and with God.

For as long as I can remember, Amanda had a catch phrase that was all her own. “Have a fruitful day!” she used to exclaim. Whether it was at the end of the outgoing message on her family’s answering machine, at the bottom of what she signed in your high school yearbook, or just something she yelled out as you left her house, Amanda wanted the best for you. I don’t know where this phrase came from. I never asked. But now, I see that it doesn’t matter because “Have a fruitful day!” says just who Amanda was in just four short words.

Amanda believed that life was meant to be lived, however much of it we are given. We must make the best of it. Her flourishing spirit spread to everyone whose path crossed with hers. To Amanda, each individual was a human being, not someone serving a function in her life. She sought to teach doctors and nurses, whose jobs can sometimes force them to turn off their emotions, to act with compassion. Amanda wanted the best for others and she wanted the best for herself, as well. Amanda chose life.

Having been blessed with the opportunity to have known Amanda Abeles, the way she lived her life has taught me a new understanding of u-v’chartem ba-chayyim. God does not command us to live, because that choice is often beyond our control. Instead, God commands us how to live: to enjoy life, to love others, to make every moment count; God calls us today, as we reflect on the past year and make promises for the year to come, to choose good over evil, life over death. As we evaluate the way we have lived up until now, as we take mental notes about what we need to do differently in the coming year, we must recognize the role we can play in the lives of others.

Be an Amanda. Teach by example and show others how to choose life. Be kind and compassionate, gentle and patient. Treat others well and use your time well. Find an Amanda. Learn from those around you whom you see as better people. We are all teachers and we are all students. At times, we each need to have an Amanda in our lives. At other times, we each need to be an Amanda for someone else. We need to choose life. May God bless us with the strength to handle prosperity and adversity equally well. May we relish everything we are given. And may this year be a fruitful year! Shanah Tovah.