Once, not far from the Dead Sea, the kings of Shinar,
Ellasar, Elam, and Goiim took to the field against the kings of Sodom,
Gomorrah, Admah, and Zeboim. Thousands
of years later, their bodies have disintegrated, everything they ever touched
has passed from the earth, their very countries have ceased to exist -- and yet
their names remain known to us, inscribed and preserved for all time. Their names and a single one of their deeds.
Lives are lived in detail.
“Who’s doing pick up tomorrow?” “What’s
for dinner?” “That report needs to be on
my desk by Thursday.” During the High
Holy Days we examine an entire year, and when planning for retirement we
consider decades. Most of the time,
however, we make choices reacting to the present moment. We are rarely afforded a longer-range
view.
What will our lives mean three thousand years from now – or
three hundred? What will be left of our
existences? What will the stresses of
getting out the door, the inter-personal animosity we live with mean then?
Genesis 14, in the parsha Lech L’cha, doesn’t only tell about the kings who rebelled and pursued. It also shares that Melchizedek, king of
Salem, brought bread and wine to Abram, blessing him with the words “blessed be
Abram by God Most High, Maker of heaven and earth, and blessed is God Most
High, who has given your foes into your hands”
(14:19-20). That’s how
Melchizedek is remembered: as a mensch.
What if, I wonder, some single scrap of our own lives happened
to be recorded in a history book? What
if one of the decisions I make today, rushing to be on time, crossing items off
my to-do list, interacting with others, were to be the way I’ll be remembered
forever? What if one data point about me
came to stand for the whole?
When faced with a dilemma or choice, press ‘pause.’ Imagine that particular moment recorded for
posterity, and that your name will be linked forever to the outcome. Three thousand years from now, you’ll be
remembered as the person who ________.
Now what’s the right thing to do?
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