At one point, he was my closest friend in the entire world. But now, we haven’t spoken in almost four years.
It isn’t as if my childhood best friend and I had some kind of big dust-up, a falling out, a major conflict. Life does this to us sometimes; we live in different cities, have different careers, and are generally overwhelmed by the demands of careers, spouses, children, and obligations. But along the way, our daily texts turned into monthly phone calls, which turned into birthday greetings, which petered out into a distance that, at least for me, is partially motivated by embarrassment that we allowed it to reach this point.
At a time when social media and digital communication allow us to have a wide expanse of shallow relationships, there is the distinct possibility that some of our more meaningful connections fall through the cracks. As anthropologist Robin Dunbar concluded, human beings are only capable of maintaining about 150 true relationships. Yet, it is not uncommon to have thousands of Facebook friends, Instagram followers, and email correspondents. We are pushing the boundaries of our human capabilities, and it is fraying the bonds that are so often the most essential.
Yet again, Jewish tradition offers us an opportunity to stop and reflect on the otherwise dizzying progression of life. During the Ten Days of Awe, the period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Jews are invited to reflect on the way we interact with the world, both with our own values and with the interactions we have with others. This is most commonly used as time to apologize for past transgressions, to make amends with our loved ones for the things we have done for which we are ashamed. It is an opportunity to continue the work we began on the Jewish New Year by investigating who we have been and attempting to imagine who we would like to be in the future.
There is, though, another group of people who deserve our attention. Sometimes we lose contact with those we love because of hurt feelings, past slights, or other situations that require our apologies and reconciliation. Yet, some drift away for no apparent reason, those whom we miss because we haven’t had a good enough excuse to break the seal and reach out.
It often feels quite intimidating to make the first move in situations like this. Am I really going to pick up the phone and call someone I haven’t spoken to in years? Am I really going to initiate a relationship when neither of us can remember who dropped the conversational ball last?
In that way, this period of self-invigoration allows us to muster up the courage to declare that we are willing to put in the effort to change our circumstances, regardless of the backstory that got us here. The secret, which anyone who has taken the first step most likely knows, is that we are almost always met with gratitude, with a delight that the gap has been bridged. We are all afraid that we will be met with discomfort or disregard. But having the courage to extend a hand in friendship is always worthy of our bravery and our integrity.
Sometimes people come into our lives for a season before moving on. There is nothing wrong with letting our relationships grow, evolve, and adapt to the changes that are a natural part of existence. But in those cases when we wish things were different, it can be helpful to have a push, something to inspire us to change our circumstances and take ownership of how things will work moving forward. This time, amidst the Holy Days, is a perfect opportunity to do just that, to be spurred to action and inspired to make the changes we hope for. And along the way, we might just arrive back at a place we wish we had never left, if only we have the courage to make the first move.
Austin Zoot is the Rabbi Educator at Valley Temple in Wyoming, Ohio.
