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Menachem Lehrfield

Yom Kippur: Embracing our mortality, and living with meaning

Western culture works overtime to make us forget one unavoidable truth: we are all going to die. You could do yoga and CrossFit every day, it’s still going to get you. No matter how many green juices you drink or how little gluten or carbs you eat, death is the only thing in life that’s certain!

Advertisements, entertainment, and even our day-to-day conversations often push us to focus on the here and now, the distractions, the comforts. Death is seen as a distant reality, something we don’t need to think about — until we have no choice.

But Yom Kippur challenges that. It forces us to confront our mortality head-on, and in doing so, it gives us the opportunity to live more meaningfully.

The Talmud in Shabbos 153a records the teaching: “Do teshuvah one day before your death.” The simple understanding is that since we don’t know when that day will come, we must do teshuvah every day.

If that’s the case, why not just say, ‘Do teshuvah every day’? Rav Mordechai Gifter explains that the Talmud chose its words carefully. Contemplating the day of our death energizes us. The irony is that when we think about death, we are actually motivated to live—not in fear, but with a renewed sense of purpose. 

We realize that time is our most precious resource, and that we must use it wisely.

This idea is brilliantly portrayed in the film In Time. The premise of the movie is that time, not money, is the currency of life. People don’t pay for things with cash; they trade the minutes and hours of their lives. Everyone has a clock on their arm, counting down the time they have left. And when it runs out, their life ends.

Similarly, Joshua Bolton, In his role as chief of staff for President George W. Bush, distributed “countdown clocks” to the staff. These clocks tracked the exact number of days, hours, and minutes remaining until the end of the administration’s term. The intention behind the clocks was to remind the team that while there was still enough time to accomplish their goals, they couldn’t afford to waste any of their precious minutes. It served as a constant reminder to make the most of the time they had left.

We too, need that reminder to live meaningfully, and ironically, the place to find it is in death.

Studies have shown that reminders of mortality push people to focus on long-term meaning rather than short-term gratification. 

For years researchers have tried to understand the “paradox of aging.” While we might assume that getting older means becoming more anxious or depressed, the opposite is often true. Older people tend to be happier because they focus more on meaningful relationships and service to others.

During COVID, Laura Carstensen, the director of the Stanford Center on Longevity, realized something profound: It turns out, it’s not about how old you are—it’s about how much time you think you have left, what she calls the “time horizon.”

During the pandemic, people, regardless of age, began to understand that tomorrow is not guaranteed. Younger people began spending more time with loved ones and prioritizing what mattered most. This existential reminder contributed to what we now call the Great Resignation, during which nearly 40% of the global workforce began reconsidering their careers. People weren’t just looking for higher salaries—they wanted more meaning and more time with the people they care about.

Yom Kippur is our own “time-check.” It’s a day when we pause and ask ourselves: What are we really trading our time for? Are we wasting our precious moments on trivial things, or are we focusing our time intentionally to live the life we truly want to live?

The haunting prayer Unetaneh Tokef is a chilling reminder that our future is being written. It captures the gravity of the High Holidays as we reflect on the coming year and our hopes and aspirations. 

We conclude the prayer with the words “and every person’s signature is in it.” This sounds poetic but what does it actually mean? Who asked me to sign my name on this decree? I don’t remember agreeing to this. And if I had been asked, would I have signed it, knowing what it says?

But here’s the deeper truth—whether we realize it or not, we are signing our names every single day. We inscribe our Book of Life not with pen and ink, but with the choices we make every day. 

The High Holidays are a time to recalibrate, to step back and reflect on how we’ve used our time up until now, and how we want to invest it moving forward. It’s an opportunity to reconsider our priorities and make sure that when we do sign, it’s with intention, purpose, and clarity.

To aid us in this process, many of the rituals of Yom Kippur are designed to remind us of our mortality. In addition to the overt mention of ‘Who will live and who will die’ in the Unetaneh Tokef prayer, we also wear white on Yom Kippur, which resembles the traditional burial shrouds. We fast and abstain from physical comforts, reflecting the separation of the soul from the body. We recite Viduy, a confession similar to the one traditionally said before death. The theme of judgment also mirrors what takes place after death, when our deeds are weighed and accounted for. 

Even the Torah reading on Yom Kippur are designed to remind us of our mortality, as we recount  the deaths of Aaron’s sons.  In the service we recall the ten martyrs who were murdered because of the Judaism they refused to abandon, reminding us of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death.

This focus on death isn’t meant to depress us. In fact, Yom Kippur is known as the happiest day of the year! Why? Because when we come face to face with our mortality, we’re given the chance to live more fully. Death doesn’t have to be a source of fear—it can be the source of our greatest clarity and motivation.

Since October 7, this awareness has become all too real. We are acutely reminded that we have no guarantee of tomorrow. We can’t afford to live on autopilot, waiting for some undefined future to make the changes we need to make today.

So how do we begin to live more meaningfully? I’d like to offer three suggestions: Framing Life’s Moments, The Deathbed Exercise, and Writing an Ethical Will.

Framing Life’s Moments

A great way to prioritize the things most important to us is to begin framing our lives in terms of the experiences we have left. Here are some examples I’ve begun using:

      • Shabbat dinners with my whole family—I have maybe 448 Shabbat dinners left in my lifetime with all my children together.
      • Visits with my grandmothers – maybe 15
      • Visits with parents and siblings— 40 to 100 visits with my parents and siblings
      • One-on-one time with each of my children—around 190 meaningful moments with each child.

These numbers aren’t meant to scare you. They’re meant to inspire you and to motivate you.

When you aren’t sure if you should make the the trip to visit Bubby, attend the family reunion or sit down for Shabbat dinner, thinking of how many opportunities you have left puts it all in perspective and reminds you that every conversation you have with a loved one, every trip and time spent together—these moments are finite.  This is precisely what makes them so precious.

The Deathbed Exercise

The “deathbed exercise” takes this a step further. Ask yourself: When I’m on my deathbed, will I regret not having done this? What do I want to be remembered for? Once you have the answer, you can ask yourself: What’s holding me back from doing it right now? What is something I’d be willing to die for?

Rabbi Noach Weinberg famously said, “Know what you are willing to die for and then start living for it.” Once you know what you’re willing to die for, you’ll know what you’re truly willing to live for.

Pixar’s Onward offers a powerful perspective. In the film, two brothers bring back their father for just one day. The urgency of having only 24 hours together helps them focus on what really matters. 

If the deceased were given just one day back on earth, how would they spend it? They wouldn’t use their only day watching TV or shopping.

If you knew you had only one day left, what would you do? Would you spend more time on your phone? Would you chase after temporary pleasures, or would you choose to connect with the people you love?

Writing an Ethical Will

I was putting off writing our will. My friend Kevin was trying to encourage me to do it. He said, “You totally don’t have to do this… unless you care about your children.” I would apply his advice here as well. If you care about your family, don’t just leave them a legal will with the assets you pass on.

I encourage you to also write an ethical will—a document that expresses your values, your beliefs, and what you hope to pass on to the next generation. It’s not about material inheritance; it’s about your spiritual legacy. This will be the greatest gift you can give your children, allowing them to understand what you want to leave behind. It is also the greatest gift you can give yourself, as you reflect on how you are living today to create that legacy.

Yom Kippur is our reminder that life is short—but it is also full of meaning. As we enter this holy day, let’s take the time to reflect on what truly matters. Let’s ask ourselves: Are we trading our time for the things that will matter in the end? Are we living the life we want to be remembered for?

About the Author
Rabbi Menachem Lehrfield lives in Denver, Colorado with his wife, Sarah, and their five energetic children. He serves as the Director of the Jewish Outreach Initiative (JOI), a transformative program reshaping the Jewish landscape in Denver. JOI is dedicated to providing authentic Jewish experiences and learning opportunities for individuals from diverse backgrounds in a meaningful and engaging way. Additionally, Rabbi Lehrfield is the Co-director of SITE (the School of Integrative Torah Education), a Hebrew school alternative where Judaism is brought to life in a fun, camp-like atmosphere. He hosts the "Zero Percent” and "Dear Rabbi”podcasts and cohosts the "reConnect" podcast, further broadening his influence and connection with a global audience. Known for his warmth and genuine love for every Jew, Rabbi Lehrfield's approachable demeanor enables him to connect with people across all age groups and backgrounds. As a dynamic and engaging educator, he employs analogies and humor to make complex, profound ideas accessible and relatable to all, from novices to experts. Rabbi Lehrfield earned his M.Ed from Loyola University in Chicago and received two rabbinic ordinations; one from Yeshivas Beis Yisroel in Jerusalem, and another from Rabbi Zalman Nechemia Goldberg, the Chief Justice of the Jerusalem High Court. Beyond his professional pursuits, Rabbi Lehrfield is passionate about photography, baking, rock climbing, and snowboarding. These diverse interests allow him to engage with a broad spectrum of individuals and communities, furthering his mission to make Judaism relevant and meaningful for all Jews. You can follow Rabbi Lehrfield's activities and insights at @JOIdenver on Instagram and Facebook.
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