Rabbi Lawrence Kushner tells the story of his grandparents who left their village in the Ukraine to come to America. He says that the reason they left was on account of a chandelier that had been his grandfather's prize possession.

Whenever it looked like there might be trouble with the local peasants, his grandfather would first shepherd the family to safety in the root cellar, then carefully take the chandelier down so it wouldn't get damaged by rocks or beets thrown through the windows. Kushner's aunt, who was a little girl at the time, told him that this wasn't a full-blown pogrom, just the peasants returning home on a Friday night making trouble.

One week, while his grandfather was trying to get the chandelier safely into the attic, he dropped it and it broke with a crash into a thousand pieces. That's when he told his wife, "That does it: We're going to America."

Sometimes change comes upon us forcefully, unpredictably, challenging us to change direction simply because we can't continue going on the way we have been. Our doctor tells us we’d better change our diets, give up smoking, get more sleep, or we won’t see next Rosh Hashanah. An accident, a storm, an illness, a death. We lose our jobs, we’re offered new jobs, we get a new boss, we move into a new house. We win the lottery-halevai.

Sometimes the change is more gradual, a slow and steady shift that we hardly notice until years later. Children grow up, go to school, move away. Parents grow old, get sick, move closer. We wake up one morning and realize for the first time—how stiff our joints are, how the walls need paint. We may realize that we are truly happy, or we may recognize that we are unceasingly sad. The world is not what it used to be.

For years, in fact ever since we moved into our home, Brian and I have talked about replacing the carpet, which was a non-descript brownish hue. At first, we decided it wasn’t worth it, because our kids were small and they would ruin it anyway. Then, other home improvements took precedence and the carpet had to wait.

But this summer we decided to change the carpet, which was now—I’m embarrassed to say—twenty years old and resembled the floor of a barn. The time was now. And while one might think that simply replacing the carpet in our bedrooms was not a major life change, I learned some important lessons from the experience.

1)     The turmoil of change is almost enough to prevent the change

Why do you think we took so long to make this happen? The first question you have to ask is, Is it worth all the trouble? After all, things are fine the way they are. We have learned not to notice the shabby pile, the ugly stains. We have gotten used to walking on carpet that feels like concrete.

To remove carpet, as Groucho Marx taught us, first you have to take up the tacks. But you also have to take up the furniture. Now sometimes, you can get help in making changes. We paid to have the carpet installers move the furniture, but only if it was empty. So then you have to empty to dresser drawers and the desk drawers. And if you have bookcases in every bedroom, you have to remove all the books. And if you have piles of paper and tchatchkes on top of everything, well that has to go too. And in the midst of carting boxes and bookshelves up and down stairs, we wondered—all this for a new carpet? We should have just moved instead!

So that’s one reason we take so long to make changes, even the ones we know we have to make.

2)      Change can be a time for looking backward and forward

As we packed and unpacked, each of us took time to make this our own Yom HaDin—Day of Judgment:  what shall we keep and what shall we throw away? What shall we give to friends and what shall we sell in the yard sale? Everyone pored over books and toys, clothes and knick-knacks. We lovingly scrutinized old papers, children’s artwork, and photos. Each of us examined our lives through the items that we considered most dear, and let go of those things that no longer carry emotional weight—or perhaps too much emotional weight.

In the process, we made some discoveries and planned for the future. We found missing earrings and stray socks. We bought a new mattress for ourselves and a new dresser for Yonah, and rearranged the furniture to make more room. We began to envision our next home improvements. We made room on bookshelves for the new books we are bound to buy, and cleared out space in our children’s closets for new clothes as they continue to grow. In the end, we feel good about what we kept, that it represents who we are and what we stand for.

This time of change allowed us to consider who we have become and who we want to become.

3)       When you have changed, everything looks different.

After the installers left, it didn’t take long for us to answer our first question. Was it worth it? Definitely. All of a sudden our house felt like new. We took off our shoes and dug our toes into the soft pile. Walking up the stairs felt like we were wearing Air Jordans. How did we ever imagine that what we had before even resembled carpet?

The brighter color lit up everything, soaked up the sunlight, and made our rooms look bigger. As we rearranged furniture and hung new pictures, suddenly, we had a new view in our rooms. It’s only a carpet—how often do you look at the carpet?—but what a difference it makes every day.

Of course the change is worth it, because it renews us, invigorates us, and lifts the shadows of worry and disdain that we come to accept as an immutable part of our lives.

4)       When you have changed, everything looks the same. (As the French say, plus ca change, plus c’est le meme chose.)

Had we moved to a new house, there would have been a lot more adjustments to make. But there are basic elements of our lives that we hold onto for comfort and stability, no matter what. So even though the change is noticeable to us, most people wouldn’t see the difference without being told. We only threw out the carpet—we didn’t change who are inside. What really matters to us is important, first and foremost, because we are the ones who have to live with it.

We fear change, because it is unknown. But in the end, we cannot lose what we know the best. Even when our memories fail us, we do not forget what matters most.

5)       The last thing to move and the first thing to return is likely something that keeps you connected.

When we were first married and didn’t have washing machines and sofas, we used to be able to pack up all our belongings in as much time as it took to pack up three bedrooms this summer. And the most precious item back then was the stereo. Throughout the packing and lifting, the music on the stereo kept us in rhythm. Despite the heat of summer or the weariness at the end of the day, the music kept us light-hearted. And so, it was always the last thing we packed up, and the first thing we set up on the other end. Clothes, books, even food could wait. The stereo kept us company every step of the way.

Nowadays, the stereo is often quiet, but the computer is always humming.  Back then, work could be done with pen and paper, or perhaps a typewriter. We could carry those with us and take our time about finding a place for them. But today, the computer is our life-line. We work, we chat, we listen to music, we buy clothes, we send urgent messages and wait impatiently for replies. And so, that was the very last thing we moved, and the first thing to be plugged in.

What does this mean? There is danger is being disconnected for very long. Change can be traumatic, especially if you’re doing it alone. This is an important time to reach out, to be comforted by the things that are most reassuring and embraced by those who can help you make it through. Recognize that underneath it all, the disruption may be temporary, but the connections are what lasts.

6)       Once you make the change, you will need new rules

Our new carpet is clean and bright and … off white. Having lived with grungy brown carpet for years, not even knowing what the original color had been, we are determined not to ruin what is new, but to help the change last as long as possible.

So our new rules include: no food or drink upstairs, except water. And we take off our shoes before going upstairs—something our kids appreciate since they remove their shoes the minute they come in the house anyway. These are rules and not suggestions, because we know that change requires vigilance by everyone or else we will slip back into nasty old habits.

7)       Don’t expect everything to be perfect just because you changed.

We have high expectations for things that are new. Whenever a new gadget comes along or we change our diet, we anticipate that it will change our lives. And if something goes wrong, we tend to grouse, if only we hadn’t bought that, if only we hadn’t done that. It’s that new computer program’s fault, it’s the installer’s fault, it’s your fault.

We have hit some bumps in the road, so to speak. We discovered the first day that our vacuum cleaner was broken, and had to get it fixed, pronto! The mattress that we ordered over the internet wasn’t suitable and we had to find a way to exchange it. We had the brilliant idea to lay cables beneath the new carpet to connect the computers in the house. Well, one connection works, but the other doesn’t.

The wires don’t work. The bed had to be sent back. Things can go wrong. But are we replacing the carpet again? No. Do we regret having replaced it? No, it was the right decision. But even right decisions can have challenges and stumbling blocks. Change can not promise perfection, only opportunity.

8)       Although most of us may be happy with the change, there is bound to be someone whose life is disrupted.   

The humans in our house are delighted with the changes we’ve made. But the day the installers came, our cats were the ones who were most inconvenienced. Our older cat, Macaroon, spends her days and nights hiding from all living things in a narrow space behind our bed. Whenever she does venture out, she knows that our bedroom is the safest place for her in the house. When our kitten Kifkef spies her, he chases her back under the bed, where she growls a warning that, at least this part of the house belongs to her.

So imagine Macaroon’s distress when the installers picked up the bed and emptied the room of its furniture. Now a cat can be pretty helpless, and Macaroon more than most, because she does not really trust anyone. So she endured the day by hiding in a tiny box in the kitchen, where the kitten kept an eye on her and made sure she didn’t escape.

Sometimes when things change all around, people can feel alone, isolated and helpless. Change can bring a shock to some people’s systems. Fortunately, our cat seems to have recovered. She’s returned to her private domain and has not changed her habits noticeably. In other words, she has weathered the storm.

We all tend to resist change that we have not chosen and cannot control. Sometimes people simply cannot accept the change. They become isolated and may fight change by becoming even more set in their ways. It is not likely that we would have given in to Macaroon’s resistance to change and avoided disrupting her life altogether. What is important is to recognize and acknowledge resistance, even as we move forward.

While it’s important to be sensitive to the effect changes have on others, we need to have faith that the change was right in the first place, and that everyone will come through.

9)       No matter how much we feel pressed into changes, we always have free will.

Too often, we feel that we are victims of a world that is changing all around us. There is no question that the world continues to change, whether we want it to or not. As twentieth-century philosopher George Santayana once wrote, “To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.” But while we are not always in control of our circumstances, we can decide our destiny. How we deal with change is the greatest mark of mental health. It’s called resiliency—the capacity to respond to life’s winds of change.

Although we could have done this years earlier or even a few years later, there was no doubt that we needed new carpet. But not only could we decide when to do it, we had many other options as well.

We could have covered the floors with rugs.

We could have hired someone else to move everything.

We could have bought a new house.

What we discovered is that there are many good choices, and by choosing one, we do not invalidate the others. Someone else could have taken a different path, a more creative path, a less time-consuming path. But having made our choice, we can feel good about what we have chosen, and proud of what we have accomplished in the process.

10)   A time of change is a time to celebrate

We mark each New Year with a celebration, with apples and honey and sweet round challah. On the one hand, we give thanks for all we have endured this past year and are grateful for all we have gained. On the other hand, we use this celebration as a catalyst for renewal in the coming year.

After we put all the furniture back and rearranged the books on the shelves, after the kids came home and marveled at their new digs, after the cats found their favorite spots, and all the boxes were finally unpacked, we could have just moved on and said, “thank God that’s over with.” But why pretend that nothing has happened? Why not enjoy our good fortune and give thanks for what we have? Something as simple as a shehecheyanu blessing, perhaps, or as elaborate as a party. When change shakes up the mundane drudgery of daily routine, welcome it, celebrate it, don’t take it for granted.

So, we had a yard sale with the neighbors. We all pitched in: we baked cookies to sell and put out all the books and games and junk we had found. We spent a day meeting people and joking with the neighbors and eating cookies. When it was over, we had enough to give a token to the kids for their efforts and sent the rest of the money to the Lenny Fund.

If you come over to our home, we’ll proudly take you on a tour of the upstairs bedrooms. If you’ve never been here before, you won’t have a sense of what’s changed, but we feel proud nonetheless.  We may not have the biggest house, the newest furniture or the fanciest décor. But it’s our home and it’s the way we like living, for now.

In the words of the poet, Ruth Brin:

No one ever told me the coming of the Messiah

Could be an inward thing.

No one ever told me a change of heart

Might be as quiet as new-fallen snow.

No one ever told me that redemption

Was as simple as springtime and as wonderful

As birds returning after a long winter,

Rose-breasted grosbeak singing in the swaying branches

Of a newly-budded tree.

No one ever told me that salvation

Might be like a fresh spring wind

Blowing away the dried, withered leaves of another year,

Carrying the scent of flowers, the promise of fruition.

What I found for myself I try to tell you:

Redemption and salvation are very near,

And the taste of them is in the world

That God created and laid before us.

May all of our changes bring us opportunities for celebration, for reflection, and for redemption.

Ken yehi ratzon

Rabbi Barbara Penzner

Rosh Hashanah 5764/September 2003