The story is told of a woman who came to Rabbi Israel, the maggid of Koznitz, and told him, with many tears, that she had been married a dozen years and still had not born a child. “What are you willing to do about it?” the rabbi asked her. She did not know what to say and fell silent.

So the rabbi told her: “Once my mother was aging and still had no child. Then she heard that the holy Baal Shem Tov was stopping over in her town in the course of a journey. She hurried to his inn and begged him to pray that she might bear a son. “What are you willing to do about it?” The Baal Shem asked. “My husband is a poor book binder,” she answered. “But I do have one fine thing that I shall give to the rabbi.” She went home as fast as she could and fetched her good cape, her “Katinka," which was carefully stowed away in a chest. But by the time she had returned to the inn with it, she heard that the Baal Shem Tov had already left for Mezbizh. She immediately set out after him and since she had no money to ride, she walked from town to town with her “Katinka” until she reached Mezbizh. The Baal Shem took the cape and hung it on the wall. “It is well”, he said, and my mother walked all the way back, from town to town, until she was home. A year later, I was born.”

“I, too,” the woman burst our crying; “I too will bring you a good cape of mine so that I may have a child.”

“That won’t work,” said the rabbi. “You heard the story.  My mother had no story to go by.”

A story for the High Holy Days. A story that suggests that each human being must somehow create out of the substance of his or her life a story, personalized, unique, one that no other can relate or fashion; a story about the work of becoming ourselves. A High Holy Day Story.

The ten days of awe that commence with Rosh Hashanah and conclude with Yom Kippur, is more than an occasion to tally our transgressions and make amends.  It is also a time to examine our life stories, to confront the image we hold of ourselves and ask: “Who are we? Where are we now and where are we going? And, to reach those goals, what are we willing to do about it?

Those are big questions. And to ask them risks some unsettling answers, especially at a time the world’s economy is undergoing deep, structural changes. After a year of unanticipated financial upheaval it seems everyone is waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

The results are myriad and dislocating. We all know people who:

• Were thinking about changing jobs but have now hunkered down in the safety of steady employment
• People who were planning to retire in the next few years, but who now have pushed that date out a considerable distanc
• People whose jobs have been downsized and whose lives now need to be downsized.

In addition to the changes wrought by the tanking economy, there were other developments that have caused many to consider the direction their lives’ story is taking:

• Relationships that are floundering
• The arrival of a new child or the departure of one from the nest
• The diagnosis of illness
• The death of a loved one or a friend

These are examples writ large, but, in truth, even a simple birthday can remind us that life is not an endless spiral, but a fixed line, with a beginning and, at some point as yet undetermined, an end.

Such moments of existential truth can lead us to feel, unworthy, incompetent, a failure. But it can also be a Godsend, for it reminds us that, for all of life’s uncertainties, our life stories are largely written by us. Ultimately, we define our failures and successes.

On this Rosh Hashanah, as we complete another chapter in our life’s stories and prepare to write the next, we ask:  How shall we define success? In our studies, our work, our relationships, our families, how will we measure and evaluate just how we are doing?

Behind these questions lies an unspoken assumption I want to make explicit: Judaism suggests a definition of success that is wholly different than that offered by prevailing culture.

In America, success is black and white. Just open Time magazine to find the list of this week’s winners and losers.

In America, success is ephemeral. The name on this week’s winners list could just as easily be found next month among the losers.

In America, success is signaled by fame and fortune, either of which can be arrived at by hard work or dumb luck. And both fame and fortune can just as easily be lost, sometimes overnight.

In America, success is reduced to a formula. That formula was captured concisely, if somewhat satirically, in Bruce Wagner’s novel “I’m losing you.” In it, he describes a journalist’s notes from interviewing a Hollywood producer for a magazine profile –“unhappy childhood bits with foreshadowings of the “inveterate dreamer” (quotes from grade school teachers preferred, along with fuzzy photos of the bucktoothed, incipient Barnum surrounded by classmates/future losers; a little false-starts/years of failure/turning point shtick.”

The reductive, Americanized view of success affects us all. For young adults, success is reduced to performing well academically. To receive less than a “A” or God forbid, a “B,” is viewed as a mark of betrayal against the parents, an act of ingratitude. From the silver and gold stars of kindergarten, to 3.8 and 4.0 grade point averages, and the SAT’s and GRE’s, the child is judged by extrinsic measures. Conspicuously absent are standards for goodness and caring, a scale for moral uprightness and compassion.

The drive to excel academically is instilled early. At the exclusive private school for girls in Manhattan where my sister worked as an admissions officer, children competed for kindergarten admission by undergoing a battery of psychometric examinations, individual interviews, and group interviews. No less evaluated were the parents who themselves underwent significant and invasive screening. But is this surprising? Of course not. One can well imagine how expectations of excellence will someday be announced. You may know the story about the parents who sent out the birth announcement: “Mr. and Mrs. Marvin Grossman are proud to announce the arrival of their son, Dr. Jonathan Grossman.”

Such high expectations can wound young, tender, souls. What’s more, the unrelenting emphasis on academic achievement and material acquisition, so much the product of middle-classism, can become wrongly identified with Jewish values. The Jewish child of the middle class, observed Rabbi Harold Schulweis, “is raised to somehow identify the calculative, manipulative intelligence with the moral wisdom sought by Judaism; to identify middle class privatism with Jewish respect for individual worth; to identify middle class aggressiveness with the Jewish emphasis on human freedom.”

Confusing middle class values with Jewish values is insulting but it is also dangerous because, as Shulweis reminds us, it confuses the noble ends to which Judaism aspires with the means we use to get there. Traditionally, Jews pray in order to be granted wisdom and discernment, to learn in order to teach and to fulfill the moral imperatives of the tradition. In Judaism, wisdom is a holy pursuit because the end of wisdom is to repair the world, not to “make it.” The acquisition of Jewish wisdom is to cultivate the heart, not to fatten the purse. But middle-classism has severed the means from the ends, the drive from the moral goal.

We are left with an American definition of success denuded of moral content. When we define success by the salary and bonuses we make, when we spend our time trying to make something for ourselves rather than something of ourselves (Jascha Heifetz), we lose sight of the truth put plainly by Maurice Sendak: There must be more to life than having everything.

What can we do, then? On this holy day, as we prepare to write the next chapter to our life’s story, how can we get beyond the culturally bound definition of success to embrace Judaism’s more spiritually satisfying truth?

First, we must acknowledge that failure is a part of being human. It was for our ancestors. Abraham endured 10 trials; Jacob suffered being exiled from his home, and the humiliation of servitude to his father in law before he could assume the mantle of leadership; Joseph first had to endure the enmity of his brethren and enslavement before rising to leadership. Even Moses had to bear the malicious slander of his people, and the deprivations of the desert. But in each case, the experience of failure led our biblical ancestors to grow and prosper.

Failure is problematic because it can prevent us from recognizing our successes. As author Martin Amis said: “We live in our failures. We don’t go around congratulating ourselves for our successes. It’s those terrible gaffes, those terrible flops that make our hands fly to our faces, that make us stop dead on the street and babble to drown out the memory.”

Properly embraced, however, failure is part of a well-lived life. Life is about taking risks, and risks sometimes end in failure. It might be possible to create a life without risk, and thus without the fear of failure, but such a life would be boring. Even more, a life without risk is morally stultifying; it would be a life without the promise of growth, or the possibility of achieving meaning and purpose.

In addition to accepting failure as an important part of life, we would do well to redefine and expand our notion of success. To be a success, by Jewish definition, is plain and simple: one needs first to be a mentsch.

Mentsch is Yiddish for man, though women can be mentsches too. A mentsch is someone trustworthy, righteous and compassionate. The mentsch is described in a threefold teaching of a Talmudic rabbi named Ben Zoma. Azeh hu ashir? Asks Ben Zoma. Ha Sameach b’chelko. Who is rich? Those who are happy with what they have. Judaism defines success not as the accumulation of assets but in finding value in what we already possess. The task for the ten days of repentance is to ask, what of our intangible assets have we undervalued or failed to recognize? Are we sufficiently grateful for the blessings of community and family, the incredibly beautiful natural surroundings of Wisconsin, the blessings of health and vigor? All too often, we recognize such blessings only once we lose them; Ben Zoma urges us to recognize them now while they are ours to enjoy.

To focus on intangible assets does not mean there is something inherently wrong about material success.  On the contrary, we Jews take no vow of poverty, as some religions suggest. Indeed, the Talmud tells us that on the day of Judgement we will be held accountable for the times we denied ourselves earthly pleasures to which we were entitled. No, there is nothing sinful or wrong about “making it;” the issue is what do we do with it once we’ve made it.

The danger in amassing wealth is that we might forget that wealth is only a means to a greater end: the doing of Tikun Olam, working in partnership with God to improve this world. To achieve success, we have to remember what money can do: heal the sick, clothe the naked, provide shelter for the homeless, and comfort those in need. If can find contentment in what we already have, the drive to accumulate can be directed to those holier purposes.

Being a successful Jew is more than being happy with what we have. Ben Zoma also asks: Azeh hu Hacham? Ha Lomed M’kol Adam - Who is wise? The person who learns from others. Being a mentsch means valuing every human interaction, and recognizing it can be an occasion to glean wisdom. Rabbi Larry Kushner compares our lives to a jigsaw puzzle. Our puzzles arrive incomplete and we never know when another person might provide a missing piece. Conversely, we never when we are carrying a piece that might help others complete their puzzles. To be truly wise, Ben Zoma teaches, we need to understand our interdependence with one another, and be ever conscious of the potential every interaction holds for growth and wisdom.

Ben Zoma also challenges us to continue our own Jewish education, to plumb our sacred texts for meaning and calibrate our moral compasses to the Torah’s standards. Becoming a lifelong student of Judaism should be a goal for all of us, one that our congregation can help us reach. This year we will host two wonderful teachers, Dennis Prager and Dr. Rachel Baum both of whom are unique voices from whom you’ll learn a lot.

Other learning opportunities abound at Sinai and in the community. We have five different levels of adult Hebrew classes, for both prayer book and conversational Hebrew. Rabbi Brickman, Cantor Robbins, our educator Dr. Sherry Blumberg, and Dr. Larry Hurwitz and I teach a variety of classes and we welcome newcomers at all levels. Our tradition is a wonderful teacher and the Torah speaks to us today directly and compellingly, as it has for generations.

To be a successful Jew means learning to be content with what we have, and to learn from those around us, but Ben Zoma reminds us that there is more. Azeh hu Gibor? Who is a strong? HaKovesh et yitzro. The person who conquers his impulsive nature.  For Jews, a hero is not someone who exhibits bravery on the battlefield; it is someone who practices self control in the bedroom and the boardroom. What separates us from the beasts is our capacity to consider our actions and their repercussions.

The yezter, or impulsive nature, can get us into trouble but it is an essential part of life. Without the impulse to generate and create, the Talmud teaches, no person would ever build a house, start a business, or begin a family. Nevertheless, a mentch keeps those impulses in check, channeling those creative impulses to do holy work.  And when we fail to keep those impulses in check, we need to do Teshuvah, and make amends.

For we are human and we will fail. Someday, our impulses will get the better of us; our arrogance will convince us we’ve nothing to learn from others; our competitive nature will make us unsatisfied with what we have. At such moments, embracing our failures will be painful. But if we are to take hold of our life stories and reorient ourselves for A Jewish way of success, we’ll need to remember that in those moments of failure lie sacred opportunities to change and grow.

In the new year, 5770,

May we better control our impulses and find new ways to dedicate our creative energies to holy purposes;

May we become ever more open to the lesson we might learn from our tradition and from each other;

And may we learn to be content with what we have in the here and now.

If we can do these things, treating those around us with justice and compassion, then we will be well on our way to becoming successful people, mentsches of the highest order.

May it be so for us.

Amen.