What's Next?
Recently I was asked to join an adult Kickball league. The Matzahballerz. These poor souls assumed that this human - was coordinated. But after our first game, I successfully proved them all wrong. You see, I'm what they call "Terrible at Sports." But when it comes to the Sataloffs, athleticism, and competition - I am the family's black, black sheep.
Let me cut to the chase and explain that my mother completed a triathlon weeks after giving birth to me. She was actually supposed to be featured in ESPN but didn't make the cut. Rather, they did the segment on a guy with one arm. After four years of college gymnastics, my father began his career in the sports and recreation department at a JCC in Memphis. That's where my parents met. In a gym. A Jewish one. My sister played college soccer at UNC Wilmington. My uncle is the Head Athletic Trainer at a notoriously competitive preparatory school in Maryland. My four cousins trained there like Marines before shipping off to play football, lacrosse, and wrestle at St. Lawrence, Washington and Lee, and Gettysburg College.
And then. There's me. I've never made a single selective team in my life. However, the joke is actually all on them. Because at thirty-four years of age, I'm the only Sataloff whose knees still bend correctly - who can still run. Which is mostly what I do. Because putting one foot in front of the other is pretty much the only coordinated thing I can do. But in truth, in our household, two things always reigned supreme. Fitness and Judaism. My parents never missed a workout. And we also never missed a Shabbat dinner. This is also why I became a rabbi, if you're wondering. I figured if I couldn't play D1 sports, I might as well matriculate into D1 Judaism.
But here's the thing I've come to understand about both. Fitness and Judaism. They share a common value that has always stuck with me. Both are a journey. Both function more like infinite marathons and less like sprints to the finish line. Because when it comes to the finish line of either fitness or Judaism, there really isn't one. There's always "What's next?" In both areas of life, we try new things—garner new skills. Adapt in new ways. Because the way we celebrate Judaism and how we approach fitness does, in fact, fluctuate as we get older. Our relationship to these changes. But our dedication never dwindles. We simply shift into different gears as we move through stages of adulthood.
A prime example of this is very own Rabbi Barry Gelman. As reported by the Herald, Rabbi Barry Gelman will be leaving United Orthodox Synagogues of Houston this summer to become the director of Jewish Living and Learning at the ERJCC. Now, I haven't known Rabbi Gelman long, but not too long ago we served on a panel of Rabbis for Kehillah High.
We both spoke about our formative Jewish years and what led us to the rabbinate. Mine in pluralistic community centers. His in Orthodox synagogues. But how the turntables have turned. Where my journey began, his is now taking flight. But the values of Jewish continuity and community still remain the focus for us both. Regardless of pulpit or nonprofit. It's all part of the same Jewish marathon. Also, Barry, just so you know, a minyan isn't needed for a Zumba class.
Joking aside, the question that pervades our lives in so many ways is a simple one. "What's next?" Well, the answer isn't always so simple. But as Rabbi Scott mentioned to me the other day, as soon as you complete your 10K or Ironman race, there's someone waiting to register you for the next one. What happens when you age out of a sports league? Or find yourself too injured to play? You coach. What happens when you finish your Bar Mitzvah? You teach. In our madrichim program. You join us for Kehillah High. And soon enough you'll be sitting on board meetings in no time. What happens after that? Volunteer for Kidz Meals. Find yourself in one of our newest BINGE groups. Log into Zoom Torah Study. There’s always more Torah. There’s always a next. As our rabbis teach:
“He [Rabbi Tarfon] used to say: It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it”
As one commentator notes, “Each person is obligated to accomplish their maximum; no one is obligated to achieve perfection."
Growing up, I swam in the pool watching everyone's grandmother and great-grandmother do water aerobics. I witnessed people of every age run, bike, swim, stretch, lift, and move. All at their own pace. Of course. And not long ago, I saw my own mother go from triathlete to golfer. From cyclists to yogi. And professionally, at the ripe age of 61, transition from working in Jewish nursing homes to Jewish preschools. Going from end of life to beginning of life. Because we never stop growing. We never stop matriculating into the next stage, wherever that may be. I was never judged for my perfection at sports. This is why fitness was always the goal. It wasn’t ever about being better than someone else. But achieving our own maximum. In fact, most people who sign up for marathons aren’t there to win first. They're to complete them. Or even to say that they tried something they’ve never done before. And that’s really what it’s all about. Except for my parents. They’re crazy people and they were there to win.
And so, let us begin to find our way back into both synagogues and fitness centers. Let us continue to push ourselves to find what’s next. Let us busy ourselves with words of Torah and the marathon of life. And please God, Let my kickball skills improve…