One of my favorite stories is a charming tale told about Pablo Picasso by Arthur Koestler in a book called “Act of Creation.” A Parisian art dealer, having bought a painting signed ‘Picasso,’ sought to have it authenticated by the artist, who remarked, “It’s a fake.” Some two years later the dealer, having acquired another signed painting, showed it to Picasso who said “It’s also a fake.” “But,” said the dealer, “I, myself, saw you painting this when I was last here.” Picasso shrugged and said “I often paint fakes.”

The notion that a person is creating fakes when they fail to live up to their capacity has far-ranging artistic implications. The contention that the second-rate is second-rate, even when it is executed by first-rate people, is particularly worth proclaiming in an age when geniuses are discovered and proclaimed weekly. There is always room for the near-miss and for the clearly second-rate. But the standard for outstanding accomplishments must inevitably be lowered if no one bothers to distinguish the good from the not quite good enough.

I recalled the story just a few weeks ago, when on a hurried visit to Israel, I engaged in one of my favorite activities, namely, walking to and through the Old City of Jerusalem. One of the gates in the walls that surround the Old City is known as Shaar Ha-ashpot, the ‘Dung Gate.’ Legend has it that this strange name was derived from the historic fact that when pilgrims in ancient times came to Jerusalem to celebrate the festivals they would wash the filth of the road off themselves at a point before entering the city. They didn’t feel that they could enter the Holy City until they had done that.

As we prepare to face the New Year we too stand, as it were, at a gate and we, too, should cleanse ourselves of all that defiles, embitters and grieves us, before we enter. The late Supreme Court Justice Hugo Black once wrote, “At the end of life we shall not be asked how much pleasure we had in it, but how much service we gave; not how happy we were, but how helpful we were; not how our ambitions were gratified, but how, in love, we served.” Goodness is not just in the outward things we do, but in the inward things we are; not just in what life brings to us, as what we bring to life. In order to achieve some measure of success in living, we must try to be happy in the present and confident in the future.

The essence of Rosh Hashannah might best be underscored by an incident in the life of a Hassidic Rebbe who on the eve of the High Holidays was passing through the marketplace and overheard a man bargaining with a merchant over a piece of merchandise. The customer offered a price, and the merchant said, “You can do better than that.” The Rebbe lifted his eyes heavenward and said, “Master of the Universe, is this not what You want us to understand on these Holy Days? Are You not saying to all of us, ‘you can do better than that, you can do better than that?’”

The truth is that it would require only some effort to ‘do better.’ The services in which we participate, the classes we attend, the Shabbat and holidays we celebrate, the prayers we chant, the home we sanctify, the table we elevate, the food we consume, the tzedaka we give: each mitzvah is the means by which we refine our character, so that we do better.

Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur summon us to understand, as Picasso did, that the second-rate remains second-rate -- that the portrait of our life need not be a fake, but that we can do better. After all of the prayers that we chant; after all of the songs that we sing; after the fasting and worshipping the ultimate challenge to us will remain: ‘Can you do better?’ Let us not be second-rate people, nor second-rate Jews; for we can live in accordance with our higher capacities.

Inge joins me in wishing you and yours a healthy, happy and fulfilling good year -- a shana tovah -- as each of us strives to ‘do better.’