Witholding

 "By swallowing evil words unsaid, no one has ever harmed his stomach." -Winston Churchill

Think once, then twice.  Only then speak.

Speaking to God

"Do you know who can protest against His

decree and say to Him, ‘Why do you do such a thing?’‛ 

He who observes the commandments’‛  -Numbers Rabbah 14:6.

In a sacred relationship, we can ask questions forbidden to those who stand outside.

Yizkor

 Yizkor means “May He remember.”

G-d will always consider us.  What we ask for is not so much that G-d remember their lives but that the memory of those we loved will not be forgotten by us.

Another name for yizkor is hazkarat neshamot, recalling souls.

We recite Yizkor because we refuse to forget.  But what we recall is a choice.  We can opt to focus on their many talents and triumphs, or their deficits and defeats.  I hope that we will choose to elevate their memory and ask that they find their way into the Olam shel Emet, the universe where forgiveness reigns and the struggles of mortality are lifted. 

 

Perhaps they will even hear our prayers and be comforted that we have neither forgotten nor neglected them.

 

In reciting Yizkor we are starkly confronted with our own brief lifespan.  As we remember them, we pray that we too will be recalled with fondness.

 

We now stand at the threshold of a New Year and fervently pray that we find the blessings in our past and emerge into 5786 to become a blessing to ourselves, others and those who come after us.

 

L’Shanah Tovah Tikateyvu

Prayer for Healing

 Ana, HaShem, Please G-d, You are the Healer of all flesh.  Look upon me and have pity.  Support me in Your great love for I need You.  Send healing to me and to all Your children who suffer.  Heal my pain and renew me as in the past.  Grant wisdom to the physicians that attend me so that they may bring to me healing, swiftly.  

Hear my prayer, prolong my life and allow me to live out my years in joy so that I may be better able to serve You and keep Your word with a perfect heart.

Grant me understanding to see how this time of trial can bring me to a place of discernment and more meaningful life. Do not reject You servant, I pray.  

Hear my prayer.

The Tale

Never once did she question the loss of her husband and son.  No one heard her mention even one, “Why me?”  There was simply too much to do.  After the initial shock, there were burial plans, sending notices out to all the relatives, friends and associates.  The non-stop messages from her phone and people stopping by to drop off food and murmur words of consolation.  

The services required her full attention.  She dutifully wrote and delivered eulogies, wiping away the tears as she spoke.   The last shovel of earth did not conclude the process, it was barely the beginning.  When all that ended, there was a house to clean and a million emails and cards to answer.  It was an immense task, but she hammered away at it day after day. 

When her hands became too cramped from writing thank-you’s, there were endless bills to pay, finding all the right papers, filing them with the insurance, the lawyer and then the court.  

Of course there were the same questions, “Did you know?”  “How did it happen?”  “Were there signs?”  And the rest.  She responded to them all with the same lines that after a short while came out mechanically.  “Yes, this is terrible.  There was no warning, no signs.  Thanks for coming.  It means a lot.”

She was stalwart and determined to get everything done correctly.  So it went for months on end.

Through it all, she never threw her fists up to heaven or cursed God.  She remained silent. Unlike Job, she turned her back on faith and never looked back. 

Why should she?  They lied to her.  All of them; her teachers, faith leaders, her parents, everyone.  There was no justice in these needless deaths.  Stripped of her companion and child she could only retreat into non-belief.  If there was a God, he was heartless and cruel.  Since that left a malevolent universe the only other choice was to abandon faith.

 

Such is the story of many who have through neglect or deliberate thought have drifted from their anchor.  

What is the antidote for such a psychic unmooring?

Love.  Even if it hurts.

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Remember Me

 My dear friend,

 

I have been thinking about our conversation.

 

So much detritus lies in the dust after our lives are over.  I remember a song by Craig Taubman entitled, “Who Will Remember Me?”.  It is a powerful question contained in song thinking about dying after a satisfied life knowing that we will not be forgotten.  Yet as the song supposes, what if no one recalls us?  What if our lives are erased and no one remembers our name, how we labored, what we crafted, our joys and sorrows, our creations and missteps?  After life isn’t it a universal wish that we will be remembered?  Don’t we all hope that our lives meant something and have left a lasting imprint on the world?

 

I think of the items I have collected and saved from my parents.  There is almost nothing from my mother and some important documents that have come to me from my father.  But who will want them?  And what happened to all the things of the previous generation?  Sure, I have few photos of my grandparents and a couple of great grandparents, but I accept that even if my children take them, they will not remember who these people were as they have no personal memories of interacting with them or knowledge of their lives, much less physical contact with them.

 

Grudgingly, reluctantly, I have come to accept that the pictures and various documents will reach the rubbish heap.  There is too much for any of my kids to take and little reason for them to want them since these items do not relate in any meaningful way to their lives.

 

And yet.  These are their blood relatives, their forbears, to whom they ultimately owe their lives.  

 

To make matters worse, not only do I have these various pieces of family history I have also collected more “things” than they ever had. I have more certificates, prizes, letters, awards, degrees, cherished books and articles than they had in a lifetime.  I remember purchasing a Shas (Talmud) when I was in college. I meticulously researched the best set available, one that had a high rag content and was likely to last generations.  The tomes must weigh well over 200 pounds, and I paid a lot of money (in those days) for them.  Who will take all that?  Already my library has been significantly downsized.  Only that which is most cherished remains with me. And still….

 

My children will suffer through the same agonizing questions as they come of a certain age.  Perhaps my grandparents and great-grandparents; perhaps Moses and Abraham puzzled over the same issues.  Is this just part of the human condition?  We are predisposed to live a life that matters, one where we will be recalled and our life story told.  Except for the Sarahs, Rambams and Einsteins our life histories are swept clean by time.

 

Does anything last?  

 

The people whose lives we touched and helped will also pass away.  So even all those acts of generosity and selflessness will disappear as one generation takes the place of another.

 

On more than one occasion someone has come to me and shared how what I said to them at a time of transition in their life galvanized them to face their trial.  Each time when presented with a story like that I freely admit that I never recalled saying what they told me I said.  

 

I am warmed and comforted by those moments.  It tells me that my life has had meaning, that I made a difference to someone.  Nothing physical lasts, including us.  But something infinitely more important survives the short span of our time on earth. 

 

You have changed the world, one tiny bit at a time.  One pebble at a time you leave behind a mountain of accumulated goodness.  You leave the world in better condition.

 

Ellul

 

The Hebrew word for this month, Ellul, is said to be an anagram for “I am my beloved’s and my beloved I mine.” (Ani l’dodi v’dodi li).  Taken from Solomon’s Song of Songs the phrase expresses an idea that runs quite deep in Judaism.

We all know that love is but what is the opposite of love?  Elie Wiesel, the world’s conscience, taught that the opposite of love is indifference. Is this true?

Why did God create the world?  What purpose could a world filled with endless possibilities of destruction fulfil? Why would God have crafted a place where evil in the guise of indifference to suffering exist?

In my life I have often marveled at the faith and hope people hold in life.  A child dies and the parents find reason to love one another or devote themselves to having another child.  Two people meet, fall madly in love only for their relationship to end in a pyre of pain and exhaustion.  And when time has healed their wounds, they seek new love.  In the extreme, Holocaust victims whose families were brutally murdered raised new families.

Why do people go to such extravagant lengths in the aftermath of pain and horror?  After being singed by death or betrayal we continue to believe.  As humans we keep faith and hope alive.  We know in our hearts that love is still possible.  We seek to live life fully and give live to those whom we love.

To return to the question above, “Why did God create the world?”  Being perfect, God had no need for imperfection.  Yet, this was the ultimate act of love just as you have done many times in your life.  I believe the answer is hope and love.  

Judaism speaks of a world of crafted out of the tendrils of love. All the basic holy texts that we revere hold the same underlying principle.  One of the primary prayers that precedes the Shma in every service describes the fabric of a universe where God wove it out of a love that had no boundaries, no limitations.  

Every time we tap into that vast cosmos and feel the pulsating care that radiates out of the Divine, we can find ample reason to embrace that love and be in harmony with it.

Indifference to this universe of love is a rejection of all things that are sacred.   The path of Judaism is to look for the luminescence of joy, resilience and love that inheres everywhere.

So, at this time of year as we enter into the month of Ellul we are reminded by our sages of old that “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is Mine,” is God's endless commitment of hope and love.