On Summer

        Grappling with the answer to ‘knowing why we are alive’ occupies so much of our time and energy.  There are times when we fully grasp the answer and we are exultant.  Other times we float in the void of not-knowing and are in despair.  During those moments of full self-disclosure life is utterly meaningful.  The largest question of life is how to live within that mind set...

Midrash: One of the young acolytes of Rabbi Akiva became ill.  Tilting toward death, the Master heard of his disciple’s danger. [Mind: this was one of thousands of aspiring students.]  Rabbi Akiva went to visit the ailing man.  Seeing that the room was drab and dark he opened the shutters, swept the room clear and brought him some hot broth.

Immediately, the young man began to sit up and recover his waning strength,

Rabbi Akiva then entered the Academy and pronounced, “Whoever does not visit the sick, it is as if they have snatched their life away.” 

            No act is ever committed in a vacuum.  There are ripple effects to every action we will have ever taken/ will ever take.  What is most disturbing is that we will never be aware of the full extent of our deeds.  All we have is the view in front of our eyes.  If we knew, for example, that our erratic driving caused someone to go home angry and start a fight with their family, we would seriously re-think our actions.  On the other hand, if we were aware of the full extent of the surprise phone call we made to a friend experiencing problems, we might call more often.  The fact is- we can not know these things.

            Riddle: what do you call someone sitting shiva alone? Answer: unrequited pain.  A death that had no response.

            One thing that we all share in common is loss.  No one gets through this world without the awful pain of death.  The typical Jewish response to death is shiva, bringing over meals for the bereft, showing up at minyans for the survivors, coming the funeral, following up with letters and calls...  All these responses to death ameliorate the pain.  The same is true of hospital stays, divorces and so much more.  Every visitor takes away a fragment of the pain when they leave.  Their presence and words gives meaning to life. 

            As once-upon-a-time you needed help and cried out, so it is with others.  What if we were created just for this specific purpose?  What if our lives had meaning only because of an event yet to unfold where our comfort was needed?

            I wish for all family members (that's you) a summer of opportunities to do both good deeds and mitzvot.  May our light dispel the darkness and through that light come meaning.