A child visited New York City with her father and saw the
Statue of Liberty for the first time. As
they boarded the ferry to return to Manhattan, the little one asked her father,
“Tell, me daddy, doesn’t she need someone to help her hold up the light?”
Of course she does.
That is what Americans do.
We support the lady’s arm so that she can remain a beacon to the world
and a memory aid to tell us who we are and what is expected of us.
We need ongoing reminders of our tasks in the world. That is why we sing the Aleynu at the end of
every service with its directive, “to perfect the world by Your sovereignty.”
Sometimes we need reminders to tell us why we are
alive. We are not an accident. Our life has both meaning and purpose. Those two notions - meaning and purpose - are
intertwined. One cannot exist without
the other. We derive meaning from our
life when we live our purpose.
And what is our purpose?
Each of us is a unique creation of the One. That means that we have special gifts and
attributes that only we possess. While I
am not privy to each person’s reason for being, I do know that we were created
to help one another along their path as they are charged with the same
responsibility to us.
It is not always easy to stretch out from our protected
comfort space and help another person but it makes us finer people. Our life’s meaning is greatly enhanced when
we hold up someone’s heavy arm and give him or her respite.
Martin Buber wrote, “If you want to raise a man from mud
and filth, do not think it is enough to stay on top and reach a helping hand
down to him. You must go all the way
down yourself, down into the mud and filth.
Then take hold of him with strong hands and pull him and yourself out
into the light.”
Note that Buber writes to “pull him and yourself out into
the light.” Something miraculous occurs
when we go out of our way to help another.
The universe begins to thrum with a joyous noise. We are uplifted when we uplift.
In the midst of the story of the story when Pharaoh’s
handmaid stretches out her hands to grasp the floating basket that contains
baby Moses, Rabbi Judah commented that her arm miraculously lengthened so that
she could reach the basket without endangering herself in the treacherous Nile.
Generations
later the Kotzker Rebbe asked, “How did she know that her hands would be
lengthened to grasp the child?” He
answered, “It is our responsibility to reach out, even if we think we cannot
touch the victim. God will do the rest.”
And the universe sings.
We are meting our purpose. And
the Lady of the Harbor stands more erect.
