Think Positive

To have an effect on the way a day turns out is no small achievement.

Years ago my young son got into trouble when he stubbornly refused to clean his room.  It was wall-to-wall shmutz.  As he continued to defiantly oppose the prospect of cleaning the room, shaking his head defiantly, he was punished.

Later that day, when he was out playing, he tripped, fell and skinned both knees.  He cried at the sight of the jagged skin and blood.  The pain was made infinitely worse by the horrid look of his mangled knees.

We dressed the leg after cleansing it and then applied an anti-bacterial ointment.  Afterward, he went out to play, much more carefully now and with noticeably less agility.

By mid-afternoon, this seven-year-old had lost his two Ninja Turtle action figures, merely a few hours old.  Together we launched a search mission but met with no success.

After these episodes, my son entertained himself with crayons and abundant imagination.  He played in the kitchen with them the long afternoon. At dinnertime he was positively beaming when I gave him his plastic turtle figures, which I had found on the front lawn.

To anyone but a kid such a day would’ve been devastating.

Compare:

>Having a “tiff’ with our friend or spouse

>Banging our fingers on the door or breaking a fingernail.

>Losing our ring somewhere near the kitchen counter.

What I have personally witnessed such a day would bring many to their knees in despair.  And we all know that the potential for things to go wrong is enormous.

When we get up in the morning Jewish tradition tells us to say the following prayer:

My God.

The soul You have given me is pure, for You created it. You formed it and You made it live within me. You watch over it daily. One day, you will take it from me and bring it to everlasting life.

God and God of my fathers, as long as this soul is within me I will declare that You are the master of all deeds, the ruler of all creatures and the Lord of every living soul.

Blessed are you Lord, who brings life to the lifeless, exhausted body.

Perhaps one the greatest human achievements is to allow the 10 wonderful things that happen to us every day, to outweigh the one negative event.

The Visit

Relatives come to visit a few times each year. The ones who live nearby drive over and enjoy a relaxing cup of coffee. Occasionally, we will go out for dinner together but mostly we sit, banter and share more than a few private jokes.  Easily skirting portentous issues they soon depart, leaving behind faint splotches on cheeks, warm hugs, lingering stale perfume and assorted mugs and dessert dishes piled up in the sink. Not a lot of clearing up to do after the visit. The worst of it is, the bathroom needs minor disinfecting.

The work comes when the out-of-towners arrive for an extended stay. Days of preparation herald the arrival of them. Meals need to be prepared, activities require careful planning, rooms have to be readied by dusting, washing, waxing.  Appointments are put off until later. Then, when in the midst of the frantic preparations, a door slam is heard outside, we know they have arrived. They bring with them endless reading material to be disbursed all around our neatly arranged house. Unwanted presents are devotedly offered and are readily accepted.  Bathrooms are hijacked.  Diapers suffuse the house with a novel, distinctive odor.  Crackers are observed making their way to off-limits places in the house.  Within hours, an immaculate house has been transformed.

I have always been amazed at the amount of time that it takes for the minute hand to make a single revolution on my watch.  Eventually, however, the suitcases are repacked. Goodbyes are stated with noticeably less enthusiasm. Then silence as the car disappears around the corner and out of view. We turn back into the house.

Heavy, and showing signs of cracking, the heart feels like it is made from stone. The aftermath is horrible.  The very walls of the house resonate with pain. Restoring the house to pre-visit cleanliness is a worthwhile, meeting list. What is the use?

It is hard to push down the swelling in the throat. Who can remain in the home that was once filled with joy that now throbs with emptiness?  

And yet.

Such is the joy of gathering and departing.  Knowing all this makes the ingathering so much more beautiful.

Belief is More Powerful

Belief is more powerful than knowledge.

We know lots of things, trivial and vital.   We know why the sun sets (it actually does not set, we do, so to speak), why it rains, how time is calculated, where lies the center of the earth, how gravity works and what makes two-year-olds have tantrums.  For many years, mankind believed that science would be the harbinger of Utopia.  All we need to do, they reasoned, is understand what makes life run and we will achieve a deep and abiding universal peace.  Ignorance makes us frightened little people while knowledge heightens our awareness and strengthens our best qualities.

What we discovered on the next decades was that this is not necessarily true.  Religion is not primitive to the psyche and knowledge is not the key to unlock the door to the messianic era.  Instead, modernity has brought about weapons of mass terror and destruction.  Now we can maim and kill thousands without lifting a sword or putting a bullet into a gun.  So much for progress.

All of us will, in our lives, face terrible pain. Will knowledge of the disease or understanding of the odds that tragedy will strike ease our suffering? If hurricanes rend the shoreline, buildings or crops fail how will a scientific understanding help us to cope emotionally? It cannot.  So what if we know the underlying causes of a myocardial infarction?  A heart attack is simply devastating.  Explaining why the stock market crashed will not help those who lost a fortune.

Religion helps to restore the balance where knowledge fails us.  It is the belief of a healing, helping God, which enables.  It is precisely the presence of God that allows a human being to be released from the grip of death and overcome the depression of failure.

More than anyone else, the author of Psalms confronts and tackles the real tragedies of life.  He writes:

Have mercy of me, O Lord,

for I am in distress;

my eyes are wasted by vexation,

my soul and body too.

For my life is spent in sorrow,

and my years in groaning,

my strength fails me because of my flaws,

and my bones waste away.

My fate is in Your hand;

save me from the hands of my enemies and pursuers.

Shine Your face upon your servant,

deliver me in your grace.

Belief is more powerful than knowledge.  It saves us from inner destruction.

Shabbat Down Home

Hear the one about the dysfunctional family? After years of bitter pain and deep hurt they went to a psychiatrist. Years passed in therapy. After $50,000 worth of couch counseling the doctor spoke. He prescribed that they sit down to dinner as a family. Outlining his plan, he told them that when they get there around the table they had to refrain from watching television. And if that was not enough, they were obligated to either let the telephone ring or put on an answering machine. Family time. No disruptions. No exceptions.

This is holistic family medicine. It sounds nice doesn’t it? When I first heard that story (and I’ve heard it in various incarnations over the years) I either think of the Waltons with their serene existence -the most raucous episode included John-Boy not want to do his homework - not writing suicide notes or how stupid and insensitive modernity has made us.

Every family needs family time or that family will corrode from the inside out. The result?  The members seek another family. That is why kids to join cults, seek other faiths, or fall into bad relationships often come out of these corroded families. As no one can live without a support system (read: family) a surrogate family is deeply needed.

Shabbat is not an aberration, a mistake.  Candles are lit, the mood is set, wine is carried to the white covered tablecloth.  “Shabbat Shalom” precedes the singing of Shalom Aleichem, asking the angels to bless us.  Parents bless children.  Adults bless one another.  To touch is part of this sacred ceremony.  For the children hands are placed on their heads as the age-old formula is recited, “yivarechecha….”

I am always amazed that we are reluctant to take the medicine that we know we need.  We all loved “Father Knows Best” but stubbornly refuse to frame our lives in a structure and loving way.  Psychiatrists offices are crammed full of people who balk at accepting their inheritance.  Better to spend thousands of dollars to be told by the therapist that we need to spend more time with family…and answer the call of God.

Save yourself $50,000.

If we were to attend a restaurant that was decked out with pretty tablecloth, fresh bread, romantic candles, soft lights,, soon we would call it exceptional. And you can’t buy it anyway. Because it is free. Only free. No matinees. Only Friday night showings.

Shabbat is for home. It is for peace and family. I don’t even mind if you do not come to shul (yes I really said that!). Just be with the people you love.

But if you really want to spend $50,000 who am I to tell you no?

My visit to Poland

On the far side of the Nozek Synagogue in Warsaw, the last and only standing shul in the entire city, there was a slight man with the tender beard. He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. Wisps of hair rose like thin strands of cotton from his head. His eyes betrayed a nervousness that made him stand out. He looked like he was half trying to hide behind one of the shows calms and at the same time tempted to push them to the incoming group of rabbis. Shyly, he gazed at the visitors.

”Shalom,” I said, offering my hand. He returned the greeting. His Hebrew sounded good so I continued, “I do not understand. All the other shuls in Warsaw - some 35 of them  -  were razed by the Nazis. Why did they save this one?  Why is it still standing?”

He looked bewildered.

He spoke.  “Parlez vous francaise?”

God.  It was only decades ago that I studied French to the degree where I could ask, “Where is Jean-Pierre?”  I only wish I could remember something, anything. But no.

So we tried and tried again. Finally, he understood and using his fingers and making neighing sounds my companion indicated that the shul was a stable for the Nazi horses. The synagogue had no real value to them after they desecrated it so they turned into something useful.

Nothing else remained of this once magnificent Synagogue. It was stripped bare. Where the holy Torahs once rested in the regal splendor of the finest velvet and gold and silver ornaments, there now stood an empty cove. Shreds of prayer books littered the floor.

”I am Rabbi.”

He looked puzzled.  So I repeated, “I am a rabbi.”

“Ah.”

My thin companion looked brighter before leaning over and whispering to me, “My name is Christopher.  But,” he said after glancing over toward his teacher standing a few yards away, “My name is Israel.  Shhh.”

He was learning to become a Jew.  One of the last.

“Are either of your parents Jewish?”

“Well, yes … and no,” he answered.  “My parents were communists,” he practically whispered into my ear.

“I understand.”

I gave gazed at his face for a good long time. What words of encouragement or warning could I give this young man? He was on a journey to find himself. It was a long road ahead, perhaps it was best if he did not know how long.

”Good. Very good.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

I held Christopher a moment longer.  “Do you know what the word teshuvah means?  Yes?  That is why you are here.  You are coming home, to the place where you once stood.  Returning is teshuvah.

His eyes grew moist.  “Goodbye,” he said.

Among the vast numbers of dead of Poland there are a few lives still tentatively reaching out from the depth of destruction.

As the living, it is our obligation to revitalize and renew what we possess.  Judaism.