One of my teachers in London used to tell the story of a man who jumped into the Mersey River in order to drown himself. As he jumped into the waters he shouted, “Don’t try to save me!”
A second man came along, plopped into the river screaming, “Nobody try to save me!”
Along came a third man and stood by the water as bystanders watched the unfolding scene. They yelled at him, “Don’t do it!”
He turned to them and replied, “I am not. I just want to know where they work.”
We all attempt to avoid pain; some by jumping into dark waters and others by watching and learning from their experience. Yet pain is a great teacher, if we choose to view it that way. It imparts lessons that we would otherwise never learn because we get stuck in the old ways we are used to doing things.
Pesach is one of those attempts at learning from past pain. We experienced slavery and replay that event each year on the anniversary of our liberation. Yes, we observe the festival to appreciate God’s saving power and His endless patience. Yes, we go through the rituals yearly as our ancestors did for centuries, millennia, in order to spiritually connect with them. And, yes, we observe the holy days as a reminder that our task is to bring justice to the world, especially to the needy and persecuted.
But Pesach is also about learning the lessons that only pain can teach. We may choose to avoid those lessons but sooner or later they will catch up with us. We can run and hide but not forever, from ourselves, or God. That is why we read Jonah’s story each year on Yom Kippur; in order to be reminded that it is time to stop running from ourselves.
We have been through a long dark year of suffering. The separation, fear of an invisible enemy, the ever-changing rules of distancing, masking and protective measures have left us drained. We are nearing the edge of the long tunnel and light is beginning to appear. The question that Pesach asks is the same one we ought to be asking ourselves now. What have we learned from this pandemic? How have we changed? Have the conflicts we have witnessed in the world hardened our hearts, like Pharaoh’s when confronted by a threat? Ask yourself: Have you lost friends, become bitter toward people unlike yourself, paranoid that unknown powerful actors are threatening your existence or controlling your life? Or has the danger made us more mindful of the need for love, forgiveness and understanding?
We are all changed because of the pandemic. The most important question is how we have changed. Are we better, more compassionate people?
Ever evolving, we readjust our understanding of the world and ourselves all the time. Thank God for the corona virus. I am not dismissing or minimizing the pain and deaths so many people throughout the world have endured. Their pain was real and for many will never entirely disappear. There are so many broken hearts among us. Still, I write thank God for what was. Why? This painful year has given us an opportunity to rethink and realign our beliefs and practices. It has pushed us to the limits of what we thought we could not endure and have emerged on the other side of this with a greater sense of what is possible.
Robert Fulgham wrote, “…no matter how old you are – when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together.” I see the little children in the school in a long line holding hands daily and it brightens my heart. A long period of separation is coming to an end and we can now appreciate the simple joys of life in being together again.
I pray that we will take time to pause and reflect on what we have, or could have, learned. God inheres in every moment, in what we perceive as joyful and painful. What is the take-away lesson we bring with us into our new future?
“Tears may linger for a night;
joy comes with the dawn.” -Psalm 30
It is dawn with all its portent for new beginnings.
