Bikkur Holim

 It is a mitzvah to visit the sick.  What that means in legalistic terms is that we must do this command from Above: God ordained it.   The problem is frequency.  The Torah does not reveal its hand when it gives the mitzvah.  How often must we visit the sick?  Every day?  Every month?  One a year?  Do we go when called?  Or do we seek out the ill?

Also, who are the sick?  There are many varied kinds of illnesses.  Is mental illness included?  What about someone suffering from addiction…is this considered sick?  What about a woman in childbirth or a person going through a divorce – do these count as illness?  If so, we may want to include job loss and infirmity like old age and change of life.  There are days – you know the kind – when the car gets flat, the water heater breaks, we get a pink slip….

Who could forget the myriad issues that children bring?  Each day brings fresh problems to solve, some worse than others.   Parents provide their own obstacles to the ever-expanding heap of things that could be called sick.   

If all these life circumstances could be labeled as sick we are all frequent visitors to that realm.   We may be sick for months or several times a day.  

“It is taught: On visiting the sick there is no fixed amount.”   ~ Nedarim 29b

Perhaps the reason why the Sages do not set the amount of time we need to address the ill is because the need is ongoing and universal.  Make the call you have been putting off, send the letter that you have been thinking about, go spend time with someone who needs you.

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.

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.