Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
Maimonides wrote: “If the mind of a person’s mother or father becomes diminished or injured, the child should do whatever he can to respond to the demands of the affected parent until God exercises His mercy.
Nevertheless, if the parent’s situation grows even more difficult and the child can no longer bear the burden, the child may leave and assign others to give his parents the concern and rightful proper care.”
Numerous times I witness the guilt that affects all who see their parents fade as their cycle of life nears its end. Have they done enough; have they said enough to really matter. The pain of seeing a parent enter the darkness of diminished ability is more than some can bear. We feel powerless.
Many things run through our minds as we stand by waiting for the inevitable. It has been said that at the time of death a person’s whole life flashes before him. I believe that this is also true for those who watch a parent reach the end of the journey that encompassed love and caring and sharing and even some disappointments.
Our minds start to wander and begin reflecting on childhood dreams and grown-up anticipations. We remember our first bicycle and how Dad taught us how to ride. We recall the first date, the first prom, the first of many things that were part of our growing up. We fondly recollect Mom sitting with us reading to us and helping us take that first step into adulthood.
And then we look down at this frail person whose white hair reminds us of ageless encounters. The skin shows the wear and tear of the times spent worrying about our success. The smile is now strained because the years seemed to have taken their toll and smiling is now a chore more than a joy.
What can we do? What should we do? We now have families who need our attention. We want to reach out and be there for the one’s who gave us life and are now reaching the ebb. Our minds wander and the torment is great because parents deserve all we can do because of all they did. And honoring our parents, the Talmud teaches, is as though God is in our midst and we are honoring Him.
Then I am reminded of what Maimonides wrote centuries ago that it is our responsibility to give dignity at the end but we are also obligated to ensure that the care and concern may be shared with others so that proper vigilance will relieve our worry.
I visit patients and families in situations that require the utmost tenderness. Most often the call I receive involves hospice visits. It is not enough to say that it is God’s hands. It is not enough to offer consolation. Most often I am asked why – why did this happen to my parent? And I encourage everyone to concentrate on the real question – How? How can we come together to relieve the burden, to lighten the load and to ease the pain? Life is a journey and that journey includes great memories but also sad occasions. We start on that journey with birth and we witness all the happenings of life until the time comes for the journey to end. Our responsibility is to eliminate the guilt and focus on the beauty of life and all its rewards and defeats.
Sometimes to accomplish this we must share the responsibility with others because we no longer have the ability to cope and bear that burden alone. God gave us the capacity to reach out and touch a hand or wipe a tear and offer words of endearment. God created us to be connected to one another and that encompasses the bad times as well as the good.
So, no regrets, no guilt, just the understanding that we did the best we could and we were not ashamed or embarrassed to accept a helping hand. And when the end finally arrives we will mourn but we will have memories and those memories will guarantee eternal life. For remembrance is the secret ingredient of immortality.
We can no longer caress or embrace because now it is God’s turn as He brings them to his bosom and takes charge of their journey through eternity.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
A Moment In Time
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
Many of us have seen movies or heard stories or read books about the Holocaust. And most of us received some message or meaning from the experience. But through all the telling there is one theme that is the common denominator: Survival. It contributes to the baseness in all of us. It is a powerful and natural impulse. We kill because of it and we scratch survival out of any hopeful sign. It brings out the worst in us as well as the best in us.
All Holocaust depictions have that unmistakable message. Whether it be Schindler’s list or Sophie’s Choice, or more recent films like The Reader or the newest one, Defiance, we see man’s inhumanity to man and we smell the stench of hatred and despair.
So much has been written about the Holocaust. And yet, truth be told, not enough can be written or said or pictured to allow us to fully comprehend the enormity of the dehumanization of people, the degradation of the human spirit.
And we all bear witness to the fact that truth cannot be substituted by madness. Only complacency can hide the truth from us. Even those among us today, who declare that the Holocaust is a figment of someone’s imagination, will one day understand that truth may be manipulated but only because of the willingness of the family of man. Truth is the one weave in the fabric of humanity that is eternal as is the message we bring to keep the memory alive.
We are left to not only be witnesses but also to try to make sense of it all. The survivors of this unimaginable dehumanization of spirit and flesh are the true observers of the two faces of society; the dark side, which never sees light and the light side which hides from the darkness.
We are also left to remember because that is a holy mission. To remember is part of the understanding of the tragic episode it represents. There is no one answer as there is no one explanation that would allow us to have closure.
All too often we hear, “Haven’t we seen enough?” “Haven’t we cried enough?” “Haven’t we repented enough for not lifting our voices and shouting to the world that we are suffering and if we suffer all of humanity suffers with us?” “How many times are we going to be shown the horrors?”
Well, the chapter will never be closed for that would certainly desecrate the memory of those who have no one to say prayers or light candles of tell tales of their lives. Scribbled on a piece of paper one of the lost souls wrote: “I should like someone to remember that there once lived a person named David Berger.” We must never let this chapter end because of all the David Berger’s who are nameless and faceless. We will never finish the story because, in truth, it has no ending. The struggles of life and the tortures of memory will never complete the tragic retelling of the souls that are weeping because they are afraid we will forget them.
The ranks of those who suffered and those who were liberators are thinning. Soon only memory will be the torch that is carried to the next generation. And we cannot allow this chapter to be minimalized or trivialized because then it just becomes a moment in time.
The smoke is still shifting with the wind and it carries the vestige of a generation who were consumed by hate and indifference. We must remember their sacrifice and just as we have survived so to their memories shall remain with us forever. And each time we watch a film, or tell a story of someone we never knew who was lost, or try to imagine the million children who looked at us in disbelief – each time we remember we resurrect a soul, which symbolizes the re-birth of values and benevolence and blessing.
So remember – remember the depths to which we may sink – for survival. For after all – we cry because so many were lost and we stammer to find the words of understanding. We pledge that this will never be just a moment in time.
Now the lifeless skulls add up to millions.
The stars are going out around you.
The memory of you is dimming; your life will soon be over.
Jewish seed and flowers are embers.
The dew cries in the dead grass.
The Jewish dream and reality are ravished,
They die together.
Your witnesses are sleeping:
Infants, women, young men, old.
All have fallen into a dead and everlasting peace.
(Union Prayer Book-The Days of Awe)
Many of us have seen movies or heard stories or read books about the Holocaust. And most of us received some message or meaning from the experience. But through all the telling there is one theme that is the common denominator: Survival. It contributes to the baseness in all of us. It is a powerful and natural impulse. We kill because of it and we scratch survival out of any hopeful sign. It brings out the worst in us as well as the best in us.
All Holocaust depictions have that unmistakable message. Whether it be Schindler’s list or Sophie’s Choice, or more recent films like The Reader or the newest one, Defiance, we see man’s inhumanity to man and we smell the stench of hatred and despair.
So much has been written about the Holocaust. And yet, truth be told, not enough can be written or said or pictured to allow us to fully comprehend the enormity of the dehumanization of people, the degradation of the human spirit.
And we all bear witness to the fact that truth cannot be substituted by madness. Only complacency can hide the truth from us. Even those among us today, who declare that the Holocaust is a figment of someone’s imagination, will one day understand that truth may be manipulated but only because of the willingness of the family of man. Truth is the one weave in the fabric of humanity that is eternal as is the message we bring to keep the memory alive.
We are left to not only be witnesses but also to try to make sense of it all. The survivors of this unimaginable dehumanization of spirit and flesh are the true observers of the two faces of society; the dark side, which never sees light and the light side which hides from the darkness.
We are also left to remember because that is a holy mission. To remember is part of the understanding of the tragic episode it represents. There is no one answer as there is no one explanation that would allow us to have closure.
All too often we hear, “Haven’t we seen enough?” “Haven’t we cried enough?” “Haven’t we repented enough for not lifting our voices and shouting to the world that we are suffering and if we suffer all of humanity suffers with us?” “How many times are we going to be shown the horrors?”
Well, the chapter will never be closed for that would certainly desecrate the memory of those who have no one to say prayers or light candles of tell tales of their lives. Scribbled on a piece of paper one of the lost souls wrote: “I should like someone to remember that there once lived a person named David Berger.” We must never let this chapter end because of all the David Berger’s who are nameless and faceless. We will never finish the story because, in truth, it has no ending. The struggles of life and the tortures of memory will never complete the tragic retelling of the souls that are weeping because they are afraid we will forget them.
The ranks of those who suffered and those who were liberators are thinning. Soon only memory will be the torch that is carried to the next generation. And we cannot allow this chapter to be minimalized or trivialized because then it just becomes a moment in time.
The smoke is still shifting with the wind and it carries the vestige of a generation who were consumed by hate and indifference. We must remember their sacrifice and just as we have survived so to their memories shall remain with us forever. And each time we watch a film, or tell a story of someone we never knew who was lost, or try to imagine the million children who looked at us in disbelief – each time we remember we resurrect a soul, which symbolizes the re-birth of values and benevolence and blessing.
So remember – remember the depths to which we may sink – for survival. For after all – we cry because so many were lost and we stammer to find the words of understanding. We pledge that this will never be just a moment in time.
Now the lifeless skulls add up to millions.
The stars are going out around you.
The memory of you is dimming; your life will soon be over.
Jewish seed and flowers are embers.
The dew cries in the dead grass.
The Jewish dream and reality are ravished,
They die together.
Your witnesses are sleeping:
Infants, women, young men, old.
All have fallen into a dead and everlasting peace.
(Union Prayer Book-The Days of Awe)
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Seven Principles of Faith
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
I read a funny story: A lifelong backslider suddenly “saw the light” and approached the local rabbi.
“Rabbi, from now on I will attend synagogue services regularly,” he promised.
“I’m glad to hear that,” smiled the wise old rabbi, “but remember – going to synagogue doesn’t make you a Jew any more than going to a poultry farm makes you a chicken!”
I thought of this joke when I read a letter to the editor in Moment magazine, March/April, 2009 issue. The writer was responding to an article written by Eric Alterman, “What do non-Orthodox Jews believe?” (“The Secular Spirit of Judaism,” January/February 2009)
She proceeds to illustrate her “Principles of Faith” accordingly:
1. Kindness and courtesy are more important than kashruth.
2. Caring for human needs is more important than being frum.
3. Being part a part of a Jewish community and attending services Friday night and Torah study on Saturday are more important than not traveling on the Sabbath.
4. Wearing a sheitel does not make you pious and using Tefillin does not keep you honorable.
5. Mikvot, like Christian Baptism, cannot alone bring spiritual cleanliness.
6. Watch what you say rather than what you eat.
7. Dress with normal modesty rather than with elaborate cultural elements.
In conclusion, she writes, “In short, I choose to be a Jew and believe my creator will know my heart from my deeds rather than from my diet or dress.”
I must confess that part of me wants to applaud this woman for her ability to clarify in her mind the essence of connectivity and completeness in being a person of faith. And there is a part of me that wants to suggest that while some of these trappings are not in themselves the answer to the true understanding of life they are designed to help us create a life of faith.
Trappings were designed to remind us of our obligation to accomplish the ultimate in human relationships. Some of these traditions and customs were put in place to assist us in completing our partnership with the creator. Many of the obligations outlined in the Torah and explained in the Midrash and Talmud were established to enable us to concentrate on our heritage and fulfillment as Jews.
However, sometimes we get trapped by the “trappings” to the extent that they become the end all to our religious experience. We, at times, are more concerned with outward appearance than inward feelings of compassion. And for some the outward appearance is an identifying moment and not a means to establish true brotherhood and fellowship.
The Ba’al Shem Tov, the founder of the Hassidic movement, once wrote that the Talmud informs us that Moses was given the key to forty-nine doors out of fifty. And, of course, the question is asked that since we human beings always want to know more and more, how was it possible for Moses to pass through the fiftieth door?
He continues his story indicating that we wonder what happened when Moses came to fiftieth door and found it locked to the mind of man. And we learn that Moses replaced understanding with faith and began his meditation over again.
The lesson the Ba’al Shem Tov taught was that every one of us should train our minds. We should learn and reflect to the best of our capacity, but when we reach a point where we are unable to make sense of life, we should supplant faith for understanding and reflect again on what we do know.
I can think of no better way to comprehend the meaning of life, our obligations to one another and our responsibility to faith. Perhaps that is what this woman was trying to impart.
Faith has many doors. It is up to us to approach these doors with the hope that behind them are answers we may not understand but we need to learn to be able to perceive the meaning of faith.. Perhaps what she was saying is that to get to the other side of the door does not require a code of dress or a closed mind or rituals that have no significance if they are not accompanied by true intent.
Even our Prophets explained that on Yom Kippur all the fasting in the world will not mean anything if it is not connected to honesty of purpose. God doesn’t need our prayers or our rituals unless it is combined with concern for the dignity of the human spirit and the response to those in need of Tikun Olam, the repair in the tear of human suffering.
Seven principles of faith. They do not supplant anything. They help us realize who we are and our purpose as part of creation.
I read a funny story: A lifelong backslider suddenly “saw the light” and approached the local rabbi.
“Rabbi, from now on I will attend synagogue services regularly,” he promised.
“I’m glad to hear that,” smiled the wise old rabbi, “but remember – going to synagogue doesn’t make you a Jew any more than going to a poultry farm makes you a chicken!”
I thought of this joke when I read a letter to the editor in Moment magazine, March/April, 2009 issue. The writer was responding to an article written by Eric Alterman, “What do non-Orthodox Jews believe?” (“The Secular Spirit of Judaism,” January/February 2009)
She proceeds to illustrate her “Principles of Faith” accordingly:
1. Kindness and courtesy are more important than kashruth.
2. Caring for human needs is more important than being frum.
3. Being part a part of a Jewish community and attending services Friday night and Torah study on Saturday are more important than not traveling on the Sabbath.
4. Wearing a sheitel does not make you pious and using Tefillin does not keep you honorable.
5. Mikvot, like Christian Baptism, cannot alone bring spiritual cleanliness.
6. Watch what you say rather than what you eat.
7. Dress with normal modesty rather than with elaborate cultural elements.
In conclusion, she writes, “In short, I choose to be a Jew and believe my creator will know my heart from my deeds rather than from my diet or dress.”
I must confess that part of me wants to applaud this woman for her ability to clarify in her mind the essence of connectivity and completeness in being a person of faith. And there is a part of me that wants to suggest that while some of these trappings are not in themselves the answer to the true understanding of life they are designed to help us create a life of faith.
Trappings were designed to remind us of our obligation to accomplish the ultimate in human relationships. Some of these traditions and customs were put in place to assist us in completing our partnership with the creator. Many of the obligations outlined in the Torah and explained in the Midrash and Talmud were established to enable us to concentrate on our heritage and fulfillment as Jews.
However, sometimes we get trapped by the “trappings” to the extent that they become the end all to our religious experience. We, at times, are more concerned with outward appearance than inward feelings of compassion. And for some the outward appearance is an identifying moment and not a means to establish true brotherhood and fellowship.
The Ba’al Shem Tov, the founder of the Hassidic movement, once wrote that the Talmud informs us that Moses was given the key to forty-nine doors out of fifty. And, of course, the question is asked that since we human beings always want to know more and more, how was it possible for Moses to pass through the fiftieth door?
He continues his story indicating that we wonder what happened when Moses came to fiftieth door and found it locked to the mind of man. And we learn that Moses replaced understanding with faith and began his meditation over again.
The lesson the Ba’al Shem Tov taught was that every one of us should train our minds. We should learn and reflect to the best of our capacity, but when we reach a point where we are unable to make sense of life, we should supplant faith for understanding and reflect again on what we do know.
I can think of no better way to comprehend the meaning of life, our obligations to one another and our responsibility to faith. Perhaps that is what this woman was trying to impart.
Faith has many doors. It is up to us to approach these doors with the hope that behind them are answers we may not understand but we need to learn to be able to perceive the meaning of faith.. Perhaps what she was saying is that to get to the other side of the door does not require a code of dress or a closed mind or rituals that have no significance if they are not accompanied by true intent.
Even our Prophets explained that on Yom Kippur all the fasting in the world will not mean anything if it is not connected to honesty of purpose. God doesn’t need our prayers or our rituals unless it is combined with concern for the dignity of the human spirit and the response to those in need of Tikun Olam, the repair in the tear of human suffering.
Seven principles of faith. They do not supplant anything. They help us realize who we are and our purpose as part of creation.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)