Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
In my column titled “To find meaning in death” I began to elaborate on a turbulent time in my life. It was the saddest of times and left me thinking that life had no meaning. I tried to describe the thoughts that ran through my mind as I endured the pain of losing someone who shared my life and my being. Those who have experienced such a nightmare, perhaps, explaining my feelings enabled them to understand that tragedy has a beginning and an end.
This chapter deals with the end which became a new beginning.
In the mystical writings we are taught that we are both male and female before birth and that at birth we split from this sexual combination and then spend the rest of our time here searching for that completion again through finding a mate that will eventually make us whole once more.
The sequel to my story confirms this in a very concrete way. I lost a love only to find love again, validating my belief in the fact that there is “life after death.”
Grieving takes us too many dark corners and each time we try to turn that corner and reach for the light we seem to fall backward until we believe that there are only rough edges that tear at our soul. We try to make sense of our feelings but always, for some reason, return to the emptiness that envelops us.
Our ancestors knew, well before the advent of therapy, that time is the essential healer in reversing our feelings of despondency. It is for this reason the process of “shiva” was created; the ability to reflect and remember and reminisce and even fantasize about what was. It gives us the ability to reconcile the past with the present. And then when the time is finished, the time of regret and remorse and guilt, we begin to resume our lives because that is the essence of completion. The end of this obscurity leads us back to everyday living. We never forget because memory takes hold and is the formula for immortality.
There is woman named Sandra. Her name means “protector of men” and that is exactly what she is. She found me at the most difficult time of my life, a time when life had no meaning. Her beauty and wisdom carried me through the darkest night into a glowing radiance. The brightness of her smile and the gentleness of her touch allowed me to reach that glowing spark of renewal.
The Talmud teaches us that God has endowed women with a special sense of wisdom that man lacks. I believe the lesson is rather simple: There is a compassion that generates goodness and tenderness that is found in women that ennobles us and gives us the ability to reach untold heights as human beings.
She came to me at, what was to me, life’s ebb. She had the ability to give of herself so that newness became my mantle. Sandra knew that erasing the past was not the path to survival. Rather building on the past was the ingredient for success. The past was there forever, the future was built on its history. This was done, and continues to this very day, with sweetness and patience. She has inner warmth that radiates worth.
When I met her my mind turned to poetry and I remembered the words of the poet John Clare. In his poem “First Love” he writes:
“I ne’er was struck before that hour with love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower and stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale. My legs refused to walk away, and when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.”
I could not believe that love had returned and took such hold as I began to rise from the ashes of my despondency.
How many people, I wonder, have the opportunity to gain a new life? How many people go to sleep at night thinking all is right with their world only to encounter calamity? How many people search all their lives for completion and finally occurrences that would have made a difference? These questions and more should enable us to learn from each and every episode in the chapters of our lives.
The Torah teaches us that love is as strong as death. This is true. When we lose someone we love there is an ache that travels through us. When we find someone to love, when we find a Sandra to love, we also ache but in a different way. It is the ache of excitement and anticipation. It is the ache of restoration, the restoration of the gifts given to us by God. It is the ache of remembering yesterday as it gives us the ability to continue the journey of vitality.
Now I continue my life fully aware of all that was and with the confidence that tomorrow is another day that I can spend with my memories and with Sandra. Sandra makes me feel this way every hour of every day and she surely taught me that there is “life after death.”
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Why
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
There is a classic Yiddish folk saying that goes: “You have chosen us from among all the nations. Why, O Lord? What did you have against us?”
I think about this phrase containing both sadness and humor rolled up into one expression that has haunted the Jewish People throughout the ages. There is no doubt that we, as a people, have endured numerous efforts to eradicate all memory of us from the human psyche.
We have suffered, not only at the hands of others, but also by self inflicting pain and anguish. The Talmud tells us that the Second Temple was destroyed because of “Seenus Hinum” – self hatred and inner conflicts. If we study the history of the Second Temple period we understand fully what the rabbis of the Talmud were telling us. It was a tragedy witnessing neighbor against neighbor, zealots against liberals, and apologists against nationalists. It was the ultimate destruction of a people and a tradition brought on by self indulgence and passions that transcended reason and logic.When the Temple walls tumbled they brought down with them the hopes and aspirations of a people who witnessed thousands of years of development and contributions that still permeate human society.
I fast forward to today; and by today I mean the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. We were there when, after two thousand years, a people’s longing for return was realized. This was accomplished after the most unimaginable sacrifices. History is replete with stories and depictions of a dark time in humanities development. There can never be enough said or written to fully describe the anguish and torment suffered by so many and inflicted by so few.
David Ben-Gurion once wrote: “Building a State means for us a return to the soil. We found hundreds of Arab villages. We didn’t take them away. We established hundreds of new Jewish villages on new soil. We didn’t merely buy the land, we re-created the land. In the swamps of Hedera hundreds of Jews died of malaria, and they refused to leave that place until it was made healthy. With our toil, our sweat, and with our love and devotion, we are remaking the soil to enable us to settle there, not at the expense of anybody else.”
In that short paragraph he summed up the dreams and aspirations of a people ignored and denigrated but who gave the world the understanding of hope and survival. In that short paragraph was embodied the realization that centuries of humiliation and dehumanization did not alter our determination to complete the work given to us by our forefathers and foremothers as they brought the world from darkness into light.
Theodore Herzl went even further in fewer words when he said: “If you will it, it is not a dream.” The fulfillment of centuries of crying each and every year at Passover: “Next year in Jerusalem,” was not only a clarion call for deliverance, but a willingness to continue the task assigned to us at Sinai: The fulfillment of the human effort at completion and connection, not only to God, but to each other.
Today we are witnessing a return to the days of “Seenus Hinum.” Some call these detractors “self hating Jews.” Others have more descriptive terms. We are observing our own people demonizing a State and its people as they consider the path of survival in a hostile environment. These same people disregard the daily threat to life and limb that is reported as though it were some innocuous experience. And even when we admit that mistakes are made, it is not enough. We must die, for that is the fate of this inglorious people. Mordecai M. Kaplan said it best: “Our emancipation will not be complete until we are free of the fear of being Jews.”
The question remains, why? Why is it necessary for us to turn the other cheek when, if we do, we will lose our face? Why is our hand extended in friendship to all who hate us only to have it ignored? Why does the world gather, on more than once occasion, to condemn this tiny land filled with so few people? Why, oh why, are there many of our own people who join in the chorus of defeatism and destruction?
There are too many “whys.” There are not enough answers. It seems that the “whys” have it. It seems that the ageless question uttered by many Holocaust survivors: “At Auschwitz, where was God?” is still echoed today. And the answer that is given: “Where was man?”
Perhaps that answer is too simple. Life is more complicated than that. Perhaps, though, that answer is sufficient for us to believe that what we must do and what must be done requires us to speak loudly when we see and hear our fellow Jews so misguided and so emancipated that they believe they are not Jews at all but rather “self hating Jews” which, in my opinion is the same as being anti-Semitic.
The Yiddish folk saying may be more prophetic than humorous. And perhaps we should add” What do our own have against us?
There is a classic Yiddish folk saying that goes: “You have chosen us from among all the nations. Why, O Lord? What did you have against us?”
I think about this phrase containing both sadness and humor rolled up into one expression that has haunted the Jewish People throughout the ages. There is no doubt that we, as a people, have endured numerous efforts to eradicate all memory of us from the human psyche.
We have suffered, not only at the hands of others, but also by self inflicting pain and anguish. The Talmud tells us that the Second Temple was destroyed because of “Seenus Hinum” – self hatred and inner conflicts. If we study the history of the Second Temple period we understand fully what the rabbis of the Talmud were telling us. It was a tragedy witnessing neighbor against neighbor, zealots against liberals, and apologists against nationalists. It was the ultimate destruction of a people and a tradition brought on by self indulgence and passions that transcended reason and logic.When the Temple walls tumbled they brought down with them the hopes and aspirations of a people who witnessed thousands of years of development and contributions that still permeate human society.
I fast forward to today; and by today I mean the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. We were there when, after two thousand years, a people’s longing for return was realized. This was accomplished after the most unimaginable sacrifices. History is replete with stories and depictions of a dark time in humanities development. There can never be enough said or written to fully describe the anguish and torment suffered by so many and inflicted by so few.
David Ben-Gurion once wrote: “Building a State means for us a return to the soil. We found hundreds of Arab villages. We didn’t take them away. We established hundreds of new Jewish villages on new soil. We didn’t merely buy the land, we re-created the land. In the swamps of Hedera hundreds of Jews died of malaria, and they refused to leave that place until it was made healthy. With our toil, our sweat, and with our love and devotion, we are remaking the soil to enable us to settle there, not at the expense of anybody else.”
In that short paragraph he summed up the dreams and aspirations of a people ignored and denigrated but who gave the world the understanding of hope and survival. In that short paragraph was embodied the realization that centuries of humiliation and dehumanization did not alter our determination to complete the work given to us by our forefathers and foremothers as they brought the world from darkness into light.
Theodore Herzl went even further in fewer words when he said: “If you will it, it is not a dream.” The fulfillment of centuries of crying each and every year at Passover: “Next year in Jerusalem,” was not only a clarion call for deliverance, but a willingness to continue the task assigned to us at Sinai: The fulfillment of the human effort at completion and connection, not only to God, but to each other.
Today we are witnessing a return to the days of “Seenus Hinum.” Some call these detractors “self hating Jews.” Others have more descriptive terms. We are observing our own people demonizing a State and its people as they consider the path of survival in a hostile environment. These same people disregard the daily threat to life and limb that is reported as though it were some innocuous experience. And even when we admit that mistakes are made, it is not enough. We must die, for that is the fate of this inglorious people. Mordecai M. Kaplan said it best: “Our emancipation will not be complete until we are free of the fear of being Jews.”
The question remains, why? Why is it necessary for us to turn the other cheek when, if we do, we will lose our face? Why is our hand extended in friendship to all who hate us only to have it ignored? Why does the world gather, on more than once occasion, to condemn this tiny land filled with so few people? Why, oh why, are there many of our own people who join in the chorus of defeatism and destruction?
There are too many “whys.” There are not enough answers. It seems that the “whys” have it. It seems that the ageless question uttered by many Holocaust survivors: “At Auschwitz, where was God?” is still echoed today. And the answer that is given: “Where was man?”
Perhaps that answer is too simple. Life is more complicated than that. Perhaps, though, that answer is sufficient for us to believe that what we must do and what must be done requires us to speak loudly when we see and hear our fellow Jews so misguided and so emancipated that they believe they are not Jews at all but rather “self hating Jews” which, in my opinion is the same as being anti-Semitic.
The Yiddish folk saying may be more prophetic than humorous. And perhaps we should add” What do our own have against us?
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Another Year
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
It seems that time escapes us no matter how we try to hold on to it. It is as though we blink and in that instant we travel to another time and place. Was it yesterday when we were young and full of life? Perhaps it was a moment ago when we were accomplishing things unreachable today. Regardless, here we are entering a New Year. Hopefully it will be a year filled with many achievements and fulfillments.
There are several New Years in the Jewish calendar because there are times and events that shape our lives that require celebration. In fact, each time we enter into a new period of joy we utter the words of the “Shehechaynu” prayer which reminds us of our good fortune in attaining another milestone in our c
Of course, we are all aware of Rosh Hashanah – the New Year that enhances our ability at reconciliation. And there is Passover – the New Year identifying our religious maturity. Perhaps there are those who remember Tu B’Shevat – the New Year dedicated to nature and ecology symbolized by our appreciation of trees. In modern times this is commemorated by planting trees in Israel through the efforts of the Jewish National Fund.
A New Year gives us the opportunity to not only cast off the past but look forward to the future as well. Our responsibility to the betterment of society can and should be part of that awareness. Volunteerism is a part of that determination essential to make a better place for all of us as we develop relationships and forge alliances in human relationships.
Some of us get involved in charitable efforts that enhance our ability to repair the tear in a world that is so fragile that one turn in any direction can lead to disastrous consequences. And there are some who combine their talents to forge a new link in the chain of Jewish survival by walking into the Synagogue and roll up their sleeves and dig right into Jewish life with a commitment of time and resources.
The people who devote their energies in Synagogue endeavors are, to me, the unsung heroes of Judaism’s connection to the past and the sanctity of moral living through the continuing link in the chain of Divine aspirations. To say that this task is awesome would be to understate the nature of leading a congregation in achieving its durability.
I am reminded about a quote attributed to the 11th century poet, Moses Ibn Ezra, who is credited with writing a great many of the Selichot prayers we utter each High Holiday season. The quote I am referring to, which aptly describes the frustrations of congregation leaders: “Pleasing everyone is an impossible aim, and escaping all criticism is an unattainable goal.” I am sure those who have chosen to serve know full well the truth of his wisdom.
There are those who will argue that the panacea for the continuation of Jewish thought and pronouncements is not the synagogue but rather adherence to traditions and laws and customs that have become so interwoven that we really can’t discern one from the other. I reject this notion because, to me, the synagogue represents all these things and more.
The synagogue was designed to bring together all forms of religious observance. It was created to deliver a place and time for study and worship that otherwise would not be part of our daily expressions. How many set aside a certain time for prayer or a certain time for learning? Not too many. We are busy with all sorts of issues that require time and money for everyday living. Perhaps there are occasions that draw our attention heavenward, but they are nowhere near the time needed for gratitude and sorrow.
Each denomination in Judaism claims adherents but in reality the actual involvement in a particular synagogue, in most cases, is not related to our religious fervor. We attend a particular synagogue because of past connections or familiarity or location. There are those who profess to follow a certain religious doctrine and are motivated to do so because of strong conviction but they are not the majority but rather a minority.
Judaism without the centrality of the synagogue will not survive. Say what you will about organized religion, its purpose is undeniable and its function undisputed: To maintain that tie that will ensure religious survival. Supporting the synagogue is tantamount to observing all the laws because it leads you to them. The Temple in Jerusalem was ordained because it was the focal point of all things Holy and all things necessary for life. To hold the value of our synagogues in any less stature is to demean the essence of our heritage and the fountain of commitment in disrepute.
So here we are – a New Year not only representing the march of time but also marking the belief in creation through the care and concern of nature. And here we are welcoming and encouraging involvement in our religious institutions so that the task necessary for Jewish association will be solidified for the next generation and beyond.
Let us remember that each of us brings to the table of Jewish delights different backgrounds and thoughts and ideals. Some come from traditional backgrounds, some from liberal leanings and some from no involvement at all. However, we all join together to create an atmosphere of caring and commitment to Jewish living. And just as we are different so are our understandings of faith. This is the strength of which we are – not the weakness.
Perhaps Erich Fromm said it best: “The danger in the past was that men became slaves. The danger of the future is that men may become robots.” Diversity allows us the opportunity to develop and grow, and what better place than in the synagogue in the New Year. This certainly is cause to repeat the words of the “Shehechayanu” prayer and understand it.
It seems that time escapes us no matter how we try to hold on to it. It is as though we blink and in that instant we travel to another time and place. Was it yesterday when we were young and full of life? Perhaps it was a moment ago when we were accomplishing things unreachable today. Regardless, here we are entering a New Year. Hopefully it will be a year filled with many achievements and fulfillments.
There are several New Years in the Jewish calendar because there are times and events that shape our lives that require celebration. In fact, each time we enter into a new period of joy we utter the words of the “Shehechaynu” prayer which reminds us of our good fortune in attaining another milestone in our c
Of course, we are all aware of Rosh Hashanah – the New Year that enhances our ability at reconciliation. And there is Passover – the New Year identifying our religious maturity. Perhaps there are those who remember Tu B’Shevat – the New Year dedicated to nature and ecology symbolized by our appreciation of trees. In modern times this is commemorated by planting trees in Israel through the efforts of the Jewish National Fund.
A New Year gives us the opportunity to not only cast off the past but look forward to the future as well. Our responsibility to the betterment of society can and should be part of that awareness. Volunteerism is a part of that determination essential to make a better place for all of us as we develop relationships and forge alliances in human relationships.
Some of us get involved in charitable efforts that enhance our ability to repair the tear in a world that is so fragile that one turn in any direction can lead to disastrous consequences. And there are some who combine their talents to forge a new link in the chain of Jewish survival by walking into the Synagogue and roll up their sleeves and dig right into Jewish life with a commitment of time and resources.
The people who devote their energies in Synagogue endeavors are, to me, the unsung heroes of Judaism’s connection to the past and the sanctity of moral living through the continuing link in the chain of Divine aspirations. To say that this task is awesome would be to understate the nature of leading a congregation in achieving its durability.
I am reminded about a quote attributed to the 11th century poet, Moses Ibn Ezra, who is credited with writing a great many of the Selichot prayers we utter each High Holiday season. The quote I am referring to, which aptly describes the frustrations of congregation leaders: “Pleasing everyone is an impossible aim, and escaping all criticism is an unattainable goal.” I am sure those who have chosen to serve know full well the truth of his wisdom.
There are those who will argue that the panacea for the continuation of Jewish thought and pronouncements is not the synagogue but rather adherence to traditions and laws and customs that have become so interwoven that we really can’t discern one from the other. I reject this notion because, to me, the synagogue represents all these things and more.
The synagogue was designed to bring together all forms of religious observance. It was created to deliver a place and time for study and worship that otherwise would not be part of our daily expressions. How many set aside a certain time for prayer or a certain time for learning? Not too many. We are busy with all sorts of issues that require time and money for everyday living. Perhaps there are occasions that draw our attention heavenward, but they are nowhere near the time needed for gratitude and sorrow.
Each denomination in Judaism claims adherents but in reality the actual involvement in a particular synagogue, in most cases, is not related to our religious fervor. We attend a particular synagogue because of past connections or familiarity or location. There are those who profess to follow a certain religious doctrine and are motivated to do so because of strong conviction but they are not the majority but rather a minority.
Judaism without the centrality of the synagogue will not survive. Say what you will about organized religion, its purpose is undeniable and its function undisputed: To maintain that tie that will ensure religious survival. Supporting the synagogue is tantamount to observing all the laws because it leads you to them. The Temple in Jerusalem was ordained because it was the focal point of all things Holy and all things necessary for life. To hold the value of our synagogues in any less stature is to demean the essence of our heritage and the fountain of commitment in disrepute.
So here we are – a New Year not only representing the march of time but also marking the belief in creation through the care and concern of nature. And here we are welcoming and encouraging involvement in our religious institutions so that the task necessary for Jewish association will be solidified for the next generation and beyond.
Let us remember that each of us brings to the table of Jewish delights different backgrounds and thoughts and ideals. Some come from traditional backgrounds, some from liberal leanings and some from no involvement at all. However, we all join together to create an atmosphere of caring and commitment to Jewish living. And just as we are different so are our understandings of faith. This is the strength of which we are – not the weakness.
Perhaps Erich Fromm said it best: “The danger in the past was that men became slaves. The danger of the future is that men may become robots.” Diversity allows us the opportunity to develop and grow, and what better place than in the synagogue in the New Year. This certainly is cause to repeat the words of the “Shehechayanu” prayer and understand it.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)