Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
It was approximately twenty-five hundred years ago that the Prophets of Israel roamed the countryside preaching about the goodness of humanity and how it could be found in each of us. In fact they emphasized that the most enduring force known to man was the power of our ability to conquer the wrong doing we witness every day.
There are many ways we can accomplish what was suggested so long ago. For example: Supporting institutions that give others the ability to survive and even carry themselves with dignity. Every day we witness the poverty and misery of those less fortunate. And there are those among us who were more independent but somehow became victims of the terrible nightmare we have been exposed to for these many years.
It is not enough to acknowledge the problems. We are obligated, as partners with God, to ensure that the tear in our society is repaired to the best of our ability. Each tear in the fabric of our existence should bring us closer to understanding our place in the journey we are embarked upon. Age should not be a deterrent to reaching out to lend a helping hand. Rather it should encourage us to do more because we have been there and have seen what nothingness brings.
Perhaps, given what has transpired this past year, we can reach for the unreachable with deeds. We are nothing without purpose and only when we lift a person who has fallen, can we with pride, declare who we are and truly comprehend the connection of Heaven and Earth.
This time of the year enables us to recollect as well as plan for tomorrow. There is the custom of New Year’s resolutions – a wish list of things yet to be accomplished and with good intentions attached. But it shouldn’t end there. The act of making a wish should be connected to the action necessary to see them completed. Some will falter and some will see their dreams come true. There is no shame in failing but rather in not making an honest attempt. That is the beauty of trying.
Our religious New Year encompasses these thoughts but also includes a desire to complete the journey with God as a partner. The secular New Year enables us to recall the past with the intention of trying harder through our own efforts of will power and determination. When you think about it they are similar.
Yes, the Prophets were right when they declared that goodness can be found in each of us. And it takes a little push called New Year to bring out the best in each of us. This to me is the true meaning of a New Year.
My prayer is that we will all find 2012 a year that will give us the ability to celebrate those things that give us comfort and joy; that each of us will join in creating an even better life filled with wishes and dreams, contentment and good health; that God will look favorably upon us and bless us with long life and most of all, quality of life.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
The Meaning of Tradition
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
Usually at this time of the year we start asking questions because of all the commotion regarding Christmas. It is a wonderful time of the year and, a frightening time as well. There are doubts about who we are and how we fit into the rush and excitement that we witness taking place with our Christian neighbors. I, for one, am happy for them because of the message of the season, not the trappings and gift giving.
The meaning is quite simple which makes it even more appealing. Peace on Earth, good will toward men – men, of course, used in the generic sense. How could anyone argue with such a concept? After all it has its roots in Judaism’s understanding of relationships and attachments. It emanates from the Jewish gift to humanity of the concept of a Messianic wish and hope – a time when all will be well with the world and the lion will finally lie down with the lamb indicating the removal of hate and fright.
And yet, while we delivered this message as described in the Prophets, we still are a skeptical people reacting more to practical feelings rather than spiritual ones. Our Christian brothers and sisters have taken the belief to include a physical arrival while we look to a time when order will be created out of chaos. Both traditions are rooted in the belief and hope that humanity is capable of good and noble things
We look at this tradition in a more humorous way giving us the opportunity to rationalize the idea so that we can digest it. For example the story is told about a small Russian shtetl (community) where the city council decides to pay a poor Jew a ruble a week to sit at the town’s entrance and be the first to greet the Messiah when he arrives. The man’s brother comes to see him, and is puzzled why he took such a low paying job. “It’s true,” the poor man responds, “the pay is low. But it’s a steady job.”
We wait and yet we wonder and all too often we see misery and homelessness and poverty and wonder about our ever witnessing a time of tranquility and peace. And, yes, we laugh because it gives us the ability to hope without feeling so frustrated.
A Jew comes home from Synagogue and tells his wife: “They say the Messiah is coming any day, and will take us all to Israel.” The wife becomes hysterical. “Oh no! It would be terrible. It took years till we could finally move into this neighborhood, and buy the house we wanted. Now we’ve spent a fortune fixing it up. I don’t want the Messiah to take us away.” “Okay, okay, don’t worry,” the husband says. “We survived Pharaoh; we survived all types of discrimination. With God’s help, we’ll survive the Messiah too!”
Woody Allen reacted to the prophesy about the lion and the lamb explaining that a man was visiting a zoo and is taken to the lion’s cage. He witnesses there the literal fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophesy – a lion and calf in a cage together. Amazed he calls over an attendant. : How long have you had a lion and calf in a cage together?” “Over a year already.” “How do you do it?” “It’s easy. Every morning we put in a new calf.”
So here we are at this time, in this place, and the same thoughts run through our mind about a Messiah and the message it is intended to deliver. But then I look around and see people rushing to help people. I see people, some tired, some ill, still reaching out to help others who need the help more than they. I see volunteers serving food to those who are hungry or bringing groceries and medicines to the housebound. I see people raising funds for the needy among us. I see others collecting food for those less fortunate. I see all of this each and every day and I realize that the Messiah is among us – in each of us.
This is not a dream or a wish – but in the person of each of us who join together to reconnect to an idea, a feeling, and a moment of sacredness.
Those who believe in a physical Messiah can witness all the Messiahs at work. Those who believe in a Messianic era – well each generation brings the Messianic time a bit closer through the works of their hands. This is how God intended us to believe in the future by living in the present.
To our Christian friends – we wish them a very Merry Christmas together with the hope that their dreams and wishes will receive fulfillment and that the message of this season will give them renewed faith in each other and in God.
To all who celebrate Hanukkah – my wish is that the lights of the Menorah will continue to burn in each of us as we go from strength to strength in achieving the meaning of the Messianic promise and expectation of goodness and mercy, of kindness and redemption. This is what the Maccabees, some 2200 years ago in the midst of turmoil and despair taught us by taking destiny into their own hands thus giving us the opportunity to get closer to God through our own efforts of determination and fortitude.
May God bless all of us, Jews, Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Baha’is and all who seek to find God through their own commitment of love and caring. And may He find favor with us as we begin a new season of continuity.
Usually at this time of the year we start asking questions because of all the commotion regarding Christmas. It is a wonderful time of the year and, a frightening time as well. There are doubts about who we are and how we fit into the rush and excitement that we witness taking place with our Christian neighbors. I, for one, am happy for them because of the message of the season, not the trappings and gift giving.
The meaning is quite simple which makes it even more appealing. Peace on Earth, good will toward men – men, of course, used in the generic sense. How could anyone argue with such a concept? After all it has its roots in Judaism’s understanding of relationships and attachments. It emanates from the Jewish gift to humanity of the concept of a Messianic wish and hope – a time when all will be well with the world and the lion will finally lie down with the lamb indicating the removal of hate and fright.
And yet, while we delivered this message as described in the Prophets, we still are a skeptical people reacting more to practical feelings rather than spiritual ones. Our Christian brothers and sisters have taken the belief to include a physical arrival while we look to a time when order will be created out of chaos. Both traditions are rooted in the belief and hope that humanity is capable of good and noble things
We look at this tradition in a more humorous way giving us the opportunity to rationalize the idea so that we can digest it. For example the story is told about a small Russian shtetl (community) where the city council decides to pay a poor Jew a ruble a week to sit at the town’s entrance and be the first to greet the Messiah when he arrives. The man’s brother comes to see him, and is puzzled why he took such a low paying job. “It’s true,” the poor man responds, “the pay is low. But it’s a steady job.”
We wait and yet we wonder and all too often we see misery and homelessness and poverty and wonder about our ever witnessing a time of tranquility and peace. And, yes, we laugh because it gives us the ability to hope without feeling so frustrated.
A Jew comes home from Synagogue and tells his wife: “They say the Messiah is coming any day, and will take us all to Israel.” The wife becomes hysterical. “Oh no! It would be terrible. It took years till we could finally move into this neighborhood, and buy the house we wanted. Now we’ve spent a fortune fixing it up. I don’t want the Messiah to take us away.” “Okay, okay, don’t worry,” the husband says. “We survived Pharaoh; we survived all types of discrimination. With God’s help, we’ll survive the Messiah too!”
Woody Allen reacted to the prophesy about the lion and the lamb explaining that a man was visiting a zoo and is taken to the lion’s cage. He witnesses there the literal fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophesy – a lion and calf in a cage together. Amazed he calls over an attendant. : How long have you had a lion and calf in a cage together?” “Over a year already.” “How do you do it?” “It’s easy. Every morning we put in a new calf.”
So here we are at this time, in this place, and the same thoughts run through our mind about a Messiah and the message it is intended to deliver. But then I look around and see people rushing to help people. I see people, some tired, some ill, still reaching out to help others who need the help more than they. I see volunteers serving food to those who are hungry or bringing groceries and medicines to the housebound. I see people raising funds for the needy among us. I see others collecting food for those less fortunate. I see all of this each and every day and I realize that the Messiah is among us – in each of us.
This is not a dream or a wish – but in the person of each of us who join together to reconnect to an idea, a feeling, and a moment of sacredness.
Those who believe in a physical Messiah can witness all the Messiahs at work. Those who believe in a Messianic era – well each generation brings the Messianic time a bit closer through the works of their hands. This is how God intended us to believe in the future by living in the present.
To our Christian friends – we wish them a very Merry Christmas together with the hope that their dreams and wishes will receive fulfillment and that the message of this season will give them renewed faith in each other and in God.
To all who celebrate Hanukkah – my wish is that the lights of the Menorah will continue to burn in each of us as we go from strength to strength in achieving the meaning of the Messianic promise and expectation of goodness and mercy, of kindness and redemption. This is what the Maccabees, some 2200 years ago in the midst of turmoil and despair taught us by taking destiny into their own hands thus giving us the opportunity to get closer to God through our own efforts of determination and fortitude.
May God bless all of us, Jews, Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Baha’is and all who seek to find God through their own commitment of love and caring. And may He find favor with us as we begin a new season of continuity.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Don't let the lights go out
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
Hanukkah 5772
December 22-29, 2011
“Don’t let the lights go out!” With these words, over 2200 years ago, humanity was introduced to an awareness that not only illumines the path of life’s journey but also enables us to understand the difference between good and evil.
Good requires light so that everyone can see the splendor that it represents. Good is the indispensable ingredient toward fulfillment. Good demands a great deal of effort because it is needed to eradicate our inclination to be evil.
Hanukkah helps us understand this eternal struggle because it is man’s first fight for religious freedom.
Hanukkah represents the globalization of the understanding of God. The light that emanates from the Menorah is the light of the true meaning of the relationship between us and God.
Hanukkah comes at a time when darkness surrounds us. The days are short. The night is long. It is cold and the harshness of winter is upon us. Life withers. We sleep. And some die. For this is the darkest time of the year.
Then there is light. The warm glow of these candles hopefully kindles awareness in our hearts that radiates so strongly and embraces everything around us. We are mesmerized by the flame, almost hypnotized, and we feel secure. Each night we light another candle until all eight are lit. And each night we feel a new sense of enlightenment, a new level of Holiness, a new attempt at the connection between God and humanity.
We light eight candles to differentiate between the Creator and the created. For in six days did God bring order from chaos and rested on the seventh,
and we, on the eighth day, attempt to bring this order into our daily lives through the miracle of the lights.
We cannot recapture the past, but we can use it to ensure the future. The religious freedom that was won has been the clarion call for all people throughout history. Every battle for religious freedom has had as its foundation the spark from the candles lit to indicate that evil was conquered by good.
May the lights of freedom continue to glow for all humanity.
May the lights of hope always give meaning to our lives.
May the lights of redemption remain fulfilling through the days and years ahead.
May the lights of Hanukkah remain a symbol for the future of all God’s children.
May the lights illuminate the paths of darkness, awakening our souls to our societal duties and always reminding us that there is goodness in each one of us.
May the lights help us to remember our responsibility to comfort the oppressed; encourage those who feel hopelessness.
May the light act as a symbol always reminding us to respond in a meaningful way relieving all the pain and suffering so that tomorrow will be better than today because all life is to be cherished.
Hanukkah 5772
December 22-29, 2011
“Don’t let the lights go out!” With these words, over 2200 years ago, humanity was introduced to an awareness that not only illumines the path of life’s journey but also enables us to understand the difference between good and evil.
Good requires light so that everyone can see the splendor that it represents. Good is the indispensable ingredient toward fulfillment. Good demands a great deal of effort because it is needed to eradicate our inclination to be evil.
Hanukkah helps us understand this eternal struggle because it is man’s first fight for religious freedom.
Hanukkah represents the globalization of the understanding of God. The light that emanates from the Menorah is the light of the true meaning of the relationship between us and God.
Hanukkah comes at a time when darkness surrounds us. The days are short. The night is long. It is cold and the harshness of winter is upon us. Life withers. We sleep. And some die. For this is the darkest time of the year.
Then there is light. The warm glow of these candles hopefully kindles awareness in our hearts that radiates so strongly and embraces everything around us. We are mesmerized by the flame, almost hypnotized, and we feel secure. Each night we light another candle until all eight are lit. And each night we feel a new sense of enlightenment, a new level of Holiness, a new attempt at the connection between God and humanity.
We light eight candles to differentiate between the Creator and the created. For in six days did God bring order from chaos and rested on the seventh,
and we, on the eighth day, attempt to bring this order into our daily lives through the miracle of the lights.
We cannot recapture the past, but we can use it to ensure the future. The religious freedom that was won has been the clarion call for all people throughout history. Every battle for religious freedom has had as its foundation the spark from the candles lit to indicate that evil was conquered by good.
May the lights of freedom continue to glow for all humanity.
May the lights of hope always give meaning to our lives.
May the lights of redemption remain fulfilling through the days and years ahead.
May the lights of Hanukkah remain a symbol for the future of all God’s children.
May the lights illuminate the paths of darkness, awakening our souls to our societal duties and always reminding us that there is goodness in each one of us.
May the lights help us to remember our responsibility to comfort the oppressed; encourage those who feel hopelessness.
May the light act as a symbol always reminding us to respond in a meaningful way relieving all the pain and suffering so that tomorrow will be better than today because all life is to be cherished.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
What is Thanksgiving?
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
Soon we will celebrate an annual event called Thanksgiving. It is an American holiday formed after the holiday in the Hebrew Bible known as Sukkot – Feast of Tabernacles.
The Bible tells us that it was incumbent on all the people to make a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem and bring the first fruits of the harvest gleaned from the fields to demonstrate appreciation to God for the blessings bestowed upon the people.
The Pilgrims who landed in the New World were grateful for many things, among them the freedom from oppression; the ability to be free in a new land that was ripe for the experiments of choice resulting from hard work and determination. There were no task masters to control their goings and comings or to take tribute for their labor.
We have all read accounts of those times and the struggles and hardships that required steadfastness and dedication. There was comfort from and with each other that translated in survival in a harsh new environment. If ever there was the ability to be grateful, it certainly was found in faith.
The Bible played a significant role in offering comfort from the unexpected. Several centuries later there was found on the walls of a cellar where people were hiding from the Nazis which, perhaps, describes the torment and belief in redemption that the Pilgrims were looking for to assist in their ability to endure:
“I believe in the sun even when it is not shining.
I believe in love even when not feeling it.
I believe in God even when He is silent.”
One of the writings of the great poet, Noah benShea, indicated that faith sees beyond fate. And that is the essence of what gave the people who witnessed humanities darkest hour and what gave the Pilgrims the ability to overcome difficulties of what they could not see or imagine.
The 18th century German poet, Heinrich Heine wrote that human misery is too great for men to deal with without faith. As a Christian he was motivated by a deep desire to instill a feeling of worthiness in the human spirit that can only be found in a strong connection to God.
There was a recent movie titled “The Way” which describes with tender feelings and emotions the need to discover the ability to learn from our journey of life – the good and the bad. In it we witness people from different corners of the Globe searching for meaning as they endeavor to walk the path of generations seeking fulfillment and completion.
Each of them – four in all – came for various reasons; one for understanding; one to relinquish a bad habit; one for connection to a child lost to eternity and the fourth to write the great novel. There were dramatic events that took place during this long trek and affected each in differing ways. In the end they realized that the path to realization lead to a single concept of deliverance: Connection.
All of us, at one time or another, try to reach out to touch a hand or kiss a face or hear a familiar sound with the ultimate objective of feeling a togetherness that is essential to live our lives as God intended – united with a friend, a loved one, even a stranger.
Some of us believe only what we understand, as Benjamin Disraeli remarked, but the truth is that we can believe what we don’t understand, and that is called faith. It is this faith in ourselves and faith in the unknown we refer to as God that sustains us and gives us the impetus to continue with life even when there is the good and the bad in the mix.
The Pilgrims were also driven by a vision as described in Proverbs: “Where there is no vision, the people perish.” The generations that preceded us and gave us the understanding of thankfulness through sacrifice knew only too well the meaning of dreaming what was considered impossible.
As we gather together at this great festival of appreciation let us remember, with gratitude, the people who allow us to rejoice – the men and women who serve our country wearing its uniform. Through the centuries they have demonstrated time and again the need for vigilance tempered with mercy so that all will be able to savor the abundance given to us by God.
Soon we will celebrate an annual event called Thanksgiving. It is an American holiday formed after the holiday in the Hebrew Bible known as Sukkot – Feast of Tabernacles.
The Bible tells us that it was incumbent on all the people to make a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem and bring the first fruits of the harvest gleaned from the fields to demonstrate appreciation to God for the blessings bestowed upon the people.
The Pilgrims who landed in the New World were grateful for many things, among them the freedom from oppression; the ability to be free in a new land that was ripe for the experiments of choice resulting from hard work and determination. There were no task masters to control their goings and comings or to take tribute for their labor.
We have all read accounts of those times and the struggles and hardships that required steadfastness and dedication. There was comfort from and with each other that translated in survival in a harsh new environment. If ever there was the ability to be grateful, it certainly was found in faith.
The Bible played a significant role in offering comfort from the unexpected. Several centuries later there was found on the walls of a cellar where people were hiding from the Nazis which, perhaps, describes the torment and belief in redemption that the Pilgrims were looking for to assist in their ability to endure:
“I believe in the sun even when it is not shining.
I believe in love even when not feeling it.
I believe in God even when He is silent.”
One of the writings of the great poet, Noah benShea, indicated that faith sees beyond fate. And that is the essence of what gave the people who witnessed humanities darkest hour and what gave the Pilgrims the ability to overcome difficulties of what they could not see or imagine.
The 18th century German poet, Heinrich Heine wrote that human misery is too great for men to deal with without faith. As a Christian he was motivated by a deep desire to instill a feeling of worthiness in the human spirit that can only be found in a strong connection to God.
There was a recent movie titled “The Way” which describes with tender feelings and emotions the need to discover the ability to learn from our journey of life – the good and the bad. In it we witness people from different corners of the Globe searching for meaning as they endeavor to walk the path of generations seeking fulfillment and completion.
Each of them – four in all – came for various reasons; one for understanding; one to relinquish a bad habit; one for connection to a child lost to eternity and the fourth to write the great novel. There were dramatic events that took place during this long trek and affected each in differing ways. In the end they realized that the path to realization lead to a single concept of deliverance: Connection.
All of us, at one time or another, try to reach out to touch a hand or kiss a face or hear a familiar sound with the ultimate objective of feeling a togetherness that is essential to live our lives as God intended – united with a friend, a loved one, even a stranger.
Some of us believe only what we understand, as Benjamin Disraeli remarked, but the truth is that we can believe what we don’t understand, and that is called faith. It is this faith in ourselves and faith in the unknown we refer to as God that sustains us and gives us the impetus to continue with life even when there is the good and the bad in the mix.
The Pilgrims were also driven by a vision as described in Proverbs: “Where there is no vision, the people perish.” The generations that preceded us and gave us the understanding of thankfulness through sacrifice knew only too well the meaning of dreaming what was considered impossible.
As we gather together at this great festival of appreciation let us remember, with gratitude, the people who allow us to rejoice – the men and women who serve our country wearing its uniform. Through the centuries they have demonstrated time and again the need for vigilance tempered with mercy so that all will be able to savor the abundance given to us by God.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Pekuach Nefesh: The saving of a life
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
Sukkot is a special holiday and at the same time mostly ignored because it follows on the heels of the High Holidays. In fact tradition teaches that Sukkot is really part of the High Holiday season. So why then is it insignificant in many circles? Perhaps because we seem to be “holidayed out,” so to speak. For several weeks we are inundated with Selichot prayers ushering in the “Days of Awe” and then the time arrives and we are left to ponder and contemplate. All of this culminates with the “Afflicting of our Souls” as prescribed in the Torah.
Somehow Sukkot, even with its rituals and trappings, such as building a Sukkah or arranging to obtain the four species of vegetation put together with the Lulav and Etrog, seems to be lost in the shadow of the agony and ecstasy of renewal and anticipation.
However, I believe, we neglect to think of one aspect of all these holidays, a common denominator, if you will: The saving of life. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur give us the ability to reconnect with God through introspection and Sukkot completes the journey by suggesting that now is the time to remember the blessings of life afforded us through the beneficence of a caring and loving God. By recalling these messages we, in all probability, will be saving the lives of ourselves, our loved ones, and even those we don’t know.
How is this accomplished? Simply stated, remembering that we are responsible to others for our actions. We are responsible to God for those things that relate to our spiritual well-being. We are responsible to ourselves to ensure that our lives will have meaning and purpose.
Sukkot reminds us of God’s protection which is given because we take the necessary action and attitude to affect happiness and completeness. It also suggests that the shelter we build is established to connote that God too attempts to shelter us from the consequences of choices we make that can hurt us and those around us through ignorance and neglect.
Our lives certainly are tenuous and fragile as is the Sukkah. Therefore we must take the time to celebrate, rejoice, and give thanks. There is, however, one more aspect that needs to be part of our thoughts and actions: Pekuach Nefesh – the saving of humanity, one person at a time.
I recently met a woman, advanced in age, but determined to live her life to the fullest and prolong it even though she is suffering from failed kidneys. She is a candidate for a transplant, but is on a very long list and probably will not survive the wait.
She needs help. She needs someone to come forward and offer her survival. She has insisted that, even though it is forbidden to purchase or sell a kidney, she is willing to make whatever arrangements are necessary to accomplish her goal: To spend her twilight years in the bosom of her family enjoying their continued growth and development.
She is not unique. There are, I am sure, many people who have maladies that require unusual attempts at life saving efforts. What does separate her is that she is not angry. She is not angry at God. She is not angry at anyone. She is accepting but hopeful. She is prayerful but realistic. She has the love of husband, children, grandchildren and friends.
I spent much time with her listening to her story. I left feeling empty and helpless. All I could offer were words, words of encouragement and words of spiritual awareness. I have encouraged some to say Psalms for her every day. She is on every Misheberach list I could find. Still I feel despondent because that is all I have to offer.
So I turn to my readers and ask if you know any way you can lend a hand. I urge you to call me or write me with whatever information you have available. I take this unusual step because of the message I have received through the High Holiday experience and significance of holiday called Sukkot.
There is something I read recently written by Rabbi Sheldon Zimmerman titled, A Prayer For Prayer. The following are excerpts from his offering:
O My God
My soul’s companion
My heart’s precious friend
I turn to you.
In your oneness, I find healing.
In the promise of Your love, I am soothed.
In Your wholeness, I too can become whole again.
Please listen to my call-
Help me find the words
Help me find the strength within
Help me shape my mouth, my voice, my heart
So that I can direct my spirit and find You in prayer
In words only my heart can speak
In songs only my soul can sing
Lifting my eyes and heart to You.
This is my prayer as we begin a New Year: A prayer for God’s guidance and understanding so that all who listen and read will find the courage to affect true Pekuach Nefesh for a woman called Barbara.
Sukkot is a special holiday and at the same time mostly ignored because it follows on the heels of the High Holidays. In fact tradition teaches that Sukkot is really part of the High Holiday season. So why then is it insignificant in many circles? Perhaps because we seem to be “holidayed out,” so to speak. For several weeks we are inundated with Selichot prayers ushering in the “Days of Awe” and then the time arrives and we are left to ponder and contemplate. All of this culminates with the “Afflicting of our Souls” as prescribed in the Torah.
Somehow Sukkot, even with its rituals and trappings, such as building a Sukkah or arranging to obtain the four species of vegetation put together with the Lulav and Etrog, seems to be lost in the shadow of the agony and ecstasy of renewal and anticipation.
However, I believe, we neglect to think of one aspect of all these holidays, a common denominator, if you will: The saving of life. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur give us the ability to reconnect with God through introspection and Sukkot completes the journey by suggesting that now is the time to remember the blessings of life afforded us through the beneficence of a caring and loving God. By recalling these messages we, in all probability, will be saving the lives of ourselves, our loved ones, and even those we don’t know.
How is this accomplished? Simply stated, remembering that we are responsible to others for our actions. We are responsible to God for those things that relate to our spiritual well-being. We are responsible to ourselves to ensure that our lives will have meaning and purpose.
Sukkot reminds us of God’s protection which is given because we take the necessary action and attitude to affect happiness and completeness. It also suggests that the shelter we build is established to connote that God too attempts to shelter us from the consequences of choices we make that can hurt us and those around us through ignorance and neglect.
Our lives certainly are tenuous and fragile as is the Sukkah. Therefore we must take the time to celebrate, rejoice, and give thanks. There is, however, one more aspect that needs to be part of our thoughts and actions: Pekuach Nefesh – the saving of humanity, one person at a time.
I recently met a woman, advanced in age, but determined to live her life to the fullest and prolong it even though she is suffering from failed kidneys. She is a candidate for a transplant, but is on a very long list and probably will not survive the wait.
She needs help. She needs someone to come forward and offer her survival. She has insisted that, even though it is forbidden to purchase or sell a kidney, she is willing to make whatever arrangements are necessary to accomplish her goal: To spend her twilight years in the bosom of her family enjoying their continued growth and development.
She is not unique. There are, I am sure, many people who have maladies that require unusual attempts at life saving efforts. What does separate her is that she is not angry. She is not angry at God. She is not angry at anyone. She is accepting but hopeful. She is prayerful but realistic. She has the love of husband, children, grandchildren and friends.
I spent much time with her listening to her story. I left feeling empty and helpless. All I could offer were words, words of encouragement and words of spiritual awareness. I have encouraged some to say Psalms for her every day. She is on every Misheberach list I could find. Still I feel despondent because that is all I have to offer.
So I turn to my readers and ask if you know any way you can lend a hand. I urge you to call me or write me with whatever information you have available. I take this unusual step because of the message I have received through the High Holiday experience and significance of holiday called Sukkot.
There is something I read recently written by Rabbi Sheldon Zimmerman titled, A Prayer For Prayer. The following are excerpts from his offering:
O My God
My soul’s companion
My heart’s precious friend
I turn to you.
In your oneness, I find healing.
In the promise of Your love, I am soothed.
In Your wholeness, I too can become whole again.
Please listen to my call-
Help me find the words
Help me find the strength within
Help me shape my mouth, my voice, my heart
So that I can direct my spirit and find You in prayer
In words only my heart can speak
In songs only my soul can sing
Lifting my eyes and heart to You.
This is my prayer as we begin a New Year: A prayer for God’s guidance and understanding so that all who listen and read will find the courage to affect true Pekuach Nefesh for a woman called Barbara.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Rosh Hashanah 5772
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
Soon we will gather in the Synagogue to celebrate another year as the old disappears and the new takes shape. What kind of year is passing and what kind of a year lies ahead? These are just two of the questions we will ask ourselves as we do each year at this time.
Some of us will wonder whether we did enough to matter and some will contemplate about things that never were and maybe will never be. Through it all, however, there is one constant theme that will resonate within us as we sit and sing and pray and listen and it is something I think about, not just at this season but all year long and is best illustrated by the following story:
A yeshiva student was having a discussion with his rabbi. “Someday, I too hope to become a rabbi,” said the youth. “Aside from my studies is there any other all-important qualification I will need?” “Yes, the stimulus of imagination,” replied the rabbi. “You will have to imagine that somebody is paying attention to what you say.”
I believe that all of us during our lifetime have wondered whether anyone listens to us, our children, our colleagues at work, our significant others, and even ourselves. We have a great deal to say because communicating is a significant way of connecting.
Sometimes we say things that really don’t matter and, of course, we do say things that affect our lives and those around us. Sometimes we say things that have different meanings because we are not clear and precise. Sometimes we say things we really don’t mean because we want to be sensitive to another’s feelings. And sometimes we say things that aren’t true because we are too ashamed or embarrassed as to our real intent.
The High Holidays give us an opportunity to say things to God we never thought we had the ability to utter. There are thoughts we have that mean so much because we are at a stage in life where minutes, hours, days, weeks and years are precious and not to be wasted.
It takes a great deal of imagination to pray that God is listening and hears our words because we cannot see, or touch, or even hear an answer. But it doesn’t take imagination to realize that answers can come from experiences and happenings that remind us we do matter. We see the miracles of life daily, but we tend to ignore them. We can touch a loved one because that touch awakens the understanding of togetherness and companionship. We do hear the sounds of laughter and the tears that fall when we lose someone we love or witness illness.
As we embark on another year we all should listen to our inner voice that tells us life is to live and treasure because it is a gift that keeps on giving.
May we all have a very happy New Year filled with laughter and love and good health and above all the ability to listen and hear.
Shanah Tovah!!
Soon we will gather in the Synagogue to celebrate another year as the old disappears and the new takes shape. What kind of year is passing and what kind of a year lies ahead? These are just two of the questions we will ask ourselves as we do each year at this time.
Some of us will wonder whether we did enough to matter and some will contemplate about things that never were and maybe will never be. Through it all, however, there is one constant theme that will resonate within us as we sit and sing and pray and listen and it is something I think about, not just at this season but all year long and is best illustrated by the following story:
A yeshiva student was having a discussion with his rabbi. “Someday, I too hope to become a rabbi,” said the youth. “Aside from my studies is there any other all-important qualification I will need?” “Yes, the stimulus of imagination,” replied the rabbi. “You will have to imagine that somebody is paying attention to what you say.”
I believe that all of us during our lifetime have wondered whether anyone listens to us, our children, our colleagues at work, our significant others, and even ourselves. We have a great deal to say because communicating is a significant way of connecting.
Sometimes we say things that really don’t matter and, of course, we do say things that affect our lives and those around us. Sometimes we say things that have different meanings because we are not clear and precise. Sometimes we say things we really don’t mean because we want to be sensitive to another’s feelings. And sometimes we say things that aren’t true because we are too ashamed or embarrassed as to our real intent.
The High Holidays give us an opportunity to say things to God we never thought we had the ability to utter. There are thoughts we have that mean so much because we are at a stage in life where minutes, hours, days, weeks and years are precious and not to be wasted.
It takes a great deal of imagination to pray that God is listening and hears our words because we cannot see, or touch, or even hear an answer. But it doesn’t take imagination to realize that answers can come from experiences and happenings that remind us we do matter. We see the miracles of life daily, but we tend to ignore them. We can touch a loved one because that touch awakens the understanding of togetherness and companionship. We do hear the sounds of laughter and the tears that fall when we lose someone we love or witness illness.
As we embark on another year we all should listen to our inner voice that tells us life is to live and treasure because it is a gift that keeps on giving.
May we all have a very happy New Year filled with laughter and love and good health and above all the ability to listen and hear.
Shanah Tovah!!
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Sometimes it so difficult to say thank you!
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
In God’s Little Acre, a compilation of inspirational stories, there is one narrative that caught my eye because it speaks to the problems we have communicating with each other, and in turn with God. It is especially difficult when we have to say, “I’m sorry,” but I believe just as embarrassing to say, “Thank you.” Perhaps it is because saying thank you indicates indebtedness and we are reluctant to be beholden to someone.
Regardless, it is part of human relationships and important primarily due to the fact that we tend to forget to say kind things, or are too busy. There is so much to be grateful for, especially as we begin to enter the season of forgiveness and gratitude. Our tradition teaches that even as we mourn a loved one, we end that grief with a prayer called “Kaddish.” It is not a prayer of sorrow but rather an affirmation of our understanding of life.
When darkness envelops us, we tend to concentrate on the loss and not remind ourselves of the goodness of life and the “Thank you” we owe God for sharing that life with us. It is so hard to say thank you when our pain seems to be too much to bear. But then, if we study the words, we get a clearer insight into birth and death and all that is in-between.
Thinking about this as we approach a time in our lives giving us the opportunity to step back and rejuvenate. Unfortunately we tend to wait for a prescribed time to be grateful and at the same time be regretful. And that is why the approaching season is so vital.
Perhaps the following story, taken from God’s Little Acre, will expand on these thoughts:
Charles Plumb, a U.S. Naval Academy graduate, was a jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience.
One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, “You’re Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!” “How in the world did you know that?” asked Plumb. “I packed your parachute,” the man replied. Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, “I guess it worked!” Plumb assured him, “It sure did. If your chute hadn’t worked, I wouldn’t be here today.”
Plumb couldn’t sleep that night, thinking about the man. Plumb says, “I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said ‘good morning,’ how are you? Or anything because you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor.” Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowls of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn’t know.
Now, Plumb asks his audience, “Who’ packing your parachute?”
Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. Plumb also pointed out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory – he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching safety.
Sometimes in the daily challenges that life give us, we miss what is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you, congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment, or just something nice for no reason. Maybe we even ignore people because they are different.
As the weeks and months progress, recognize people who pack your parachute. Most importantly remember the One who packs all our parachutes both in times of sadness and in times of gladness.
Life is a blessing with all of its trials and tribulation, and yes sometimes it is difficult to say thank you, but we need to try. I really believe we will all feel something different and wonderful.
In God’s Little Acre, a compilation of inspirational stories, there is one narrative that caught my eye because it speaks to the problems we have communicating with each other, and in turn with God. It is especially difficult when we have to say, “I’m sorry,” but I believe just as embarrassing to say, “Thank you.” Perhaps it is because saying thank you indicates indebtedness and we are reluctant to be beholden to someone.
Regardless, it is part of human relationships and important primarily due to the fact that we tend to forget to say kind things, or are too busy. There is so much to be grateful for, especially as we begin to enter the season of forgiveness and gratitude. Our tradition teaches that even as we mourn a loved one, we end that grief with a prayer called “Kaddish.” It is not a prayer of sorrow but rather an affirmation of our understanding of life.
When darkness envelops us, we tend to concentrate on the loss and not remind ourselves of the goodness of life and the “Thank you” we owe God for sharing that life with us. It is so hard to say thank you when our pain seems to be too much to bear. But then, if we study the words, we get a clearer insight into birth and death and all that is in-between.
Thinking about this as we approach a time in our lives giving us the opportunity to step back and rejuvenate. Unfortunately we tend to wait for a prescribed time to be grateful and at the same time be regretful. And that is why the approaching season is so vital.
Perhaps the following story, taken from God’s Little Acre, will expand on these thoughts:
Charles Plumb, a U.S. Naval Academy graduate, was a jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience.
One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, “You’re Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!” “How in the world did you know that?” asked Plumb. “I packed your parachute,” the man replied. Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, “I guess it worked!” Plumb assured him, “It sure did. If your chute hadn’t worked, I wouldn’t be here today.”
Plumb couldn’t sleep that night, thinking about the man. Plumb says, “I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said ‘good morning,’ how are you? Or anything because you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor.” Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowls of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn’t know.
Now, Plumb asks his audience, “Who’ packing your parachute?”
Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. Plumb also pointed out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory – he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching safety.
Sometimes in the daily challenges that life give us, we miss what is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you, congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment, or just something nice for no reason. Maybe we even ignore people because they are different.
As the weeks and months progress, recognize people who pack your parachute. Most importantly remember the One who packs all our parachutes both in times of sadness and in times of gladness.
Life is a blessing with all of its trials and tribulation, and yes sometimes it is difficult to say thank you, but we need to try. I really believe we will all feel something different and wonderful.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Questions That Deserve Answers
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
Many times I am asked questions that have no answers, but just as many times there are questions that should be asnwered and should. For example:
Question:
" What is the proper way to mourn or grieve after losing a loved one?"
Answer:
Grieving is different for everyone. Some grieve because of guilt; some because of a sincere desire to show respect, and some grieve because it is expected.
To say that one of these is wrong is to do a disservice not only to ourselves but the the person we mourn. There is a loss. There is a void. There is an emptiness. There is so much of no more. Expressing our sorrow is one way of coping so that we can move-on and continue to live. After all, one of the highest tributes you can show is to contiue with life because life is contiual. If we did not continue to experience all that life has to offer, we ceratainly will not be able to remember for that is the secret to immortality: Remembrance.
Who will be left to remember, if we give-up and become so distraught that we wish not to live anymore. That is why it is an obligation.
Therefore, it is not how we grieve or why we choose to grieve, but rather that we do so to remember.
Question:
"What happens if we feel no need to express our distress because we find it difficult to do so?"
Answer:
Again, it is a matter of degree. I have known people who cannot even cry at such a sorrowful time. The tears will not flow and the omission seems to make it even more difficult.
Perhaps you weep in private; perhaps you have witnessed that special person's life slowly ebbing and all the mourning has been done over a long period of time.
We display grief in many ways. Among them is denial, frustration, and anger. It is possible that we just choose to ingnore this tragedy because it is too much to bear. All of these are expressions of grief.
The important thing to remember is that whichever way we observe calamity, none is wrong because we are the ones who determine the need.
There are many questions, as I mentioned, and I will endeavor to list them and my response to them in succeeding writings.
It is my prayer that you will, at the time, find an answer to your sadness through the expressions from family and friends as they attempt to lift the burden and share the unhappiness.
Many times I am asked questions that have no answers, but just as many times there are questions that should be asnwered and should. For example:
Question:
" What is the proper way to mourn or grieve after losing a loved one?"
Answer:
Grieving is different for everyone. Some grieve because of guilt; some because of a sincere desire to show respect, and some grieve because it is expected.
To say that one of these is wrong is to do a disservice not only to ourselves but the the person we mourn. There is a loss. There is a void. There is an emptiness. There is so much of no more. Expressing our sorrow is one way of coping so that we can move-on and continue to live. After all, one of the highest tributes you can show is to contiue with life because life is contiual. If we did not continue to experience all that life has to offer, we ceratainly will not be able to remember for that is the secret to immortality: Remembrance.
Who will be left to remember, if we give-up and become so distraught that we wish not to live anymore. That is why it is an obligation.
Therefore, it is not how we grieve or why we choose to grieve, but rather that we do so to remember.
Question:
"What happens if we feel no need to express our distress because we find it difficult to do so?"
Answer:
Again, it is a matter of degree. I have known people who cannot even cry at such a sorrowful time. The tears will not flow and the omission seems to make it even more difficult.
Perhaps you weep in private; perhaps you have witnessed that special person's life slowly ebbing and all the mourning has been done over a long period of time.
We display grief in many ways. Among them is denial, frustration, and anger. It is possible that we just choose to ingnore this tragedy because it is too much to bear. All of these are expressions of grief.
The important thing to remember is that whichever way we observe calamity, none is wrong because we are the ones who determine the need.
There are many questions, as I mentioned, and I will endeavor to list them and my response to them in succeeding writings.
It is my prayer that you will, at the time, find an answer to your sadness through the expressions from family and friends as they attempt to lift the burden and share the unhappiness.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Shavuot
Shavuot – Feast of Weeks – that is its meaning and commemorates many things in Jewish life they are all connected because they deal with time and commitment.
Time is counted from Passover to Shavuot – it is called counting of the Omer and relates to the harvest being ready for gleaning. On the fiftieth day the holiday of Shavuot is celebrated.
Shavuot has many names – “The Harvest Holiday” – “Feast of Weeks” because of the seven weeks that separates both holidays – “The Holiday of First Fruits” pertaining to the practice of bringing fruits to the Temple on Shavuot. Each of these names indicates various aspects of our lives: Harvest represents the ability to make our lives meaningful and productive; Weeks indicate to us the value of time and how precious time is to our existence and survival; Fruits remind us that our lives can be filled with excitement and completion and includes rejoicing with each milestone achieved.
But there is much more to this holiday than just enjoying the fruits of our labor. Shavuot, after the destruction of the Temple in 70CE was connected by the rabbis to the Revelation at Mt. Sinai, where the Israelites received the Ten Commandments and their religious maturity. It was the glue that bound them together for eternity.
There are many customs attributed to Shavuot. For example: Reading the Ten Commandments in the Synagogue; Studying the Book of Ruth which describes the story of two women: a Jewish woman named Naomi and her non-Jewish daughter-in-law Ruth. From here we learn of the classic commitment made by Ruth when her husband dies and Naomi encourages her to return to her people: “Whither thou goest I will go, they people will be my people.” This book is read during Shavuot because the episode occurred during the harvest season and her conversion reflects our acceptance of the Torah on Shavuot. We are also taught that Ruth’s great-great grandson, King David, was born and died on Shavuot.
Another custom that has no explanation as to its origin is the eating of dairy products on Shavuot. There are some scholars who suggest that this tradition began because of a particular poem found in the Song of Songs – “Honey and milk are under your tongue” – thereby connecting the sweetness of milk and honey to the Torah.
Finally there is the concept of all-night study. Many Yeshivas and Synagogues hold study programs that continue throughout the night until the morning when it is time to recite the morning prayers. This is a Kabalistic – mystical custom and is rather new and is used to instill in us the need for study to understand Torah.
Regardless of how the holiday is celebrated it is the significance that remains the important aspect of this eventful period in Jewish life. Life is a celebration and we are obligated to a commitment of survival because life is to live. Our concentration is not on where we go when our time has ended but rather where we are now in the journey each of us takes as we continue to encounter the goodness of that life as well as learning to endure the agonies associated with the journey as well. We need Shavuot to remind us of the gifts we enjoy and rejoice in the understanding that time is a reward.
And we end the holiday with the recitation of Yizkor – the memorial prayer for those we loved and lost. We do this because their time with us gave us the time we now have and will be the time we leave those who follow.
If we had to ‘bring the lesson of Shavuot into a single theme, it would be: Time is a friend if we make it so and we should be grateful to God for the time we have.
Time is counted from Passover to Shavuot – it is called counting of the Omer and relates to the harvest being ready for gleaning. On the fiftieth day the holiday of Shavuot is celebrated.
Shavuot has many names – “The Harvest Holiday” – “Feast of Weeks” because of the seven weeks that separates both holidays – “The Holiday of First Fruits” pertaining to the practice of bringing fruits to the Temple on Shavuot. Each of these names indicates various aspects of our lives: Harvest represents the ability to make our lives meaningful and productive; Weeks indicate to us the value of time and how precious time is to our existence and survival; Fruits remind us that our lives can be filled with excitement and completion and includes rejoicing with each milestone achieved.
But there is much more to this holiday than just enjoying the fruits of our labor. Shavuot, after the destruction of the Temple in 70CE was connected by the rabbis to the Revelation at Mt. Sinai, where the Israelites received the Ten Commandments and their religious maturity. It was the glue that bound them together for eternity.
There are many customs attributed to Shavuot. For example: Reading the Ten Commandments in the Synagogue; Studying the Book of Ruth which describes the story of two women: a Jewish woman named Naomi and her non-Jewish daughter-in-law Ruth. From here we learn of the classic commitment made by Ruth when her husband dies and Naomi encourages her to return to her people: “Whither thou goest I will go, they people will be my people.” This book is read during Shavuot because the episode occurred during the harvest season and her conversion reflects our acceptance of the Torah on Shavuot. We are also taught that Ruth’s great-great grandson, King David, was born and died on Shavuot.
Another custom that has no explanation as to its origin is the eating of dairy products on Shavuot. There are some scholars who suggest that this tradition began because of a particular poem found in the Song of Songs – “Honey and milk are under your tongue” – thereby connecting the sweetness of milk and honey to the Torah.
Finally there is the concept of all-night study. Many Yeshivas and Synagogues hold study programs that continue throughout the night until the morning when it is time to recite the morning prayers. This is a Kabalistic – mystical custom and is rather new and is used to instill in us the need for study to understand Torah.
Regardless of how the holiday is celebrated it is the significance that remains the important aspect of this eventful period in Jewish life. Life is a celebration and we are obligated to a commitment of survival because life is to live. Our concentration is not on where we go when our time has ended but rather where we are now in the journey each of us takes as we continue to encounter the goodness of that life as well as learning to endure the agonies associated with the journey as well. We need Shavuot to remind us of the gifts we enjoy and rejoice in the understanding that time is a reward.
And we end the holiday with the recitation of Yizkor – the memorial prayer for those we loved and lost. We do this because their time with us gave us the time we now have and will be the time we leave those who follow.
If we had to ‘bring the lesson of Shavuot into a single theme, it would be: Time is a friend if we make it so and we should be grateful to God for the time we have.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Can we ever see God?
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
The great sage Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote, “God is in search of man, as man is in search of God.” We all desire to know God, to feel God’s presence in our lives and, of course, to seek the help of God in times of trouble. Yes, it is true that God searches for us as strongly and as curiously as we search for God.
To understand this better we need to recount the episode in Exodus, 33:18 as Moses asks to see God’s glory. In reality, Moses wants to see God because even he found it difficult to understand a concept or a perception of something that can’t be imagined. “You will not be able to see My face, for no human can see My face and live.” Picture yourself having a conversation with a spirit that is alive and yet not formed. Most would say that you were mad or worse, perhaps, even delusional.
Then the climax of the encounter, “I shall shield you with My hand until I have passed. Then I shall remove My hand and you will see My back, but My face may not be seen.” God is invisible to the naked eye and here we learn about God in human terms about God’s hand, God’s face, God’s back. It is impossible to think or describe things other than how we were created as human beings. We touch, we feel, we smell, we hear and we see. These things we can understand, but to realize that there is a spirit that moves about the universe with none of these characteristics just does not seem possible.
Moses too has his doubts. It started with a bush that burned and was not consumed and continued through the ordeal of plagues and torments described but impossible to imagine. It was followed by a tumultuous voyage that witnessed miracle after miracle culminating in a spiritual connection that made Israel distinct in every way.
It is this distinction that makes Passover so significant. People fight for independence and freedom every day in all corners of the globe and yet, Israel’s fight was explicit in that it contained an element of intimacy with God. We constantly struggle to maintain that connection. Our ancestors found it difficult coming from a culture that saw many gods and now re-taught about one God. They could not understand the difference between invisible and visible. The Golden Calf represented the visibility of God and that gave them comfort.
We all need to feel the nearness of God. It is hard to imagine and we are no different than those who left Egypt in search of this nearness. We have our Golden Calves, whether it is wealth or beauty. However, we neglect to remember that we can find God’s nearness with everyday living or recovery from illness or the birth of a child or a marriage. Each day is an experiment that brings completion and fulfillment if we will it because we remember to love and allow ourselves to be loved. Most of all we need to show gratitude by sharing with others.
However, to me, the most important aspect of Passover is that our very existence is a compliment to God for the imprint on our lives as attested to by our ancestors and will remain a testament to our ability to persevere and prosper so that future generations will hear the same story and marvel as we do to the timeless message of emancipation.
Generation after generation retells the story because it fulfills the wishes and desires of all humankind. And as Moses exhorts Pharaoh to “let the people go” in their desire to worship God in peace and security, we are reminded that this is a clarion call for all people to be able to feel secure.
Yes, we searched for God, we still search for God. God searched for us and still searches for us and this episode in history affirms that the search is not complete and may never be. Just as we search for the leaven before the Passover begins, and as we search for the Afikomen during the Passover Seder, we need to continue to probe because Passover is the continuing search to see God.
The great sage Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote, “God is in search of man, as man is in search of God.” We all desire to know God, to feel God’s presence in our lives and, of course, to seek the help of God in times of trouble. Yes, it is true that God searches for us as strongly and as curiously as we search for God.
To understand this better we need to recount the episode in Exodus, 33:18 as Moses asks to see God’s glory. In reality, Moses wants to see God because even he found it difficult to understand a concept or a perception of something that can’t be imagined. “You will not be able to see My face, for no human can see My face and live.” Picture yourself having a conversation with a spirit that is alive and yet not formed. Most would say that you were mad or worse, perhaps, even delusional.
Then the climax of the encounter, “I shall shield you with My hand until I have passed. Then I shall remove My hand and you will see My back, but My face may not be seen.” God is invisible to the naked eye and here we learn about God in human terms about God’s hand, God’s face, God’s back. It is impossible to think or describe things other than how we were created as human beings. We touch, we feel, we smell, we hear and we see. These things we can understand, but to realize that there is a spirit that moves about the universe with none of these characteristics just does not seem possible.
Moses too has his doubts. It started with a bush that burned and was not consumed and continued through the ordeal of plagues and torments described but impossible to imagine. It was followed by a tumultuous voyage that witnessed miracle after miracle culminating in a spiritual connection that made Israel distinct in every way.
It is this distinction that makes Passover so significant. People fight for independence and freedom every day in all corners of the globe and yet, Israel’s fight was explicit in that it contained an element of intimacy with God. We constantly struggle to maintain that connection. Our ancestors found it difficult coming from a culture that saw many gods and now re-taught about one God. They could not understand the difference between invisible and visible. The Golden Calf represented the visibility of God and that gave them comfort.
We all need to feel the nearness of God. It is hard to imagine and we are no different than those who left Egypt in search of this nearness. We have our Golden Calves, whether it is wealth or beauty. However, we neglect to remember that we can find God’s nearness with everyday living or recovery from illness or the birth of a child or a marriage. Each day is an experiment that brings completion and fulfillment if we will it because we remember to love and allow ourselves to be loved. Most of all we need to show gratitude by sharing with others.
However, to me, the most important aspect of Passover is that our very existence is a compliment to God for the imprint on our lives as attested to by our ancestors and will remain a testament to our ability to persevere and prosper so that future generations will hear the same story and marvel as we do to the timeless message of emancipation.
Generation after generation retells the story because it fulfills the wishes and desires of all humankind. And as Moses exhorts Pharaoh to “let the people go” in their desire to worship God in peace and security, we are reminded that this is a clarion call for all people to be able to feel secure.
Yes, we searched for God, we still search for God. God searched for us and still searches for us and this episode in history affirms that the search is not complete and may never be. Just as we search for the leaven before the Passover begins, and as we search for the Afikomen during the Passover Seder, we need to continue to probe because Passover is the continuing search to see God.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Goodbye dear brother
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
It was as though I had traveled through time and relived the moments of my youth when I heard, after no contact for almost three decades, that my brother had died. Over the years I had tried to locate him using several websites and contacts only to reach a dead-end.
He was career military. So, I contacted the Veterans Administration, and their response indicated that without a serial number they could not be of any assistance. Time and again I encountered erroneous leads. I spent money joining websites such as “People Search” and was give information that went nowhere. Constantly I was asked if I wanted to upgrade my membership and then perhaps new information would be available. It was an exercise in futility.
Finally, through an accident, I learned of a website that could direct me to a search for deceased members of the military and it was there that I learned of my brother’s death some twenty years earlier. It was devastating, to say the least, to learn that a younger sibling had died so young and without any family involved in his burial or that prayers were not recited to officially send him on his way for his return trip to the Creator who breathed life into him as described in Genesis: “God formed Adam out of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the neshamah of life; and Adam thus became a living creature.” (Genesis 2:7)
This experience made me think about the writings of our ancestors who understood the meaning of life and the messages we receive and the thoughts we encounter as we lose someone we love. There is a marvelous book: “Does the Soul Survive” in which various aspects of afterlife are studied and described as well as thoughts of the survival of the soul – that aspect of our existence that is housed in the shell we call the body. There is one particular story that seemed relevant to me because of the revelation I received of my loss. The story can be found in the book “Life After Life (1975) by Dr. Raymond Moody and describes the following life review which I changed indicating the male version of the experience as well as taking some liberties with the narration to fit my recollections:
When the light appeared, the first thing he said to me was, “What do you have to show me that you’ve done with your life?” or something to this effect. And that’s when these flashbacks started. I thought, “Gee, what is going on?” because all of a sudden I was back in my childhood. And from then on, it was like I was walking from the time of my very early life, right up to the present.
I pause here in the story to mention that this story describes my feelings and musings upon hearing the sad news of a brother who was 47 years old when he died and is a true expression of my encounter with his memory.
It was really strange where it started, too, when I was a little boy, playing down the street in our neighborhood, and there were other scenes from about that time-experiences I had with my brother, and things about the neighborhood people, and actual places I had been. And then I was in kindergarten, and I remembered the time when I had this one toy I really liked, and I broke it and cried for a long time…I remembered when I was in the Boy Scouts and went camping, and remembered many things about all the years of grammar school (actually Yeshiva)….
The things that flashed back came in order of my life, and they were so vivid. The scenes were just like if you walked outside and saw them, completely three-dimensional, and in color. And they moved. For instance, when I saw myself breaking the toy, I could see all the movements. It wasn’t like I was watching it all from my perspective at the time. It was like the little boy was somebody else, in a movie….
Now, I didn’t actually see the light as I was going through the flashbacks. He disappeared as soon as he asked me what I had done, and the flashbacks started, and yet I knew that he was there with me the whole time, that he carried me back through the flashbacks, because I felt his presence, and because he made comments here and there. He was trying to show me something in each of these flashbacks….
All through this, he kept stressing the importance of love. The places where he showed it best involved my sister (I have a sister); I have always been close to her….
He seemed very interested in things concerning knowledge, too. He kept pointing out things that had to do with learning, and he said that I was going to continue learning.
How strange. The author could have been writing about me and my brother and sister. It is as though he were sitting with me and writing my biography. I could not put the book down. The flashbacks were so real and the description of them so authentic. It reminded me of the Talmudic interpretation of the meaning of the soul when they described that just as God fills the whole world so does the soul fill the whole body. We are nothing without the soul for it is the essence of who we are. God contributes to the beauty of the world through continuous creation and the soul is eternal as well.
The eternal question is whether there is life after death and how we get there. Needless to say, faith plays an important role in determining our understanding of eternal life. More than that, however, is our perception of continuity. What exactly constitutes continuity? The dictionary describes this as perpetuation and that refers to everlastingness. We go full circle in determining the never ending cycle of birth and death. And it leads to the question: “What is the purpose of creation if it ends?”
From time immemorial we have yearned to learn about the continuation of our being. Judaism does not concentrate on this because our emphasis is life and not death. The prophets attempted to explain the “world to come” by explaining that the results are determined by God. Isaiah tells us that God alone knows what He prepared for him that waits for them because “no eye has seen and no ear has heard, O God, beside you.”
Our tradition teaches that the soul, upon leaving the body, encounters various conditions as it prepares itself for its ultimate destination – the return to its Creator. Our tradition of Shiva – sitting for seven days is designed to allow us the opportunity to absorb the loss, endure the pain and the as the Psalmist tells us: “Walk through the Valley of Death.” We don’t dwell on death – we mourn – we remember – and we continue with life.
Our custom is to say Kaddish (prayers of sanctification) – not prayers of death but utterances of gratitude for the life that was shared – for 11 months. This is the time, the mystics tell us, it takes for the soul to wind its way toward its ultimate destination. We should look at the Kaddish prayer as a “booster shot” – giving the soul the ability to make the journey. And in the end the soul rests in its Heavenly repose waiting to be born again.
We are taught that when the soul is called to make the journey back it is touched by an angel below the nose, removing the light of understanding, and sends it on its way. In that split second the soul forgets all that it has experienced and enters the world crying, having lost the place of redemption it fought so hard to achieve.
My brother is now remembered for what he was to us. We will miss him now because the search is over. We mourn his passing and are grateful to God for having given us (my sister and I) the ability to close an unfinished chapter in the story of our lives.
We say Kaddish now because, even though his journey ended quite some time ago, for us it has just begun. The memories will flow, the reminisces will continue, the guilt has been assuaged and he now rests in peace. Somehow I know that he waited for us to find him and say goodbye.
Goodbye sweet brother.
It was as though I had traveled through time and relived the moments of my youth when I heard, after no contact for almost three decades, that my brother had died. Over the years I had tried to locate him using several websites and contacts only to reach a dead-end.
He was career military. So, I contacted the Veterans Administration, and their response indicated that without a serial number they could not be of any assistance. Time and again I encountered erroneous leads. I spent money joining websites such as “People Search” and was give information that went nowhere. Constantly I was asked if I wanted to upgrade my membership and then perhaps new information would be available. It was an exercise in futility.
Finally, through an accident, I learned of a website that could direct me to a search for deceased members of the military and it was there that I learned of my brother’s death some twenty years earlier. It was devastating, to say the least, to learn that a younger sibling had died so young and without any family involved in his burial or that prayers were not recited to officially send him on his way for his return trip to the Creator who breathed life into him as described in Genesis: “God formed Adam out of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the neshamah of life; and Adam thus became a living creature.” (Genesis 2:7)
This experience made me think about the writings of our ancestors who understood the meaning of life and the messages we receive and the thoughts we encounter as we lose someone we love. There is a marvelous book: “Does the Soul Survive” in which various aspects of afterlife are studied and described as well as thoughts of the survival of the soul – that aspect of our existence that is housed in the shell we call the body. There is one particular story that seemed relevant to me because of the revelation I received of my loss. The story can be found in the book “Life After Life (1975) by Dr. Raymond Moody and describes the following life review which I changed indicating the male version of the experience as well as taking some liberties with the narration to fit my recollections:
When the light appeared, the first thing he said to me was, “What do you have to show me that you’ve done with your life?” or something to this effect. And that’s when these flashbacks started. I thought, “Gee, what is going on?” because all of a sudden I was back in my childhood. And from then on, it was like I was walking from the time of my very early life, right up to the present.
I pause here in the story to mention that this story describes my feelings and musings upon hearing the sad news of a brother who was 47 years old when he died and is a true expression of my encounter with his memory.
It was really strange where it started, too, when I was a little boy, playing down the street in our neighborhood, and there were other scenes from about that time-experiences I had with my brother, and things about the neighborhood people, and actual places I had been. And then I was in kindergarten, and I remembered the time when I had this one toy I really liked, and I broke it and cried for a long time…I remembered when I was in the Boy Scouts and went camping, and remembered many things about all the years of grammar school (actually Yeshiva)….
The things that flashed back came in order of my life, and they were so vivid. The scenes were just like if you walked outside and saw them, completely three-dimensional, and in color. And they moved. For instance, when I saw myself breaking the toy, I could see all the movements. It wasn’t like I was watching it all from my perspective at the time. It was like the little boy was somebody else, in a movie….
Now, I didn’t actually see the light as I was going through the flashbacks. He disappeared as soon as he asked me what I had done, and the flashbacks started, and yet I knew that he was there with me the whole time, that he carried me back through the flashbacks, because I felt his presence, and because he made comments here and there. He was trying to show me something in each of these flashbacks….
All through this, he kept stressing the importance of love. The places where he showed it best involved my sister (I have a sister); I have always been close to her….
He seemed very interested in things concerning knowledge, too. He kept pointing out things that had to do with learning, and he said that I was going to continue learning.
How strange. The author could have been writing about me and my brother and sister. It is as though he were sitting with me and writing my biography. I could not put the book down. The flashbacks were so real and the description of them so authentic. It reminded me of the Talmudic interpretation of the meaning of the soul when they described that just as God fills the whole world so does the soul fill the whole body. We are nothing without the soul for it is the essence of who we are. God contributes to the beauty of the world through continuous creation and the soul is eternal as well.
The eternal question is whether there is life after death and how we get there. Needless to say, faith plays an important role in determining our understanding of eternal life. More than that, however, is our perception of continuity. What exactly constitutes continuity? The dictionary describes this as perpetuation and that refers to everlastingness. We go full circle in determining the never ending cycle of birth and death. And it leads to the question: “What is the purpose of creation if it ends?”
From time immemorial we have yearned to learn about the continuation of our being. Judaism does not concentrate on this because our emphasis is life and not death. The prophets attempted to explain the “world to come” by explaining that the results are determined by God. Isaiah tells us that God alone knows what He prepared for him that waits for them because “no eye has seen and no ear has heard, O God, beside you.”
Our tradition teaches that the soul, upon leaving the body, encounters various conditions as it prepares itself for its ultimate destination – the return to its Creator. Our tradition of Shiva – sitting for seven days is designed to allow us the opportunity to absorb the loss, endure the pain and the as the Psalmist tells us: “Walk through the Valley of Death.” We don’t dwell on death – we mourn – we remember – and we continue with life.
Our custom is to say Kaddish (prayers of sanctification) – not prayers of death but utterances of gratitude for the life that was shared – for 11 months. This is the time, the mystics tell us, it takes for the soul to wind its way toward its ultimate destination. We should look at the Kaddish prayer as a “booster shot” – giving the soul the ability to make the journey. And in the end the soul rests in its Heavenly repose waiting to be born again.
We are taught that when the soul is called to make the journey back it is touched by an angel below the nose, removing the light of understanding, and sends it on its way. In that split second the soul forgets all that it has experienced and enters the world crying, having lost the place of redemption it fought so hard to achieve.
My brother is now remembered for what he was to us. We will miss him now because the search is over. We mourn his passing and are grateful to God for having given us (my sister and I) the ability to close an unfinished chapter in the story of our lives.
We say Kaddish now because, even though his journey ended quite some time ago, for us it has just begun. The memories will flow, the reminisces will continue, the guilt has been assuaged and he now rests in peace. Somehow I know that he waited for us to find him and say goodbye.
Goodbye sweet brother.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Where is God?
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
A couple had two little boys, ages 8 and 10, who were excessively mischievous. The
two were always getting into trouble and their parents could be assured that if any
mischief occurred in their town, their two young sons were in some way involved.
The parents were at their wits’ end as to what to do about their sons’ behavior.
The mother had heard that a rabbi in town had been successful in disciplining
children in the past (not by hitting them on their fingers if they mispronounced
their Hebrew lessons), so she asked her husband if he thought they should send
the boys to speak with the rabbi.
The husband said, “We might as well. We need to do something before I really
lose my temper!” The rabbi agreed to speak with the boys, but asked to see
them individually. The eight-year old went to meet him first. The rabbi sat the boy
down and asked him sternly, “Where is God?”
The boy made no response, so the rabbi repeated the question in an even sterner
tone, “Where is God?” Again the boy made no attempt to answer. So the rabbi raised
his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy’s face, “Where is God?”
At that the boy bolted from the room and ran directly home, slamming himself in the
closet. His older brother followed him into the closet and asked what happened. The
younger brother replied, “We are in BIG trouble this time. God is missing and they
think we did it!”
I thought of this story when recounting the many deeds of benevolence performed
by so many.
Many things happen during our journey of life – happy as well as
sad events occur that give us pause. Sometimes we wonder about the existence of
God and even question God’s participation in our lives. Some even doubt that God
is a reality. How could bad things happen to good people? How is it possible for
children to suffer? Why is there poverty and hunger? The questions are, in some
instances, mind boggling.
But then I look around and see the wonders of God in the works of His creation – you!
The men and women who strive to bring meaning to our lives through our religious
expressions are the personification of a truth – and that truth is that God works through
us to accomplish the impossible. We are a practical people. We do not wait for
miracles to happen – we create these miracles that give us strength and purpose and
meaning. This is how God works – we are the miracles waiting to occur.
Each of us can make life more bearable. Each of us can lift the burdens of despair.
Each of us can comfort and offer solace in times of sorrow. This is how God works –
we are the legions sent by God.
We, are blessed because many men, women and children, regardless of background
and age display a dedication, not only to our own survival and continuity, but also the
larger community, knowing full well that each of us is responsible for the many – not just
a few. Maimonides reminded us of this when he wrote that God wants your heart,
because the intention of your heart is the measure of what you do.
As a rabbi I watch in amazement, the many miracles performed, mostly unknowingly,
in the name of God. We may not think about God when we perform these acts of
loving kindness, but believe me, they are the miracles of everyday life. Each day our
participation ensures that the many faces of God are revealed and we are reminded of
this through our actions.
Where is God? He is sitting in every sanctuary, every pew occupied by all
of you. We don’t have to worry about God being missing – He will never be missing
as long as you are here. And, if by some chance, He is missing, it is only because we
permitted Him to slip through our fingers of indifference and disregard for the sanctity of
life.
A couple had two little boys, ages 8 and 10, who were excessively mischievous. The
two were always getting into trouble and their parents could be assured that if any
mischief occurred in their town, their two young sons were in some way involved.
The parents were at their wits’ end as to what to do about their sons’ behavior.
The mother had heard that a rabbi in town had been successful in disciplining
children in the past (not by hitting them on their fingers if they mispronounced
their Hebrew lessons), so she asked her husband if he thought they should send
the boys to speak with the rabbi.
The husband said, “We might as well. We need to do something before I really
lose my temper!” The rabbi agreed to speak with the boys, but asked to see
them individually. The eight-year old went to meet him first. The rabbi sat the boy
down and asked him sternly, “Where is God?”
The boy made no response, so the rabbi repeated the question in an even sterner
tone, “Where is God?” Again the boy made no attempt to answer. So the rabbi raised
his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy’s face, “Where is God?”
At that the boy bolted from the room and ran directly home, slamming himself in the
closet. His older brother followed him into the closet and asked what happened. The
younger brother replied, “We are in BIG trouble this time. God is missing and they
think we did it!”
I thought of this story when recounting the many deeds of benevolence performed
by so many.
Many things happen during our journey of life – happy as well as
sad events occur that give us pause. Sometimes we wonder about the existence of
God and even question God’s participation in our lives. Some even doubt that God
is a reality. How could bad things happen to good people? How is it possible for
children to suffer? Why is there poverty and hunger? The questions are, in some
instances, mind boggling.
But then I look around and see the wonders of God in the works of His creation – you!
The men and women who strive to bring meaning to our lives through our religious
expressions are the personification of a truth – and that truth is that God works through
us to accomplish the impossible. We are a practical people. We do not wait for
miracles to happen – we create these miracles that give us strength and purpose and
meaning. This is how God works – we are the miracles waiting to occur.
Each of us can make life more bearable. Each of us can lift the burdens of despair.
Each of us can comfort and offer solace in times of sorrow. This is how God works –
we are the legions sent by God.
We, are blessed because many men, women and children, regardless of background
and age display a dedication, not only to our own survival and continuity, but also the
larger community, knowing full well that each of us is responsible for the many – not just
a few. Maimonides reminded us of this when he wrote that God wants your heart,
because the intention of your heart is the measure of what you do.
As a rabbi I watch in amazement, the many miracles performed, mostly unknowingly,
in the name of God. We may not think about God when we perform these acts of
loving kindness, but believe me, they are the miracles of everyday life. Each day our
participation ensures that the many faces of God are revealed and we are reminded of
this through our actions.
Where is God? He is sitting in every sanctuary, every pew occupied by all
of you. We don’t have to worry about God being missing – He will never be missing
as long as you are here. And, if by some chance, He is missing, it is only because we
permitted Him to slip through our fingers of indifference and disregard for the sanctity of
life.
Friday, January 21, 2011
The Pain of Loss
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
The mystics teach us that to appreciate the joy and fulfillment of life we must experience pain. The teachings go further with an example of thirst. We surely can appreciate water if we are thirsty but if we satisfy that thirst and then given a glass of some other cool refreshing drink we would not want to indulge because our need has been satisfied. The conclusion reached is that agony and ecstasy were created because life does not exist with just one or the other.
Sometimes we lose sight of this fact. We rush to accomplish so much we tend to ignore the signs of defeat. Nothing that is ever accomplished is done without working at it and, in some instances, struggling for it. Even those who inherit must work at keeping what is given so that it can enrich their lives and those that follow.
And there are losses that have no comparison. These losses create in us a vacuum that defies explanation. The most devastating of these is the loss of a child. We understand that in the course of human existence the younger bury the older. But when we are faced with the task of opening the earth to receive a child, not only do we mourn, but the angels sob uncontrollably for the pain which this loss inflicts.
Life is filled with anticipation and expectation. We melt into a dream of delightful embrace and complete this magical adventure by bringing forth another human-being. We look at this creation and begin the journey of contemplation and anticipation. Should he be a doctor, should she be a teacher? Will she look like her mother or he like his father? Will I make the same mistakes my parents made or will I be different? I will be the best parent. That is my pledge as I watch this tiny creature reach out to touch the world.
These dreams and visions are interrupted by tragedy. Our child has died and so has our posterity. The romantic notions of success and abundance are lost in a tunnel of emptiness and despair. There is no light in this tunnel, just a darkness that envelops
and consumes us. We sink into the depths of dejection. Where is my little one? Why is there an empty bed and an empty place in our heart? Why can’t I cry? I need to shed tears where smiles once lived and grieve for the hopelessness. I am stunned and frozen. Everything moves around me but I am motionless.
I recall the cry of King David when he learned of the death of his son Absalom: “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Could it only be, I would die for you, O Absalom, my son, my son!” (II Samuel 19:1) Nothing brings more joy than to see our children grow and prosper and then the greatest of pain gives us pause and we too are consumed by the madness of a forfeited future.
Is this what the mystics referred to in their declarations of pain endurance? Must there be bereavement in order to appreciate life? We all know that we are born to die, but there are paths to the end of days and they should not include the young. Age is a blessing that is not just reserved for the aged but rather a gift earned through great effort. Are not the young entitled to experience the durability associated with growth?
I believe that our ancestors were trying to teach us how to cope with adversity, some so devastating as to cause us to languish in total sadness. I believe the message is that terrible things happen and we have the ability to overcome these troublesome experiences by learning to extend a helping hand and to comfort and offer solace. This is our obligation as human-beings. This is our duty as survivors.
We need not try to make sense of diminishing involvement but rather take the memory of the love we gave and the love we received and bundle into a treasure chest of keepsakes and recollections. We must endeavor to release the guilt because it only prolongs the agony and causes us to fall deeper into the pit. There is no one to blame. And for sure God was not there to steal the future but rather to aid in the comfort needed to walk through the valley into a new day, a new life, a new beginning. We never forget, but we can’t stop time and remain in this spot forever.
I am reminded of a story of two men, both seriously ill, who occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each day to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in military service, where they had been on vacation.
Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst the flowers of every color, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn’t hear the band – he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, “Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.”
I believe that is what the ancients were trying to tell us when they talked about pain and how to appreciate it because of the painless possibilities in our lives. It is never easy to explain away a loss – a loss of a child, but maybe we should try to understand that pain can be relieved with hope and faith and a belief that things happen and we need to learn to role with the punches so that life will continue.
We never forget but we learn to live with memories that can and should help us reach another day filled with light and sunshine and the promise of tomorrow.
The mystics teach us that to appreciate the joy and fulfillment of life we must experience pain. The teachings go further with an example of thirst. We surely can appreciate water if we are thirsty but if we satisfy that thirst and then given a glass of some other cool refreshing drink we would not want to indulge because our need has been satisfied. The conclusion reached is that agony and ecstasy were created because life does not exist with just one or the other.
Sometimes we lose sight of this fact. We rush to accomplish so much we tend to ignore the signs of defeat. Nothing that is ever accomplished is done without working at it and, in some instances, struggling for it. Even those who inherit must work at keeping what is given so that it can enrich their lives and those that follow.
And there are losses that have no comparison. These losses create in us a vacuum that defies explanation. The most devastating of these is the loss of a child. We understand that in the course of human existence the younger bury the older. But when we are faced with the task of opening the earth to receive a child, not only do we mourn, but the angels sob uncontrollably for the pain which this loss inflicts.
Life is filled with anticipation and expectation. We melt into a dream of delightful embrace and complete this magical adventure by bringing forth another human-being. We look at this creation and begin the journey of contemplation and anticipation. Should he be a doctor, should she be a teacher? Will she look like her mother or he like his father? Will I make the same mistakes my parents made or will I be different? I will be the best parent. That is my pledge as I watch this tiny creature reach out to touch the world.
These dreams and visions are interrupted by tragedy. Our child has died and so has our posterity. The romantic notions of success and abundance are lost in a tunnel of emptiness and despair. There is no light in this tunnel, just a darkness that envelops
and consumes us. We sink into the depths of dejection. Where is my little one? Why is there an empty bed and an empty place in our heart? Why can’t I cry? I need to shed tears where smiles once lived and grieve for the hopelessness. I am stunned and frozen. Everything moves around me but I am motionless.
I recall the cry of King David when he learned of the death of his son Absalom: “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Could it only be, I would die for you, O Absalom, my son, my son!” (II Samuel 19:1) Nothing brings more joy than to see our children grow and prosper and then the greatest of pain gives us pause and we too are consumed by the madness of a forfeited future.
Is this what the mystics referred to in their declarations of pain endurance? Must there be bereavement in order to appreciate life? We all know that we are born to die, but there are paths to the end of days and they should not include the young. Age is a blessing that is not just reserved for the aged but rather a gift earned through great effort. Are not the young entitled to experience the durability associated with growth?
I believe that our ancestors were trying to teach us how to cope with adversity, some so devastating as to cause us to languish in total sadness. I believe the message is that terrible things happen and we have the ability to overcome these troublesome experiences by learning to extend a helping hand and to comfort and offer solace. This is our obligation as human-beings. This is our duty as survivors.
We need not try to make sense of diminishing involvement but rather take the memory of the love we gave and the love we received and bundle into a treasure chest of keepsakes and recollections. We must endeavor to release the guilt because it only prolongs the agony and causes us to fall deeper into the pit. There is no one to blame. And for sure God was not there to steal the future but rather to aid in the comfort needed to walk through the valley into a new day, a new life, a new beginning. We never forget, but we can’t stop time and remain in this spot forever.
I am reminded of a story of two men, both seriously ill, who occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each day to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in military service, where they had been on vacation.
Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst the flowers of every color, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn’t hear the band – he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, “Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.”
I believe that is what the ancients were trying to tell us when they talked about pain and how to appreciate it because of the painless possibilities in our lives. It is never easy to explain away a loss – a loss of a child, but maybe we should try to understand that pain can be relieved with hope and faith and a belief that things happen and we need to learn to role with the punches so that life will continue.
We never forget but we learn to live with memories that can and should help us reach another day filled with light and sunshine and the promise of tomorrow.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Cpmpassion
Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
As is my custom, I set aside two days a week to concentrate on writing and studying. Occasionally I come across something that hits me and inspires me to sit down at the computer and begin writing. Today (Sunday, January 9th) was such a day. And the lesson involves compassion.
It occurred to me that usually during this time of the year we commemorate a particular tradition called Gemilut Hesed – acts of loving kindness demonstrated by charitable expressions. At this time a section of the Torah (Bible) that is read at Sabbath Services is referred to as Mishpatim (Exodus 21). Loosely translated the word means rules and within this chapter we find rules that enabled us to create a livable society.
For example it specifically mentions that we are prohibited from charging interest with loans intended to alleviate financial hardships. The need for assistance should not be compromised with additional debt. It is a noble idea and well before its time in understanding the responsibilities we have toward people who find themselves unable to meet everyday requirements such as food or shelter.
One of the very first things we did, as a people, when we settled into new surroundings was to establish Benevolent Societies which were designed to prevent people from becoming burdens on society. However, just as important was the concept of giving those in need the ability to survive with dignity. The Talmud emphasizes that to embarrass an individual is tantamount to the spilling of blood; in other words, the taking of a life.
The Jewish Free Loan Associations were established to provide help by lending what was needed, without interest thus enabling communities to benefit from collective renewal. These loans enabled people to become self-sufficient in a way that was beneficial to them and everyone around them. In essence the needy were taught to lift their heads high because these were not hand-outs.
And there is a benefit to those who contribute to this effort: the funds donated are never gone because they are loaned over and over again and as the loans are repaid they are lent again. There is no social service program in existence that can make that claim.
Monies that remain after all have been served are invested so that the income from these funds defray the cost of operating this Society dedicated to relieving human suffering by offering the impetus for self-determination.
This is the essence of Gemilut Hesed – of benevolence that is not charity. And those who contribute to this action are the true heroes by saving the world one person at a time.
As is my custom, I set aside two days a week to concentrate on writing and studying. Occasionally I come across something that hits me and inspires me to sit down at the computer and begin writing. Today (Sunday, January 9th) was such a day. And the lesson involves compassion.
It occurred to me that usually during this time of the year we commemorate a particular tradition called Gemilut Hesed – acts of loving kindness demonstrated by charitable expressions. At this time a section of the Torah (Bible) that is read at Sabbath Services is referred to as Mishpatim (Exodus 21). Loosely translated the word means rules and within this chapter we find rules that enabled us to create a livable society.
For example it specifically mentions that we are prohibited from charging interest with loans intended to alleviate financial hardships. The need for assistance should not be compromised with additional debt. It is a noble idea and well before its time in understanding the responsibilities we have toward people who find themselves unable to meet everyday requirements such as food or shelter.
One of the very first things we did, as a people, when we settled into new surroundings was to establish Benevolent Societies which were designed to prevent people from becoming burdens on society. However, just as important was the concept of giving those in need the ability to survive with dignity. The Talmud emphasizes that to embarrass an individual is tantamount to the spilling of blood; in other words, the taking of a life.
The Jewish Free Loan Associations were established to provide help by lending what was needed, without interest thus enabling communities to benefit from collective renewal. These loans enabled people to become self-sufficient in a way that was beneficial to them and everyone around them. In essence the needy were taught to lift their heads high because these were not hand-outs.
And there is a benefit to those who contribute to this effort: the funds donated are never gone because they are loaned over and over again and as the loans are repaid they are lent again. There is no social service program in existence that can make that claim.
Monies that remain after all have been served are invested so that the income from these funds defray the cost of operating this Society dedicated to relieving human suffering by offering the impetus for self-determination.
This is the essence of Gemilut Hesed – of benevolence that is not charity. And those who contribute to this action are the true heroes by saving the world one person at a time.
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