There's been a lot of wonderful, inspiring writing on social media in these last days. But I know not all of us are doing so great. I know because I'm one of them. It's been quite the lousy 2020. But, as I once heard from a wise friend in a different context, "just because you're having a bad year doesn't mean everything is bad."
So I share with y'all my final weekly d'var for Pride of Israel. Left out of the d'var, Sean will be leaving Pride of Israel this summer, which has been an issue ongoing through my mother's cancer, shiva, and sheloshim. Last spring, just after my mother’s cancer diagnosis, we asked the synagogue for a 1 year extension of the current contract with no assumption beyond, so we would be free from dealing with this issue during her treatment. Though the extension was approved quickly, the board waited to tell us for 3 months. Well into Mom’s treatment, they instead presented us with a new one-year contract, after which there’d be no extension, no severance, among other things. We were shocked, and said no, Instead of a simple extension, we spent the rest of my mother’s life negotiating. Just as Mom’s sheloshim ended, it became official.
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. (Kohelet 3:1)
There is an idea that God never gives us more than we can handle. It’s not Jewish. In fact, it comes from Corinthians in the Christian bible. It’s not something I appreciate or accept. It implies that we can handle anything on our own. That is patently untrue. We often have more than we can handle. We need not be heroes. Asking for or accepting help does not mean we won’t suffer. But knowing there are people around to provide support can make a difference in how we emerge from our suffering.
I’ve written before of my gam zeh ya’avor ring. The story goes that an abcient king sent out his most trusted servant to find an object that would make you happy when sad and sad when happy. The servent searched for many years, and had given up. At the last minute, he happens into a poor market, where a metalsmith asks him his troubles. When the servent explains, the man scratches a phrase into a ring, and hands it to the servent. It said, “gam zeh ya’avor.”
Gam zeh ya’avor means this too shall pass. All things end, both the sad and the joyful. We know they will pass... sometimes as painful as a kidney stone. 2019 was not a good year for us. Most of it was spent dealing with my mother’s cancer. Our celebration of Gavriel’s CHAT graduation was marred by Jesse’s idiopathic anemia requiring a week in the hospital. No one was there to celebrate him. He spent the evening alone. 2020 is not shaping up much better. Mom died January 19. March 11, we found out one of our cats had late stage kidney disease. Gandalf died peacefully on March 16, while Rav Sean and Jesse were en route home from UKings in Halifax due to Corvid-19.
Of course there are good things. Jesse graduates this year. Keren will finish CHAT. She’s been accepted into two great drama programs. I’m sure we’ll hear from others soon. But their celebrations will be muted at best.
Last year we spent only seven Shabbatot together as a family. Corvid-19 will guarantee us at least five together in the coming weeks. Though the noise level is up with all three kids home, it’s a blessing to have them together.
This is my final drash for Shabbat Matters. I will not be leading Torah and Tangents. I am too emotionally damaged, and have not the emotional, mental, nor physical strength to continue. I know that I am not the only broken person right now, and I am grateful for my network of friends and colleagues to whom I can turn when things are difficult. Though our synagogue is closed, Rav Sean is still available for your needs. Though our lives are constrained, we can support each other through calls and social media. We may be broken now, but with help and support, and proper precautions, this too shall pass.
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