It has been a busy week. It began with a Bar Mitzvah on Motzei Shabbos, a wedding on Tuesday, and a funeral on Wednesday. Truthfully, this is not all that different from what a typical week looks like. The difference was, the Bar Mitzvah was on Zoom, the wedding livestreamed on YouTube. The funeral took place in the parking lot of our shul, in the pouring rain, with 10 men, standing 6 feet apart, while I delivered a eulogy standing under the open trunk door of the minivan containing the casket. These are challenging times. During these last two weeks we have seen the normal rhythms of life come to a grinding halt. The way we do everything has changed. The social and religious norms that many have known their entire lives have changed. It feels like everything is different. As Jews, it is our sacred mission to realize that within every set of circumstances is a lesson to be learned. God speaks to us in times of good and in times of challenge.
This week I learned a lot. From the funeral I conducted, I was reminded that life comes to an end. I realized that there are things I have to fix in myself and I can’t delay it any longer. I must do teshuva (repentance). I have been to and conducted many funerals and yet I never had this feeling before. We are living with the specter of illness hovering above us at all times and we are constantly confronted by the reality of our mortality. It really hit me – I won’t be here forever. And if I won’t be here forever, what do I want to accomplish? Who do I want to be? What will be my legacy? Am I leading a meaningful and fulfilling life? Is Hashem happy with me? Am I happy with myself? This is probably the appropriate reaction after any funeral, but it must have been the driving rain, the grayness of the sky, the 6 feet in between each of the attendees and the contemplative state I find myself in that propelled me to the inner recesses of my soul.
I have learned a lot by watching our dedicated doctors, nurses, Hatzalah members, who day in and day out, care for the sick. We are told to distance, isolate and quarantine. We are told to take all the necessary precautions to stay healthy and avoid spreading this dreaded virus. And yet each and every day these precious men and women put themselves in harms way to care for us and to protect us. They put themselves in danger to care for people they often don’t even know. I have been watching them and I have been learning from them. And so, I must ask myself, is there anything I sacrifice for? Do I give enough of myself to the community and others in need? Do I help only when it is convenient or am I willing to put myself out there for the needs of the other? When I see someone who is suffering or in pain, am I willing to stop what I am doing and help? Do I possess a real sense of empathy and compassion which propels me to take action when there is a need? I have always had great respect for our medical professionals and first responders, but as of two weeks ago, they have become my ultimate life teachers.
As I mentioned before, this was also a week of incredible simcha (celebration). I learned that the ability to generate genuine joy is not related to the menu, centerpieces, venue choices or apparel options. I listened to a Bar Mitzvah boy deliver his Dvar Torah with genuine simcha despite the lack of “party” trappings. I danced with my sons in my home as the Bar Mitzvah boy and his family danced in their home and yet, somehow, we were all together. I saw a bride and groom who possessed so much love for each other and yet all they had was one holy Jew playing the guitar for them. We live in a time of unparalleled affluence (IY’H the market will recover) and too often we think that it is the material trappings which create the joy around life events. Lest you think that this is a rant against materialism, in full disclosure, I too (really) enjoy the finer things in life. But we must strive to create balance. The COVID-19 crisis will come to an end IYH. The question is, who will we be on the other side of this crisis? Will we breathe a sigh of relief and go back to business as usual? Or will we take a critical look at how we do things and consider changing course? We have seen firsthand that you can create incredible joy with very little. It is the people who make the simcha jubilant. In fact, we see this concept in this week’s Parsha:
