48 Weeks...From Joy to Sorrow to Joy to Poland

Dear Friends and Family, They tell me the journey is non linear and once again this week was proof that the valley of the shadow of death is a huge valley. I had the privilege of officiating at a wedding of a child of a close friend of Sue's and experienced the joy of the wedding. As the groom broke the glass to remind us that even in joy there is sadness I was momentarily overwhelmed realizing that Sue wasn't there to experience the happiness of being with her friend at this wonderful occasion. But THEN, everyone yelled mazel tov and the celebration continued. As the clock turned on 48 weeks yesterday I continue to ask those with whom I am close, when will I be able to experience the joy which I am sure that Sue would want me to experience. I wish I knew what she would be saying to me if she could tell me what her wishes were for me at this point in the grieving process. I continue to remember her positive attitude and as a close friend told me recently, the importance of an attitude of gratitude. Psalm 30:5 says, "weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." As folks shouted mazel tov I keep waiting for the joy that deep in my heart I know Sue would want me to have. Then in the midst of the celebration one of the most special friends to so many, passed away and this week was filled with memorial services and tributes. The sadness that is being felt by all who knew this wonderful friend, teacher, mentor, guide, and mensch is being felt across the globe as his students send tributes and speak of his love. Someone suggested that perhaps Sue was greeting him in the world to come. Our friend used to give out sprinkles when his students did something positive so at a memorial we gave out Hershey kisses to symbolize the sweetness he brought to this world and the sweetness and kindness that both he and Sue exemplified. I hope that perhaps as the anniversary of Sue's passing approaches, that the sweetness will help to overcome the year long sadness and lead to happiness and joy. What that will look like is a mystery to me....but I hope for greater joy. Next week I will leave with a group of college students to Poland where we will experience the grave sadness of the Holocaust as witnesses to the horrors of what occurred in the concentration and death camps. As we stand in the places where so many righteous, kind, sweet, and innocent people lost their lives, I wonder whether this experience will provide perspective that will help me deal with the theological crisis as to why the horrors of the Holocaust happened and why bad things happen to good people. Being with students who might learn from this experience and create a world where people are kinder and more loving may be an antidote to the sadness that we all will feel and that I feel personally. These are challenging times and there is much pain in the world. As I write this there are attacks taking place in the Middle East and our prayers are for peace. I would guess that those of you reading this wonder what am I trying to say here...I guess I am trying to say that we need to make the mazel tov happen because there is glass shattering all around us. There will be joy, there will be sadness, but there can be hope and happiness again. I hope you will take a minute to read the following story which is inspiring me to realize that joy and happiness may be in my hands and a better world may be in all of our hands. Will we bring joy to our world and will we turn mourning into morning and help there to be joy after sadness? I guess it is in our hands (please read the story below. There are many versions but I like this one a lot) Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Bruce Aft Adapted from an Indian folk tale. There was once a wise woman who lived by herself near a small village. Rumor had it that she could always accurately predict when the rains would come, or help heal a sick child with herbs, or calm angry neighbors and help them to resolve their fights and arguments. People came from all over the land to meet with her and seek her advice on matters both small and great. Her reputation was such that was said she was never wrong — not ever. Some of the children of the village didn’t believe that it was possible to always be right. Surely she could not know everything! They decided to test her knowledge. First they asked her to answer questions about the planets, the animals, and the world. No matter how hard the questions, she always answered correctly. The children were amazed at her knowledge and learning and most were ready to stop testing the wise woman. However, one boy was determined to prove that the old woman couldn’t know everything. Hatching a devious scheme, he told all of his friends to meet him at the woman’s home the following afternoon so he could prove she was a faker. All through the next day he hunted for a bird. Finally he caught a small songbird in a net. Holding it behind his back so no one could see what was in his hands, he walked triumphantly to the wise woman’s home. (storytelling tip: take a wooden or stuffed bird and holds it behind your back.) “Old woman!” he called. “Come and show us how wise you are!” The woman walked calmly to the door. “May I help you?” she simply asked. “You say you know everything — prove it — what am I holding behind my back?” the young boy demanded. The old woman thought for a moment. She could make out the faint sounds of a birds wings rustling. “I do not say I know everything — for that would be impossible,” she replied. “However, I do believe you are holding a bird in your hands.” The boy was furious. How could the woman have possibly known he had a bird? Thinking quickly he came up with a new scheme. He would ask the woman whether the bird was alive or dead. If the woman replied, “alive,” he would crush it with his hands and prove her wrong. If she answered, “dead,” on the other hand, he would pull the living bird from behind his back and allow it to fly away. Either way he would prove his point and the wise woman would be discredited. “Very good,” he called. “It is a bird. But tell me, is the bird I am holding alive or dead?” The wise woman paused for a long moment while the boy waited with anticipation for his opportunity to prove her wrong. Again the woman spoke calmly, “The answer, my young friend, is in your hands. The answer is in your hands.” The boy realized that the wise woman had once again spoken correctly and truthfully. The answer was indeed in his own hands. Feeling the bird feebly moving in his hands as it tried to escape his grasp, he felt suddenly very ashamed. The answer was in his hands — slowly and gently he brought his hands to the front of his body. Looking into the eyes of the delicate bird he apologized, “I am sorry little one,” and he opened his hands to let her go free.