Surviving Corona – Part I
| To hear and see Rabbi Weinblatt’s sermon, on YouTube, click here: To read the sermon, see below: Surviving Corona – Part I Welcome to Rosh Hashana 5781, our first and hopefully, last and only virtual High Holiday services. While I say that it is Rosh Hashana, I am not sure I can say with any degree of certainty or confidence what holiday, much less, what day it is. There are no lines or distinctions anymore, as everything blurs together and one day rolls into the next, like Groundhog Day. People are working around the clock, or as one cartoon put it – “I don’t know anymore if I’m working from home, or living at work.” Adding to the confusion as to what day it is – we wear masks like we do on Purim. We’re hungry all day long like it’s Yom Kippur. We walk around in our homes in slippers like we do on Tisha B’Av. We’re washing and cleaning so much it feels like Passover, and we eat meals outside, like Sukkot. Our lives have been radically and suddenly uprooted from all that we knew, from all that was familiar. Who could have ever imagined when we gathered this time last year, that the world we knew could and would be so disrupted in so short a period of time? Who could have ever imagined that things we take for granted, like going to a ball game or having a family seder would not be possible? Who could have predicted when we recited our High Holiday prayers last year that our routines and our schedules would be so uprooted, and that the way we live our lives would be so radically altered? Who could have foreseen that all that was second nature would come to a sudden, unanticipated instantaneous screeching halt? When the directives first came out at the beginning of the shutdown in March, public health officials warned that the elderly were especially vulnerable, and had to take extra precautions to avoid catching the highly contagious disease. Many of us assumed elderly meant just that, old people. We were shocked to learn that when they said “elderly” they were referring to anyone above the age of 60, meaning many of us. So much for 60 being the new 50. It turns out 60 is the new 70. During this unprecedented time we have all had to learn how to cope with the new reality, a reality which has introduced social norms and concepts once foreign to us, such as social distancing, bowing instead of shaking hands, as well as other more profound and lasting changes. When the dust settles, we will face a new world that will change the way we interact with each other, the way we conduct business, how we shop, the way children learn, … every aspect of our lives. One of the many unfortunate consequences is that trust has become a casualty of the pandemic. We have to view strangers and even friends with suspicion and to maintain physical distance. We cannot touch or hug people the way we once did, making it especially difficult and painful to console and give support at times of loss and sorrow. I feel bad for the students who missed out on their senior year of high school and for the students who were looking forward to their graduation from college; for the students going off to college for the first time, for the children who have to start and attend school in front of a computer instead of in a classroom, for the kids who count the days until camp who were robbed of their summer, for the restaurants and businesses that have had to close, for the people who have lost their jobs and livelihood, for the freedom of movement and ability to travel we have had to give up, for the health care workers and delivery people who put their lives on the front line every day, for those who have been ill or suffered or died from this terrible illness, and for their loved ones, some of whom weren’t able to see them or properly say goodbye… I feel for everyone whose lives have been uprooted. I mourn the loss of a world that is no more. A number of articles have chronicled the toll this is taking on our physical, spiritual and mental well-being and on our families. Parents of young children are especially feeling the brunt of being pulled in many directions. They have had to take on and master new, herculean tasks, juggling meetings and their work schedule while monitoring and helping their children with their schoolwork along with everything else they are doing, all of which has added new levels of stress to their lives. I heard of one woman who broke down and told her mother that she was at the end of her rope, and not able to handle the pressure anymore. On the other end of the line her mother calmly reassured her and told her not to worry. As soon as they got off the phone, she would hop in her car, drive down from New Jersey and help. She would take care of the baby, change the diapers, do the laundry, cook dinner for the family, clean the house, help each of the three kids with their homework, make them lunch for the next day and put them to bed. The daughter was relieved that help was on the way and said, “Mama, you’re amazing.” Before hanging up, the woman casually asked her daughter how her husband, Sam was managing in his new job. The daughter said, “Mama, you know my husband’s name is Carl, not Sam.” At that moment, they both realized the woman had called the wrong number. As it dawned on her that she was speaking to a stranger, who was not her mother, in desperation, the young woman cried out, “Does that mean you’re not coming?!” The new reality entails sports events without fans, virtual political conventions with speeches devoid of applause or audience reaction, late night talk show hosts broadcasting from their homes, family holiday meals without family, and rabbis delivering sermons and conducting services in an empty sanctuary. During the quarantine I turned to watching old black and white episodes of The Twilight Zone, hoping perhaps that the notion of a parallel universe would offer some comfort. The hope born of imagining that somewhere out there there is a world without Coronavirus was an attractive and appealing fantasy. At one point, my granddaughter Talia who was ten years old at the time, summed it up best when she said after several weeks in quarantine, “I just wish the world was normal again.” To be honest, there are times I have felt anger that this is the way things are. I agree with Talia, “I just wish the world was normal again.” If there is anything I have learned from our history it is that we cannot allow anger or fear to dominate or control us, our actions, or our emotions. I turn to and lean on those who came before us, for while the conditions humans face may change, the human condition does not. We can learn how those who came before us dealt with the challenges of their day to help us get through the challenges of today. Judaism encourages us to persevere and not overlook the beauty in the world. Despite the avalanche of bad news, even now, we can be inspired by the stories that highlight human decency and show the best in humanity. Many have gained a newfound appreciation for the amazing dedication of people we may have previously taken for granted – health care employees, delivery workers, and others to whom we are indebted. I don’t know about you, but in the early stages I thought about all I would do with my new-found time confined at home, and quickly became frustrated by how little I was able to accomplish. I read somewhere that when William Shakespeare was quarantined during a plague in 1605 he wrote King Lear, Macbeth and Anthony and Cleopatra — only making me feel more inadequate. But then I was comforted when my daughter Margalit shared with me an article that said – our main job during the quarantine is not to master new challenges, but to survive. Indeed, as the Book of Deuteronomy constantly implores us, a theme reiterated throughout the holiday liturgy, “ U’vcharta behayim: Therefore choose life” and at this season we pray that we will be inscribed in the Book of Life. Many of us are relatively fortunate and have not suffered as much as so many others in our country have. A number of people told me of the silver lining of being in quarantine. Grown children moved back home, and parents and children had meals together and actually had adult conversations with their grown children – some even for the first time! Symcha and I were blessed to have a full house for the first few months, with all 15 of our family being together under the same roof. We not only survived, we thrived, and realized, we really do all like each other and love being together. This can be a time to rediscover and to appreciate the blessings we have which are near and dear to us. As the Torah so beautifully reminds us in last week’s Torah portion, “..lo rehoka hee, it is not far from you… nor is it beyond the sea , but rather it is very near to you…” I am reminded of the story of the rabbi who decided he wanted to travel to Switzerland to see the Alps before he died, explaining that when he meets His Maker, the Holy One, he fears he will be asked by God, “Did you see my Alps?” But as the Torah tells us, lo rehoka hee, we need not travel so far to find beauty. A story is told about a man in Pinsk named Yitzhak who dreamed of a great treasure buried under a bridge in Minsk. Since he had the same dream three nights in a row, he set out for Prague. When he got there, he found the bridge and started digging, looking for the treasure. The guard stationed on the bridge asked him what he was doing. He explained he was digging because of the recurring dream he had. The guard laughed and told him he had the same dream – only in his dream the buried treasure was under the house of a guy in Pinsk named Yitzhak. The man went back home, and dug and found the treasure was right there in front of him, in his own home, all along. Rosh HaShanah, especially this year, when coupled with the pandemic, reminds us to pause and reflect on our lives and to appreciate our blessings that we too often overlook. This is a time to ask ourselves — Did you take the time to appreciate nature? If you haven’t, the “good news”, if we can call it that, is that the current situation will last at least for a few more months. So you still have time to take walks and to appreciate the natural beauty of the world that God has created for us. I have gained a deeper appreciation for the cycle and rhythm of nature. When the quarantine began, I noticed that the nights were cold. We burned a small bonfire in a fire pit in our backyard. Soon the cold spring weather gave birth to the budding of flowers and then to the warmth of summer, which will soon yield its place to the turning of the color of the leaves. In the early months, I noticed that each Shabbat it got dark later and later and that there was more and more sunlight after the conclusion of our 6:30 pm Friday night services. Now there is less, and soon when we conduct these services it will be dark outside, as the days are getting shorter, and the nights longer. What else can Judaism teach us about times like these? After all, we have been around for over 3,000 years, and have witnessed our share of pandemics, plagues destruction and catastrophes. The Book of Lamentations, which we read on Tisha B’Av opens with a lament for the destroyed, barren city of Jerusalem, words written over 2,000 years ago but which sound like they could have been lifted from a newspaper describing any of the great cities around the world during the lockdown earlier this year. “Eicha yashva vadad ha’ir rabati: How solitary lies the city that was once so full of people.” The ancient prophets warned the people of Israel of the impending destruction of Jerusalem, yet they did not heed their words, nor mend their ways, and so, according to the prophets, God sent them a message. Is it possible, as some have said, that God is sending us a message? If so, what could that message be? How did we cope with similar crises in the past? And what other insights can Judaism offer that may apply to our current situation and offer wisdom and guidance? To hear the answers to these questions, I invite you to come back tomorrow, for the second day of Rosh Hashana, when I will deliver Part II of this year’s High Holiday sermon, and which will be mailed out in an upcoming email. Stuart Weinblatt Congregation B’nai Tzedek Potomac, MD Rosh Hashana Day I 5781 September 19, 2020 |
