Finding humanity in others, and ourselves

I have found that the greatest life lessons are not learned through study of sacred text. Nothing compares with experience, and that is most effectively found (for those perceptive enough to see) in our daily interactions in the “real” world.

Our tradition can provide a moral compass in an increasingly complicated world, but a value is only a value when it is tested. There is no substitute for first-hand experiences to make us compassionate human beings. These interactions provide a foundation of empathy that propels us into action.

There is a difference between being sympathetic to another’s condition and recognizing the necessity to alleviate their suffering.

There is a story about a spoiled princess who insisted on seeing the face of God. Despite the intellectual knowledge that God has no face, she frustratingly insisted on the impossible. The rabbi (of course the hero of the story) took her to a home where children were dying – and when the princess finally understood the enormity of the suffering around her, for the first time in her life she began crying uncontrollably.

At that moment the rabbi placed a mirror in front of her – and as she witnessed the tears flowing down her cheeks for someone other than herself – he told her that this was the face of God.

Rabbi Harold Schulweis taught that one doesn’t look for God inside a burning building. You will see God in the willingness of those who rush into the fire to save lives within.

So, as a rabbi who has served in hospice, chaplaincy, and even what may seemingly be “normal” daily interaction, the greatest life lessons I have learned come from working in places where life becomes tenuous and precious: in illness, hunger, depression and fear.

Visit the waiting room of a local oncology center. You will see people bound together in a community of suffering. They have nothing in common except the cancers they are fighting; they each have a story of illness, nausea and anxiety.

So many different responses. Halting steps in walkers, waiting for tests to return. All manner of clothing, including shorts or sweats for those who choose comfort to ease the physical discomfort clothing can bring. They sit next to some who insist that they look their best, in defiance of the onset of their condition.

Old, young and in between are there. They attempt to assert control over a disease that ultimately cannot be controlled. But such is their human spirit (and the support they receive from loved ones). In the face of despair, they refuse to surrender.

And there is silent nobility for those who surrendered and a pervasive sadness for those who do not speak the language and ultimately do not understand what is happening.

I study our sacred texts to learn more about our tradition, but I have learned the most about life from those I sought to help. This is where to go to experience humanity at its most resilient.