How We Cope and Kindly Rise
“It says the Torah’s not far-off or remote, but it’s taken us thousands of years to keep trying to figure out what it means” quipped a fellow-learner following a morning service this week. He was referring to a promise in this week’s portion of Torah. It says, the Torah is closeby, not distant or difficult to access. I responded by wondering aloud, “Maybe the Torah’s thousands of years of engagement are less about figuring it out, and more about its ongoing yield. The plentiful secrets it discloses whenever we need them most.”
As we’re now mere steps away from entering the New Year, it’s high time for you and me to dip into its surplus.
You don’t need to be bookish or a thinker of big thoughts. Particularly these days when so many of us are feeling out of temper, your inner-life search-and-rescue need not depend on refining some new idea. “Jewish learning has never been just an elite activity” Sarah Hurwitz notes (As A Jew, P. 273). And this week’s portion tips us off to this truth when Moses’s audience highlights woodchoppers and drawers of water (Deut. 29:10). Perhaps those who draw and carry water, know best how to dip into our surplus.
“May God be with you on the day of your anguish” begins a daily psalm toward the end of the morning service (Ps. 20:1). It concludes, “Some with chariots. Some with horses. But we find awe in turning toward God…They collapse and fall; we rise and cope” (verses 8-9).
Rising kindly and coping has now found a new mentor. Eli Shurabi, after 491 days in harmful captivity, has written the first memoir of a released Israeli hostage. It’s the fastest selling book in Israel’s history. Likened to Elie Wiesel’s Night and Laura Hillenbrand’s Unbroken, here’s how Eli tells of his agonizing visit to the graves of his wife and daughters following his release.
“I look at three graves. Lianne. Noiya. Yahel. The peaceful fields around us glisten, a taut blue sky overhead Birds chirp. I break down crying. I fall to my knees. Everything’s blurry. Only Yahel, Noiya, and Leanne exist. Forty minutes later, I turn to my friend and say, “OK, let’s go.” She looks at me, puzzled. “It’s OK,” I tell her. “Let’s go.” We walk slowly toward the exit of the cemetery.” Eli then turns and concludes, “This here is rock bottom. I’ve seen it. I’ve touched it. Now, life.”
This is where this Shabbat’s call to choose life (Deut. 30:19) and The Book of life, hug and kiss. May Torah-teachings prove touching in the New Year, helping us all to cope and kindly rise.
A sweet Shabbat and Shana to you.
