We Are One Family

Perspective.

I had mine checked this week.

We live in remarkably stressful times. I am sure Billy Joel would say that the fire was always burning since the world’s been turning. But, suffice it to say, as a people, we Jews are most definitely high on anxiety these days for very real, very tangible reasons.

Then something horrific happens, and we all stop. We look around. We take stock of our world.

This week, my congregation in Woodcliff Lake, NJ lost a family. Not to a terrorist attack. Not to antisemitism. Not to war.

To something as mundane as a car crash.

Our congregation buried three members of a family and wrapped its arms around the one remaining son.

I do not even know this family personally. I am merely a member of the congregation, the community, and the Sisterhood. I felt compelled to be there for this young man.

We write wills and pick guardians for our children in the extremely unlikely event that it will ever be necessary to use them because, surely, we will not go together. What are the odds?

Every parent in that room was disconsolate. Certainly, people are grieving over the beautiful, lost souls. Friends and family are broken hearted. But I feel confident that every parent in that room realized their greatest fear may not just be losing a child, but leaving one behind alone in this world. It is every human being’s nightmare. We found ourselves watching one of our own facing this nightmare, very much awake and at a very tender age.

And as such, I watched with awe as the remarkable Rabbi Loren Monosov and Cantor Alan Sokoloff led an entire congregation, town, community as we collectively wrapped a thousands arms around this young man. They included the local Chabad rabbis who were close with daughter who passed. They included the cantor for one of the surviving aunts.

In that moment, we were all a massive family. In that moment, this boy was everyone’s son, everyone’s brother. I hope it does not stop. I hope we can continue to be there for him as he faces his new reality. I hope he understands that he is not alone. Not even close.

Just like that, perspective is reframed. We go home. We hug our own children a thousand times, and they push us away because we are annoying them with the excessive smothering. We say silent prayers to have dodged the bullet of fate. And the planet continues to spin.

But we awaken with a different view of our time in this world. We feel a renewed sense of belonging within it and the significance of an extended family beyond our bloodline.

Rabbi Monosov said it perfectly. We are One Family.

This is why October 7 and the murder of hostages feel so personal. This is why we mourn for every life lost to a war no one wanted. This is why when a college student is accosted for daring to walk while being Jewish on her campus, we want to fight for her. This is why when a stranger’s son loses his family, he feels like our own son.

Our differences become minute in the face of the need to be a family and act like a family. May we never lose sight of our greater family. This cosmic connection of our people across borders and languages and nationalities and even time is visceral, but it binds as tightly as steel cable.

Hold onto it. Cherish it. It is our most precious asset.