A Whimper or a Bang?

This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.
T. S. Eliot

Many years ago, I came down with a severe ear infection. One minute, I was feeling fine, the next my ear began to hurt. Within an hour, I could barely lift my head. I had never had pain so awful in my life, including giving birth. Pain relievers didn't work at all, and it took antibiotics over a week to decrease the pain so that I could function. I took those antibiotics for almost a month.  In that time, my ear was blocked, and I could barely hear anything on that side. It was no longer painful, but it was uncomfortable. It felt like I was under water, or taking off in an airplane. I kept holding my nose and exhaling to try and unblock my ear. Chewing gum, holding my breath, shaking my head were to no avail. The ear was blocked, and I couldn't hear, which at times, I must admit, was quite pleasant. But hey. 

I kept waiting, day after day, for there to be a small 'Pop' in my ear, and it would unblock. But it never happened. It continued to be blocked, and I continued not to hear properly, when one day, well over a month after the original ear infection, without knowing when or how, I realized my ear was unblocked. There had been no poof, no pop, no boom, no bang; just a gradual – so gradual that I hadn't even noticed it – healing of my ear. 

I have been pregnant several times.  Each pregnancy was very different. None was easy; each had its own challenges and characteristics. What they had in common, however, was that they all ended. One day I was pregnant, the next day I was not. The pregnancy was over (as was life as I knew it), along with the heartburn, the bloated feeling, the discomfort, and the need to pee every thirty seconds. Each pregnancy ended—obviously, incontestably, and, dare I say, dramatically. 

There are many instances in life that end either like my ear infection, or like a pregnancy. Pesach (Passover), for example, which is this week, starts like an ear infection, but ends like a pregnancy. For weeks before, at least in my house, I gradually prepare for the holiday; a room here, a cupboard there, finish up the pasta (that was on sale for four bags for 10 NIS), wonder if I should buy more cereal. As the holiday nears, like with my ear infection, I suffer and complain and find day-to-day functioning difficult. However, as more and more cupboards get cleaned out and less and less pasta needs to be finished up, without me even realizing it, it's Pesach. 

Of course, Pesach finishes obviously and dramatically. One minute it's Pesach, and the next (or within the hour, after all the dishes are washed and the leftover soup has been transferred into a different container, but hey), it's not. And pasta is once again on sale for 4 bags for 10 NIS. 

Israeli elections, on the other hand, have been known to go either way. In 1977, for example, there was the infamous upheaval, and the Mapai party, which had been in power since 1948, was replaced, in one fell swoop by Menachem Begin's Herut/Likud party. 

Of course, for the vast majority of Israeli elections (actually, ALL the other elections), one government does not simply end and another begin, but rather, one minister swaps jobs with another minister, and one party merges with another party, and a handful of politicians switch sides completely so they can sit in the new government, and after a bit of time, without anyone noticing, it's time for another election. 

We have been living with a global pandemic for over a year now. Every day, there are different challenges and difficulties. There is pain, and sickness, and grief, and misery. There are also unique opportunities, shared times and responsibilities, and even a chance to catch up and learn new things.  

Here, in the HolyLand, we are beginning, perhaps, to see a light at the end of a very long tunnel. Over half of the total population has received a vaccination against the virus, and shops, schools, and synagogues are opening up. Weddings and sporting events are now allowed, and even the airport is allowing a few flights a day (for Israelis only). 

We're still required to wear masks; we are still not supposed to gather in large groups indoors; we are supposed to avoid hugging, crowded situations, and wild parties. 

When I had that ear infection, I waited for the day that it would end, that I would be able to say "well that's done!" The day never came. I was in discomfort until I realized that I wasn't , but I had no idea how long I had been fine. 

When I was pregnant, I thought - each time - that it would never end! But each pregnancy ended in one fell swoop. I was and then, bang, I wasn't. 

Will there be a day when the UN or the WHO or the National Announcement Society will announce that the pandemic is over? In one fell swoop will we (I) go from slinking around wearing a mask - getting angry at those who don't - and staying home as much as possible to pushing our (my) way onto a crowded bus and having wild parties in a nightclub? 

At the moment, these things are unimaginable to me. I can't even imagine going to the mall.

Or, as is more probable, will I one day look up and realize that nobody is wearing a mask and I won't even be angry. Will I find myself, without realizing, surrounded by people and having a good time?

That's not imaginable either. 

I suppose only time will tell how this will end. Either way, I do imagine that it will leave each of us changed in some way, hopefully for the better. 

In the meantime, have some pasta, wear a mask, and vote, as often as necessary.