This Extraordinary Year

When one door closes another door opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.

-Alexander Graham Bell

Our future depends on our ability to see beyond ourselves and to deal responsibly and with tolerance for those around us in a true sense of mutual responsibility.

-Reuven (Ruvy) Rivlin, President of the State of Israel

These days, my blood pressure is a little bit higher, my anxiety a bit greater, my nights are a bit more sleepless, and my level of tolerance is a bit lower (hahahahaha, really much MUCH lower, but hey).

This past year has not gone exactly as anyone expected (except maybe, as has been stated repeatedly, Stephen King). 

Some of the more ridiculous things that happened this year, and that perhaps have been forgotten, include killer hornets, doped up Italian pigs, (almost) crashing meteors, Megxit, missing stars, and the death of Mr. Planters Peanut.

And there are still almost four more months left of 2020, which, so far, has been 32 years long.

The Holy Land is going through a tumultuous time, right now. 

With weekly protests getting out of hand, our ginormous government - established for the sole purpose of combating the coronavirus - is utterly dysfunctional; Israel has highest daily rate in world, per capita, of new corona infections, . 

In addition, local temperatures just hit the highest they've been in a 100 years.  

What can I say - we have always prided ourselves on setting world records. 

The good news is that there is less than a week left of the Jewish year 5780. In just a few more days, Rosh HaShana will mark a new year, a new beginning.  

Of course, it is still unclear how we will be celebrating the Holiday itself. A lockdown is set to go into effect just before the holiday. However, nobody is sure exactly how severe it will be. Will the kids be allowed to come home, and return to their own place again?  Will we be allowed to go to shul? How many will be allowed to gather inside? outside? In any case, do I want to take the chance?

And most important, as I don't know how many people I will be feeding, will I need more humus?

But hardest of all is trying to come to terms with what the Holidays - those momentous, grave, solemn, intense, extraordinary, Days of Awe - will look like this year. 

Where is the meaning in community prayers when synagogues across the globe are shuttered or, at least, limited in number? 

What does community even mean, now, when all those events that brought friends and family together have been curtailed, curbed, contained. 

No more massive bar/bat mitzvah parties or weddings for 600 people; no baby britot for 350 of the baby's nearest and dearest.  No more shared laughter and joy and celebration. On the other side, there is no support at funerals or shivas, when numbers are limited. 

How do I ask or find forgiveness from people I haven't even seen in 7 months? 

Worse, how do I give to friends when I can't even see them? 

How do I find sense in a senseless situation? 

A year ago, during the Jewish month of Elul, I signed up to a whatsapp group for a daily lesson about repentance, forgiveness, spirituality, moving forward, and what it really means to be Jewish (spoiler - it's not just refraining from eating bacon). 

I listened to the talk every day for the 40 days (not including Shabbat or chag) from the first of the month of Elul until Yom Kippur. 

The talks were inspiring, meaningful, even - to a certain extent - helpful. 

Last year, I found forgiveness by forgiving myself, and then, instead of concentrating on developing characteristics I do not have, I decided to concentrate on improving the ones I do. (It's an ongoing process - at times more successful and at times less.) 

Perhaps if I apply the same principle to my dilemma this year, I'll find meaning. 

Instead of concentrating on what has been taken from me, maybe I should be concentrating on what I do have - both the things that I have never paid attention to, and the things that have been uncovered since the facade of normal life has been stripped away.

There's what to work on, because I am, admittedly and ashamedly, a complainer. 

I complain when it's too hot (nine months of the year); when it's too cold (2.5 months of the year); when the dishes are left on the side of the sink and not in the sink; when cupboards are left open; and when a huge container is put back into the fridge with 3.2 noodles and a dab of cheese sauce in it. I complain both when it rains, and when it's dry and dusty. I complain when I can't sleep, and then I complain that I've run out of coffee. I complain that the kids are driving me crazy and I complain when I don't see them. I complain when they don't eat and also when they finish all the food, and I have to go out shopping again and I hate shopping. 

I also complain when there is a lock down, and the stores are closed. But, hey. 

More than 20 years ago, I read the book The Hiding Place, by Corrie ten Boom, which tells the autobiographical story of the ten Booms, a Dutch family of watchmakers, during World War Two. At one point in the book, Corrie and her sister Betsie were imprisoned in the Ravensbruck Concentration Camp. Devout Christians, Betsie began each day in the camp in prayer, with a list of things to be grateful for. When she added 'fleas' to the list, Corrie protested. "How can we be grateful for fleas?" she grumbled. But she dutifully bent her head and thanked God for the fleas.  

This philosophy of giving thanks even for fleas is actually a Jewish concept. Rabbi Nachum Ish Gamzu -  one of the teachers  of the famed Rabbi Akiva - is credited with having coined the phrase גם זו לטובה -  This, too, is for the best. 

Everything happens, says Rav Gamzu, for a reason, both the good and the seemingly bad. Sometimes we can understand that reason, and sometimes we cannot. Our task is to acknowledge that everything that God does is, ultimately, for the good. 

It was only after the war that Corrie ten Boom discovered  that, because of the fleas, and a deep-seated fear of disease, the Nazi guards would leave the groups of women alone, giving them the opportunities they needed, not only to pray and laugh and plan together, but to steal food and smuggle provisions into the camp. The fleas ultimately helped save Corrie's life. (Not so Betsie - she tragically died in the camp, but only after giving Corrie her life's mission.)

If we're lucky, the reason for certain events might eventually become clear. If we're REALLY lucky, it might even be immediate.  Bummed is the person who has missed his bus, but being late causes him to meet his future spouse.  Not getting the job you were after, sometimes allows you to get an even better, more glamorous, and well-paid one. We've all seen the movies.

 

Mostly , however, it's impossible to understand the suffering and the pain that sometimes - now - surrounds us. Frequently, only the passage of time, sometimes millennia, allows us to understand.

This is where faith steps in.    

A door closes, a window opens. The trick is to notice the window, and stop trying to open the closed door. 

So let's remember the good news that is also happening all around us. 

Cannabis is falling from the sky, Yotvata dairy has introduced Bazooka flavored milk (!) and peace in the Middle East might actually be possible. 

Today, the temperatures are somewhat cooler than yesterday. 

All the noodles got eaten and the large bowl is in the sink. 

We are heading into one of the two weeks of beautiful weather.

A new, undamaged, year is in sight. 

Lets open all the windows. It's a whole new world out there. 

May civilization be merited to have a good and sweet year.