Seeing and not seeing - Reflections on my trip to family in New York - Noach

I'm sitting on a flight back home from New York with my young son. Last night both of us danced the night away at the wedding of my niece. I am still savouring the joy of being with family, and observing the delight of my young child. Yet, my tradition, turns our attention to sadness amid joy. A glass is broken during the Jewish marriage ceremony to remind us of loss 1).  Oddly, this sombre gesture is not honoured by a reflective silence, on the contrary, immediately after the crashing noise everyone erupts into joyous exclamations of Mazal Tov! Shifting our awareness away from and almost subverting the touch of sadness. This blog is a reflection on choices relating to seeing and “embracing all that is” 2).

My time in New York has been both happy and sad. I've spent time with my parents and siblings and my oldest three sons who are studying away from home. I feel unsatisfied with the short time we had. Our ten days together were cluttered with tasks and competing priorities. In the story of Noah’s ark, a family is in close proximity but they are so busy feeding the animals, including the nocturnal animals that the husbands and wives don't manage to organise to leave the ark together 3). Yet, it is in the mundane physical domain that love is often expressed, in a meal baked or bought, dishes cooked or cleared.

I was confronted by the importance of the physical dimension of love at a memorial service I attended in New York for Mendel Brickman, a friend and a father who died one year ago in his mid-forties. His spirit was felt strongly in the room in the words of his children and widow, and in a talk by a hospital roommate who was touched by his energetic kindness, and care. His spirit fought courageously against his loss of breath and health. He was always focused on the positive. In a sense, Mendel beat mortality by sheer force of will and his living on in the lives of his family. Still, they miss his physical presence, and so do I and so many others.

In acknowledging our physical humanity, we are confronted by the human imperfections we all have. In the first instance it's about averting our eyes from the embarrassing aspects of the other person. Two of Noah's sons covered their father's nakedness when he was drunk as they chose not to see his disgrace 4). A selective view of others is often appropriate.

However, sometimes we must choose to see and acknowledge disgrace and act. While in the US I learned of the revelations about the abuses of power by a movie mogul that were allowed to go on for too long. Powerful men feeling entitled to women's bodies is referenced in the Bible as a reason for Noah’s flood. “The sons of the Gods saw the daughters of men, that they were good [looking], so they took any women they chose” 5) even without consent 6). The Torah could not be more emphatic in its condemnation of this behaviour.

In summation. There is merit in an approach that generally emphasises the positive and overlooks some faults and sad parts of life. On the other hand, there are challenges relating to human frailties that need to be noticed and talked about in workplaces, communities or families. Ideally, talk would resolve matters in accordance with the teaching that ‘to be reconciled over a glass of wine is to have an aspect of the mind of God’ 7). In other cases people can show support in a range of ways from taking action to simply being there for each other with care.

Back in my seat on this plane I can see daybreak over the Pacific and I can see my content little son sitting beside me. I feel grateful.

Notes

1. The breaking of the glass is symbolic, particularly of the destroyed temple in Jerusalem, but it represents broader loss.
2. Bennett, P. In the Cranky Guru
3. Talmud Sanhedrin 108b Comment on Genesis 8:19 and as explained by Torah Temimah on this verse.
4. Genesis 9:23, see Rashi commentary
5. Genesis 6:2
6. Ramban, Ibn Ezra on Genesis 6:2
7. Talmud Eruvin 65b

Grief and Loss (Shemini)

Envy, grief, anxiety, resentment and anger are not just unpleasant for the person feeling these emotions but also for the people around them. One young man struggling with painful inner turmoil told me “I put a mask on every morning”, a false smile firmly planted on his face to get through the day. There is merit in containing our emotions, thinking about events differently perhaps or considering time and place. Equally, there is a need to acknowledge that we feel what we feel, however painful, and not seek to deny reality. Both of these approaches are reflected in the teachings of our sages and the Torah itself. The nuances of these teachings shed additional light on this challenge. 

Aaron the brother of Moses, and his wife Elisheva, are confronted with the death of their two sons, Nadab and Abihu, in middle of a very public celebration of the dedication ceremony of the temporary temple in the desert. The text does not mention Elisheva and does not tell us about Aaron’s initial reaction, only that after Moses speaks to him he is “silent[i]”. 

Commentators offer a variety of interpretations about what happened prior to his chat with Moses. One tells us that Aaron was crying out loud at first[ii], “screaming out of the bitterness of his spirit[iii]”.  “It is not right” argues another “that he should raise his voice and scream before God on this day… of the joy of his (God’s) heart[iv]”.  How dare he make a scene in God’s house - even if his two sons had just died?

The meaning of Aaron’s silence is also ambiguous. One translation renders his silence as praising God[v], or a quietness of the heart and an inner calmness of the spirit[vi] reflecting his acceptance of the tragedy. Today part of the ritual response to the death of a loved one is to recite “blessed is the true judge”, in acceptance of God’s judgement. Another view is that Aaron is persuaded by Moses that the death of his sons had a different meaning and reflected their greatness[vii]. Yet other commentaries see his silence as being about having a broken heart[viii] or “his heart becoming like an inanimate stone…not accepting any consolation from Moses as no soul was left in him”.

 

Moses also faces a moment of loss, not as great as Aaron’s but still substantial. He thought he would have the role of high priest in the temple, which would be passed on to his descendants. Instead, by God’s command he appointed his brother Aaron to the position he had coveted for himself. In a poignant observation one commentator writes that despite Moses’ humility and righteousness, every living heart feels[ix]!

In other commentary, Moses is praised for wholeheartedly installing Aaron in the role and being happy for him in it. When Aaron is reluctant, Moses insists that he is reciprocating Aaron’s earlier joy at Moses being chosen a leader rather than himself as the older brother. 

It might not be a contradiction. Moses might have felt the deep pain of disappointment at first, but perhaps after noticing and acknowledging his feeling to himself, he then took a deep breath, even a long quiet walk in the desert and reflected on how he was feeling and whether there was another way to look at it. When he found this other perspective he changed his thinking and was able to feel happy for his brother rather than sorry for himself. One of the wisest women in our tradition, Beruria, managed to shift her thinking about the death of her two sons from solely focusing on her loss to the idea that these children were loaned to her by God who then collected them. In contrast to Beruria, we are simply taught that Elisheva goes from the joy of having her husband installed as high priest and her two sons as deputy high priest, to the terrible sadness of a mother who has lost her children[x].

---

[i] Leviticus 10:1-3

[ii] Ramban

[iii] Abarbanel’s understanding of Ramban’s commentary

[iv] Abarbanel

[v] Targum Unkelus, version in the Chumash Kesser Torah, cited in Torah Shlaima

[vi] Shem Olam cited in Torah Shlaima

[vii] Rashi This connection is based on the idea that when the great were harshly punished for disrespecting the temple, it showed the importance of the temple and would have a positive impact on the rest of the people.  

[viii] Toldot Adam (commentary on Mechilta) cited in Torah Shlaima

[ix] Ohr Hachayim

[x] Rabenu Bchai

Loss Trivial and Tragic and Silence of the heart

The trivial in tragic times

I have been very blessed to be able to think about trivial losses. I cannot begin to imagine the recent devastating losses in Japan, New Zealand, Libya and Queensland and the holy land. Nor can I grasp the loss of Indigenous Australians who would hide their children when the Authorities came looking for them[1], echoing stories of Jewish children in Russia that were kidnapped for 25 years of enforced assimilation. But in my limited way I will try to shed some light on this, but may tread more lightly than the harsh times call for.

Loss of privilege - in the town of Berry

I am on a flight to London. Travel is a gift of good fortune as much as technology. The privilege of travel that I often take for granted was taken from me yesterday. I expected to be home between 7 and 8 pm, travelling on reasonable roads between 60-110 km per hour. There is heavy rainfall, my friend Sheik Haisam behind the wheel, slows down slightly. Then the traffic stops. We wait, wait some more and some more. Nothing is moving. There are police ahead. The road is blocked, covered in water. No idea when it will reopen. Could be hours, the Sheik, a priest named Buzz and I might need to spend the night in the tiny town of Berry NSW (Population: 1934). The road behind us has also been blocked. The reality sinks in, there is no detour, no way to fix this.  

Relief in powerlessness and acceptance

A strange equanimity enveloped me. A bit like when we were kids and the bus broke down on camp, we were stuck in middle of nowhere and it was fun. So we got out of the car, wandered around the town in the light rain, pondered the ominous sign of the dingy on the roof of the local pub (Bar for Americans) and cracked corny jokes. It's what my father would have done, the jokes that is, not the corny bit.

My equanimity about spending the night with two friends in Berry is no great achievement[2]. A remarkable story about King David has him fasting and in absolute distress about his sick child, until he learns that the boy has died, when he arises and goes off to bathe and change. When he is questioned about this, he says “'While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept; for I said: Who knows whether the Lord will not be gracious to me, that the child may live? But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? Can I bring him back again[3]”. It seems that in addition to loss, there is the additional distress of trying to prevent catastrophe, which is often as frustrating as it is futile.

Finding the silver lining in the downside of blessing

I found the following story illuminating,

The Master's[4] son had passed away. His disciples came to comfort him.

Disciple 1: Adam lost his son, yet he was comforted.

Master: Do I need to add Adam's tragedy to mine?...

R. Jose entered and sat before him.

R. Jose: My master, would you like me to say one thing?

Master: Say.

R. Jose: Aaron lost his two great sons, Nadav and Abihu[5] both of whom died in the same day, yet he accepted consolation.

Master: Do I need to add Aaron's tragedy to mine....

Finally one disciple told the master a parable.

A king entrusted a treasure to his servant, as long as he had the treasure he suffered because he was worried that something might happen to it. When the king retrieved the item he felt relieved . Upon hearing this, the master was comforted[6]. 

The responsibility the master had for raising this child to be a good person and servant of God had been completed and he was relieved of it.

Silence and Stillness of the spirit

The howling in pain sits alongside the stoic silence. In the case of Aaron the brother of Moses, we learn that his two sons were killed by God for an offence that is not entirely clear[7].  The Torah tells us “Vayidom Aaron”. This is translated by some “Aaron was silent”[8]. An alternative view argues that the choice of word, “Vayidom” rather than the common “Shtikah” is significant. Shtika is  about  not talking, crying or sighing. Words with the root “Dom”, indicate a silence of the heart, and an inner calmness of the spirit[9].  Jews pray everyday that “toward those who curse me, may my heart be still (or silent)[10]”. Aaron justified the judgement upon himself[11], in a way that Jewish law still mandates today. The response to news of bereavement is “Blessed be the true judge”.

On the other end of the spectrum we have an interpretation that Aaron's “heart was broken out of the pain of his sons”[12].

Meaningful suffering

This discussion cannot ignore Victor Frankel's concept that 'if one has a why, one can withstand any how[13]', in that if one can find meaning in his suffering s/he can bear it. This dynamic is also at work in Aaron's ordeal, when Moses states “this is what God has spoken, with my holy ones will I be sanctified and on the faces of all the nation will I be respected[14]”. This helps Aaron deal with his loss.

A parable is given to explain the sanctification of God through the death of Aaron's sons.

A king hears that one of the people of the palace sat in his thrown room and put the kings crown on his head. He thinks that if it becomes known that this happened and he got away with it, no one will respect the king. So he has the offender beheaded and this way everyone takes the king seriously[15].

I find the parable jarring, especially when I think about recent events in Libya, yet in1300 BC this kind of reasoning would have helped Aaron find meaning and be still or silent in the face of a terrible loss.

Responding to the suffering of others

Silence is also useful for those seeking to support the bereaved according to Jewish teachings. Dutch Rabbi Vorst, in his outstanding honest and valuable book “Why” talks of his own struggle to deal with the loss of his child. He expresses intense frustration with well intentioned people who visited him and tried to distract him with small talk. He did not want to be distracted, he wanted to be present with his loss[16]. Jewish law guides “comforters” to be silent and follow the cues of the bereaved. I think this is beautifully illustrated in the description of R. Jose's behaviour in the story above, where he sits first, then asks permission.

Conclusion

In spite of all of the above, one of the teachings I find most useful is the statements that “it is not in our hands to grasp (the reasons for) the tranquillity of the wicked nor the ordeals of the righteous,[17]”. The mystery of loss can at times be responded to with acceptance which can be less distressing than trying to control the uncontrollable. Finding meaning or thinking differently about loss has also helped some people. We dare not judge people in how they deal with distress. Each person will respond differently and if we are in a position to try to support them, taking cues from the sufferer is useful, as is silence. I conclude with a prayer, that it be the will of the almighty that real suffering and loss come to an end and that more people be in a position to think about problems like whether or not they will have to spend a few hours in the lovely town of Berry NSW. 

---

[1]    Heard from Lex Dadd, a Darug man at Maroubra, NSW Australia on 22/03/2011

[2]    Although it did involved cancelling my commitments for the next day and some risk that I would not be on the plane  to London.

[3]  Samuel II, 12:22-23

[4]    Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakai

[5]    Leviticus 10:2

[6]    Talmud, Avod D'Rabbi Nathan

[7]    The Torah says they brought a fire or offering that God had not commanded them. Interpretations vary about what this actually means, they include the suggestion that they were drunk during the service among others.

[8]    Rashi, Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel

[9]    Shem Olam, cited in Kasher, M. (1978), Torah Shlaima, Vol 28. p.10, note 24

[10]  The Amida prayer, “Vlimkalily, Nafshi Tidom”

[11]  Menorat Hamaor, part 3, p146 cited in Kasher, ibid, also in Shem Olam. Kasher also includes a version of Unkelus' translation that renders the verse as “Aaron praised”.

[12]  Toldot Adam also cited in Kasher, note 25

[13]  Frankel, V., Man's Search for Meaning

[14]  Leviticus 10:4

[15]  Midrash Hagadol cited in cited in Kasher, M. (1978), Torah Shlaima, Vol 28. p.8

[16]  Vorst, Rabbi Y,(1991) Why? Reflections on the Loss of a Loved One

[17] Pirkey Avot, (Ethics of the fathers)  4:11