LIFE IS

 Life is what, exactly? Is it the state of being able to breathe or voice thoughts or even to think thoughts? Is it life when one is tortured, constantly, be it in dreams and/or actuality? Is life - life- when there is no hope for a better time? Ever? Is life a series of dreary times interspersed with rare moments of joy, a split second in a life of what? Is it life if all it seems to be is waiting, waiting, again, for what? In fact, of what use is life if there is nothing truly there in terms of expectations or realities? Big difference.  Is a life considered useless if seemingly there are no successes within, nothing achieved or even going backwards? Oh Hell, but life is difficult, to say the least.

And yet, how hard we fight for that life. How much effort do we input into the computer of life? Do we have almost a constant state of GIGO - garbage in, garbage out? Whose fault is that garbage and how do we fix this state of affairs? In fact, is there truly, really, any way we can do that, even think, dare to dream about doing just that. Clearing the garbage blocking our vision, giving us only reeking offensive odors to sour our lives? Does life itself   deafen us with the noise of hatred, of endless anguish, the static of which precludes hearing anything of positivity   and hope? If so, why even try? Why try when reality is such that no matter how great our strivings, apparently, the end results are a great big nought.   Damn, but I wish, I truly wish I knew, for at this time, a time of desperate   actualization of Dickens' "the worst of times", one must wonder if there is more to life than life itself?

I sound down in the dumps, to put it mildly. Well, I am. Presently, all I see are the wastes of life, the seconds, minutes, and hours which could have been put to better use, been more fruitful, more productive of something, anything, of value. We all have moments such as these but now, at least for me, they dominate my thoughts, dim those sparks of light we so hopefully, endlessly, seek, too often despairing of ever seeing them or of the almost immediate quashing of them. And whose fault would that be - ours or circumstances not of our making? Are there in fact, any such circumstances, for life is intertwined to such a degree that separating the mine, ours, theirs in any clear and distinct manner is nigh unto impossible? In point of fact - are we responsible for our own circumstances without any other idea or person or act having any impact unless we have made it welcome, able to fit into our lives and impact it in ways we never notice - until too late?  

Life these days, at least for me, are mostly moments of despair and darkness interspersed with some moments, fleeting moments, of happiness, so not enough. My personal world is overwhelmed in darkness and despair as a great big light in our lives is at a moment when it appears to be in mortal danger, of being doused forever, at least in our world of today. What should have grown up to actualize huge potentiality already apparent, is not. not - and that breaks my heart. We are standing by a very small light of possibility, a last-ditch effort. Will that effort, that light, result in receiving a medication or be denied or found to be useless or given too late, who knows at this point. All I know is the feeling of great, inconsolable grief - with a spark of hope, tiny, but there. 

Life, for me, for most of us, is a series of wait times. Will this happen or the other? Will it be good for the Jews or not? Will it be good for me and mine? Is there, in fact, light hidden in the darkness, with the awful resulting in or producing something good? Must the good allotted to Jews too frequently   be preceded by years, decades, centuries, of hurt and death, of tormented lives of uncertainty. And why do the moments of happiness, of fulfillment, of dreams actualized amount to but a smidgen of the history of the Jewish people since time immemorial? 

This morning I am hopefully waiting, trying to think positively, about the status of the proposed compassionate medication protocol being released, okayed for use. And successful - immediately so. Probably does not work as simply as that, but I can hope, can I not? Are not grieving grandparents, along with strong but shattered, grieving    parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends entitled to dare to dream, to hope, to see victory, of life pulled from the ugly maw of death?

Interestingly enough, words of advice I used to tell my students have come back to give me a bit of my own advice and hope. For every problem or situation, I would tell them, because I believed it -still do - that aid, advice, comfort, would be found in the words and content of the week's Parasha or Haftorah. While it might not be a total answer, even a partial one was better than nothing and one could build upon the advice. I took my own advice and not really much to my surprise found a strengthening of my hope, of a sense that there is some reasoning behind the acts of life, though not always to our liking or understanding. But it helps.

Find the article, A Letter From Israel: It's Okay to Start Dreaming by Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz. It is brilliant, easy to read, understand and internalize. It helped me quite a bit this morning. Perhaps there will be more light this Chanuka week. We all hope so, pray so. Allow, give us, a nes - a miracle -in our times. A miracle of glory and faith.

HEAL OUR YITZY

YITZCHOK ELIMELECH BEN CHANA SARAH