|
May 20, 2022 (19 Iyar 5782) The Gift of Faith Dear Holy Friends, I hope this correspondence finds you in good health and good cheer. We look forward to you joining us this Shabbat at 10:30am for our hybrid services, which will be conducted in our beautiful sanctuary and also be available through our regular Zoom webinar prayer link. As many of you know, I was away this past Shabbat. For the first time in over two years, I was able to travel north of the border to my hometown of Toronto, Canada. Since my last visit, a lot has changed for me and my family. Last Pesach, we lost my mother Rae, of blessed memory and then only a few months later, my sister Ellen, who was a farmer in Western Canada, also passed away. Our visit to Toronto was for the purpose of dedicating a monument (הקמת מצבה) at my mother’s graveside. The source of the Jewish ritual of an unveiling comes from the Book of Genesis, which records that Jacob erected a tombstone over the grave of his wife, Rachel (Gen. 35:20). From Biblical times onward, wherever Jewish communities have existed, Jews have continued this practice of erecting a memorial in honor of their deceased. For an unveiling ceremony, there are many different customs. Sephardim often do the dedication at the end of the first thirty days, while Ashkenazim tend to conduct the ritual at the conclusion of the full year of mourning. There is no fixed liturgy in either tradition which, on a positive note, offers the opportunity for personalization and creativity when joining together. At the conclusion of the gathering, it is traditional to place a small stone on the monument. While some offer that this is to show publicly that the grave has been visited, historically these stones were used to help mark the site of the burial in case a Jewish cemetery was desecrated. As our family assembled to remember a loving daughter, sister, mother and grandmother, I chose to focus the service on the dimension of faith. Life’s journeys resulted in three of Rae’s four children living “abroad” such that, especially as she aged and was unable to travel, visits were few and far between. My sister (z.l.) lived in the middle of nowhere in British Columbia, my brother (z.l.) was in Denver, and I was the closest of the dispersed, in New Jersey (closer, but still a nine-hour drive!). Furthermore, as Rae’s mobility decreased, her circle of friends and visitors similarly diminished. At first glance, she was very much alone. Nonetheless, during my regular visits, over the last couple of years of her life (pre-Covid), I had the opportunity to witness a devout woman who was completely content in her relationship with the Divine. When she lit the candles on Shabbat, her personal meditation, with her hands covering her eyes, reflected an intimate conversation with Adonai; a prayer seeking blessings for her, the children, the grandchildren and the people of Israel. During Shabbat mornings, her Tefilla would be steadfast, unwavering, and complete as she would tenderly caress her mother’s siddur, which guided her through our traditional liturgy. At the conclusion of Shabbat, she would joyfully sing Eliyahu HaNavi, praying for the redemption of the imperfect world in which she lived. I take comfort in believing, and even knowing, that even when she passed, by herself and alone, she was never really on her own. Rae was with Adonai. Adonai was her Tzur Yisrael - her rock of Israel. It was with great resonance that my niece Shira shared this poem in my mother’s memory, this past Sunday. Eternal Rest, Eternal Peace When the time has come, When we leave this physical plane, We do not depart into blackness, We do not disappear into nothingness. We transition from here to there, From life among the breathing To a place of profound security, Safe at the right hand of Our Creator No longer do we dance the dance of frailty. No longer are we confined by the limits of body. At last, we are free to allow our souls to take wing, At last, we can know the splendors of the Shechinah. We grieve at this time, we feel heartache and loss, Yet the departure of our loved ones is freedom for them. The ones we love, now know the blessings of Adonai, And they are bathed in the brilliance of G-d's mercy. With heart and mind, memories are sustained, As they are forever bound to those who remember them. The wings of Sukkat Shalom embrace them in love, And they are granted peace and joy for all eternity. May the One who heals, heal us all. May those who suffered, find sanctuary. May The Giver of Life comfort us in mourning, And may we find we are better for having known them. May the Shabbat to come, inspired by Rae’s connection to the Holy, offer us the opportunity to light candles, pray as individuals, sing to Hashem, and most importantly, feel the embrace of God’s love, caring, compassion and protection. In the words of the Psalmist (121:8), “The Rock of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps. He will guard your coming and your going from this time forth and forever.” Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Eric Wasser, EdD, Hon.DM
|