“RABBI’S MUSINGS (& AMUSINGS)”
Erev Shabbos Kodesh parshas Vayakhel
24 Adar I 5782/February 25, 2022
Parshas Shekalim
Mevorchim Chodesh Adar II
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לזכר נשמת חו”מ נטע
יצחק בן אלכסנדר
FULL CIRCLE
It’s the
month(s) of Adar, a time of increased joy. As Purim continues to approach the
excitement continues to mount, especially after a longer winter than usual. But
I ask you to please indulge me briefly, as I share our family’s sadness with
the passing of my beloved father-in-law, Nathan Mermelstein, on the morning of
Shabbos Kodesh parshas Ki Sisa, 18 Adar I.
I assure
you that at the end of the article I will connect our tragedy to the joy of
Purim in a way that will also serve as a comfort for our family.
Dr.
Seuss writes about “A most useless place, the waiting place.”
My
father-in-law had been sick for some time. In fact, this column has been
dedicated to his refuah since he was diagnosed in November 2020.
But last
week my father-in-law took a sudden turn for the worst. Thankfully, the Covid
rules have been easing and, because of the gravity of his situation, the family
was granted special permission to be together in his hospital room. For almost
a week his closest family were at his bedside.
As I sat
at my father-in-law’s bedside, I realized that it was the seventh time in my
life that I sat at the hospital bedside of someone very near and dear to me for
many hours on end. But the first six times had a very different outcome. Each
time we came home after those hospital stays with a new member of the family.
In fact, one time we were blessed to come home with two new members when our
twins were born.
I was
reflecting on the contrast of those previous six times with this time:
As we
waited for the baby to be born, we felt nervous excitement. We knew it was
imminent but had no way of knowing how imminent. We impatiently watched beeping
and maddening monitors and lines dance across the screen.
After many
anxious hours late into the night, we fell into a fitful sleep, only to be
woken by nurses monitoring, changing fluids, and checking vitals.
Our
anxiety that all should go well was tempered with mounting excitement that we
would be going home with a new bundle of life and joy.
There
were many details and so much anticipation. But all we could do was wait
impatiently for what was coming.
Last
week the experience was somewhat similar and yet drastically different. The
last few months have been a terrible roller coaster. When my father-in-law had
a slight improvement in one area, it was soon followed by a major setback in
another area. Then suddenly, my father-in-law’s system began shutting down. We
held onto the slightest bit of hope even as we were faced with the terrible and
merciless reality.
As we
waited for what we were told was inevitable, we felt incredibly sad. We knew it
was imminent but had no way of knowing how imminent. We anxiously watched the
beeping and maddening monitors and lines dance across the screen.
After
many anxious hours late into the night, we fell into a fitful sleep, only to be
woken by nurses monitoring, changing fluids, and checking vitals.
It is
devastating to know that someone you love and who has been part of your life won’t
ever be leaving the hospital. A life lived was now coming to its end.
At the
same time, we were apprehensive that it should go as smoothly as possible. We
hoped that we would be able to handle our raw overwhelming emotions and take
care of all the details and arrangements necessary.
The
gemara (Megillah 13b) relates that when Haman chose the month of Adar as the
time to carry out his nefarious plan of genocide, he was happy because Moshe
Rabbeinu died in Adar (7 Adar). The gemara adds that Haman failed to realize
that Moshe was also born on the same day.
The
obvious question is why Haman cared if it was Moshe’s yahrtzeit? Also, why
didn’t he realize that Moshe was also born then? (He should’ve gotten a better
Jewish calendar.)
There’s
obviously a deeper meaning to Haman’s joy. Haman viewed death as an absolute
end. The Jewish people had grown distant in their connection with G-d, viewing
themselves as citizens of Shushan and Achashveirosh, like every other nation.
The
uniqueness of the Jewish people has always been based upon our connection and
devotion to the Torah that Moshe taught. But Haman saw that Moshe was dead in
the sense that the Jewish connection to Moshe had faded. Therefore, he was
confident that the Jews were vulnerable, and he could destroy them.
Haman
failed to realize the Jewish perspective of death. Death is not finality at
all, but the birth of a new reality. The day one dies is the day his children
and progeny commit themselves to maintaining his legacy and follow in the path
he forged.
In a certain
way our commitment to upholding the teachings of Moshe became more entrenched
after his passing. While he was alive the nation was able to rely on Moshe to
teach them and remind them of the Torah he taught them. But when he was no longer
there, they recognized that it was incumbent upon them to maintain the mandate
of זכרו תורת משה עבדי
– Remember the Torah of My servant, Moshe.
Losing a
loved one is very painful. There is a gaping hole within the hearts of the
remaining relatives that cannot be filled. But there is a comfort in knowing
that the legacy of the niftar can live on within us, if we dedicate ourselves
to that task.
Haman
thought death was the end. He failed to realize that in a certain way it’s a
new beginning.
In that
sense, there is more commonality between the beginning of life and the end of
life. Both are new beginnings that require tremendous dedication and efforts by
loved ones. Birth requires care for life; death requires care to uphold what
was lived for.
Purim is
a celebration of renewed life and death. “A nation born will praise Hashem.”
Our family awaits the day when we will once again be able to see my
father-in-law in person. But until then we will keep him alive in our hearts
and souls, by preserving the wonderful legacy he left behind.
Shabbat
Shalom & Good Shabbos,
R’ Dani and Chani Staum