I hope that, notwithstanding the stress of this past week, that cartoon put a smile on your face.
This has been a tough week for many of us. We are all getting used to social distancing -- no, last week was social “
distancing
;” this week, it’s social “
isolation
.” Public health officials are speaking and we are complying. But it’s not easy.
For some of us, it’s scary. Just the other day, I spoke with someone who is about to undergo surgery. Not an easy thing to contemplate under ordinary circumstances. But during a pandemic?
Others in our community have suffered losses. Ordinarily, their friends would be stopping by to offer condolences. But not this week.
Some of us are contemplating serious economic hardship in the weeks and months ahead. That can certainly keep us up at night.
Shabbat is coming. Thank God!
I hope that we’ll all take a deep breath and breathe … and give thanks for Shabbat.
I would like to offer
three things
that I hope will bring a bit of comfort as Shabbat is about to descend upon us. Even if only one of these brings a smile to your face, wonderful. If they all do, well,
harei zeh mishubach --
even better.
FIRST
, does poetry speak to you? If so, I encourage you to find a quiet spot in your home (that’s where you are, right?) and read the following poem quietly to yourself. Then you might want to close your eyes and meditate for a few moments. You might want to think about some of the ways in which you could reach out, despite the restrictions on physical contact, and brighten up someone’s life. Think calmly about what you might do to make that happen. Then, slowly open your eyes, and continue with your day. I have no doubt that the poem will continue to have an impact on you for quite some time.
Pandemic
What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.
–by Lynn Ungar 3/11/20
(I want to thank everyone who sent me this poem. It certainly has the potential to induce calm and serenity. It may come as a surprise to you to learn that its author, Lynn Ungar, is a Unitarian minister. It’s so sweet, isn’t it, to realize how much others can appreciate the gift of Shabbat with which we have been blessed? To read more about Lynn Ungar, click
here
)
SECOND
, if poetry isn’t your thing, I encourage you to read or to listen to the words I shared in synagogue on March 14th (during the last in-person service that we were able to hold in our community before our building closed). You can read the text
here
, and watch the video file
here
(click on the Streamspot box and go to previous broadcasts; the sermon begins at 1:43). What I tried to get across in that sermon is that, just as we, individually and collectively, have faced many challenges in the past, we can face this one, too -- if we pivot.
THIRD
, doesn’t it feel good to put a smile on your face? It’s hard for me to imagine not smiling after you learn about how one particular condominium complex in Jerusalem has been dealing with enforced isolation.
As you may know, Israel has adopted strict policies to combat the spread of the coronavirus. Under most circumstances, families are required to stay at home.
“Home” has a different meaning in Israel. Most Israelis live in small apartments -- much smaller than the homes most of us live in.
How can you overcome the
feeling
of isolation while maintaining social distance? Well, I encourage you to (a) read the following article; and then watch the video of how one particular, musically talented resident helped his entire neighborhood.
You can read the article here:
We may not all have porches (
mirpesot
in Hebrew; singular:
mirpeset
) but we can all identify with the yearning in that song.
One day, may we all have the privilege, once again, of "sitting on our porches" and relaxing with family and friends.
I hope that this Shabbat will be peaceful, restful and restorative for all of us. Shabbat shalom!
Sincerely,
Rabbi Carl Perkins
