What Re-Living the
Exodus Teaches Us
It’s a typical day. Things are going along just fine. Then
something happens that dramatically changes everything and turns your world
upside down. A child gets injured, a parent falls suddenly ill, or you have a
car accident. Suddenly, your whole life
is put on hold. The small things you
thought were important are now completely irrelevant, as you now must struggle
to attend to the pressing matters at hand.
Rabbis often get those kinds of phone calls from others who
suddenly find themselves thrust into crisis mode. Part of our seminary training trains us to
remain calm and assume the role of – as one of my Pastoral Psych professors
used to call it – the “un-anxious presence”.
Such a crisis requires us to remain strong, calm and empathic while helping
others to cope with whatever the stressful challenge might be.
But when an emergency strikes you personally, much of that
training is to little avail. I remember
back when my son Avi and I were in a serious car accident. It was quite horrible. For the man driving
the car that hit us, the accident proved to be fatal. But at the time of impact, all I knew was
that I was injured, had difficulty breathing, and felt I was going into
shock. I struggled out of the vehicle to
help free Avi from the car, but there was nothing I could do until help finally arrived.
In a matter of moments I heard the wail of sirens. Help had
indeed come, and thankfully, everything turned out alright. Broken bones healed
and the trauma subsided. But what made
the whole dreadful experience bearable, was the familiar faces of friends who
came to the hospital and comforted us during our time of need. Before that day, I don’t think I truly
appreciated how helpful it is when a friend or rabbi simply shows up and stays
with you during a period of crisis – but since that day, I understood much better.
We all experience rocky times in life. But when a friend shows up to take our hand
and help us through, that load is significantly lightened.
In discussing the mitzvah of Bikur Cholim (visiting
the sick), the Talmud teaches us that each visitor removes 1/60th of another's
pain. This act of kindness is actually a commandment incumbent on each and
every Jew, not just rabbis. And especially in our day, where texting is more
common that making an actual phone call, that "human touch" can be
indispensable. So even making a phone
call to let someone hear your voice can be a great comfort to those who are
going through a difficult time.
In our Passover Haggadah, we read a passage which
states: b’chol dor va’dor chayav adam lir’ot et atzmo k’ilu hu yatza
mi-mitzrayim, in every generation a person is to see him/herself as if they
personally left Egypt. While it is not possible to actually experience the pain
and redemption of our ancestors, we are supposed to try and feel as if
we ourselves experienced the bitterness of slavery, and took part in the
Exodus. This exercise helps us to better
understand the enormity of those events.
Likewise, when we try to empathize and comfort others in
their time of need, we go a long way in helping to make the world a much more pleasant
place.
Part of what makes our shul such a wonderful community (and every shul carries this potential) is not
just how we come together to celebrate each other's simchas, but how we
support one another in times of need as well. That is an important lesson that
Passover teaches us, namely, that when we identify with the struggles of our
past, we are better capable to face the challenges that lie ahead, and to
create the kind of caring community that will make our lives worth living and
even more rewarding.
On behalf of Linda and our family, we wish you all a
meaningful Passover holiday, and a Hag Kasher V’Sameyach with wonderful
friends and family.
Rabbi Mark Zimmerman
