What Rather than Why

The young man decided it was best to ignore the last message his brother sent. It was because there was no answer. There was no real way to explain such a thing or make it taste any better than it did. It was the question that had been asked over and over since the dawn of time.

Why is this allowed to happen?

No response is an answer in and of itself

The young man's thoughts were not on the hows and the whys. There was no point in focusing on questions that only lead to frustration. The universe was too vast to comprehend and the G-d that guided it infinite beyond infinity. There was no way to explain how any good could come from such a thing, but neither could one claim it was bad either. 

The key was simple acceptance. 

It was not the hows. It was not the whys. It was the what that the young man observed. It was what he felt when he first heard the news. It was something he didn't quite expect to feel. To feel about three boys he never met, never would meet, who's families he'd never speak to or see in person.

He felt hurt

The same hurt felt all around the world

It was was the most profound thing about it all. Actual tears were being shed in Australia, America, England, and Israel. The same tears and the same hurt were at that moment binding all the Jews across the globe together. Wherever one was in the world. Whether they were religious or not. Whether they went to shul every day or maybe once a year. It didn't matter. They were our boys. our sons, our younger brothers, our older brothers. It wasn't like the rest of the world, satisfied with a hashtag and simply disappointed in the end. Every Jewish woman felt the pain as a mother and every man the pain as a brother. In the weeks prior thousands came together in prayer. Thousands said psalms in unison. Thousands took upon new acts of kindness and good deeds. Not for three boys they never met, but for three boys they knew. After all was said and done there were no thoughts of failure or despair. Instead millions stood together in the same genuine tears and hurt for one of their own. For three. But it was their three.

It was tremendously sad

Yet it was uniquely beautiful  

Me and The WBC: Permission to Picket

 

 

I recently befriended one of the leaders of the Westboro Baptist Church

 

I had to double check it was the real person

 

It was

I just had trouble believing anyone could be that stupid

 

======

 

 

Oh and it goes on...

 

 

And this guy

truly has no idea who he's talking too

 



Things that Pass. Things that Last

The young man sat quietly watching as the yard filled with water. They had eaten the yom Tov meal outside that night. The ambiance was delightful. Lights had been strung up along the perimeter of the yard which now reflected off the water as it silently trickled in to irrigate the grass.  The others had moved the table over to the patio area and continued their conversation speaking about subjects of spirituality and inspiration. Every night was like this; The lively meal, great food, always followed by insightful conversation ‘till the wee hours of the night.

            There was something about the calm water and cool still air that had the young man in a reflective mood. The past couple years had been eventful, but now no matter what things were going on in his life, no matter what things he had to worry about, none of it was here. All the chaos of life seemed to drown in the simple calm water.

 

Here was peace

Here was home

The bus arrived

 

            The young man was whisked out of his recollection. The arrival of the bus marked the arrival of the week. Another six days of the hustle. This time it was different. He usually went in with anticipation of making it to that home-away-from home at the end, but the last Shobbos had come and gone. He had taken one last look at the small group that made the house a home to him. One last look at them singing as they did every havdallah. Then he grabbed his duffle bag, that trusty duffle bag, and left.

He got on the bus

His life was fast like that

Always was

 

            With the last Shobbos over and everyone going their separate ways it seemed he was left with just the hustle,

but the good things that are temporary

 prepare one for the good things that last forever.

 He knew now what he wanted. He wanted that. The warmth, the company, the discussion, the hospitality, the worry free atmosphere. The home the rabbi and rebitzon had built he wanted to build for himself. He now had a clear picture, a clear experience, of what he was working for. He wasn’t going to get it after six days or even six months, but like anything he would get there. What the rabbi and rebitzon had done for them was show them true warmth. A warmth that they would always remember. A warmth they could make for themselves. They had gained memories they would always remember. Memories they could create themselves.

The young man now knew one day he would again sit on a Shobbos night deep thought, observing the water in his own backyard, while his own guests sat and sang in his own home.

Not in six days

Not in six months

But he knew