The Short Vort
Motzei Shavuos- 8
th
of Sivan 5780 and May 30, 2020
A Lonely Yom Tov
As the first night meal came to a close, I sadly realized there was no Shul to hurry back to.
There would be no shiur to inspire people to keep learning despite the late hour.
This night I would not chap a schmooze with the Chevra as we gathered around the hot potato kugel and drank liters of Diet Coke.
There would be no three Batei Medrash, each one packed and pulsating with the sweet sounds of Abaye and Rava for me to walk through while stopping to sit with a Chavrua learning Brochus and give a friendly pat on the back to a friend.
This year the lights were off.
The building was locked.
The enormous hot water urns, usually churning out dozens and dozens of hot coffee loaded with the much-needed caffeine lay silent and bone dry in the vacant edifice.
Shavuos 5780, was it a Shavuos to remember or perhaps a Shavuos to forget and never to be recalled again?
As the Yom Tov began, a tremendous sense of loneliness enveloped me as I felt no longer needed and somewhat purposeless.
I had no learning program to organize and no tired Baale Batim to encourage and cheer on.
That which was part and parcel of my very being, namely to teach and interact with others, was painfully excised from my Yom Tov.
As the first rays of sunlight filled the spring sky, the Shul remained barren as no Minyan gathered within its confines to daven with the sunrise.
There would be no collective sense of accomplishment as we filed out of the Shul after learning the entire night and davening Vasikin.
The vast Main Shul remained alone and silent, devoid of its usual attendees.
The Seforim sat lonely and abandoned on the shelves as there was not a soul present to caress them.
The Sedarim pined for someone to hold them close to their heart and pour out their soul through their holy words.
Alas, they too remained destitute and homeless with no one to embrace them.
Confined to my home, I lovingly removed a Sefer from the shelf, I specifically chose a Rambam.
I turned to his section in Hilchos Melachim dealing with the days of Mashiach as I hoped the learning would perhaps be a catalyst for the anticipated Yeshua.
Alas, it was not to be, and after a while, I too began to nod off, lonely and tired.
I felt bereft of my Shul, and my loved ones who populate the Shul and make the Shul what it is.
The family known as the Ahavas family was not together this Yom Tov.
After two decades of learning together and davening together, we would be apart for this Yom Tov.
And for that, I am sad.
The ways of He who guides our lives are often difficult to understand, while His ultimate authority can never be questioned.
As I awoke Shavuos morning and walked the early morning streets, there was no one to be seen.
The backyard minyanim remained hidden from view, and the crowds of men, women, and children typically coming and going to and from Shul were eerily absent from the deserted streets.
The Shiurim will be on hold.
The Shul will remain darkened.
I must accept this new reality, yet, I am still heartbroken.
I am sorrowful, yet, not bitter.
I am wistful without being hopeless.
I struggle to maintain my emotional equilibrium without feeling rejected.
Sometimes I question if I am up to the challenge.
On a national historical level, we have seen much worse.
Even on an individual level, many of us have faced more formidable challenges.
These facts I know, indeed, I preach and teach them to others.
Nevertheless, now as I am personally feeling the pain, I struggle to practice what I preach.
I don’t want a new “normal,” and I don’t want to wait for the ‘day after.’
I want things to go back to the way they were.
I want to hug people and share food with them and see their smiling faces.
I want to schmooze with people at the Kiddush and dance intensely with the Choson at a Chasana.
Yet, what I want is not what He has planned for now.
And that I must learn to accept.
I would be untruthful if I did not confess that, at times, acceptance is a daunting and almost unattainable goal.
However, I have no choice.
I must learn to come to grips with our new reality despite my private struggles.
The pain of the “new normal” and the pining to go “back” remain.
Yet, for now, I am content to get through one day at a time.
I attempt to push on.
Nobody ever said it would be easy.
Most things worthwhile are not.
“If Not Now, Then When?”- Hillel
Ron Yitzchok Eisenman
Rabbi, Congregation Ahavas Israel
Passaic, NJ
