The Short Vort
Good Morning!
Today is Wednesday the 12
th
of Iyar 5780 and May 6, 2020
The Words of a Child
It has been a time like no other in anyone’s memory.
The world is shutting down, and the community as a whole has become homebound.
The reality of Shabbosim and Pesach observed and celebrated without grandparents, grandchildren, relatives, and guests was a first for thousands of us.
Terms we had never heard of became part of our everyday speech.
Social distancing, quarantine, Corona Virus, pandemic, are now part of the vernacular of the youngest of children.
As a rabbi, I am pained by my inability to interact personally and have face to face contact with my beloved congregants.
A rabbi working remotely is akin to eating your meal remotely.
It just isn’t the same.
The friendly glance I share with a young man who is struggling in high school is a relic of the past.
The ability to flash a broad smile to the congregant about his recent accomplishment that I alone have been privy to is no longer possible.
The intense walk I often would have with a man struggling with a deeply unsettling problem, on the way home from Shul is non-existent.
My ability to reach out to the men of the Shul, extend my hand, and assure the pained person he is not alone, is gone.
The need and the want for human companionship and interaction, the ability to deeply connect with another person’s inner being, all of this and more are not adequately accessible via Zoom.
Nevertheless, I decided to start a morning and evening Chizuk via Zoom and attempt to provide succor to others.
With much trepidation, I forced myself into a role I never imagined. I became a Zoom-rabbi.
Twice daily, I compel myself to sit in front of the camera and record from my office -which I renamed the CCC, (Corona Chizuk Center)- and recorded short messages of Chizzuk.
More often than not, I am quite nervous before I “go on-air.”
I wonder if I will be able to maintain a calm countenance as my insides are churning, and I am personally filled with angst.
I am apprehensive and hesitant as I attempt to the best of abilities to portray a serene demeanor.
Eventually, I began to feel more confident, at least externally, although internally, I still battle my apprehension and nervousness.
I was beginning to feel more at ease, and my erstwhile feelings of angst and insecurity began to dissipate.
Despite the pressure of having to come up with something original and memorable daily, my inner disquiet slowly began to abate.
People were kind to me with their compliments, indeed, sometimes lavish in their praise.
I began to feel that perhaps indeed, I am giving people much-needed strength and Chizuk in these uncertain times.
Despite the inner turmoil of an unknown future, the approval of others offered me a measure of confidence.
The endorsement of others ultimately caused more than a glimmer of pride to penetrate my ego.
I began to ponder, could it be me- the one who is always inwardly nervous – who is providing needed support for others?
The first Shabbos in May was particularly warm and pleasant.
Many ventured out for walks while maintaining the required social distancing.
My wife and I passed a house where a six-year-old boy and his parents were sitting on their porch.
I nodded to them and said, “Good Shabbos.” The husband responded, “Thank you for all the Chizuk.”
As if on cue, the little boy said to his father loud enough for all to hear, “Tatty, we learned that Hashem is the only one who gives strength, not any man, not even the rabbi.”
As the father attempted to quiet his son, I looked up and said, “Please let him speak; those were the most potent words of Chizuk, which I desperately needed to hear.”
“If Not Now, Then When?”- Hillel
Ron Yitzchok Eisenman
Rabbi, Congregation Ahavas Isreal
Passaic, NJ
