The Short Vort
Good Morning!
Today is Friday the 7
th
of Iyar 5780 and May 1, 2020
For The Things I Miss
The Gemara in Brochus relates the following incident:
“ When Rav died, his students went after his casket to the city where he was to be buried. When they returned, they said: Let us go and eat bread on the banks of the Dannak River.
After they ate, they sat, and raised a dilemma: Did we learn in the Mishna specifically if they reclined, it is considered a joint meal; however, if they merely sat together, no, it is not considered a joint meal?
Or perhaps, since they said: Let us go and eat in such-and-such a place, it is considered as if they reclined? It was not within their capability to resolve this dilemma.
Rav Adda bar Ahava stood, and reversed his cloak, so that his tear which he had rent in mourning of Rav was behind him, and in mourning, he rent another tear in his garment. He said: Rav is dead, and we have not yet learned the halachos of the Grace after Meals.”
Rav Soloveitchik points out how this Gemara represents the tragedy of man’s inability to appreciate what he has until shockingly he no longer has it.
Rav Adda bar Ahava was expressing the frustration we all feel when we have lost a loved one, “Rav is dead, and we have not yet learned the halachos of the Grace after Meals.”
We had time with our beloved, and yet, we all feel, “if only I would have spent more with my beloved when I had the opportunity!”
In a similar vein, I can empathize with the feelings of loss that Rav Adda bar Ahava felt.
I, too, have similar feelings. Yet, this feeling of loss is not the loss of a relative; rather, it’s a feeling of loss which is caused by “losing” my Shul.
How I pine to be able to enter the Shul and hear the sweet sounds of Tefillah resonating in my ears?
How I miss greeting everyone in the Shul and nodding to those, I pass in the hall and being able to “chap-a-shmooze” with a friendly face.
How I wish I could once again be able to speak to people and share feelings with them face to face.
I never appreciated how I enjoyed and how precious it was to be able to walk from my seat and shake people’s hands and say Shalom Aleichem to new people and ask every person I passed, “How are you?”
These small things, the smiles, the warm feeling of being near those you love and care for, for this, I pine.
Zoom is a poor substitute for engaging with people in a meaningful way.
Nothing can take the place of seeing someone’s eyes as two people connect purposefully and emotionally.
How I pine to be asked a question on my way to and from Davening.
If only I could make eye contact with my entire congregation, with every person individually.
How I miss looking at the Kehilla and seeing and connecting with everyone without even saying a word.
I never fully appreciated how precious it was until it was taken from me.
Indeed, how precious and marvelous it was to simply say Good Shabbos after davening on Friday evening to the Kehilla.
I never entirely took advantage of making sure I smiled and greeted everyone I saw in the Shul until the unthinkable and the unimaginable occurred.
I can paraphrase the words of Rav Adda bar Ahava as I say, “My Shul is closed, and I never had the chance to smile, to connect and to empathize with this person and with that person.”
I failed to value the incredible and fabulous opportunity I had daily of davening in the Shul and connecting with so many people.
The Shul is now (with Hashem’s help for not too much longer)- closed, and I haven’t yet said hello to everyone.
This makes me sad.
“If Not Now, Then When?”-Hillel
Ron Yitzchok Eisenman
Rabbi, Congregation Ahavas Israel
Passaic, NJ
