Tag Archives: Stories

“How To Be A Friend To A Friend Who’s Sick” – Book Recommendation

27 Wednesday Mar 2013

Posted by in Book Recommendations, Health and Well-Being, Life Cycle, Stories, Uncategorized

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Letty Cottin Pogrebin has written an indispensable guide when a member of one’s family or a dear friend becomes ill or suffers a tragic death. In great detail she offers counsel on what to do, say and not say, how to respond and be the friend the stricken most needs.

Letty is a founding editor of Ms Magazine, an award winning journalist, a non-fiction and fiction writer (this is her 10th book), a political and peace activist, and a loving wife, mother, grandmother, and friend.

As a rabbi who confronts every kind of illness, trauma, disability, and loss, I have not seen a more complete and exhaustive guide than this book on how we can all help each other when we are in need of a friend.

Letty is insightful, intuitive, generous, kind, empathetic, warm hearted, and loving. She is refreshingly self-revealing in this book and so the book is also an autobiographical chronicle, which gives the reader permission to be vulnerable and to share with our own loved ones our vulnerabilities and needs.

She was moved to write this volume after being diagnosed with breast cancer in 2009. During and after treatment Letty was struck by how her family and friends reacted to her, how awkward some were and how others understood what she needed and how to help, support and nurture her.

In her research she spoke with more than 80 fellow patients, family and friends who had had cancer, heart disease, HIV/AIDS, Alzheimer’s, Crohn’s Disease, diabetes, MS, Parkinson’s Disease, mental illness, dementia, catastrophic financial ruin, and the death of children. She interviewed doctors, nurses, and hospital workers, clergy of various faith traditions, and complete strangers. She learned the Do’s and Don’ts of interacting with the ill and their families, that there is no one template on how to behave, that everyone has different needs, and that sensitive friends will thoughtfully think through what makes sense for the individuals they love and what are their unique needs, and then behave accordingly.

“The stories I collected from others,” she wrote, “helped me understand my own reactions and fueled my determination to be a better friend to my ailing friends. Among other lessons, I learned that it’s not enough to be a good hearted person if you’re oblivious to the pain in someone’s eyes; that friendship can nourish, help, and heal but also disappoint and suffocate. With every interview I marveled at how thin and permeable is the membrane between good intentions and bad behavior, how human it is to be both strong and vulnerable, and how people process the sickness, stress, and sorrow of their friends in many different ways.”

Letty considers every conceivable aspect of how to refine the art of friendship when a dear one becomes ill or suffers loss. She reviews “Goofs, Gaffes, Platitudes, Faux Pas, Blunders, Blitherings – and Finding the Right Words at the Right Time.” She reflects on what to ask of a patient and what to avoid saying. She offers a list of “Ten Commandments for Conversing with a Sick Friend” and enumerates who should visit and what constitutes a “good visit.” Her list of “Twenty Rules for Good Behavior While Visiting the Sick, Suffering, Injured, or Disabled” is a common sense guide that even those with plenty of sechel are well-advised to review.

Letty considers as well the differences between men and women in their coping with illness, about the importance of being sensitive to a person’s shame and/or need for privacy, and the necessity that friends always “show up.”

She writes: “Entering other people’s truth, I learned that illness is friendship’s proving ground, the uncharted territory where one’s actions may be the least sure-footed but also the most indelible; that illness tests old friendships, gives rise to new ones, changes the dynamics of a relationship, causes a shift in the power balance, a reversal of roles, and assorted weird behaviors; that in the presence of a sick friend, fragile folks can get unhinged and Type A personalities turn manic in order to compensate for their impotence; and that hale fellows can become insufferably paternalistic, and shy people suddenly wax sanctimonious.”

Letty not only talks the talk, but walks the walk. When I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in early 2009 requiring surgery and radiation (I am fine now) just before Letty’s own diagnosis, she was an attentive friend from across the country. Supportive, nurturing and kind I felt seen and cared about that inspires my gratitude still.

What she learned subsequent to her own diagnosis deepened her capacity and understanding not only of what she needed, but what others need. Now she has written a book that offers the reader the benefits of her experience, wisdom and love.

I recommend this volume without reservation.

The Worst Teacher I Ever Had & The Most Important Lesson I Ever Learned

12 Tuesday Mar 2013

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I have taught children of every age since the early 1970s. In more than four decades I have learned many lessons about how people best learn, why teachers need to teach to the individual child and what is ultimately important in the teacher-student relationship. The Babylonian Talmud (Taanit 7a) teaches an important truth: “Amar Rabbi Hanina – Harbeh lamadti m’rabotai u-m’chaverai yoter m’rabotai, u-m’talmidai yoter mikulam (“I have learned much from my teachers, more from my fellow students/friends, and from my students, most of all.”)

Though this Talmudic passage is generally true for me, nevertheless, one of the most important lessons I ever learned was when I was still a high school student. In the 11th grade I took a class from among the most popular and beloved teachers in my school. He was smart, charismatic, dynamic, devoted, emotionally accessible, and cared for his students – or most of them.

As part of his pre-college English class he required that students read a great deal of great literature and then write and give oral “book reports” on the books he assigned. During one lunch hour I was scheduled to present my report. In preparation, I had read the book as carefully as I could, underlined key passages, organized my thoughts in written notes, and brought all of that with me. I spoke for about 10 minutes during the lunch hour.

It was a custom for many students to congregate in his classroom during lunch, so many of my friends were present. At the end of my presentation he asked me an important question that to this then 17 year-old I did not understand. He asked again, and when I did not respond correctly a second time he exploded, accused me publicly of not reading the book, of relying on the book jacket for all my information, and then threw chalk and paper clips at me in a display that was, to say the least, shocking. I was humiliated, but his rant didn’t stop then. He carried it on into the next two periods accusing me in my absence and to my classmates of cheating.

I am reminded of this story often, and most especially this week when I heard that he was retiring after more than 60 years of teaching, that many students had come to honor him and express their gratitude. I too am grateful, but for very different reasons.

When I have had the urge to express frustration and/or anger at a student, I think of this teacher and credit him for reminding me of the wounds that such behavior caused me and that could cause to my own students. I once failed a student by embarrassing him, and when I did I sought him out to apologize and ask his forgiveness, which he magnanimously gave to me.

Years ago I wrote to my high school teacher to let him know of my experience that day. I had to get it off my chest and confront him directly. I am certain he received the letter, but I did not receive a response.

Rashi (11th century, France) taught that the teacher must always demonstrate patience and kindness towards the student regardless of the student’s academic, intellectual, or emotional ability, and to teach according to every student’s needs. If a student needs extra assistance, the teacher must see to it patiently that the student eventually understands.

Jewish tradition regards humiliating another human being publicly as equivalent to the shedding of blood (i.e. murder). This principle extends to all relationships and especially if there is a power differential (e.g. parent-child, teacher-student, employer/customer-employee, etc.).

Of course, criticism by a teacher to a student, an employer to employee, and within family and among friends and colleagues should be given – but, it should be done privately, carefully, patiently, and with loving concern that the receiver of such criticism understand it and have an opportunity to improve and/or change behavior.

Having said all this, I also remember with great love and respect my Talmud teacher, Dr. Abraham Zygelboim (zal) at HUC-JIR in Los Angeles. As a rabbinic student in my mid-20s, I had suffered a painful break-up with my then-girlfriend and I was emotionally devastated. Between classes I needed to take a few minutes for myself, so I walked outside and sat against a wall and wept.

Dr. Zygelboim approached me and kissed my forehead without ever saying a word. His sweetness will stay with me all the days of my life, just as the bitter memory of my high school teacher’s humiliation stays with me.

We are, each of us, powerful beings, and we often underestimate our capacity to touch and/or harm others. Indeed, how we treat others and speak to them defines the nature of our character more than anything else we may say, teach or do.

Bezalel: A Master Architect of Sacred Space – Parashat Vayakhel-Pikude

07 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by in American Jewish Life, Art, Divrei Torah, Inuyim - Prayer reflections and ruminations, Jewish History, Musings about God/Faith/Religious life, Uncategorized

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This week we learn about Bezalel, the man chosen to design and build the Tabernacle that carried the tablets of the law that Moses brought down from Sinai. (Exodus 38:22-39:31)

On the face of it, these verses describe the matter-of-fact building of a physical edifice. But this isn’t merely an architectural plan. Rather, it’s a description of the highest aesthetic vision of the ancient Israelites, a standard of beauty and meaning that would impress itself upon the soul of generations of Jews to come in the land of Israel and all the lands of the Diaspora.

Not just any craftsman could design and build this sacred structure. The necessary qualities are spelled out in the text:

“See, God has called by name Bezalel … and filled him with the spirit of God, with wisdom (chochmah), with understanding (t’vunah), and with knowledge (da-at) in all work. And God instilled thoughts (lachshov machshavot) [in Bezalel’s mind] in order for him to make designs of all kinds…” (Exodus 35:30-32)

Because of the importance of the Mishkan in the iconography of Jewish tradition, our sages sought to understand the deepest meaning of this passage. Rashi says that chochmah is the wisdom we learn from others; t’vunah – the understanding we gain from life experience; and da-at – mystical intuition. Jewish legend assumes that Bezalel was well-versed in Kabbalah, that he understood the combinations of letters with which God created the heavens and the earth.

From all this Bezalel is presented as a master craftsman and architect, seasoned by life’s experiences, open-hearted and open-minded to the needs and insights of the people, inspired with a Godly spirit, and understanding of the fundamental laws and truths at the core of creation.
The name “Bezalel” means “being in God’s shadow,” suggesting that he had attained the level of tzadik and achieved yihud, unity with God.
Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev says, yes, Bezalel’s function was to be the chief executive of this project to build the Mishkan, that is, in Rabbi Levi Yitzhak’s words, “someone who would meticulously carry out instructions.” But the next verse adds another dimension when it says “v’lachshov machshavot” ([and God] “made him think thoughts”), meaning that Bezalel was asked not only to carry out God’s instructions, but to contribute “original ideas of his own.”

There are people today and throughout history who have made and do fine work replicating through drawing, painting, sculpture, and architecture what they see objectively in nature, and in the art and architecture of others. They seek, at the very least, to reconstruct what they see. The great artist, however, does more than repeat. He/she adds something ineffable to the work – a deeper and broader vision that is unique to the artist.
Bezalel was such an artist. Yet, a midrash says that even his wisdom, understanding, knowledge, and originality weren’t sufficient to merit his assignment as chief designer, architect and manager of the building of the Mishkan.

A midrash has God asking Moses if he, Moses, thought Bezalel was suited for this holy duty. And, as if stunned by the question from the mouth of the Holy One, blessed be God, Moses replied, “Master of the universe! If You consider him suitable, then surely I do!” Whereupon God instructed Moses, “Go and ask Israel if they approve of my choice of Bezalel.” And Moses did so.

The people, also probably stunned, replied, “If Bezalel is judged good enough by God and by you, surely he is approved by us, too.”

From this, our sages concluded that Bezalel wasn’t only God’s choice but also the people’s choice.

Mark Chagall adds yet another dimension to the task of the artist when he wrote that “the artist must penetrate into the world, feel the fate of human beings, of peoples, with real love. There is no art for art’s sake. One must be interested in the entire realm of life.”

This story reminds us to consider well the nature of our own  sacred spaces. They are not meant to be merely functional meeting halls with an ark and Torah scrolls on the eastern wall. Rather, they should reflect the highest aesthetic vision of our tradition and people, and thereby not only enhance our prayer experience in their spaces but construct stairways to heaven.

That is the architectural vision that our own architects, Hank Konig and Julie Eisenberg of Konig-Eisenberg Architects, Inc. have envisioned for our new chapel to be built in this very space.

It is our fervent hope that construction will begin soon thereby fulfilling at last the final stage of what we set out to do as a congregation more than ten years ago, to create a new synagogue as a whole and a new sacred space in which we may celebrate the holy and draw nearer to God.

Shabbat shalom!