I may have mentioned this before, but one of my mother's oft
repeated stories was of the town whose citizens, weary of
their own burdens, decided to exchange them one day in the
marketplace. Upon seeing what the others had to deal with,
each returned home content with his or her own problems.
It seems that the world is full of pain. Everyone carries a
burden in their heart. Everyone is coping with either
illness, infertility, shidduchim, emotional problems,
financial crisis, family crisis, strife. It seems that
whenever people gather, beneath their brave exterior and
engaging smiles, there is an overwhelming wave of pain that
is palpable beneath the surface, lapping against the walls of
their hearts.
Besides everyone's individual pain, there are the daily
reports of terrorism, earthquakes, floods, hurricanes,
devastation, homelessness. It seems too much to bear. So how
do we bear it? How do we bear our own pain and have enough
resilience left to share the pain of others and withstand the
onslaught of tragedy around us? Even if we're not being
evicted, flooded or in the throes of a difficult illness
— pain, however minor, is still painful if it's
ours.
Well, first of all we need to be grateful for what we do
have. Part of the reward of sharing others' pain is the
knowledge that you're not alone and not even in the worst
circumstances. I've been complaining recently, quite
frequently and vociferously, that I'm having a great deal of
trouble adjusting to my son's new school schedule. Now that
he's in ninth grade, he learns four times a week till 8:15 at
night and leaves home at 6:30 a.m. That's not including
Shabboses at yeshivah, school trips and various other
extracurricular activities that keep him away longer. I'm a
single mother, he's an only child, it's difficult.
Perspective is a good thing. I realized I should stop
complaining, when I inadvertently mentioned my growing pains
to some women who don't have children. I'm sure they'd be
very grateful to be in my position. Another woman commented
that I should be happy that he's happy and learning well.
That really is something to be thankful for. He, Boruch
Hashem, goes to school eagerly and returns satisfied, if
exhausted, and I'm racking up a portion of my son's Torah
study. I guess I should feel sheepish for complaining.
Unfortunately I'm a mother hen and not a sheep.
Chessed is another way to cope with personal problems.
Being in a position to do for others makes us also appreciate
what we have and what we can do. It also takes our minds off
our own troubles and makes us more worthy of the blessings we
so long for. Being wrapped up in our own pain for more than a
healthy dose of self-pity or analytical problem-solving isn't
healthy or productive. Being wrapped up in another's pain
frees both people.
Of course, hishtadlus is also still a key factor in
overcoming our problems. True, the final result is up to
Hashem but we still have to do all we can. It's unlikely that
most of us pummel the depths of all the possibilities to seek
succor for our troubles.
We usually tend to give up not at the end but just before the
end because if we feel that if we wait till the end, there
really will be no hope left and that would be the worst fate
of all, to be utterly without any hope. So many people, in
many situations, cry "uncle" because they feel they just
can't cry "Tatte" any more. And that's a mistake, because
many times there's always one more thing you can do, one more
plea you can make. It isn't over till it's over, sometimes
not even then.
I was at a Shabbos Shuvah seminar. Two of the speakers
mentioned Rabbi Elazar ben Durdaya. He's famous for the
dictum that one can merit the next world in one hour. Both
speakers made the same point. Durdaya means the dregs of the
wine. Elazar means G-d helps. Therefore even when one is in
the dregs of existence, G-d can still help him. It's true for
teshuvoh and it's equally true for suffering.
Of course, above and beyond every earthly endeavor, we have
to have faith and trust in Hashem. Not necessarily that He
will help us, but trusting that He knows what He's doing and
that whatever we're going through is completely logical, well-
scripted and well-choreographed from the balcony seat that
Hashem occupies above the stage of our lives.
In truth, the real world — the world of truth —
is supposed to be our reward for our earthly existence. This
isn't it. In other words, when we get to the world of truth,
it won't matter whether we were married or not, had children
or not, were healthy or suffered illness, were beggars or
business magnates, were brilliant or learning disabled; what
will matter is what we did with our circumstances, how well
we coped and contributed and how graciously we accepted that
which, despite our best endeavors, intentions and prayers, we
were unable to change.
Sure, it would be nice if we were all healthy, wealthy and
wise, married with large families and lots of sholom
bayis and were a size 10 (why not?). But this only
matters here and now and usually mostly only to us.
The kind of life we lead in this world matters to us but it's
the quality of that life that matters to Hashem. After all,
He can make us all rich beyond our wildest dreams, healthy as
the finest Arabian thoroughbred and give us all our dreams on
a sterling silver platter. If He doesn't, we have to deal
with it in every way He expects us to.
A friend of mine suggested I make "dates" with my son. You
know, go to him if he can't come to me. I went recently to
his yeshiva and took him out for a walk during a free period.
I actually spent 45 minutes of uninterrupted quality time
with him.
We will all get through whatever it is we need to get
through, B'ezrat Hashem, because there's no way around
it. And wherever you are on the path of life, you've probably
jumped big hurdles before. They'll always be there and we
always have to be ready to jump or climb over. Luckily
though, they're tailored to our height, spiritual or
physical.
I attended a lecture of Rabbi Abraham Twerski. He has written
over 50 books, all dealing with the issue of self- esteem.
Yet the highly illustrious, lauded and esteemed sage admitted
that he, too, has suffered from low self-esteem. And he's a
psychiatrist. We are all very grateful for his insights which
perhaps we wouldn't have been made privy to were it not for
his own issue with the subject. This illustrates that
through our suffering, we become resources and inspiration
for others. This is part of our contribution to
mankind.
On a more positive note, life is an adventure; we never know
what's around the next bend, what promises, what blessings
lie just ahead or what challenges are waiting to meet us. And
we'll never know what's inside ourselves until we rise to
meet them.
So we can all take our bag of troubles and go home. We'll
find that's it probably lighter already.
