It’s Purim night. The kids are asleep and the house is quiet. I’m sitting here and pondering. I don’t remember a time in my life when the dichotomy of emotions has been so intense and strong.
On the one hand, it’s a day of immense joy and festivity. It’s a day in which we celebrate our freedom from yet another oppressor. It’s a time in which we let go and let loose perhaps because the miracles were too much to be contained.
At the same time, there are still 134 hostages remaining in Gaza under the most horrific circumstances. There are the tens of thousands of soldiers who are in extreme danger and risking their lives on a daily basis to fight for us. There are the hundreds upon hundreds of freshly dug graves. Graves which were not supposed to be dug. Their victims are young fathers and mothers, Young and innocent children, leaving behind heartbreak too much to bear.
There seems to be no end in sight and the pain and desperation keeps growing.
On another front, the endless amount of newly diagnosed patients is horrific.
Their loved ones watch helplessly as the chemo balds their head, making them age many years in the span of a few months while hoping that the treatments will kill the cancer but won’t kill them.
And then there’s the most intense and lonely darkness of those suffering from mental illness and the lifelong effects of abuse and trauma.
They try, they fight, they push through, but there’s always that trigger, flashback or nightmare attempting to throw them down a fast and furious spiral.
There’s simply so much pain in the world. Some of them known and most are hidden, leaving the sufferers feeling alone, desperately trying to live life like everyone else while grappling in the dark to make it through every day.
How do we celebrate a day of freedom? How is it possible to put these two together?
Additionally, there’s something that has been bothering me for a while. We all hear of the stories of the ones who were saved from the nova festival. Of the ones who missed their rides there. Of the ones who missed their flights on 9/11. Of the ones who were saved from a car accident.
It has always bothered me, why are we thanking God, when God caused this whole tragedy to happen to begin with?
Why didn’t God skip the miracles of that one survivor and not let allow the tragedy to happen?
Many years ago, I was on a long flight. Midway through the flight, the plane began shaking violently as it passed through a strong wave of turbulence. People were screaming while desperately grabbing the armrests. We all felt absolute panic and helplessness.
During this all, that familiar voice came over the loudspeakers. “Attention all, this is your captain speaking, we’re going through a bad wave of turbulence but we’ll be okay. The plane is built to handle this and we’ll be through it soon. Hang in there and we’ll be out of this shortly.”
We all immediately felt a sense of relief although in reality nothing has changed. The plane was still violently shaking.
We didn’t understand the mechanics of a plane. We didn’t know of the science behind how and why turbulence happens but we knew that the pilot was on our side and that made us feel safe.
Having been through and witnessed on a personal and global level, both immense pain and suffering as well as great happiness and joy, I know there is a pilot in charge.
I know and accept that I don’t know.
I know and accept that it’s not possible to understand this seemingly insane world.
I know that I, with a finite brain, can’t ever comprehend a creator with infinite wisdom.
When my children ask me why tragedy happens, I don’t anymore look for answers, because us as human beings can’t and won’t ever get it. I try and explain that although we don’t understand it, there is a God who is watching over us.
I don’t know why I’ve been through so much pain and suffering. I don’t know why the world as a whole is struggling so much. But I do know that there’s a God who is in charge and He knows exactly what He’s doing.
Perhaps, the ones who missed the flight, missed their ride, survived 10/7 was all God’s way of showing us that even during the darkest of times, He is orchestrating it all. The survivors are His signature on the painting. It’s Him showing us that he was and is there all along.
If you look through the story of Purim, you’ll find that the seeds of their redemption was already planted even before the evil decree. God was there all along even before Haman wanted us all dead.
So yes, it feels so strange to celebrate the holiday this year. It feels wrong and almost selfish. But perhaps we can celebrate the fact that our pilot is our Father. That although we don’t know why tragedy happens, we do know that there’s someone up there rooting for us. That we have a familiar face way up above who truly cares for us.
I recently took my young child to a specialist and he began crying during the exam. I kept repeating the same words while holding his hands “don’t worry, Totty is right here.”
Maybe we can tune in to those words that God keeps telling us. The open parking space by the cancer center. The rain that stops as soon as when we need to walk to the hospital on shabbos. That old support friend who randomly reaches out to us when we need him most. The random check we got in the mail. Perhaps they are all Gods words to us saying “don’t worry, Totty is right here.”
In the story of Purim, God was right there all along and in our story, God is with us as well through the darkest of times.
Lastly but so importantly. If we are in the throes of pain and despair and we can’t feel any of this, that’s fine. If we are frustrated and mad at God, that’s okay as well. God created us human and wants us to be Human. Just like I didn’t care if my child was mad at me for taking him to the specialist, I don’t believe God will be mad if we’re mad.
He wants us to be real and honest and if this year, everything feels too much, that’s okay as well.
Never surrender 