So many people are being heroes right now. When I go to the supermarket – once a week, with mask, gloves, wipes, self-check-out aisle, groceries straight from cart to bag – I make eye contact - of course from the requisite distance - with as many employees as I can and say “Thank you for being here.” They are pleased to be seen, they say, “You’re welcome, I’m just doing my job,” but I say in response, “I couldn’t eat without your being here.” EMT heroes, hospital support staff heroes, doctors and chaplains and truckers. My particular window on heroes is rabbis because they are my regular clients.
It’s been a long week listening to hard stories, compounded by having signed up for shmira every day this week (symbolically guarding/accompanying the dead who have not yet been buried). [See April 20 entry] I sit for half an hour at a stretch, a half hour that it turns out I otherwise would have used for breakfast or lunch or just quietly relaxing, as best any of us manage to do that these days. As the days have progressed, the weight of shmira duty has felt heavier and heavier. I didn’t find it meaningful to follow the tradition of reading psalms; singing certain niggunim has felt appropriate and allowed me to focus and connect well, envisioning my efforts as holding/comforting/helping to raise souls, I’ve also found myself more and more pondering what I’m actually doing.
While I’ve never been able to imagine any sort of credible afterlife, I do firmly believe that of course we are more than our bodies, and it seems quite reasonable to call that “something more” part of us the soul. So where does the soul go when the body gives out? And what does the soul need when the body dies? And what help might the living offer to the souls of the dead? These questions feel urgent but they are far above my ability to ponder alone. I need to ask a rabbi, a whole bunch of different rabbis, What does the tradition have to say? And then I need to talk with many friends, many different kinds of people, those of faith and those without an easy way to talk of faith. What do you think? Do our souls make more than one trip here, do they recycle? Isn’t that what we’re really saying when we describe someone as “having an old soul”?
My week ended with stories of a very young soul, and I took great pleasure in hearing about the exploits of this 1-year old, even as she shelters in place. I was reminded of the infinite wonder children are capable of, the radiance of their smiles, the contagion of their giggles. I laughed at the tales and took delight in this fresh new soul, feeling deep gratitude, cleansed of sorrow, ready to enter Shabbat.
What are your thoughts about the journey of the soul? What do you believe? imagine? With whom would you like to discuss these questions further?
Remember some small miracles you have witnessed this week. Release into describing them. With whom would you like to share these stories?
Wishing you a peaceful, restorative Shabbos.