Vayeriah

Dear friends,

Divorce is never easy, not for the couple and not for their kids. It may be the best (or only) way for a new beginning. It may be the only way to live again, but that doesn’t make it easy.
When two good friends of mine needed their marriage to end over 40 years ago, there was no exception to this rule. When they parted ways, the husband returned to the States, and several years later was tragically killed in a car accident. Their divorce was particularly painful. Their only daughter, Baila, has CP and as her care became more and more difficult physically, she became a fairly frequent visitor to our home for Shabbos. When eventually Baila’s father returned to the States, things only got harder, and when he was later tragically killed in a car accident her visits became more frequent. This gave her a change of scene and also gave her mother a bit of respite. Baila (not her real name) is bright, energetic, and loves life. Her physical disabilities don’t allow her to do much more than sit in a wheelchair and communicate in a way that demands that the listener stay really focused in order to understand her. She enjoys the mall, the news, and seeing and experiencing as much as she can. When her mother passed away, she was (thank G-d) already living in a wonderful hostel for severely handicapped individuals. My daughter and I began to visit her monthly along with a dear friend from the neighborhood who took a shine to Baila (not too hard). For several years we visited, went on excursions to the supermarket or to a nearby coffee shop, and helped her eat her favorite selections.

Then I remarried.

For Baila, this was the end of my presence in her life. For reasons that I don’t really understand, she assumed that this meant that our relationship had to end. I accepted this (and in honesty wasn’t overly saddened since the visits were very time-consuming as the hostel is far from Har Nof). Other people are also involved in her life. One of them is a wonderful woman who lived in her neighborhood. A lively young widow, with seven kids (so she isn’t looking for a time filler!) she is very much part of Baila’s world. When she recently became engaged, she told Baila that she will soon be getting married. Baila, at first, felt betrayed and would have ended their relationship. Then she said the magic words that I didn’t think of saying: “It won’t be on your cheshbon,” she told Baila. “You won’t lose out.”

The woman, Rivka Abrams-Donin is Jonathan Pollards new wife. Both of them are people of passion for good. Besides wishing them the best of the best, I want to present them both, each in their own way, as exemplifying some of the lessons of this week’s parshah.
The parshah starts with Avraham waiting for guests three days after his bris milah. At his age, he certainly could have decided to put up a “closed” sign for the day. The reason that he didn’t is as the text says, “And G-d appeared to him beneath the trees of Mamre, as he was sitting before the door of his tent in the heat of the day.” The phrase “kichom hayom,” which people often translate as “in the heat of the day,” literally means “like” the heat of the day. The Kli Yakar explains that he, Avraham, was like the heat of the day. His passion to search for guests was burning within him.

When you look at your life, it may be worthwhile occasionally asking yourself what you really care about. Where’s the fire? The soul is called Hashem’s candle. It’s meant to burn with passion. It can easily be cooled. There are all sorts of reasons. Complacency born of comfort. Complacency born of disillusion. Complacency born out of misplaced goals.
Avraham’s love of Hashem drove him to want to introduce the Creator to His creations. How did this affect him?

The Midrash tells over that when he tried to select a cow to slaughter for meat, one of the three calves he chose escaped from the coral. He ran after it (yes, at 99 after a bris). He followed it into a cave deeper and deeper until it led him to a chamber full of spiritual light. He became aware that this was the burial place of Adam and Chava and resolved that this is where Sara and he will be buried when their times come.

This is of course the Maarat Hamachpeilah in Chevron. The word chevron means place of joining. The cave is the place from which every soul must pass on its journey to the Next World.

Whether you realize it or not, we are all on a journey to the next world. What you take with you is yourself. So much of that is defined by how you lived, and what grabbed your heart.
Asking the right questions and more significantly acting on the answers your heart gives you can change the entire picture of who you are, and where your journey takes you.
 
Nessia tovah! Bon voyage!

Love
Tziporah