Independent Jewish Spirituality Online
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Job loss, the death of a friend, and why God does what God does. The G-d Project is the world’s first social media platform dedicated to Jewish spirituality. We bring God back to the conversation. www.theg-dproject.org.
We are burying my uncle. In a few days, I will place the last remnants of one side of my family into the ground. My mother is alone. And now, we as her children are responsible for the pieces.
My mother has chosen not to have a funeral. At least, not a traditional funeral, the kind held in a synagogue with eulogies and accolades. Instead, we will bury my uncle graveside. A pauper’s grave repeats maliciously in my brain.
“No one will come,” my mother tells me. “We’ll be lucky if we have eight for a minyan.”
I want to tell her that the angels don’
t speak Aramaic. I want to tell her our friends will arrive. But, none of that counts. Not right now. Not to my mother. My mother, who spent every day of the last six years visiting my uncle. And, not to my family who spent every day of the last sixty-some years caring for my uncle.
Who cries for the disabled when they die?
My uncle deserves the burial of a normal life: a life with family, friends, children and colleagues. But, a life of disability destroyed all of that. And now, my family will stand alone at the graveside of my uncle and mourn for a man that no one knew.
But afterward, we will return to our house for shiva. There, my family and I will gather and eat whitefish and lox. We will remember our uncle. We will cry about his death. And, we will laugh about his life.
You all should have been so lucky to know him…
Posted by Hollywood to Holy Land
Is the world going straight to hell? Is God completely out of the picture? Three things happened this Shabbat that made me doubt my faith.
First, it was the pre-Shabbat death of my guinea pig, Mr. Bacon Sandwich. That morning, his eyes were weak and covered in goop. I asked my wife if we should take him to the vet. She replied, “his time is near.” I gave him some fresh romaine, wiped his eyes and he made his cute “qui!” noise. That was that. I checked back on him an hour later and he had crawled over to his water bottle, buried his head under the pine shavings, and passed on. I wrapped him in a white towel and buried him in my in-laws back yard. The shattered pieces of his ceramic food bowl is his grave marker.
Later, my wife informs me of a shooting in Norway. Turned out to be a terrorist attack on a youth camp and government buildings by a neo-Nazi. I shuttered to imagine the horror that the families in Oslo must be going through. To hear as well that the man who committed the act under the belief that it was the Christian thing to do made me cringe. I can understand God challenging me to accept the death of a pet, but to allow someone to commit violence in his name? G-d forbid.
And as Shabbat wound down, and I got back on my computer, another tragedy: the death of celebrated R&B singer Amy Winehouse from a seizure, most likely the result of years of drug abuse.
I’ve had some terrible bosses in my day. Really terrible. But God, by far, is the worst boss I have ever had.
When a Jew hears bad news, it’s custom to say, “blessed are you, Lord our God, king of the Universe, who is the true judge.” Tonight, I can’t proclaim God’s greatness. But God willing, I will find the power to forgive God for his own shortcomings.
