I don't think I ever fully appreciated the darkness of a movie theater as much as I do now that I have children. Since my babies were born, everything has the potential to reduce me to tears : an emotionally naunced scene in a heart-wrenching drama, a momentary expression of human misery in an otherwise heartless action movie, an inexcusable piece of shlock which I would have once mocked mercilessly. I knew I was in trouble when I started crying during a preview for the film The Poseidon Adventure (it was when the two kids--who I knew with certainty would be among the survivors--were in the water up to their necks, terrified.) I have been grateful for the ability to hide in the dark, keeping my emotions private in an otherwise public space.
The Talmudic rabbis used the expression "behind the veil" or "behind the curtain" to describe a different kind of hiddenness, that of understanding reality from God's perspective. The rabbis could posit an explanation of reality beyond ordinary human ken by imagining how everything looked "behind the veil". They understood that they were simply imagining what God must be keeping hidden; they could not know, not until God pulled back the veil, or turned the lights on in the movie house.
I think that in today's parlance the Talmudic rabbis would probably rephrase "behind the veil" with "reading God's blog." For that is where the hidden becomes accessible. We know how often we hide our emotional state from others--answering "How are you?" with a nonchalant "Fine" no matter how much we may be suffering. In the blogosphere, however, people open themselves fully--revealing their inner lives and showing to others their reality from behind the veil.
This is not simply the case for Gen Yers and Gen Nexters and lots of people who aren't us. In our own congregation, Jonathan Blumberg and Pamela Stein have allowed us a window into their souls. They created a blog for and about their daughter Sasha Bella, z''l, who died just after turning two. Their words are devastating; they lay their hearts bare and allow us into their souls. I mention them for several reasons, but particularly want to share their words that I have begun to carry with me everytime I meet someone and ask the most seemingly mundane of all questions. They write:
Maria asked 'How are you doing?'. It is such a powerful question. And it amazes me how many people miss the power of these few words, perhaps feel unsure or scared as if feeling around a scab that you dont want to dislodge. Or perhaps they feel the time has passed. I assure you the time has never passed.
Friends who I never informed, neighbours on the street who didn't visit, old aquaintances who acknowledge 'You have had a difficult time' but dont mention Sasha's name. I can understand the reluctance. Connect when you are unsure. Dont say too much, you dont even have to say anything, just listen to the answer. The question and open heart says it all.
I have no more to add, except to say: you can go to their blog Sasha Bella Stein Blumberg Forever. And, more than that, next time you ask someone how they are, you can let them know you do want to know the answer.


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