I have been attending a shiur by Yafit Clymer on “Good and Bad in Judaism.” It is a wonderful, deep shiur, which touches upon so many nuanced approaches to good and bad, starting with Tanach, and continuing through Chazal, Kabbala, Chasidut and through the modern day.
Yesterday we learned a very interesting little tidbit, from the book Yosher Divrei Emet by Meshulam Feivush Heller. He points out that the Hebrew language often includes words that have the same letters but opposite meanings. For example, נגע and ענג which mean, respectively, affliction and pleasure; or כתר and כרת which mean, respectively, crown or cutting off (excommunication/early death). There are many many more such examples, which points to the depth inherent in the Hebrew language. Sometimes the good and the bad are opposites but have the same basic building blocks. We can’t see one without seeing the other, and we have the ability to change one into the other.
Today, according to the Hebrew calendar, I turned 50. In just three days, we will be commemorating two years since Ely’s passing. I have been thinking about the juxtaposition of these dates, and originally I just assumed that I would no longer be able to acknowledge or celebrate my Hebrew birthday because it is so linked to Ely’s yahrtzeit.
But actually, there are many conflicting emotions that I am feeling today. It is a bit surprising, since I normally don’t even focus too much on my birthday, and I had assumed that I would ignore it until the secular date. It turns out, though, that I find myself at the same time contemplating life and death, two sides of the same coin. In this complex world of emotion, a few things have emerged.
- Time relates to life, not death. Reaching 50 has made me realize that I am “catching up” to Ely’s age. He will forever remain 55, so now we are only 5 years apart instead of 7. This was a shocking realization, and focuses for me the need to use my time well.
- The two years since Ely passed away have crawled by at a snail’s pace. Time has been stretched out, wherein the first month after he died felt like ten years, and the next year felt like another ten years. Now the pace of life has begun to reach a slightly more “normal” feel, but when people have expressed shock at the fact that two years have already passed, I feel like I am in some sort of weird bubble, where time for me is different than for everyone else around me. “Already passed?” Seriously? But looking back, I am starting to see that the stretching out of time has given me the space to grieve, to think, to accept what has happened at various levels. I think that on some level, I have actually managed to find some sort of inner peace. It is a fragile peace, a sensitive peace, which can be shattered by a single strong memory, a song, a human interaction. But it is there.
- It is possible to feel completely conflicting emotions at the exact same time. There is sorrow and there is joy. There is hope and despair. These and other emotions can all coexist in the same moment in time. There is a particular TED talk I have watched several times since becoming a widow, by Nora McInerny, author of “The Young Hot Widows Club” which rattles around in my head sometimes. In talking about the complexity of finding love after loss, she says: “my love for Aaron and my grief for Aaron, and my love for Matthew, are not opposing forces. They are just strands to the same thread. They’re the same stuff.”
“They’re the same stuff.” This truly captures for me the deeper meaning of the opposites having the same letters in the Hebrew language. What we think of as good and bad emotions are inextricably linked. In some ways, the strength of the emotions in general is more of a differentiating factor in a way than the label of “good” or “bad.”
Now that I am turning 50, I realize that this is a pivotal stage in life, a stage in which we can feel old or young. We can choose to see the burdens that life has thrown our way, and watch our hair turn gray and our wrinkles deepen, while making excuses for not having enough energy to run around and play with children and grandchildren. Or, we can recognize that this is a key time in life, with enough life experience to find that inner peace, while simultaneously dealing with all of the challenges that life continues to throw our way. We can remain healthy and vibrant and active, and we can continue to grow and learn and contribute.
As these thoughts flood my brain, I am thankful that I have made it to this point in one piece. I can look back from my new position of 50 years old, reevaluate, and look forward at the same time. I can honor Ely’s memory while also celebrating life. It is possible to hold these two seemingly conflicting truths in my mind at the same time.
שהחיינו וקיימנו והגענו לזמן הזה