,
OPINION
Shall We Dance, Even If
We Don't Feel Like It?
RABBI JEROME M. EPSTEIN
Special to The Jewish News
Id
ost years, thinking
about the holiday of
Simchat Torah conjures
up wonderful images of
celebration. We picture crowds of Jews
of all ages singing rousing songs, danc-
ing joyously with the Torah, eating
special holiday foods and generally
offering exuberant thanks for the giv-
ing of the Law.
Some years, however, We don't feel
like dancing. This year, for example.
When we read of the massacres in
Kosovo, when the luster of the Ameri-
can presidency has faded, when vio-
lence threatens to flare up once again
in the Middle East, when natural dis-
asters, such as hurricanes, leave death
and destruction in their wake, when it
takes a deliberate effort of will to
muster the requisite quotient of joy,
why bother?
Why deliberately summon up feel-
ings of gladness when our natural ten-
dency is to express feelings of sadness
or disappointment?
Because we are commanded to do
so. Because a higher wisdom has rec-
ognized the need for human beings to
lay aside the inevitable catalogue of
small — or large — misfortunes and
Rabbi Jerome Epstein is executive vice
president of The United Synagogue of
Conservative Judaism, the association of
Conservative congregations in North
America.
embrace wholeheartedly the concept
that the world can be improved.
The Torah tells us what to value
and what to strive for. If we rave
not yet attained our goals, we must
nevertheless keep trying. We are not
permitted to throw up our hands
and say, "Sorry, we already tried."
We must keep making the effort —
that is what Simchat Torah is all
about.
If singing and dancing feel some-
how artificial at a time when our very
faith in human nature is shaken, then
we must dance with even more
kavanah (spiritual intent) in order to
remind ourselves of future possibili-
ties.
In truth, we do have cause to cele-
brate. As Simchat Torah vividly
demonstrates — highlighting, as it
does, the concluding Torah reading of
one year and the first Torah reading of
the next -- we always have an oppor-
tunity to begin again, to make things
better.
We have been given a precious gift,
an eternal Law, and we belong to a
proud and vibrant people. Perhaps
next year, a great peace will embrace
the Land of Israel, the ethics of our
leaders will keep pace with our expec-
tations, and bloody age-old ethnic
rivalries will mysteriously — and per-
manently — disappear.
At such a.time, celebration will be
easy. Our task is to keep the faith
when times are more challenging,
remembering that, with the Torah as
our guide, nothing is impossible.
A New Appreciation
For Creating Life
LISA HOSTEIN
Special to The Jewish News
T
he Torah is filled with hun-
dreds of commandments —
613 to be precise.
But the very first com-
mandment, to be fruitful and multi-
ply, is arguably the most important.
For without this basic and primor-
dial act, which we read in Genesis on
Simchat Torah and on the following
Shabbat as we begin anew the annual
cycle of the reading of the Torah, there
would be no future generations to ful-
fill the mitzvot that guide our lives.
Which is why, for nearly a decade,
grappling with the Torah has been a
struggle for me.
What about the tens of thousands
of us who, despite both prayer and
high-tech intervention, have not been
blessed with the ability to fulfill this
first commandment?
How do I get past the opening lines
of Genesis when they represent such a
stumbling block?
For the past 10 years or so, as each
new Jewish year dawned, I stood on
the bimah and chanted those words,
be fruitful and multiply, from the
Torah.
I read them with feeling, hiding the
tears that welled inside, because for
some inexplicable reason, my husband
and I were unable to conceive a child.
Each year, as I chanted the story of
Lisa Hostein is editor of the Jewish
Telegraphic Agency.
creation on Rosh Hashanah — at a
Reform congregation in my home-
town of Barrington, R.I., where the
beginning of Genesis replaces the tra-
ditional Rosh Hashanah reading —
and as I followed the words a few
weeks later on Simchat Torah, a little
part of me died.
The Bible is filled with heroines
who grappled with infertility. But for
Sarah, Rachel and Hannah, there were
happy endings. God answered their
prayers and blessed them with chil-
dren.
Now I, too, have a happy ending.
This summer, my husband and I
were blessed with the gift of life.
Our new son, Ezra Jacob, did not
come from the fruit of my womb, but
he lives in the deepest recesses of my
heart.
Another woman gave birth to Ezra
four months ago, but with his adop-
tion, his life is in our hands.
Like Adam and Eve and every
human being born since, Ezra repre-
sents the promise of a new beginning.
At this age of innocence, he repre-
sents pure potential — the potential
to grow and to blossom, to learn and
to teach, to lead and to follow, to love
and to be loved.
Along the way, he is certain to
reach for the forbidden fruit in his
own way and learn that actions have
consequences. The tree of knowledge
is open to him; what he does with it is
what matters.
I've been a mother just a few
LIFE on page 38
LETTERS
pay to make sure they are available on a
year-round basis.
Even during the Depression, my
father paid his dues to the synagogue
because he knew the importance of a
place for worship, study and assembly
for Judaism.
It seems the letter writer does not
understand how Jewish institutions
exist.
Leonard Trunsky
West Bloomfield
Viewing Life
In The Cemetery
It is a cemetery on 14 Mile Road near
Woodward — Clover Hill. It is a big
cemetery and every Sunday afternoon,
I drive through the heavy iron gates to
the graves of my parents. I come with
two small pebbles and put one on
10/9
1998
36 Detroit Jewish News
each headstone. Maybe my human
mind reasons my parents will know I
am there.
Sometimes, I sit on the grass beside
the graves or, sometimes, I sit on the
nearby granite bench. Other times, I
kneel and pray. Sometimes, I cry.
I wander among the many graves,
read the names on the headstones and
wonder about the people — their
lives, their loves, their dreams. But I
am seldom alone. Inevitably, a funeral
procession passes through the iron
gates and family and friends stand
together at a graveside unveiling.
Most poignant of all, however, are
the solemn mourners. An old woman
holding her son's hand as they stand
by her husband's and his father's grave.
A young woman weeps at her friend's
grave. Two elderly women place flow-
ers on their husbands' graves. A mid-
dle-aged man sits beside the grave of
his wife.
Sometimes, someone sees me sit-
ting on the bench; our eyes meet,
words unsaid. Other times, someone
comes to sit and talk. Geese wander in
and out of the grave sites. A woman
walks with her dog down the narrow
lanes. The flowers are watered and
men move earth for a new grave.
I take leave and pass once again
through the iron gates. I come away
with good feelings. They are not easy
feelings to hang on to after wallowing
for many years in the fear of an
unknown that has beaten and broken
men of all walks of life. Death is a
mean business and when its knell is
heard, no one is safe and nothing is
sacred. But this phenomenon can also
bring with it humility to those left
behind.
I have no master but death. But am
I of life or am I of death — or of
both?
Betty Rollins
White Lake
Article Avoids
What To Do
I address the article by Lynn Meredith
Cohn, Scene editor, titled, "How Much
Time Can You Take?" (Sept. 25)
Unfortunately, this article does not
convey information of use to indicate
how to approach the problem with
employment supervisors and col-
leagues. I address this, based on years
of experience, starting back in college
and university and postgraduate train-
ing and continuing into professional
service.
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