The following is my piece in the March 19, 2020 edition
of the Philadelphia Jewish Link:
When I walked out of shul following Shacharit on
Friday morning, March 13th, I had no way of knowing that it would be my last time
in shul for an indefinite period of time.
Particularly since last May when my father passed away,
going to shul has been an integral part of my daily routine. With just two
weeks left to the 11-month period of saying kaddish for my father, I was
extraordinarily proud that during that time, I have missed minyan just
once, which happened when I was traveling in December. Other than that single
instance, I have davened with a minyan three times a day and said kaddish
each and every time.
The disruption caused by the rapid spread of the Coronavirus
is unlike anything we have ever seen before. The widespread shul and school
closures are virtually unprecedented. Terms like “social distancing” have
become part of our lexicon, and we are being forced to reconsider even the most
basic interpersonal interactions. Businesses are being shuttered and hospitals
are filled to capacity. The pandemic known as COVID-19 is unquestionably
wreaking havoc on our community and our world and turning our lives inside out.
As I recently attempted to navigate a shopping cart through
the congested aisles at a local supermarket whose shelves were nearly bare due
to people stockpiling the “basic necessities” in fear of further closures and
restricted movement, I could not help but think how panic seemed to be setting
in. However, as I stood on the long lines that snaked through the store and
waited for what seemed like forever to check out, I was nudged back to reality
by the kindness of those around me and the good-natured conversations that I
engaged in with my fellow shoppers. Despite the angst over the Coronavirus and
the deleterious impact it was having on our daily lives, people seemed to be
taking it all in stride. People were extraordinarily polite and friendly,
notwithstanding the seemingly endless lines, and smiles were evident, while any
sign of strife was conspicuously absent.
It has also been heartwarming to see how our community has
come together in the midst of this crisis and resolved to persevere despite the
obstacles that it presents. Schools have worked diligently to put into place
distance learning plans to ensure that our children are able to continue
learning while the school buildings remain closed and unveiled creative ways to
make certain that our children can interact with their teachers and peers in
fun and engaging ways through online tools like Zoom and Google Hangout.
Parents have taken to social media to collaborate on activities in order to
keep their children occupied during their time alone in their homes. Shuls have
sent out communications with useful materials ranging from drashot from
the Rabbi, to parsha activities for our youth. At a time when we are
engaging in social distancing, our community has thankfully found ways to
actually come together and get closer to one another in a figurative sense.
As we attempt to navigate the uncharted territory that we
find ourselves in and work to cope with what has become an extremely fluid
situation, it behooves all of us to put aside all of the inconveniences with
which we are dealing and take some time to think about those who are dealing
with the real threat posed by COVID-19; namely, serious illness. The
Coronavirus has taken the lives of far too many people, and there are numerous
individuals who are sick due to the pandemic. Make sure to take time out of
your day to pray for all those who are in desperate need of a refuah
shleimah. There are people who need our tefillot and turning to
Hashem for help and guidance at a time like this is absolutely an appropriate
course of action.
When I learned less than three hours after leaving shul on
Friday morning, March 13th, that my shul made the difficult decision to suspend
all onsite activities and close its doors for the time being, I was absolutely
stunned. It is not that I was questioning the conclusion reached by the Rabbi,
lay leaders and medical professionals. In fact, I am thoroughly convinced that
the decision they made was both right and responsible. Rather, I was completely
dumbfounded because I quickly came to the realization that I had said my last kaddish
that morning, and at the time, I didn’t even know it.
For some time, I had contemplated what it would be like to
say the final kaddish for my father once the 11-month period elapsed. I
would get sentimental thinking about it, because kaddish has been an
emotional and spiritual tool through which I have been able to honor him since
his passing. I thought about how strange it would feel to suddenly stop saying kaddish
after it has been a central part of my everyday life since last May.
Considering what sort of thoughts would be running through my head during that
final kaddish was incredibly overwhelming.
However, God had other plans. After all that, I never had
the chance to experience that “last kaddish” due to COVID-19 and the
effect it has had on all of us. At the end of the day, I said my final kaddish
and I didn’t even know it.
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