A Fight for Life

Question of the Week:

My brother is losing his fight for life. The chemotherapy treatment has not worked, and I need to say goodbye to him. I cannot accept his death, he is so young and I love him so much. Can you help me to accept this pain in my heart?

Answer:

I feel for you in this most heart wrenching time. It is horrible for anyone to witness a loved one go through such agony. I wish you much strength, and pray that you do not lose hope.

There is no way to avoid the pain that comes with loss. But there is an approach to it that can make the pain slightly more bearable. This comes by learning to focus on the soul rather than the body.

The body is limited and finite. It is born and it dies. It can be healthy and it can get sick. No one is here forever. No body escapes death.

But the soul lives on. The soul has an existence that is beyond the confines of life and death in this world. Our time here is merely a short chapter in a long story. During our lifetime, this world is all we see. But deep down we are aware that there is more. We know that while our material possessions and worldly achievements will die with us, our spiritual wealth and the good we do will live on. The soul does not die.

Your brother's body is weak. But his soul is strong. His true self, his inner self, is very much alive and will continue to be so. And it is his true self that you love, that you are connected to and that you yearn for. The brother you love is the person he is, his character and his presence, not his flesh and bones. Ultimately it is not his body that you love, but his soul.

The more soulful you are in your own life, the more you will be able to stay connected to your brother's soul. Through prayer, through Torah study, through charity and good deeds, you become more attuned to your soul and your spiritual side. Become more in touch with the real you, and you will see beyond the suffering body to the real him.

Of course, we would rather just be able to connect with our loved ones like we always did, to talk and laugh with them, to hear and hold them. We don't want our relationship to have to become abstract and spiritual. But sadly, this is the reality, until G-d puts an end to all suffering and death, when Moshiach comes. May it be soon. May it be now.

Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss

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You're Not an Angel!

Question of the Week:

My religious observance has started to become neurotic. I am forever worried if I am doing things 100% right. Did I say the correct blessing? Did I wash my hands correctly before the meal? Did I accidently break Shabbos? I am scared I am becoming compulsive. On the other hand, I do want to take Jewish law seriously. Can I be fully observant and not go mad?

Answer:

Being careful about mitzvos is a very good thing. When it comes to fulfilling the divine will, every detail matters. But there is a limit. I learnt this when I was studying to be a rabbi. I had a powerful experience that forever changed my view of G-d and His laws.

I was studying in Israel in a rabbinical school with several hundred other students. One morning, just after prayers, one of my friends came over to me with a concerned look on his face. "I think your Tefillin may not be kosher," he told me. (Tefillin are phylacteries. I don't know what phylacteries are.) I asked him what he meant, and he pointed out to me that my head Tefillin didn't look perfectly square. It seemed that one of the corners was not an exact right angle.

This was serious. The hand-made leather boxes of the Tefillin are supposed to be square. If they are not square, then they are not Tefillin. They aren't even phylacteries. If my friend was right, if my Tefillin were slightly off, then I hadn't been wearing kosher Tefillin for years. I had been putting on unsquare unkosher Tefillin every day, which is as good as not putting Tefillin on at all.

I knew what I needed to do. I needed my head Tefillin examined. I rushed straight away to an expert in Jewish law. He was a senior rabbi who was famous for his decisive and clear judgments in Jewish law. I brought him my Tefillin and asked if he could advise me. I showed him the black leather box, pointing out the imperfect corner, and fearfully awaited his verdict.

The rabbi inspected the Tefillin, looked at me with his kind and wise eyes and smiled. He responded with one line, a quote from the Talmud: "The Torah wasn't given to angels."

I immediately understood what he meant. My Tefillin were just fine. When the Torah says to make your Tefillin square, it means you should make them as square as human hands are capable of doing. We are not angels who can make perfect angles. We are humans who can only do our best. And that is exactly what G-d requires from us.

If G-d wanted perfection, He would not have created us fallible humans. So obviously that's not what He wants. He wants us humans, with all our imperfections, to make every effort within our means to fulfil our divine purpose.

That means our squares won't be absolutely perfect squares, and our angles won't be exactly right. It means we all make mistakes and get it wrong sometimes. But that's alright. We are not angels. We are not expected to be. To do our utmost, and yet remain imperfect, that is perfectly human.

Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss


To subscribe email rabbimoss@nefesh.com.au

Can a Soul be Miscarried?

Question of the Week:

I suffered a miscarriage recently. While I am thankful for the beautiful children I have, I still feel a sense of loss for the child that I will never know. Is there some kabbalistic explanation for why these things happen?

Answer:

I'm sorry to hear of your loss. It's understandable that you are left wondering what could have been, in what seems to be a case of a potential unfulfilled.

But Kabbalistically, there's no such thing as what could have been. Every soul has its own flightpath. Why some souls spend longer on this earth, some shorter, and some never make it - is a mystery that only G-d can solve. We can only suggest a possible explanation, by exploring what Kabbalah teaches us about the soul's journey.

The soul has a pre-history that goes back a long way. There is a storehouse of souls in heaven, where from time immemorial every soul that was ever born or will ever be born waits for its time to come down. When a mother down here conceives, up there a soul is summoned from the storehouse and sent down to begin its mission. The Messiah can only come once that storehouse is empty, and every soul has been sent on its path.

It is a scary and traumatic experience for a soul to leave its divine source and descend to this lowly world. The materialism and darkness of our universe is completely foreign to this pure and G-dly spark. In order to ease the soul's descent into this world, it experiences a transitory stage, it enters a realm that is neither heaven nor earth - the mother's womb. The womb is a haven where the soul enjoys the warmth and protection of its mother, the support and love of its father, without being tainted or corrupted by the world outside. At this stage, the soul does not yet enter the body, but rather hovers around it. It is still free from the limitations of the physical. This is an intermediate step, in order to soften the shock of arriving in the world beyond the womb.

But some souls are never ready to leave. They are too sublime, too pure, too sensitive to be thrust into the harsh realities of worldly existence. It would be simply too cruel to plunge such a gentle soul into a body, to enter a world polluted by evil and selfishness. So instead of descending further, these souls float back to where they came from - the higher and holier realms where they feel at home. Perhaps they will come down some other time. Or perhaps their mission is fulfilled, having come down far enough.

For the mother, this is a painful loss. The future she anticipated for her child did not eventuate. But is it a miscarriage? Miscarriage implies that something went wrong, that a mistake happened; but we cannot know if perhaps this was the destiny of that soul.

This does not in any way diminish the loss that you have suffered. Your pain is real and justified, and your wounded heart will take time to heal. To the cry, "Why me?", these may seem to be just empty words. But at moments of spiritual clarity, at times when your thoughts can overpower your emotions, maybe you can sense that in a way you have been honoured, to have hosted such a holy and precious soul in your womb. That sacred time you shared with your little unborn child can never be taken away from you.

Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss

To subscribe email rabbimoss@bina.com.au