We Are Not Alone

by R’ Yaakov Klein

A few months ago, when all attempts at sleep training Shmuel failed, we tried the cry-it-out method as a last resort. Without discussing the correctness of this method (I know it is a topic of vociferous debate), it worked wonders – but only after a few excruciating nights of listening to our child scream, sometimes for hours, without being able to answer his call. Deep down, we knew it was for our Shmuel’s best. He was simply not functioning during the day because of his extreme tiredness and we wanted nothing more than for him to be able to get what we knew he truly needed – a full night’s sleep. But even so, as anyone who has opted for this method knows, it was a very painful experience. My wife and I would stand with our heads against the door to his bedroom, our precious son’s cries piercing our hearts, looking at each other with a sad gaze and forcing ourselves not to burst into the room and gather him up in our arms.

Our hearts are broken. Precious Jews – parents, grandparents, rabbonim, survivors – the most treasured members of our communities, are being torn from this world before their time. Thousands of those not in the high-risk bracket of this dreaded disease have lost their income and are unsure how they will continue to put food on the table. Thousands more are struggling to control the chaos born of a full-time job merging with full-time parenting and full-time housekeeping etc. Children have been torn away from their friends and a healthy environment in which to flourish. There are so many levels, angles, and facets to the tragedy, fear, anguish, and difficulty unfolding around us. Nobody is left unscathed.

As ma’aminim b’nei ma’aminim, we believe that ‘everything the Merciful One does is for the best.’ Deep down in the inner recesses of our Jewish hearts, we know that this is somehow for our ultimate good; that this ship has a Captain who, using methods that transcend our limited understanding, is bringing us to the greatest of all possible destinations.

But there is another element I feel is important to keep in mind that has given me great comfort. I learned a very deep lesson from my Shmuel, my greatest teacher, during those nights of cry-it-out sleep training. The mature understanding to which my wife and I were privy, the knowledge that this was for our baby’s ultimate good, did nothing to prevent us from crying along with him to express our hurting over the fact that Shmuel – in his limited awareness – was experiencing pain. Although it appeared to him as if we had callously and unfeelingly left him alone, in truth my wife and I were on the other side of that door the whole time, our hearts torn apart by the depths of his anguish.

Friends, I believe with all of my heart that the same is true for Hashem, our loving Father in heaven. Like baby Shmuel, our human capacity to understand the broader picture is exceedingly limited. It is impossible for us to grasp how this terrible virus can possibly be for our good. We feel broken and battered, abandoned and alone behind the mighty door that has shut heaven’s light away and darkened our world. But the truth is that not only hasn’t Hashem abandoned us – His knowledge of the ultimate goodness this plague represents does nothing to detract from His pain over our sorrow. Like a young couple silently shaking with tears over their baby’s unanswerable cry, Hashem is pressed against the other side of the door, heartbroken in His painful silence. His love for His children will not allow Him to intervene before the rectification is achieved (let it be soon!). But His love for us will also not allow Him to be unmoved by our experience.

Hashem loves us. Hashem is there for us. Hashem is crying with us.

May we only share besuros tovos b’karov mamash.

Yaakov Klein