Faith, Like Love, is a Shy Bird - Even on Yom Kippur
By Ted Roberts
When it comes to inspiration our Rebbe is a heavyweight. Ten minutes with him is equal to a 30-minute read of Proverbs and a couple dozen Psalms.
"Listen," he says "if you want information, go to the Internet; but if you need inspiration, call me."
"Ok, Rebbe," I say, "why is it that sometimes on the High Holy days, when my immortal soul stands before the bar of justice, I can't feel the awe and I can't hear that still, small voice that I know is calling me? Kavanah - that mystical connection - won't come when I call. Sometimes even on Yom Kippur."
"Don't worry your brain," says my spiritual consultant. "It's OK. After all, you don't necessarily pant with connubial love on your wedding anniversary, either. Faith, like love," he says, "is a shy bird. You can't whistle it up like a poodle."
The Rabbi, reading the perplexity in my face, continues. "You know, love and faith both come from the heart and the heart is a bird that flies where it will. Let me tell you a story that may help.
"Once, in the Pale of Settlement, lived a fine, young man named Lazer. Though only nineteen, he was already a cabinetmaker, a hard worker who began work at daybreak and only stopped with the setting of the sun. Lazer Hirsh lived with his parents. He saved his small wages. Someday soon, he hoped - he would have a modest nest egg and would marry. Unlike most of the young men his age, he not only desisted from vodka, but he attended synagogue; Friday night found his friends singing bawdy songs in the tavern while Lazer chanted Alenu. He even honored his parents. In short, he was a commendable young man who would have sparkled in New York, Paris, or Wrocslayk, Poland.
"And to the delight of the four families in Wrocslayk who were graced with eligible daughters, Lazer Hirsh was intensely seeking a wife.
It was a no-brainer to the village kibitzers: Rachel Kugelheimer was the single cherry in a fruit cocktail full of pears and apples. They were destined for unity like Ruth and Boaz, who made Obed the grandpapa of David, the King. At least that's what was going around the town. 'Laze, such a catch. Rache, such a peach. A match made in heaven, you bet.'
"Rachel Kugelheimer was beautiful because the Almighty, blessed be He, had simply outdone himself, like when he made the water lilies by the river bed. Rachel Kugelheimer was rich because her father had made a fortune in the marketing of vodka. And she was charming, witty, and intelligent due to the joint efforts of the Almighty, who endowed her with intelligence, and her mama and papa, who raised her. None of these shining attributes escaped the notice of Mama and Papa Hirsh, who persistently served them up to Lazer, along with cabbage and boiled potatoes every night at the supper table. And these parents never failed to point out to their dutiful son the social and economic benefits of a Kugelheimer alliance.
"So Lazer, that proper and obedient youth, courted Rachel with the same steadfast talent that made him one of the best craftsmen in the village. They sat beside each other at the kiddush table when it was allowed. They picnicked on the big meadow by the river (with the senior Kugelheimers watching from a nearby knoll). Many an evening, he and Rachel sat on the porch and discussed their deepest feelings about the purpose of life and the perfect number of children and whether a fish or fowl was the ideal Shabbos dinner. Everybody, especially the parents of Lazer, knew this delightful stroll would end under the chuppah. That was the plan.
"But all was not serene in the heart of Lazer Hirsh. He wanted to love this Rose of Sharon in a field of wildflowers; he commanded himself to love Rachel Kugelheimer; he asked his G-d to smite him with passion for Rachel Kugelheimer. He would have taken lessons in loving Rachel from the local schoolmaster had he thought it would have helped."
The Rabbi smiles for a moment and looks away.
"The head proposes, but sometimes the heart dozes. Then the heart wakes up and does what it will." Then he looks me in the eye. "Love is no man's slave. It comes unbidden like laughter or temptation." He pauses. "Like faith, maybe."
He continues.
"As others at Shabbos services prayed for health and riches, Lazer pleaded that his heart might turn to this paragon of beauty, wit, and wisdom. Because he thought he SHOULD love her. He prayed with the fervor of the pious. He rocked violently and his face contorted with the passion of the village fiddler when he rode the music to another world. But it was no good.
"No good. Love would not shine on the life plan of Lazer Hirsh and Rachel Kugelheimer. Instead of Rachel, the angel, he was smitten with Sarah, the tailor's daughter. She was OK, everybody said, but no Rachel Kugelheimer."
"So what happened?"
"He married her - the tailor's daughter, I mean - that's what happened."
"And what kind of life came out of this lesser union?"
"Oh, it was OK," said my Rabbi. "He always wore a nice shirt and pants. But I bet on a cold night when Lazer awakened at midnight he thought of Rachel and his parents ambitions; the life that could have been. And he wished, with a passion fiercer than love itself, that he could have loved her. But like I say faith and love come from the heart. And the heart is a bird that flies where it will. Even on Yom Kippur, the Holy One only watches. That's the plan."
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