Be Careful Out There

Rabbi's Notes - December 2000

by Rabbi Margaret Holub

We went away a week ago, a happy little trip up to Vancouver Island to meet Mickey's new grandbaby #2 (I know, I know, they don't make grandfathers like they used to!) Of course I love to travel, especially to beautiful places for happy occasions. And baby Isaac is, naturally, the most delicious creature on the planet, except maybe his brother. Or his mom. Or his grandad. But I always come home from trips a little anxious. Even in a week away, news accrues. What will have happened to my family and friends and community while I was up there cuddling Isaac? This time I came home to news of not one but two fatal car crashes. I didn't know one victim at all, the other only barely. But I could feel the ripples of shock and sadness from both all over the place.

So it hasn't really puzzled me lately when I would finish a conversation with a friend and they would say, "Goodbye. I love you." Or how I would go into Corners to buy a little something and be not only greeted but embraced by all the other customers I know in the store. We all know the holy lesson of car accidents: look at who, and what, is around you right now. It is all so beautiful, so precious. And it could vanish in a moment. So look!

I've been dazzled in my week back home by the lovely, gentle people around me. Look at how these two are trying so hard to be civil right now, even though they're angry at each other! Look at that person trying to understand what I'm saying! Look at this person apologizing for some tiny thing he thought might have been momentarily hurtful! Look at this person wondering how to help someone who is sick, someone she barely knows! Look at this person explaining a new insight, so happy to be learning and communicating! Look at that waitress who knows my favorite burrito and laughs when I change my mind this time!

This particular week it seems like there are two completely separate worlds. There is the world at a slight remove, the world of the newspapers, in which, as I write, two presidential candidates are fighting over a handful of Florida votes (hopefully to be resolved before you are reading this, but who knows?), Ehud Barak is thinking about how to form a government with Ariel Sharon, and even here at home a messy situation has led to an angry effort to recall our local school board. Then there is this world so close that I often miss it, in which the people around me are trying to interact, mostly in generous and meaningful ways. The newspaper world always seems real. But I often miss the fullness, the tangibility, the thickness, of this world close to home, in which my friends and family and neighbors live and connect, often with astonishing decency.

Until there is a car accident and someone from that close world vanishes. And suddenly I am thinking about how that person was, what they did, who they were, and how things will be different now--even though I may have hardly paid attention to them when they were alive and barely noticed the irreplaceable role they played in my daily life. So be careful out there on those slippery winter roads. Wear your seat belts. And I am so glad we're all in this little, close world together.

Copyright 2000 Rabbi Margaret Holub

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