As I write, we're in the first couple of days after our beloved friend Ella was diagnosed with a brain tumor. By the time you read this, we will all know in a lot more detail about what her medical situation is. Right now her family and friends and community are all in the first stir of not-knowing, trying to support her and each other and so on. But I am not writing this to share any details about Ella's present circumstances. Rather I want to tell you about Ella cleaning fish.
I am as shaken as anyone right now, thinking and feeling all the things one thinks and feels at a time like this. In between phone calls this morning, I went outside to shovel gravel on our road. It felt great to heave rocks into holes, to get dirty and muddy, to fix something easy-to-fix. And, as I shoveled and hauled, I found my thoughts meandering back a couple of weeks to my birthday.
Even though I had a big decade birthday, I hadn't really wanted a lot of fuss around it. Something about having people arrange and cook and shlep and all those things that people do for their friends just made me feel embarrassed. So I decided I would make a little party and do everything myself. My birthday was on a Friday, so I figured I could just make Shabbat dinner like I do every week, have some friends over and call it good.
I started planning a menu, inviting a few people. My parents planned to come up. Friends were asking how they could help, and I would say, "You don't need to do anything! I am doing it all! I don't want people fussing…" Ella kept offering to help me cook. I knew how busy she was. I kept saying, "You don't need to. I don't need any help…" But she insisted. She called several times and said, "What time do you want me to be at your house?" So okay, I finally gave in.
When she arrived, of course I had a big mess going and my parents both busy chopping and peeling. And I had dispatched another friend to pick up a load of whole fish. When the fish arrived, they were, well, whole fish. I had no idea what to do with them. I started hacking one up. Ella took the knife and started in, butterflying the fish beautifully, making piles of fish effluvia as she went along. As it happened, her son, Tatonka, quite an outdoorsman, was outside in our yard felling a couple of trees, and Ella was kvelling as he came into the kitchen and praised her handiwork. Donna Feiner, who had delivered the fish, stayed around too and got involved in the goings-on. My folks were champs (as ever!) I was so happy, in my kitchen with my parents and my good friends, up to their elbows in fish guts and onion peels, laughing, drinking gallons of tea and making my birthday dinner.
I found myself thinking about that scene today as I was shoveling gravel. I usually feel pretty good about helping out when I can. I'd generally rather do than be done-for. And of course I oh-so-slightly liked having our neighbors drive by and see my pushing my full wheelbarrow on their behalf. I wanted to make my own birthday dinner rather than have anyone else make a fuss. But I've thought a lot this morning about Ella cleaning all those fish. And I am just so glad now that I accepted her help. Maybe I should even try accepting help more often.
The Catholic monk Brother David Steindl-Rast writes, "When I acknowledge a gift received, I acknowledge a bond that binds me to the giver. But we tend to fear the obligations this bond entails."
I think that I want to be bonded, bound, to my friends, family and community. Helping and being helped create those bonds. And neither is entirely easy.
- Rabbi Margaret Holub
© 2008 Rabbi Margaret Holub
(home) (calendar) (info) (articles) (sponsors) (links) (bios) (reviews) (travel) (recipes) (projects) (photos) (art)
Updated 01/22/2008 (rge)