Empathy has been largely on my mind.
Three years ago a family joined my Shul. Maya and Judah. I became fast friends with the pint-sized, blond, beautiful and bright spirited Maya. In fact, although she was the newer addition to the Shul, she made me feel welcome in the synagogue where I always perceived myself as guest. (I felt that way because my parents only moved to the community when I was in twelfth grade, I never spent more that nine months there without interuption.) I soon met Judah and was equally impressed by him. Although I think they are very young they say they found each other late for a religious couple. Maya has confessed to me that more than once, in her single years, she had been mad at God that he had not introduced her to her besheret and warned me that I should trust that God has someone for me. Maya was pregnant soon after I met her, and continued being pregnant, having two beautiful daughters in two beautiful years. When tiny Maya finally became only one person again, I had a hard time finding her without the round belly.
I was on Facebook on Thursday early in the morning when I saw a message to pray for a 13 month old baby, Sara Leah bat Maya Ilanit. The message said the baby was having brain surgery that day. I had no idea whose baby it was but I wrote down the name and brought the paper with me to Slichot. When I came home, my mother asked me if I had heard about Maya’s youngest, Sara. Suddenly I realized. The blond girl, with the little diamond earrings, that was who I had prayed for. And slowly the story was put together over the day. A friend sent me to Caring Bridge, a site that keeps people in hospitals in touch with their loved ones. From there I learned that Maya and Judah had noticed that Sara was walking funny, not eating and her head was listing to one side. They took her to get an MRI and the doctors told the worst news to the best parents, Sara had a brain tumor. She had surgery on Thursday, five hours of surgery. When they put the shunt in her little skull, there was so much fluid that it spurted out.
I read the guest book which had entries from random people around the world. People who knew the Becks very well and people who had never met any of the Beck family, were praying for this baby. Initially the doctors said the tumor was probably malignant and Sara would need chemo but by the time they got it all out they decided it had been benign. Maya and Judah believe the prayers of Am Yisrael changed the tumor. They also believe they have a lot to repay fo the prayers, meals and kind words from the Jewish community. So I wrote the following on Caring Bridge, “The human capacity for empathy is an incredible thing. The fact that we can give a blessing, feel immense fear or true joy for another is one of the greatest gifts we have. So while you may feel that you have something to repay, you should know that merely being able to be on this ride with you and be touched by you and feel the immense joy and relief and blessing that you must feel is a greater gift than any other that you could give. I thank you and I thank Hashem.” I stick by this. But looking at it even further, the Beck’s inspired so many people to come together and pray when they shared their story. At this time of year, when prayer and the presence of a united front is so important for Am Yisrael and so hard to attain, they enabled friends and strangers to take part in their story, come together and pray.
I had been thinking about empathy even before this. When I broke up with my boyfriend I wrote to a friend of mine, who I knew would be receptive of written communication. I needed very badly to write. He was receptive, but even more so, gracious. Having never gone through a breakup like mine he tried to relate my sense of loss to that of his experience of the death of a friend. I expressed that these were very different things and I could not empathize with his experience only sympathize. I said this was because of the difference in the level of control. His friend was taken without a choice. My friend was given up, in order to be true to myself.
I also felt, and still feel, most distressed about my experience when I receive sympathy/empathy. It is like I can handle my own pain but as soon as someone tries to feel my pain and I see it in their reflected in their eyes I cannot control myself. When a child falls it is best not to gasp but to tell them they are okay, even if you have no idea.
I have also experienced empathy for the good. Mostly at weddings or hearing about an engagement. When I manage to get past my own selfish jealousy, the joy I can feel about a union of two beautiful people is perhaps the greatest joy I have ever been able to feel.
I have also been on the recieving end of positive empathy, through blessings and well wishes. I like those warm fuzzies that I get.
So what have I learned? Sharing your pain can be hard. It can teach you and it can teach others. Listening to and feeling others’ pain can be rewarding, especially when they eventually are allowed joy and relief. Relating to the experiences of others can teach you about things (both good and bad) that you have never experienced. Allowing yourself to learn what those experiences are, leads you to be a more whole person and prepares you to have those (hopefully only good) experiences yourself.
I am still not sure why I was able to feel complete empathy for a woman on the verge of losing her baby and not for a friend who lost a friend. Maybe it was context. But more likely, death is one of the few things that is too esoteric and beyond to be able to relate to unless you have actually been close to someone who has died. The “on the verge” is critical. Almost is something I can feel.
I very much believe that control, having it and taking it, gives solace. But when is comes to death, there is no anodyne. It is the ultimate test of faith. You must really believe that God will catch you, because you cannot catch yourself. There is no control to take.
Please continue to pray for the full recovery of Sara Leah bat Maya Ilanit.
Read Full Post »
