I had the strangest thing happen to me last Friday. I was standing up to lead the mi sheiberakh prayer for healing during morning minyan when I suddenly blacked out. I fainted and fell, right in the middle of the prayer. In retrospect, it was a moment of true, comical irony. But at the moment, I was not even conscious. Thank God, several members of the minyan saw me fall and gallantly caught me. They lowered me to the floor. I woke up resting upon the floor, covered in a blanket of tallitot. Immediately, I was surrounded by the caring words of our minyan members, many of whom had taken off their own tallit to cover and support me.
A few hours later I discovered that I had COVID. I slept for the next 48 hours. And thankfully, I feel much better and much stronger now. I am back to running and “rabbiing” and mothering.
While this experience was frightening for me and for all in minyan that day, it was also humbling and touching. So often as the rabbi, you are the one praying for healing for everyone else. To be on the receiving end of your loving support and prayers for healing gave me a profound appreciation for the healing power of this community.
We are a community of caregivers. We care for one another. We care for our loved ones across the age span. We care for our friends after they have surgery. We care for our parents as they age and need more support and rides to their engagements. We care for our children, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren as they inch towards independence along with the little ones of our friends. And we care for one another in times of transition, like the one we are facing in our community, when we all need some tenderness, the benefit of the doubt, and the feeling of hope and unity.
Jewish tradition teaches us, “Do not separate yourself from the congregation” (Pirkei Avot 2:4). The rabbis of the Talmud explain that this means that we are meant to care for one another in times of trouble (Ta’anit 11a). As anyone who separates from the congregation will not see the congregation nor themselves consoled, as if accompanied home by angels who lament, “this person, so-and-so, who has separated themselves from the community, sadly, they will miss the healing of the community.” In other words, as I have learned from our longtime members, one’s presence itself is sustaining to a community.
I want to thank you all for being a part of this community, for catching me and others when we fall, for the kind messages, flowers, food, and healing prayers that we have received, and for the leadership of all those who stepped up while I was recovering. I am grateful to be able to return this Shabbat to the bima, remembering anew that I neither can nor need to do this alone. For caregiving, like spiritual leadership, is not the work of a single person; it is the mission of a community.
