The world is filled with anguish and pain.
What can you do for a friend or family member facing sorrow or sadness?
When I was a little girl, a couple in our community went through a terrible tragedy. They lost a young child and were in deep despair. Soon afterwards, my mother ran into the father at the supermarket. He turned to my mother and said “Your husband saved our life. He was the one who more than anyone else helped us get through this awful loss.”
When my mother returned home she wanted to know what my father could have possibly said that made such an impact on the couple. What message of solace was given to uplift them from their despair?
“What did you say?” my mother asked. “I know you went over to their home. What did you tell them?”
My father’s reply baffled my mother.
“Nothing. I said nothing.”
There were many times my mother asked my father about that conversation. My father kept insisting that he had said nothing.
A few weeks later the couple came over to our home. Before my father entered the room, my mother had her chance to speak. “You told me that my husband saved your life but what exactly did he say?” my mother gently questioned.
The man paused for a moment and then he gave the secret to the comfort my father had given.
“Rebbetzin, your husband came over, walked over to me and did not say anything. He reached out and took my hands in his. He hugged me. And then he cried. I looked up and saw tears on the rabbi’s face. I knew that I was not sitting alone. The rabbi felt my anguish. My pain entered his heart. You cannot imagine what that did for me.”
My mother sat, absorbing the man’s words.
“No, your husband did not speak. I did not need to hear speeches or words. I needed heart and soul.”
When someone close to us is suffering we are often at a loss. What should I say? What should I do? We do not want to be the cause of any more pain.
Sometimes we think we must fill the empty space with words. Other times we try to offer solutions or say things like ‘at least’… to make the person feel better. We dig up situations we have faced or describe things we have gone through. There is no Olympics of suffering. Each person’s pain hurts. We cannot always make it go away or be all better.
There are many who have suffered great loss through this pandemic. Loved ones have returned their neshamos to Shamayim leaving behind shocked family members. Children have grappled with a world turned upside down and parents have no idea what this virus can cause next. People of all ages have described the struggles of loneliness and anxiety. It is frightening for all.
What is the greatest gift we can offer an anguished soul?
Offer a ‘lev shomaas,’ a ‘listening heart’.
Sometimes the best we can do is look at the person and try to feel their pain. We say nothing but show that we are present in both body and soul. We turn off our devices, look the person in the eye and maybe even shed a tear. Just showing that we are not too busy or too self-absorbed is a blanket of comfort.
Perhaps we cannot fix the situation. Maybe the darkness is too great to bear. But we can feel. We can say not a word but our presence is a balm to the soul. Our silence brings with it compassion. Understanding. Sensitivity. Our light can push away a little bit of the darkness, a little bit of the loneliness, and illuminate the despair and choshech.
Growing up, my father tried to transmit this message to me. There were times when I faced disappointments or fears as we all do. My father would not try to fill the emptiness with words. Instead I would see my father’s glistening eyes and know that our hearts were one. He would offer me his hand and I felt strengthened. I knew that my father was with me. I was not alone.
The gift of love means that there are times to speak and times that our silence speaks even louder than our words.
Tap into your ‘listening heart’ and make a difference in the lives of those you love.
