Gone Fishing: Living in Turbulent Times

Shabbat Vayera 2020
Rabbi Stephen Weiss

Why does God make us wait? Why is patience such a virtue?

This has been quite a week. As I write this, the presidential election is still up in the air. There is little doubt that even once the counts are complete, there will be recounts and court cases. We will not know who will be inaugurated in January for some time. The stress of not knowing tries our patience.

At the same time, the national daily count of new cases of covid-19 topped 120,000 yesterday, setting a record 24 hours after the last record was broken. I grew up in a suburb of Los Angeles, Simi Valley. Its total population at that time was about 100,000. I close my eyes and try to comprehend what it means that the equivalent of the whole city’s residents become ill with covid-19 each day. The virus is raging out of control. Though we know there will be an end to this scourge, it is not yet within our sights. We grow weary and impatient.

And yet, it is patience that we need most right now: patience and faith.

Abraham and Sarah could teach us a little about patience and faith. Twenty-five years passed between God’s promise to Abraham that he would be the father of a great nation and the birth of Isaac that made possible the fulfillment of that promise. Along the way — more than once — the first Hebrew couple grew impatient and considered trying to take destiny into their own hands. First, they considered the possibility of treating their servant Eliezer as their son, allowing him to inherit the family legacy.  Next, Sarah decided to give Hagar to Abraham so he could father a child.

It must have been painful for Sarah to consider the possibility that she was not part of God’s plan for Abraham. It turns out, however, that she was indeed an integral part of this sacred project that involved Abraham.

God’s fulfillment of that promise taught Abraham and Sarah the value of faith. They learned to be patient. They learned that God’s blessings do not always come on our timetable, and they do not always come in the form that we expect, but divine blessings do come to us.

I am reminded of the woman who told her pastor that she wanted to be buried with a dessert fork. Why? “So those who come to grieve my passing from this world should be reminded that the best is yet to come!” So too, even in these days of great chaos and turmoil, when so much of our lives seems upside down and we fear for our future, we should remember that “the best is yet to come.” One day we will look back on these tumultuous times from a place of health, security and prosperity and we will be able to see how we have grown, individually and as a society from these long days of waiting.

Why does God make us wait? Why is patience such a virtue?

First, patience teaches us faith and determination. All things that are worthwhile take time. As we experience blessings seeded in promises and visions of long ago, our faith in God and in the future are strengthened. Hope takes root in our hearts.

Second, our struggles help us to clarify what is truly important to us.

Sue Monk Kidd, in her book, When the Heart Waits, recalls seeing a monk sitting in tranquil contemplation. She approached him to ask, “How is it that you can wait so patiently in the moment? I can’t seem to get used to the idea of doing nothing.”

The monk replied: “Well, that’s the problem, right there. You’ve bought into the myth that when you are waiting you are doing nothing. I hope that you will hear what I am about to tell you. I hope you’ll hear it all the way down to your toes. When you’re waiting, you’re not doing nothing. You’re doing the most important thing there is. You’re allowing your soul to grow up. If you can’t be still and wait, you can’t become what God created you to be.”

This same message is found in the kabbalah’s concept of tzimtzum. God withdraws his energy from the center of existence so as not to overpower creation. We too need to withdraw some of the frenetic energy we pour into constantly moving forward to allow our true self to emerge from the stillness.

Finally, patience and faith harden our resolve to pursue the worthiest of our goals. In what might be construed as a Hassidic twist on Hegel, the Hassidic master Rabbi Shalom Shakhna taught “that which results in the good cannot take place without opposition.” At the exact moment when the tide seems to be going against us, teach our sages, redemption is at hand. So, even when things seem like they will never go our way, we should be patient and maintain our faith in the future.

In her book, Sue Monk Kidd tells the story of fishing with her grandfather. She noticed that he had left his bait on the front seat of the truck. “Granddaddy,” she asked, “how can you fish without bait?” “Well,” he replied, sometimes it’s not the fish I’m after. It’s the fishing.”

So too for us, as we face the continuing uncertainty of the days ahead, it’s the “fishing” we should be after. That is, we should be opening ourselves up to just being in the moment and trusting in God and the future.

Sue Monk Kidd makes one other observation that I will share. She says that the word “nowhere” and the words “now here” have the same letters arranged in the same order. The only difference is that in the second case, the letters are separated by a small space. “Likewise, in life,” she writes, “a fine space separates us from experiencing life as nowhere or now here.”

Elections? Covid? Economy? We can let all these stresses burn us out. Or we can learn to live in the white space, to practice patience and faith. Instead of letting all the unsettledness of our lives lead us nowhere, we can choose to be now, here.

As the prophet Jeremiah wrote: “For I am mindful of the plans I have made concerning you—declares the LORD—plans for your welfare, not for disaster, to give you a hopeful future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Stephen Weiss