When the pain is unbearable, we know that it’s only Hashem’s existence and mercy that can fill that void, that “makom”
What is there to say?
Nothing. Please nothing.
I remember sitting shivah for my father 16 years ago. I was 11 years old. We were 13 children, most of us unmarried, the youngest two months old. It wasn’t an easy shivah to attend. People came and said some of the stupidest things I’ve heard in my life. I remember one mashpia who called me on the phone and exclaimed, “Chaim Ozer, mazal tov!”
“What for?” I asked, taken aback.
“You got a new father,” he answered.
“Im yirtzeh Hashem by you…” I retorted. My sister, then a young teenager, had her share too. A teacher told her, “Some people have memories of their fathers old and weak and senile, but you’ll always remember your father with a black beard!”
I know that people don’t mean to be silly. They just don’t have what to say. What can you possibly say in the face of tragedy? How can you make sense of madness? How can you find a glimmer of light and hope, perhaps some positivity, in enormous darkness?
The truth: You can’t. It’s a recipe for stupidity.
Create a free account to keep reading.
