Coming Out Better

As a three-year-old child of Holocaust survivors, I would often be awakened in the middle of the night by the terrifying screams of one of my parents. Of course, I was frightened by whatever was tormenting them, but they never shared the contents of their nightmares with me. Nevertheless, the terror of the cries frightened me, and I had a great deal of trouble falling asleep after such episodes.

We lived in the Bronx, and our neighbor, who lived just across the street, was the holy

. The Rebbe was a tzaddik who authored dozens of sefarim titled Aish Dos and Be’er Moshe and, through our window, we were able to observe him literally at all hours as he learned in holiness and purity. The light in his room never went out, and he would learn standing up, occasionally pacing back and forth as he pondered his Torah thoughts.

Often, when the night frights of my parents kept me up, my father, z”l, would take me over to the window, where we would peer into the room of the Rebbe as he learned. As we stood transfixed, my father would whisper into my ear, “Kook vi der Rebbe lerent — Look, how the Rebbe is learning.”

This childhood memory is ingrained in me, and I thought about it recently as we are isolated by the coronavirus pandemic. I thought about how my parents, and the parents of virtually all my classmates, survived the inferno of Europe, where most of their families perished. I recall that having a zeide or bobbe was almost unheard of in our circles, and how all the parents, even those who were relatively young, remained inside the shul during Yizkor. Nevertheless, they pulled themselves together and rebuilt beautiful mishpachos afterward. From where did they get their fortitude?

The answer, I think, is twofold. First, they had an innate emunah peshutah, an intuitive belief in the Ribbono shel Olam, and asked no questions. Second, and perhaps more relevant to our situation, was their attitude toward adversity. When faced with it, they did not dwell on it, but moved on. They used the hardships and misfortunes that they endured as a means to grow, and because of that, they were able to blossom.

The words my father whispered to me on those dark nights were words of inspiration. Yes, we went through dark times, but look at the light in the Ozharover Rebbe’s room as he paces to and fro engrossed in his learning. Yes, we, too, can grow despite, or because of, our tribulations.

When celebrating Lag BaOmer, we can reflect on the life of Rabi Shimon Bar Yochai. He, too, was restricted to what we may refer to as some sort of social distancing. Yet during his time in the me’arah with his son, he rose to the greatest heights of Torah and kedushah. When they exited, they were better than when they entered.

As we spend extended time with our nuclear families, let us concentrate on the growth opportunities we have. Spend time talking with them about important things. “Look how we are learning, davening, interacting with each other.” Take a walk with your child, and encourage your children to grow from this.

May Hashem help us to emerge from this trial healthy and better people.