The Fire that Hardens the Egg, Melts the Butter

 

People who read my articles, occasionally, write to me asking about the level of my piety and Jewish observance.

Though I am not an observant Jew in the traditional sense of the word, I do believe, and very deeply, in G-d. I try to understand His wisdom, His teachings and accordingly live up to the role I have been destined to fulfill.

As I am sitting here, trying to grasp the enormity and the underlying messages of G-d in this week’s Torah portion, “Ki Tetze,” which I was first introduced to as a child, through my father’s teachings, I am yet again, thankful to have been born into such a great culture padded with so much insight and enlightenment. Its depth and wisdom are flabbergasting. The more I delve into it, the more I am left in awe.

It so happens that, in recent days, I have also been listening and watching a video where the mother of one of my childhood friends unfolds her horrific ordeals and misfortunes during the Shoah. She also shares experiences from her childhood where she was raised in a home steeped in Jewish tradition and customs and a staunch belief in G-d.

Auschwitz, unfortunately, "cured" her from her faith in G-d. That cursed place is where, for her, G-d existed no more.

That awareness, naturally, affected and determined the extent of Jewish education that my friend received at home. It was minimal if any, at all.

Like her mother, though, my late father had also been a survivor of the Nazi inferno.

Unlike her, however, and despite witnessing the horrible death of both his parents (burnt in the synagogue, along with other "useless" beings), as well as the untimely death of other family members, my father never lost faith in G-d. His motto was "G-d giveth and G-d taketh, may G-d's name be blessed." Somehow, I felt that the older he got, the stronger became his trust in G-d.

How else could my father, part of the remnant of the big fire, express his gratitude for his survival, for moving with my mother and brother to Eretz Yisrael, raising a family and living a long rewarding life?

Both my friend’s mother and my father were scorched by the same fire. They both came out of that experience different people, each with their own conclusions, resolutions, and world view. One melted, the other hardened. It is not my place to say which is which. I will leave it to each reader to decide that, should they wish.

Having said that, it is important to emphasize that one cannot and should never judge people for their decisions and choices. Each person holds life stories woven intricately which, jointly, make up the tapestry of their essence.  Each responds accordingly and reacts differently to similar experiences.

What I can and will continue to do is be obliged to my earthly father and the choices he had made, choices that had defined his Jewish substance which left its footprints on my core. Likewise, I will, forever, be beholden to my Heavenly father for that which I have and for that which I do not have. Both molded me and defined the terrain and the course of my physical and spiritual journeys through life.