Summer had always been my favorite time of the year. Traveling,
time off work, and especially the time up at the lake in Canada
. . . but not that summer. My wife of twenty three years decided
she was unhappy with our lifestyle and wanted out of the marriage.
I was in a state of shock. My life as I had known it was over.
All the shared dreams, all the plans, all of my basic assumptions
were shattered.
I had just returned from leading a tour of Israel. No one
on the tour had known exactly what was wrong, only that the
Rabbi’s wife had at the last minute been detained by
work and could not come. No one knew that at the end of each
day’s excursion, I would cry myself to sleep. I was
all alone in my deluxe, yet very empty suite.
To make matters worse, I was scheduled to spend the week
after the tour with another couple, in Paris. The location
was a choice my wife had made, and which I begrudgingly went
along with. Now I was with them, but alone, in a city that
was chosen for her pleasure. The sense of aloneness, the pain
of the changes, the irony of the locale were more then I could
bear. Yet my friends had planned the trip with us and were
looking forward to that part of the vacation. They had been
taken into my confidence regarding the family crisis, but
insisted that I come with them. I kept up as strong a front
as possible, while I continued to cry like a baby each evening.
On my second day in Paris, my first time on the Metro—indeed
at the very first station—I felt a tightness on my body
centered around my jeans pocket. I reached down for my wallet
and discovered it was gone. I had been pickpocketed. My money,
my documents, my credit cards and license were all gone. If
there was palpable sadness before, and an overwhelming sense
of vulnerability, there was now the sense of having been personally
violated, as well. I could not wait to get out of France.
I arranged for the first flight out.
That first week back I was informed that my wife would call
and ask that we go public with the separation so that "she
could go on with her life." I resisted. In fact, I was
in denial that it could really happen. We had agreed to keep
things under wraps for the summer while we pursued therapy
and time apart. But the call came through as I had been told
it would.
Later, alone at the cottage, the ancestral retreat that had
all my life been my refuge and sanctuary, I was left to contemplate
the shambles of my once successful and accomplished life.
I was mired in self-pity. How could this have happened to
me? I wondered. Other people got divorced—not me. My
life would be hell. I would never love or be loved again.
My professional life would be compromised.
Who would want a divorced Rabbi? I thought. What will happen
to the kids? How will I be able to afford their education?
There was no limit my mind’s creativity at manufacturing
fears. I didn’t eat. I barely slept, and I was filled
with nervous energy and a constant sense of pain and fear.
The pain was so real, I could point to its exact location
on the front of my chest wall.
In this angst, and with increasing fears, I got up one morning
to begin my daily prayers. I donned my prayer shawl and phylacteries
and began to pray as I had been doing every day for the thirty
one years since my Bar Mitzvah, only now I had a special message
for myself.
"Okay, Paul " I said. "It’s put up or
shut up time. All these years, you’ve preached of the
power of prayer. You’ve talked of how people in crisis
could reach out to God for solace and strength. Now it is
your turn. No one should feel alone if they believe."
If there was a listening and compassionate God, if He was,
as Rabbi Harold Kushner had taught, the source of strength
to get you through the crisis, then now was the time to call
on Him.
Go daven (pray) as you always did, only this time see if
it can help, I told myself.
I had thrown down the gauntlet—would I be helped?
I began the morning prayers, the same prayers I had said
faithfully and regularly for more than three decades. The
words were the same, but the speaker was altogether new. It
didn’t take long.
A few pages into the service, I began Psalm 30.
I extol you O Lord, for You have lifted me up . . .
The words got my attention.
Lifted me up.
I certainly could have used some lifting from the valley
of my despair.
O Lord my God I cried out to You and You healed me.
I was crying out—would He heal me?
O Lord, You brought me up from the depths, preserved me from
going down into the pit.
The psalmist was speaking to me; no, he was speaking for
me. He understood, he’d stood at the edge of the pit,
he knew the fear of falling in. We were kindred souls. He
understood me as no one else. What would he say next, how
did he handle it, I wondered. And then came the line that
changed me:
At night one goes to sleep crying; in the morning there is
the ringing cry of joy.
There was an immediate change in my mood. A weight was suddenly
lifted, a heaviness that I had lived with for days was gone.
I could feel the lightness. Like a banging headache that lingers
to the point where you feel you will suffer with it forever.
Now it was suddenly gone, leaving a real feeling of quiet
and physical peace. For the next few minutes, I felt better.
The cloud had lifted. Mysteriously, I no longer felt alone
or helpless or doomed. Sunshine had entered and was illuminating
me from the inside. In a split second, I had received an answer.
There would be a future. I’d get through this. I got
a pen and underlined the sentence.
In the days and weeks ahead, when the blues would strike,
when the melancholy, fears, and uncertainties reemerged, I
would return to that one line and regroup. I would again lose
the negativity, regain a positive focus, and stabilize myself
for the events that life had in store for me.
If the story ended there, this book would probably never
have been written, but another surprise was waiting for me.
I was with a colleague on a long drive. We were recounting
our summer experiences. Mine, which I just related, were by
now very public and well known. His were a lot more private.
He had been going through a lot of changes, as well, and he
was searching for a way to cope. He told me that in addition
to his daily prayers, he had begun to meditate. He took it
very seriously and felt its benefits. His form of meditation
required focusing on a statement. Being a Rabbi, he felt he
should find a Biblical verse to meditate on. He searched all
around for a verse that would resonate with a sense of calm.
A verse that would speak to him in such a way that he could
draw positive energy from it.
Curiously, I asked what verse it could be. Imagine my shock
and surprise when, from all the wonderful and powerful verses
in the Bible, he quoted the Book of Psalms, my chapter, my
verse. I was shaking in excitement.
"When we stop, I want to show you something," I
said.
At our next stop, I opened the trunk of the car, took out
my Talis and Tephilin bag, removed my prayer book, and opened
it to Psalm 30.
"Look at it," I said, "and notice what is
underlined."
He and I had discovered the same line in the same psalm,
as a comforting message to our personal pain. It was then
that I knew I had to share the power of the Book of Psalms
with everyone.
Psalms has a long history, in both Judaism and Christianity,
as being the source of our liturgy. Perhaps it is because,
unlike the rest of the Bible, in which God speaks to man,
Psalms is a book in which man speaks to God. The psalmist,
be he King David or be she some gifted poet, is in the end
a human being, who underwent some life experience and wrote
about it. They are like you or me, but they were blessed with
the sensitivity of soul, and the talent of pen, to articulate
their experience. We will see later that whether it was recovery
from illness or loss, or dealing with fear or depression,
they came through the experience and left us a summary of
their soul’s experience. When we read a psalm, we benefit
from their experience. We hear their pain, feel their solace,
and gain their strength and faith in the face of suffering
and loss.
It is my intent to capture the voice of the psalmists. I
want to further articulate their feeling and apply it to our
circumstances today, by sharing a story that reflects what
the psalmist is saying. If the reader can pick up any chapter
in this book, read the verse(s) I have chosen, and then use
my explanation or story to find the comfort I found in Psalm
30, then my work will truly have been, for me, a blessing.
Table
of Contents
Introduction vii
Chapter 1: Power of
Prayer
Chapter 2: Abandonment
Chapter 3: Suffering
Chapter 4: Appreciation
Chapter 5: Let God In
Chapter 6: The "Coach"
of My Team
Chapter 7: God Is Near
Chapter 8: Let Him In
Chapter 9: Ticket to
Heaven
Chapter 10: Parents—Are
They the Problem?
Chapter 11: The Lord
Is My Shepherd
Chapter 12: Sowing Wild
Oats
Chapter 13: Old Age—Does
it Really Beat the Alternative?
Chapter 14: Can You
Sleep at Night?
Chapter 15: Are You
a Frog or a Prince?
Chapter 16: Captain
Kirk and Evil
Chapter 17: The Missing
Footprints
Chapter 18: Don’t
Worry—Be Happy
Chapter 19: Guard Your
Tongue from Evil
Chapter 20: Geeks, Nerds,
and High School
Chapter 21: Chaos Theory
Chapter 22: Only the
Lonely 111
Chapter 23: Parents—Are
They the Problem? Part Two
Chapter 24: Slander—Back
at You
Chapter 25: God the
Healer
Chapter 26: Free My
Soul
Chapter 27: Immortality
Chapter 28: Sibling
Rivalry—Exception or Norm?
Chapter 29: Fear
Chapter 30: Angels or
Men?
Chapter 31: Anger—The
Debilitating Emotion
Chapter 32: You, Too,
Can Get There
Index of Psalms
About the Author
CHAPTER
6 THE “COACH OF MY TEAM”
My congregation has
long ago gotten use to the fact that I make allusions to
sports in many of my sermons and talks. In fact, I found
out, after the fact, that a few years ago during the High
Holy Days there was a pool. People had bet on how long it
would take before I made a sports reference in one of the
many sermons and talks delivered during that most sacred
of times.
One of my close friends had chosen an early number and was
sure he’d win. He still has not entirely forgiven
me for choosing that one year to be the time I made no sport
references at all.
The truth is that in addition to being a sports fan, I see
in sports many metaphors or lessons about the nature of
real life. Maybe that’s why we play and enjoy watching
sports so much.
The most popular sport in the United States is football.
Some say it is because of all the betting that takes place.
That may be true, but for us true fans there is so much
emotion riding on our team that a bet would only be an unnecessary
distraction. I think that pro football is so popular because
it teaches us a special lesson on the meaning of redemption
in life. Specifically, that there is failure and loss in
life, which is not necessarily terminal. There is a chance
to start over and a reason for hope, even in the direst
of times.
Look at the rhythm of game week. We start on Monday with
hope and anticipation. On the first Monday of the season,
no one has yet lost, all is possible. The hype begins as
we talk of our strengths and our enemy’s weaknesses.
We speculate on what we and they will do, and utter a silent
prayer on behalf of our victory. We find all kinds of indicators
that hint at our physical and spiritual superiority and
argue for why it is right and just that we win.(How many
times is loss seen as unjust. “If only we hadn’t
thrown that interception, we had them.” Or my favorite,
“The referee made a bad call that cost us the game.”)
When we win, we experience a sense of joy and jubilation.
We are elated with “our” victory. When we lose,
there is a sense of great sadness. Later in the season as
the stakes rise, a loss has a sense of personal collapse
and the sadness has escalated to a feeling of depression
and anger. We often hear statements of abandonment, frustration,
and despair.
“I give up on these guys; I’ve had it with these
losers ; I’m not going to or watching another game.
It’s too painful.”
And if the loss comes in the last seconds of a game that
we thought we had well in hand, we get the anger mixed with
medical concern,“ My heart can’t take another
minute of this.”
( I actually have a friend who tapes all games and then
his wife tells him if his team won or lost. If it is a win,
he watches ; if a loss, he skips the game. It seems that
otherwise, to watch the game live, affects his blood pressure
and is too threatening to his health).
The promises of withholding our affection and concern prove
to be short lived.
By Tuesday they start with new hype. There is a new challenge
that we have to overcome. They’ll find a new way to
win. The coach comes on the air and tells us, as he has
told the team, that there is reason to hope. They’re
still in the race for the wild card ( or in the worst case
, they’re playing for jobs for next year when they
will definitely be playoff material).
On any given day in the NFL , someone can beat everyone.
A star player will be coming off of injured reserve and
will be just the spark the team needs.
By Saturday we start believing all over again. We believe
in the hope that springs anew from within. By Sunday, despite
our earlier oaths, we attend the game or tune in on TV to
watch, to cheer, and to hope that this week we’ll
get it right.
This will be the week we’ll win and turn it all around.
From this point on, our bad luck ends, the losing stops,
and we will somehow make our goal.Being a true dedicated
fan of the NFL is just the same as living and believing
in God’s world. Ask the Psalmist of Psalm 118.He feels
the same way, only to him the coach is called God.
The Lord is on my side,
I have no fear;
what can man do to me?
With the Lord on my side as my helper,
I will see the downfall of my foes.
It is better to take refuge in the Lord
than to trust in mortals;
it is better to take refuge in the Lord
than to trust in the great. (vs. 6-9)
We can hear the life
experience of the author of this psalm. He has already experienced
his fair share of suffering. He has obviously had all kinds
of run ins with the people in his area. Some of them are
his enemies, who are rather formidable. We assume by the
beginning of the psalm that his enemies have had some measure
of success. He probably trusted in people to help and all
that led to was failure and maybe betrayal. He could give
up. We’ve seen that behavior in many. Instead he realizes
that the failures of yesterday count for little, because
he has a second chance. He has a new coach to believe in,
a chance for redemption from the failure of the past. He
is euphoric. His confidence is at an all time high.
“Enemies, bring them on, I have a new outlook and
a new coach. Hit me with your best shot. I can take it and
come out victorious.”
All nations have beset
me;
by the name of the Lord I will surely cut them down.
They beset me, they surround me;
By the name of the Lord I will surely cut them down...(vs.10-11)
The Lord is my strength and might;
He has become my deliverance....(vs 14)
Open the gates of victory for me
that I may enter them and praise the Lord.
This is the gateway to the Lord-.
The victorious shall enter through it.
I praise You, for You have answered me,
and have become my deliverance.(vs 19-21)
I may have been on
a lousy team in the past, one that everyone had given up
on, but with my coach and his guidance and confidence I
have succeeded. It’s time to party- open up the champagne
bottle.
The stone that the builders
rejected
has become the chief cornerstone.
This is the lord’s doing;
it is marvelous in our sight.
This is the day that the Lord has made.
let us exult and rejoice in it. (vs. 22-24)
In the game of life,
when things don’t go well, don’t listen to the
sportscaster , the sportswriter, or your football- maven
neighbor. Trust in “Coach” who will show you
a way. “Coach” will encourage you , guide you
and finally lead you into the” gates of victory.”
It’s happened before and happens often enough. Upsets
are a part of the world order. If you believe and stay loyal
you will finally get to the promised land
Speaking personally as a Dolphin fan, may that Super Day
in January come yet again so that we can
“exult and rejoice in it.”
