Rabbi Miriam Lorie was back on Pause for Thought this week - listen here:
Here's the script:
Two life stories have surrounded me over the last week. The first is a very happy one - my no longer baby cousin, who was my bridesmaid 17 years ago, got married to a wonderful man. The day was a joyful meeting of our own Ashkenazi Jewish background, and the groom’s Yemenite Jewish heritage, which meant a wedding peppered with mesmerising dance footwork, great music and Arabic desserts: knafeh and rice pudding. Plus of course the wedding traditions that are so familiar to me - including smashing a glass to remember suffering and brokenness even at this happy time, after which everyone shouts “mazal tov” and breaks into dancing.
But the other story is desperately sad. A gentleman and lady I know had found love with one another, later in life and having both lost their spouses of many years. They had a four month whirlwind romance despite living an ocean apart, taking each other to favourite restaurants and museums and going on long walks. And they were just at the point of announcing their engagement when the gentleman passed away, peacefully, in his sleep. What was almost a fairytale, instead turned to loss and grief - the deep painful ache of what could have been.
Both of these stories have unfolded during Chanukah, the final day of which is today. Chanukah is the Jewish festival of light in the darkness, celebrating the tiny flame which has the power to light up a gloomy space.
Candles in a dark room, and the smashing glass at a wedding: in some ways these are opposite symbols. One is a piece of joy in a moment of hardship, and the other is the shadow of suffering at a time of happiness. One thing rolling into another. This, I believe, is life… for we rarely have pure happiness or sadness without the echo of the other. To acknowledge this, is so much better, I think, than to chase after the perfect happily ever after, or to wallow in doom and gloom.
So I am wishing those who celebrate a very happy last day of Chanukah. May all our dark days have at least a little light, and may every broken glass be at a wedding.
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