Thought, Speech, Action, Action, Speech, Thought
The term Aseret HaDevarim (which for some reason at some time we changed to Aseret HaDibrot) appears in the Torah in three instances: Shemot 34:28, Devarim 4:13 (where it says shnei luchot, opening up the idea that each side has its own theme), and Devarim 10:4.
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Not sure why but I am thinking a lot about the Aseret HaDibrot this year. It is striking to me that they start with thought, continue with a bit of speech, then contain a lot of action and then return to speech and finally end with thought. Besides everything, this represents to me the idea that action must be at the center of our lives, our service of G-d. One could also argue that thought/feeling comes first and last, but the primary message here seems to be to strengthen our action muscles.
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Maybe this chiastic structure of the Aseret HaDibrot is also a model for our daily behavior. We should think things through and then articulate and scrutinize our thought aloud and then act to the greatest degree possible. Then it is time to again talk through and process what we did and finally rethink what we have done.
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Speaking of Torah, last week Aviva Zornberg had an original comment (synopsized here) about the image of being carried by G-d on Eagle's wings. Her take is that this phrase represents what Kundera calls "the incredible lightness of being." We view our lives as kaveid - heavy and think of ourselves in terms of kavod - honor. Truly, G-d carries us. We are much less weighty than we think.
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Zornberg has a related, out of the box, thought about the death of Sarah. Traditional homiletics has it that the satan appeared to Sarah and started telling her the story of The Akeidah. Before he got to the happy ending, of the angel staying Abraham's hand, Sarah thought her son was dead and she died from shock. There's another medrash and in this version Yitzchak himself appears to Sarah and tells her the story. And she dies from shock. It's a little hard, but not that hard, to understand why Sarah died within this scenario. Her son was standing before her, alive. Everything was OK. What shock was there to die from? Zornberg feels that Sarah died from the realization of the precarious nature of life. Her son was almost lost to her, a thought she had never before - and couldn't - fathom in her life. The shock of staring the fragile nature of life killed Sarah.
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It dawned on me today that when Yitzchak married Rivkah, and we're told that he was consoled over the loss of his mother it relates to the above. Yitzchak was shocked when his mother died from shock. He too was struck by how we all hang by a thread. He grabbed a life preserver, a wife and the potential of new life. He was then relieved of a little of the heavy pain of the incredible lightness of life.
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The following has been burning a hole in my diary for the last two weeks. As another day of teaching and of life approaches I share this with you. Miss Kenny's poem is one of my favorite things.
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To what extent is a joke ever just a joke? The old hurtful, hurt induced jibe followed by, “Just kidding,” is perhaps only the most famous example of the aphorism that “In all jest there is truth.” They say that we can learn a lesson from the order of the parshiot Achrei Mot, Kedoshim, and Emor, because it describes what people sadly do. After someone dies they say how holy they were. I first heard that as a wry, funny – but not ha,ha – line. Then I heard it as a directional; after someone passes we should focus on the positive.
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During shiva I encouraged people to ask me questions about my mother. Perhaps no-one did a better job at this than my students. Lev asked if I ever wrote a poem about my mother. I told him that I wrote some adolescent poems and that the truth was that during her life I never wrote the positive poem that she deserved.
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There was a poem that my mother’s high school teacher gave her after graduation. My mother cherished it and gave it to me and I copied it. I cite and speak about it here. It’s a positive poem that I think of when I think about teaching and how my mother, a dedicated teacher, “got it.”
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During shiva I encouraged people to ask me questions about my mother. Perhaps no-one did a better job at this than my students. Lev asked if I ever wrote a poem about my mother. I told him that I wrote some adolescent poems and that the truth was that during her life I never wrote the positive poem that she deserved.
b
There was a poem that my mother’s high school teacher gave her after graduation. My mother cherished it and gave it to me and I copied it. I cite and speak about it here. It’s a positive poem that I think of when I think about teaching and how my mother, a dedicated teacher, “got it.”
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..........My Coronet
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If I in my daily contact
....... Of school days spent with you
Have taught you
.......To live content with small means,
To seek elegance rather than luxury,
.......Refinement rather than fashion,
To be most worthy and respectable,
.......To study hard, talk gently and act
......................frankly,
To listen with open mind and heart
.......And grow up to be all that you should:
Cheerful, brave, and true
.......To G-d, home, and country;
Then I shall have completed
.......The setting of another tiny jewel, with
..................care
Into the crown of my life work.
O
FRANCES G.V. KENNY
..........My Coronet
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If I in my daily contact
....... Of school days spent with you
Have taught you
.......To live content with small means,
To seek elegance rather than luxury,
.......Refinement rather than fashion,
To be most worthy and respectable,
.......To study hard, talk gently and act
......................frankly,
To listen with open mind and heart
.......And grow up to be all that you should:
Cheerful, brave, and true
.......To G-d, home, and country;
Then I shall have completed
.......The setting of another tiny jewel, with
..................care
Into the crown of my life work.
O
FRANCES G.V. KENNY

2 Comments:
I was touched by that poem, as I can understand--having taught for years and having had some cherished students--what that feels like. Thanks for sharing it. My mother died just 2 months ago, and time hasn't made it any easier. Yet. They tell me it will. Still, I wish I had had the foresight and talent to write her the poem she deserved ...
Thank you Miss Trudy for your kind, empathic, vulnerable comment.
It's been about a month and a half here. It's funny - not ha ha - how the world at large seems to assume that right after is hardest. The shock and pain are not gone.
It's different for everyone, but it's hard for me to imagine it not being super painful in a ubiquitous manner.
I am sorry for your loss. Perhaps you (and I too) will still find it in us to write for our mothers the beautiful tribute poems they deserve.
May you be comforted by G-d.
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