At the time when one should be joyous—be joyous. And when it is time to mourn—mourn.
Life begins and life endures in the presence of pain, with joy always hovering near. The rhythm of life is ever-changing. Neither pain nor joy is permanent.
We may allow ourselves to mourn, to feel deeply the pain and anguish that the death of a cherished loved one brings us. With healing time we can discover that, out of every disappointment and failure, out of every disallusion and loss, we can, if we choose, generate new energy and hope. If we draw on the strengths that Judaism bestows on us, we can learn to accept ambiguity, to wrestle with doubts, to live in that existential place between evil and good, between doubt and certainty, between grief and joy.
That place is called faith and in it God stands next to us. Standing there we hold fast to our invincible optimism, to our trust in a just and loving God ruling the world, and to our conviction that the world God created is good.
Grief can keep us mired in bitterness and anger. Or it can send us back with renewed strength, to help — even in the smallest way — repair the good world when and where it is broken.
Let us choose to affirm our hope in the future, which is Judaism’s way to honor and remember all of those whose lives were precious to us and whose struggles, sacrifices and triumphs are our ever-living legacy.
[undated]