It has been a busy week.  it began with a Bar Mitzvah on Motzai Shabbos, a wedding on Tuesday and a funeral on Wednesday.  Truthfully, this is not all that different from what a typical week looks like.  The difference was, the Bar Mitzvah was on zoom, the wedding livestreamed on YouTube and the funeral took place in the parking lot of my shul in the pouring rain with 10 men, standing 6 feet apart, while I delivered a eulogy standing under the open trunk door of the minivan containing the casket.  These are challenging times.  During these last two weeks we have seen the normal rhythms of life come to a grinding halt.  The way we do virtually everything has changed.  The social and religious norms that many have known their entire lives have changed.  It feels like everything is different.  As Jews, it is our sacred mission to realize that within every set of circumstances is a lesson to be learned.  God speaks to us in times of good and in times of challenge. 

This week I learned a lot.  From the funeral I conducted, I was reminded that life comes to an end.  I realized that there are things I have to fix in myself and I can’t delay it any longer.  I must do Teshuva (repentance).  I have been to and conducted many funerals and yet I never had this feeling before.  We are living with the specter of illness hovering above us at all times and we are constantly confronted by the reality of our mortality.  It really hit me – I won’t be here forever.  And if I won’t be here forever, what do I want to accomplish?  Who do I want to be?  What is my legacy?  Am I leading a meaningful and fulfilling life?  Is Hashem happy with me?  Am I happy with myself?  This is probably the appropriate reaction after any funeral, but it must have been the driving rain, the grayness of the sky, the 6 feet in between each of the attendees and the contemplative state I find myself in that propelled me to the inner recesses of my soul. 

But as I mentioned before this was also a week of incredible simcha.  I learned that the ability to generate genuine joy is not related to the menu, centerpieces, venue choices or apparel options.  I listened to a Bar Mitzvah boy deliver his Dvar Torah with a genuine simcha despite the lack of “party” trappings.  I danced with my sons in my home as the Bar Mitzvah boy and his family danced in their home and yet, somehow, we were all together.  I saw a bride and groom who possessed so much love for each other and yet all they had was one holy Jew playing the guitar for them.  We live in a time of unparalleled affluence (IY’H the market will recover) and too often we think that it is the material trappings which create the joy around life events.  Lest you think that this is a rant against materialism, in full disclosure, I too (really) enjoy the finer things in life.  But we must strive to create balance.  The COVID 19 crisis will come to an end IYH.  The question is who will we be on the other side of this crisis?  Will we breathe a sigh of relief and go back to business as usual?  Or will we take a critical look at how we do things and consider changing course.  We have seen firsthand that you can create incredible joy with very little.  It is the people who make the simcha jubilant.  In fact, we see this concept in this week’s Parsha:

And if a person (nefesh, soul) brings a meal offering to the Lord, his offering shall be of fine flour. He shall pour oil over it and place frankincense upon it (Vayikra 2:1).

Rashi comments:

And if a person brings: [literally, “And if a soul brings.”] Regarding all the sacrifices which were donated voluntarily, the only instance where Scripture states the word נֶפֶשׁ “soul” is in the case of the meal-offering. Now, who usually donates a meal-offering? A poor man [because flour is less expensive than

birds or animals]. [Hence,] the Holy One Blessed is He, says: “I account if for him as if he has sacrificed his very soul!” - [Menachos 104b]

God says to us lest you think that the wealthy man’s offering is more important than the poor man’s; it is not the value of the offering that matters, it is the feeling, the heart, the emotion you invest that is most important to me.  God doesn’t judge successful spiritual service by the girth of the animal you bring, He bases it on the joy and commitment with which you serve.

Imagine if we stop making Bar-Mitzvahs that are full catered affairs and create an incredible amount of social pressure.  Perhaps, a beautiful kiddush and then meals for family only?  Do we need a full Bo Bayom celebration in additional to a Bar-Mitzvah celebration?  Imagine if we accept that weddings should always be family with a few close friends of the families and of the Chosson and Kallah.  Do we realize the financial and social pressure we would remove from so many of our brothers and sisters?  Do we need to plan a l’chaim, vort and wedding?  Save the money (and time) and give it to your children (or keep it and go on vacation or if you are pious give it to charity).  I have seen firsthand how simchas become a source of incredible tension for families.  It is expensive to be an observant Jew, and most don’t have thousands of dollars lying around to spend on a celebration.  But there is pressure.  There is pressure from family, community and friends, it’s a pressure to keep up.  No one wants to be the person who does things differently.  Again, in full disclosure I too have made (and paid) for these extravagant events.  I am not advocating for forcing people or enacting communal standards which require people to do or not do certain things.  I am a believer in free choice.  Every person has the right to make their own decisions and plan their own celebrations.  I just feel that we need to start thinking about this now.  Because when all of this is over, we will run back to Shul, yeshiva, school and the office and the rhythm of life will once again pick up.  But right now, we all feel it - the world is changing, we are changing, something is different. 

When all of this is over, I hope I can find the courage to do things differently in many areas of my life.