Sep 24, 2017

In my job, I get to talk with people. Last week, a client came in to talk, and I don’t want to use too much of a description, just that he is soft-spoken, highly intelligent and thoughtful, and has been battling a severe chronic illness for decades now. He is tired of it. There are lifestyle issues, there are side effects from the medications, and he is getting weary of the whole thing. When he came in to see me in April, he mentioned it, and it came up again when he came in last week to talk about retirement money.

I can really understand the quality of life issues he presented. He is a rational human being grappling with a rational question. And, at the same time, I reminded him of the words of Hamlet. We don’t know what happens after we shuffle off that mortal coil.

I also reminded him of Woody Allen’s line, some 50 years ago or so, when he and his wife were deciding whether or not to get divorced, or to go on vacation. They decided to get divorced. “We realized that a vacation is over in two weeks,” Woody said in his nightclub act back in the 60’s, “but a divorce we’ll always have.”

I reminded him that he dies, he will always have “death.” It will come eventually. He can do other things and then die, but he can’t die and then do other things. Of course he knew that, but it was worth mentioning anyway.

Most important, I asked him about what is compelling in his life, in his future. He told me that his friends and family really want him to stay. And it is their love for him that keeps him in this world. We all need a reason. Every last one of us, even when we have so many that are so strong that we don’t even think about it.

You don’t know about the friend or acquaintance who keeps things to him or herself, and that your love for them may be, for all you know, all or most of what is keeping them around.

This past Saturday, my daughter became a bat mitzvah , and for those who are not familiar with the ritual, it is one of coming of age. In some cultures, as my wife likes to point out, the child would go out and slay a lion, or perform some other arduous task. In Judaism, the 13 year-old reads from that week’s segment of the 5 books of Moses, the Old Testament, which we cycle through once a year, and then start all over again. Every year. Her segment, or “parsha,” for this past weekend talked about the biblical commandment to tithe, to help the widow, the orphan, the priests, and the stranger. The widow, the orphan and the priests are within the community, and she focused on the “Other” (she used air quotes).

She ended her commentary about what she read by asking,

“But is it really enough to just say ‘We need to care for the stranger because G-D says so’? What does this mean for me today? …. I need to give to charity, and specifically the stranger, or the refugee, because I was once the stranger. I was once the vulnerable. I was once a refugee. I was once an immigrant …. I believe that each person has the same potential and is worth the same amount. The poorest, most vulnerable stranger has the same inherent value as the richest billionaire. So what if the stranger is a stranger? They still need help, and this parsha tells us to give it to them.”

Yes, I am very proud of my daughter.

And afterwards, I started thinking again about this client, strangers, and refugees. It is the love of friends and family that keeps him going. It is charity to strangers, refugees, those displaced by war or recently by hurricane, that keeps them housed and fed. And, it is our love — your love — without even knowing it, that may be keeping a friend or acquaintance above ground.

Last week, my client and I talked for a while. As he left my office, I told him that I looked forward to seeing him in the spring.

So did he.