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“SOLITUDE AND LONELINESS”
I spend the majority of my days with other people. Whether I’m teaching in the school, leading a rehearsal, making a hospital visit, sitting at a meeting, leading a service, conferring with the staff, or speaking with a congregant, my life is filled with interpersonal contact on all levels. I am blessed to have such a variety of human connection on a regular basis.
Even when I’m not “with” other people, I am surrounded by them: grocery shoppers, hospital workers, automobile traffic, fellow swimmers. Many of the people I encounter are complete strangers. Lately, as I go about my daily routines, some of the strange faces are becoming familiar. And sometimes there is the unexpected connection - a familiar face from the Temple as I go through the lobby at the YMCA; the person I swam with last week is attending to one of our Temple members as I make my rounds in the hospital.
All around are human connections. But sometimes I need to seek out solitude. In order to do my most creative work, I must find those quiet moments of connection with my own thoughts - as I do now while writing these words. For the most demanding of projects, I might need an extended period of solitude. I remember that for the most challenging part of my doctoral dissertation, I had to be completely absorbed with the writing for three weeks before the solutions began to flow. Whether tackling major projects, or just trying to work out one of life’s daily challenges, it takes periods of solitude to allow the connections between thoughts or feelings to take place.
But sometimes being alone means being disconnected. During those times, solitude can turn into loneliness. Solitude is a time of stillness; a time to let a myriad of random thoughts coalesce. Loneliness is not a quiet time. Loneliness can be deafening, with loud thoughts crying out for connection. It can be very difficult to think during times of loneliness. It can be difficult to be; difficult to feel a connection with the world.
Connection can be a joy and solitude a privilege. But loneliness can be a prison. And the difference is not always apparent to the outsider. It is not always easy to know when it is the time to honor someone’s solitude, and time to reach out to them in their loneliness.
Some people choose to be alone quite often. They seek out the quiet and comfort that solitude can bring. Others are trapped by loneliness. Perhaps they are physically confined or unable to initiate connection. On Mitzvah Day I studied the idea of initiating connection with our young people. In preparation for making a retirement home visit, we discussed the concepts of independence and freedom - opportunities many of us easily take for granted. Can we imagine what it must be like for those who would readily choose connection, but whose bodies have imposed limitations that deny them that precious gift?
Reaching out to those who can no longer initiate connection falls into that special category of mitzvah we call g’milut chasadim. Often translated as “deeds of
loving kindness,” these are acts of kindness which cannot be repaid. Our tradition teaches us that this is the highest form of mitzvah. We perform g’milut chasadim knowing that the recipient will never be able to return the kindness - selfless acts which are rewarded only in the knowledge that we have made a difference in the world.
A special opportunity to help others reconnect is Second Family. Temple Beth El is creating a Second Family team to reach out to those in our congregation who need connections beyond their immediate circumstances. A group of a dozen or more people will spend time with an individual who needs some kind of assistance and companionship. Information and training for anyone interested in being part of this team will be provided on Tuesday evening, May 15th. You can get more information on the Caring Community page 7 in this edition of the Voice.
May each of us find our own unique balance of connection and solitude, and let us give thanks for the blessings of health, family and friendship that keep us connected in our world.
B’shalom,
Andrew Bernard
Cantor
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