By Rabbi Ben Kamin
OCEANSIDE, California — In his memoir, ‘A Tale of Love and Darkness,’ Amoz Oz wrote about children: “After all, everyone knew that children were closer to nature, to the magical bosom of creation, not having been corrupted yet by lies or poisoned by selfish considerations.” I set out on my morning walk today carrying an emotional load driven by the pressing dread of the world, the incomprehensible terror and the political madness.
But not only that. Like anybody else, I weigh the personal cargoes of existence, older age, changed and uncertain personal circumstances, the sour blend of loneliness, the need for friends to fill life post-divorce and my parallel concern not to be burdening them with the weight of my soul.
Unexpectedly, a little girl appeared and, with just a smile, lightened my sadness. Like an unexpected ray of sunlight, the child changed my perspective and frame of mind. Rather than dwell, on the eve of Father’s Day, on the great geographic distance between my two daughters and me, I focused instead on just how close we really are. They are both happy and creative and much-blessed; isn’t this what a father wants on Father’s Day rather than attention and pity?
Rather than lament that I haven’t yet physically seen, held, and kissed my two new granddaughters in Tel Aviv, I thank heaven they are here, in this needy world—two answers in the name of love. Isn’t this what a grandfather desires on Father’s Day rather than anything else?
A little girl, the child of other people’s longing for life, appeared and—like an angel—re-set my path for today.
A door opened during my walking contemplation session along the apartment complex where I’ve lived alone for some time now. The immaculate little girl with the smile of a benediction looked up at me from just behind her young mother. The child stepped forward and, free of any of the pounding griefs that shape and bend adult life, she waved to me. As I fulfilled my morning words with God, she greeted me with a beneficent flourish of her tiny palm.
How innocent you are, child! How untouched by the cruelties we inflict upon one another, we trembling creatures of God that so often misuse the gifts of life and tenderness. How little you know, thankfully, about the poisoning effect of money upon men and women. How few are your intrigues, how benign your secrets, how clear and simple are your needs. How you lift my soul, little one, just by being my sudden dawn touchstone before a Father’s Day when you restored creation.
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Rabbi Kamin is an author and freelance writer based in Oceanside, California. He may be contacted via ben.kamin@sdjewishworld.com. Comments intended for publication in the space below MUST be accompanied by the letter writer’s first and last name and by his/ her city and state of residence (city and country for those outside the United States.)