That is where he stopped, transfixed. He could not take his eyes off the scene of the small crowds embracing and kissing each other tearfully and emotionally.<\/p>\n
Reluctantly, he responded to my rude insistence that we move on, and together we rushed to his appointment.<\/p>\n
He was Rav Avrohom Pam, of blessed memory, the late lamented sage, Yeshiva dean, mentor to hundreds of rabbis and scholars, and above all, gentle soul. When we finally were in the car and on our way, I asked him what it was about the airport scene that so fascinated him.<\/p>\n
His response was the greatest lesson of the many I learned from him. \u201cThe saddest of all human happenings is separation,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd the most wonderful of all is reunion. Whenever I see people, of whatever religion or background, who are joyfully coming together after a long separation, I feel \u2018spellbound\u2019 (that was the word he used), and I must stand by and witness that pure innocent joy as long as I can.\u201d<\/p>\n
What a powerful teaching! Separation is the greatest human tragedy, although a very common one. Reunion is the greatest joy, rare though it often is.<\/p>\n
This week\u2019s Torah portion, Lech Lecha<\/em>, allows us to further reflect upon the phenomenon of separation, in Hebrew, p\u2019reida<\/em>. The Torah describes the close relationship between Abraham and his nephew, Lot. It is a relationship which began in the \u201cold country\u201d and continued through Abraham\u2019s adventurous journey to and through the Land of Canaan. As both prospered, we are told, “Thus they parted from each other; Abram remained in the land of Canaan, while Lot… pitched his tents near Sodom.”<\/p>\nThis decision to separate was a fateful one for Lot. He settled in Sodom, rose to a prestigious position there, and we will yet learn more about his new life in next week\u2019s portion. He tried to mitigate the effects of the separation by remaining loyal to the precepts he learned in Abraham\u2019s tent, a difficult challenge in his new circumstances.<\/p>\n
At the same time, Abraham did not forget his nephew. Even after the separation, he stayed in touch with him from afar and rushed to his aid when Lot was captured by a marauding army.<\/p>\n
This dramatic story of the separation of two close companions may be the first on record, but it is certainly not the last. Subsequent separation dramas are themes of great literary fiction, and of real human life, which is even stranger than fiction. Sometimes the separation results in estrangement and alienation; sometimes, despite the distance, the separated parties end up in remarkably similar places.<\/p>\n
Personally, I have long been intrigued by the stories of siblings separated at an early age who rediscover each other later in life. Often, they learn how different they have become. One example is the reunion of the 90-year old Torah sage, Reb Yaakov Kamenetsky, who, after a 70-year separation, rediscovered his sister in the former Soviet Union. He was steeped in traditional Judaism; she had become totally removed from any semblance of Jewish religion. When one of Reb Yaakov\u2019s sons tried to explain to his long-lost aunt what her brother had accomplished in his life, she could only respond that it was a shame that a lad with such youthful promise grew up to become a mere melamed<\/em>, a schoolteacher.<\/p>\nBut there are poignant examples of separated individuals who, despite growing up in radically different environments, end up so similarly. How well I remember an adolescent psychotherapy patient of mine who was adopted in infancy by a professor of physics and his wife, a noted art historian. They were frustrated by this teenager, who was interested neither in intellectual nor cultural pursuits, but whose goal in life it was to become a fireman, and who spent all his spare time as a fire department volunteer.<\/p>\n
After several years, I received a call from the young man telling me that he had since successfully located his biological father. Wouldn\u2019t you know that his father was a veteran fireman!<\/p>\n
Separation is part of human life, so much so that in Jewish mystical liturgy this world is called the \u201cworld of separation\u201d, alma d\u2019piruda<\/em>.<\/p>\nReunions, planned or serendipitous, are thrilling experiences but are frightening because we fear finding out how different we have become from those with whom we once shared such similarity. Abraham and Lot once were very similar. They separated, intentionally. Yet there were bonds that linked them, invisible and mysterious bonds. Of some, we read in the Torah portions of this week and next, but others surface generations later, with the story of Ruth, the descendent of Lot\u2019s grandson, Moab, and her reunion with Abraham\u2019s people. Ultimately, King David himself becomes the symbol of the reunion of the uncle and nephew of whose separation we read this Shabbat.<\/p>\n
No wonder then, that the mystical text that calls this world the alma d\u2019piruda<\/em>, calls the next, better world the alma d\u2019yichuda<\/em>, \u201cthe world of reunion\u201d, the world in which we will all be together.<\/p>\n
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