The New Criterion

Jul 05, 2007 09:40 AM

The Meaning of Suffering: Part I

by

Roundtable Index: Introduction | Part I: Roth | Part II: Palazzi | Part III: Pearl | Part IV: Yellin | Part V: Guimond | Part VI: Glazov | Part VII: Evanier | Part VIII: Kimball | Part IX: Roth | Part X: Palazzi | Part XI: Pearl | Part XII: Yellin | Part XIII: Guimond | Part XIV: Glazov | Part XV: Evanier | Part XVI: Kimball (Conclusion) |

Frimet Roth is a freelance writer based in Jerusalem who frequently contributes articles dealing with terrorism and with special-needs children. She and her husband founded and run (as unpaid volunteers) the Malki Foundation ( www.kerenmalki.org ) in memory of their daughter who was murdered at the age of 15 in a terror attack in the center of Jerusalem. The foundation provides concrete support for Israeli families of all religions who care at home for a special-needs child. She can be reached at frimet.roth@gmail.com.

Jamie Glazov: Frimet Roth, I apologize for raising personal painful issues.

Tell us a bit about the tragedy that struck your life in regards to your loss of your daughter in a terror attack in the center of Jerusalem. Share with us your the suffering you have experienced -- and perhaps also witnessed (i.e. in your profession regarding special-needs children etc.).

Is there a meaning that you have derived from the death of your daughter, your own suffering and the suffering of others? How has it moulded your view of life and, perhaps, of a loving God?

Frimet Roth: For me the murder of my daughter, Malki, was a monumental challenge to the Orthodox Jewish value system I was raised with and have espoused my whole life.

Its keystone was the conviction that G-d is kind and fair and rewards the righteous. What, I wondered, was positive or fair about cutting short a life as beautiful and pure as my Malki’s? Where was the "insurance policy" for which I had faithfully paid premiums by my adherence to the commandments? And, if G-d rewards the deserving, then does the corollary mean that I was bad?

A Yiddish adage that was frequently shoved at me – everyone has his own "peckela" (bundle, as in, "bundle of woes") - seemed patently inaccurate. But at the same time I did not want to abandon my belief in one G-d or my observant way of life. I was in a quandary.

The traditional sources that confront this squarely don’t abound. Orthodox Judaism mainly avoids them. It emphasizes the hidden blessing in every event and exhorts rejoicing. It seemed to be in serious denial. This denial is reflected in Orthodox Jewish literature of the Holocaust, replete with miracle tales of pious survivors, but ignoring those pious who perished.

Likewise, Jewish sources that concede the inherent sadness in our existence are rarely referred to by educators or parents. But they are there. And in them I found solace.

The Chassidic rebbe, Rabbi Kalonymus Shapira, a Holocaust victim, better known as ’The Holy Fire", whose writings I discovered after Malki’s murder, went against this tide. His brutally honest writings survived inside milk canisters which he buried under the Warsaw ghetto. R. Shapira never rationalizes or down-plays suffering: "When the sufferings increase to the extent that the person as a whole is fallen and shattered to pieces…then it is hard to make oneself cheerful with the thought that things could, G-d forbid, have been worse…"

In last-minute postscripts he corrects his earlier statements: "as for the monstrous torments…from the end of 5702 (summer of 1942) – according to my knowledge of rabbinic literature and Jewish history there has never been anything like them." And he did not conceal his perplexity: "It is indeed incredible that the world exists after so many screams... as if, G-d forbid, He remained untouched?! …It’s incomprehensible."

Clearly, there is no contradiction between this perplexity and Judaism. The answers can come in the next world, as Rabbi Shapira often repeated. . .

But when I glance at the photographs of my Malki lined up on our piano or when I watch my disabled daughter in the throes of intractable seizures I grope for a life-line. Usually it’s simply the reminder that personal friends of mine are suffering even more. Mundane and basic, I confess, but it enables me to continue.

Glazov: Has your faith in God remained? What God do you envision Him to be in the context of the horrible suffering you have experienced and also in the context that the world, as the great person you quote, still survives after so many screams?

Do you think our suffering somehow redeems us or redeems someone else? Does it prepare some kind of better life in another world? Does forgiveness of those who have brought us our pain enter the picture at all for you? If I were in your shoes, I would never forgive, but only nurture my hate of those who killed my daughter and plan some kind of eternal revenge. But perhaps I am not a good role model.

Roth: G-d’s calculations often elude me, and His actions on occasion anger me. But, incongruous though this may sound to some, He remains in my view, the omnipotent and omniscient Almighty. Orthodox Judaism doesn’t see this as incongruous. Questioning G-d is not only permitted, it is encouraged. Numerous revered Biblical and Talmudic figures actually railed at G-d. So whenever I am despondent and aim one of my inner tirades at Him at least I’m not plagued with guilt.

I have known several pious and suffering individuals who remained observant in the face of life’s inexplicability. My father, a Torah scholar as well as a secular intellectual, was one of them. Throughout his two year battle against terminal cancer, he scrupulously observed the commandments and remained the compassionate person he had always been. It’s close to impossible to abandon this way of life with the image before you of your father, in agonizing pain, rising from his chair to recite one of the three daily standing prayers.

Recently, an Italian film-maker, interviewing me for a documentary about Israeli and Palestinian bereaved mothers asked: "Doesn’t your religion encourage suffering as a means of redemption?" Aside from the implication that I ought to be thankful for my daughter’s murder since it will buy me redemption, the question jarred me. The notion is alien to Judaism. The fulfillment of our physical needs and our happiness are deemed perfectly legitimate goals. In fact, they are the tools for achieving spiritual heights. Rabbi Shapira, the "Holy Fire", whom I quoted earlier, wrote the following:

"Angels think that extricating and elevating the soul above the physical realm is a great achievement…In fact, it is quite the opposite: the entire Torah relates to the physical…Our departed ancestors are pained by our physical pain…they know that it was by means of their holy physical bodies that they were able to reach their level of sublime attainment."

One of that rebbe’s few Chassidim to survive the Holocaust relates that he hesitated to flee when the opportunity arose, because he was loathe to abandon his family and his beloved leader. The rebbe insisted that he leave; survival outweighed all else. (yet the rebbe rejected that option for himself on the grounds that he was needed to strengthen his Chassidim.)

I don’t envy parents whose children’s murderers beg their forgiveness. Theirs is a troubling dilemma. But it’s one that I am confident will never confront me. In a new documentary the imprisoned murderer of my daughter, Ahlam Tamimi, smiled when she learned that the bombing she helped execute actually killed fifteen people, not the eight she had presumed. In an earlier statement to the media she boasted that she had no regrets about her actions and was confident she would soon be free despite her 16 consecutive life sentences. I am determined to do everything possible to prevent not only her release but that of all Palestinian prisoners "with blood on their hands", as the murderers are referred to in these parts.

Judaism takes what I consider a most sensible view of forgiveness. If someone who has wronged you asks your forgiveness, you may only rebuff him twice. After his third approach, he is released from blame and you become a wrong-doer. But this is entirely unrelated to any punishment meted out by the judiciary, which he must serve regardless. The Bible and other traditional sources abound with examples of repentant enemies of Israel who were welcomed into the fold with open hands.

I have heard parents of murdered children report "release" and "closure" after reaching out to unrepentant murderers. They baffle me. I’m all for forgiveness - but only when it is appropriate.

Glazov: Frimet Roth, thank you for your golden words of wisdom and for providing such a profound foundation to our discussion.

comments, click to read

• Link
• Add a comment
• Print
• email