On earthquakes that shake us

Why do I always miss out on earthquakes?

This past motzei Shabbos, as the ground shook, I was driving home from Chabad after our Tisha B’Av services, entirely oblivious to what was going on. When I arrived home, I found my street filled with people who had left their houses because just a brief moment ago they felt the murmur.

Again? I thought to myself. This was the third earthquake that I’ve missed! If I remember correctly, since I moved to the Garden State 15 years ago, there were three strong earthquakes that we all felt — and in each one of them, I happened to be in the car, driving somewhere. My only indication of the earthquake was my wife’s worried phone call to check if I was okay.

Why do I always miss the fun?

Okay, this is a joke. Earthquakes are not fun, and I don’t mind missing them. Better yet, I don’t mind if they don’t happen at all, because there is something so deeply disturbing about them.

The thing we all crave in our lives is predictability and some sense of control over what’s happening in our lives. At the very least, in moments of stress, we want to feel “grounded,” because the ground is the only stable part of our lives that never moves. It provides us with some sense of security.

And then… boom. It’s all gone. The earth is shaking. We can’t feel grounded when the ground itself is no longer stable. We feel lost and scared, and worse yet, we are unable to control whatever is happening to us.

But weirdly, when we lose stability and control, something unexpected happens. We can let go and let faith grow instead.

As Tisha B’av drew to a close, we were hosting services at our Chabad. We had some time before the fast was over, and I decided to ask some of the participants to tell their life stories. None of them were prepared, and that made their presentation even more beautiful and authentic.

Dr. Mike Dann, a renowned NYC gastroenterologist, talked about his service in the U.S. military. He spoke about his tour in Afghanistan and described one particular moment during his first days, when he was flown in a Chinook helicopter from one location to another. He explained that the Chinook is meant for transportation purposes, and therefore is very vulnerable to attacks.

“We were flying over Kandahar, it was nighttime, and all I saw were bullets and the tracer lights following them,” he said. “I realized how dangerous it was, and I realized how little control I had over my life. If one bullet hits the helicopter, we are gone. At that moment, I got this strong feeling that G-d is in control, and it’s all in His hands. Suddenly, I felt peaceful and relaxed.”

I was amazed. Here he was, going to one of the most dangerous places on earth, yet somehow, it was in that place that he discovered faith more than anywhere else.

Too often, earthquakes — of all kinds and types! — have a similar impact. When the rug is pulled out from under our feet, we suddenly realize that a true sense of security cannot come from anything in our material world. It must come only from above.

And one last point, this one is directed to G-d: I think we all got the message. Please, no more earthquakes! Time for a world of peace, calm, and stability, with the coming of Moshiach, Amen.

Rabbi Mendy Kaminker is the Rabbi at Chabad of Hackensack. He welcomes your comments at rabbi@ChabadHackensack.com.

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