Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
There is a story of a boy and his teacher. At an early age, the boy loved his teacher very much. The teacher was responsible for explaining the meaning of life, and the boy enjoyed learning from his teacher.
One day the teacher received an offer to teach in another state. The boy could not bear to see him go. As the boy stood at the railroad station talking to his teacher who was seated on the train looking through the window, he listened intently as his teacher instructed him to be nice to his successor.
The train started to blow its whistle, and the teacher and his family started to wave goodbye. Everybody saw the train moving. The train car where the teacher sat somehow did not move. The boy smiled, but then the train was gone. When he looked again, he saw his teacher—he stayed.
There are so many lessons in this story of caring and loving. Not wanting to see someone you admire leave is something that broken hearts are made of. Wishing that things could stay the same gives us comfort. No one likes changes, especially the young and those who are in their maturing days. Clinging to some glimmer of the past makes us feel secure, because time stands still, and we are transfixed to that period that was memorable.
Most of all, watching the train of life pull away saddens us, because someone we love and cherish is on that train and will not be coming back.
But then we think about the legacies and encouragement and fortitude and bravery. Not only from the people caught up in these cycles of challenges, but also the people who watch these happenings and share the trials of life. The train may leave the station, but all is not lost. Not everyone leaves. And all those who do are not really gone, but remain as a smile, a gesture, and a thought. The lessons of life are many, but the lessons of that train leaving are more numerous.
Those lessons include love and the undeniable fact that we live, we die, but we are never on a train with no destination. Perhaps the greatest lesson is that we must remember, we must never forget. That is the sum-total of our immortality. We live, we laugh, we cry, we love, we leave—what a life! What a life!
This is the season of light and fulfillment, and perhaps these lights can give us comfort and make the burdens of life more manageable. There will be loved ones who will not be celebrating with us this year as before. We should, however, be uplifted knowing that life continues. We mourn, we console, we lift spirits, because to do otherwise would not be what God intended.
We will celebrate because life is a celebration. Let us enjoy, let us share the moments with all who will want to be at the station realizing that while the train may have departed, we are still on the platform singing and laughing and going on to the next stop in our journey.
This season affords us the time to reflect, to be thankful for our freedom, to remember our departed. These feelings and expressions should bring us closer to one another, friends, and family. Celebrate life together, never forgetting the past, but knowing that our future lies in each other. Always remembering those who brought us to the time and will never be forgotten.