But life intrudes. I received a News Bulletin from this week: On the morning of 18 November 2014, two Arab men from East Jerusalem entered Kehilat Bnei Torah synagogue during morning prayers and shot and stabbed worshipers dead (using meat cleavers), including four rabbis and one policeman.

And my heart stopped. Not because I knew of this synagogue or any of the rabbis or their families. It is because when there is evil or pain or suffering, our hearts are torn. Literally. They are torn.

And yet; I want to thank God that we are wired that way. At least I want to. But it's not easy. Although I do know that the alternative would be to have no heart at all. Which makes one wonder... what can we do about life's weight, or the senselessness of inhumanity?

(Here's my disclaimer: I do not wish to write about about sad stories. It's one reason I don't ever watch the evening news. But this story stopped me. And I just wanted to cry.)

It hit me because the precarious and fragile nature of life is played out around us every day. With people we know. With people we dearly love. And sometimes it is played out in our own hearts. This week I was with someone, their life raw, wounded and anguished. And I didn't have words. But still felt that somehow I needed to find them.

It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness. - Eleanor Roosevelt

I found three.

"The widows of the Har Nof massacre have asked that this Shabbat be dedicated to 'ahavat chinam' - love for no good reason," the press release stated. 

The widows and orphans of the four men who were slain in the Jerusalem synagogue massacre this week issued a letter calling for national solidarity and unity:

With broken hearts, drenched in tears shed over the spilt blood of holy men - the heads of our families.

We call on our brethren wherever they are - let us come together so that we may merit mercy from Heaven, and let's accept upon ourselves to increase love and comradery, between each individual and each community.

We ask that every person accept upon himself on this Sabbath Eve (Parshat Toldot, November 20-21, 2014), to set aside the day of Shabbat as a day of unconditional love, a day during which we will refrain from words of disagreement and division, from words of gossip and slander.

May this serve to elevate the souls of our husbands and fathers who were slaughtered while sanctifying God's name.

God will look down from the heavens, see our suffering, wipe away our tears and put an end to our tribulations.

May we merit seeing the coming of our Moshiach (Messiah) speedily in our days. Amen.

Signed with a torn heart,

(Names of the widows and family)  

Do we have what it takes to find or embrace or show this kind of mercy? Do I have what it takes? To show mercy to myself? Or to show mercy to those around me, who may be troubled or lost or disconsolate?

Can today be the day for 'ahavat chinam'--love for no good reason?  

It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness. - Eleanor Roosevelt

I confess that I enjoy the X-Men movies. And this week re-watched 'X-Men: Days of Future Past.' It begins with a very bleak look into our future, wondering, 'Are we destined to destroy ourselves?' It is a movie about free will, and ultimately about the possibility of redemption.

The turning point in the film (major spoilers ahead - you have been warned) comes when young Charles comes face-to-face with his older self.

Young Charles: So this what becomes of us. Eric was right. Humanity does this to us.

Old Charles: Not if we show them a better past.

Young Charles: You still believe?

Old Charles: Just because someone stumbles and loses their way, it doesn't mean they're lost forever. Sometimes we need a little help.

Young Charles: I'm not the man I was. I open my mind and it almost overwhelms me.

Old Charles: You're afraid, and Cerebro knows it.

Young Charles: In all those voices...so much pain.

Old Charles: It's not their pain you're afraid of - it's yours. And frightening, as it can be their pain will make you stronger if you allow yourself to feel it. Embrace it. It will make you more powerful than you ever imagined. It's the greatest gift we have that can bear pain without breaking, and it's born from the most human power: Hope. Please Charles, we need you to hope again.

It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness. - Eleanor Roosevelt

The children's book Old Turtle and the Broken Truth... written by Douglas Wood tells an imaginary story of how the world came to be so fragmented when it is meant to be whole, and how we might put it back together again.

In a far-away land that "is somehow not so far away," one night a truth falls from the stars. And as it falls, it breaks into two pieces--one piece blazes off through the sky and the other falls straight to the ground. One day a "truth" falls from the sky and breaks.  One day a man stumbles upon the gravity-drawn truth and finds carved on it the words, "You are loved." It makes him feel good, so he keeps it and shares it with the people in his tribe. The thing sparkles and makes the people who have it feel warm and happy. It becomes their most prized possession, and they call it "The Truth." Those who have the truth grow afraid of those who don't have it, who are different than they are. And those who don't have it covet it. Soon people are fighting wars over the small truth, trying to capture it for themselves.  

A little girl who is troubled by the growing violence, greed, and destruction in her once peaceful world goes on a journey-through the Mountains of Imagining, the River of Wondering Why, and the Forest of Finding Out--to speak with Old Turtle, the wise counselor. Old Turtle tells her that the Truth is broken and missing a piece, a piece that shot off in the night sky so long ago. Together they search for it, and when they find it the little girl puts the jagged piece in her pocket and returns to her people. She tries to explain, but no one will listen or understand. Finally a raven flies the broken truth to the top of a tower where the other piece has been ensconced for safety, and the rejoined pieces shine their full message: "You are loved / and so are they." And the people begin to comprehend. And the earth begins to heal.

Today on Vashon Island, evergreen garlands are being strung along the storefronts on our main street. The sun is out--a welcome reprieve from this morning's storm and sodden sky--and spirits in the lines at the grocery store follow suit.

In my garden I'm still picking up debris from last week's storm. I stop for a spell, just to look at the way the late afternoon sunlight slants though the trees and hits the remaining leaves on the Japanese Maple by my living room patio; the leaves now a neon red.  

In its own way, just like a candle.