Rabbi Haim once ascended to the firmaments to see the difference between the worlds. He first visited Gehenna (Hell).
He saw a vast hall with long tables covered in the most magnificent foods. But the people sitting there were skeletal and wailing in agony. As the Rabbi looked closer, he saw that every person had wooden slats splinted to their arms, stretching from their shoulders to their wrists. Their arms were perfectly straight and stiff; they could pick up a spoon, but they could not bend their elbows to bring the food to their own mouths. They sat in front of a feast, starving in bitterness.
The Rabbi then visited Gan Eden (Heaven). To his surprise, he saw the exact same hall, the same tables, and the same magnificent food. Even more shocking, the people there also had wooden slats splinted to their arms, keeping them from bending their elbows.
But here, the hall was filled with laughter and song. The people were well-fed and glowing. As the Rabbi watched, he saw a man fill his spoon and reach across the table, placing the food into the mouth of the man sitting opposite him. That man, in turn, filled his spoon and fed his friend.
The Rabbi returned to Hell and whispered to one of the starving men, "You do not have to starve! Reach across and feed your neighbor, and he will feed you."
The man in Hell looked at him with spite and replied, "What? You expect me to feed that fool across from me? I would rather starve than give him the pleasure of a full belly!"
Long time ago I did my confirmation (ex-protestant), but I seem to recall that wood is used a lot because it's a symbolism to man's mortality and frailty. Then after/with the crucifixion it also became a symbol of sacrifice and redemption in connection to mortality and frailty. But someone who remembers their studies better might offer a better explanation to why it's so popular.
Trees are big in the Torah and Bible generally. The Bible Project did a whole series on trees in the Bible. You've got the Tree of Life, the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, the cross, the tree in the book of Jonah, the fig tree, the parable of the vine and the branches, etc..
It all makes sense for a religion steeped in a desert culture. Trees are (relatively) rare, and what they offer is incredibly important and life giving.
In Norse mythology the first man Ask was carved out of a piece of ash tree and the first woman Embla out of a piece of elm. Ash is a good choice for tool handles and elm for constructing homes.
Humor aside, to appreciate these recurring themes, if you will, requires knowledge of, e.g., typology. Here, the cross with Christ nailed to it is transfigured into the new Tree of Life. Other important typologies are Christ as the new Adam, Mary as the new Eve, and Mary through her womb as the new Ark of the New Covenant. Noah's ark and the Ark of the Covenant are not called arks coincidentally, either. And the Church is often called the Barque of Peter.
This is somewhat a variant of the cooperate situation in the prisoners dilemma.
I find it interesting to dress it up in religion, because the optimal situation is to defect, and if everyone knows the game, you get a worse outcome. Religion can cause people to be selfless and you get a better outcome for most people.
I've always thought to teach people religion, but defect yourself. In a modern secular world, teach everyone ascetic stoicism. Myself, follow some sort of Machiavellian/Nietzsche/hedonism.
The optimal decision in the Prisoner's Dilemma is to defect, but in the iterated version, where multiple Dilemmas occur and people remember previous results, Tit-For-Tat is optimal. The real world is even less reminiscent of the Dilemma, so it's not at all clear that the Dilemma's conclusion applies.
(Tit-For-Tat: Prefer cooperating, but if the other person defected on the previous turn, defect on the current turn.)
I found it very hard to apply the golden rule as someone who was abused as a child. I don't care how I'm treated, so I can treat you in any way, however cruel.
By accident I discovered that if instead of imagining how you would feel if I did this bad thing to you, I imagined how the one person I loved would feel. Suddenly I had a working version of empathy, which I use to this day. I don't treat others as I would want to be treated - I treat them as I would want them to treat my loved one.
Meta: down votes here prove no such thing. If you are downvoted it's because you read the article that had nothing to do with politics, the comment on a vision of heaven and hell that had nothing to do with politics, and then you made it about something that is very politicized in the US.
Both the article and comment you commented on eschewed a trite political message and tried to say something real and human.
But the parent wasn't doing that. He was just taking the opportunity to dunk on his outgroup, by insinuating that people who are opposed to universal healthcare are selfish people who would rather hurt themselves than help others (which you will see is patently untrue if you actually get to know those people, but I digress).
If the parent had instead chosen to give a thoughtful response focusing more on a positive message (say, exploring how we should do more to help others and how universal healthcare can be a facet of that), that would've been fine. But yet another post of "my outgroup is evil" doesn't teach us anything or lead to good discussion.
When someone's spouse has died, a very helpful thing to do is to cook and package and deliver meals that the surviving spouse can simply place in the fridge and warm up as needed. When you are grieving, to actually prepare a meal is a terribly, terribly difficult thing to do.
The best thing I've found is to ask what they need help with, then do that thing for them. One time when we just brought food (by traditional and assumption, without thinking too hard about it), it ended up being more frustrating for the people receiving it then intended.
I don't have my own kids, but my experience with people with kids is that they're often desperate for social interaction, they feel limited in their ability to go out of the house, and they really don't want the extra work from having guests over.
So I try to act accordingly — help cook and tidy up the kitchen afterwards, help bathe the kids and/or put them to bed where appropriate, or just sit on the couch fiddling with my mobile when not interfering is the best course of action. Just slot into their routine and provide an extra pair of hands. For people you're comfortable with, socialising happens around these things just fine.
> I don't have my own kids, but my experience with people with kids is that they're often desperate for social interaction, they feel limited in their ability to go out of the house, and they really don't want the extra work from having guests over.
It depends on the age of the kids and situation, but visiting people can be helpful if done carefully.
From reading (likely too much) internet commentary about having babies I assumed I'd be completely exhausted and worn out from constantly giving the baby attention for the first few months. Then I discovered that newborns sleep literally 3/4 of the day.
The hard part is the disrupted sleep schedule when their newborn stomachs are small and they need to eat every few hours. It can be really hard to adjust for people who have lived their lives with 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep all the time.
Funnily enough, having lived with middle of the night insomnia and disrupted sleep my life I wasn't really bothered by the newborn feeding schedule (via pumped milk in bottles, my wife did the real work during the day).
The value of socializing for us, which I didn't expect at all, was to fill the boredom. We were lucky enough to both be able to take a lot of time off work at the same time, which combined with the newborn sleeping 2/3 to 3/4 of the day left us feeling unplugged from the world.
Everyone is different, though. I've had friends who just didn't want to see anyone or have other people in their house for the first few months, so we respected that. I know some people who got tired of endless visitors trying to help, while others lamented not having enough help. It can be tough to feel it out so try to be especially intune with subtle social signals and look for hints to take.
Ask before. Because random food packages would definitely not helped me.
The other people thinking they know better then ypu and that you having kids mean you dont deserve agency anymore was the worst thing about having baby.
it very much depends on how prepared the parents are. if you or your partner grew up with a lot of siblings you have plenty of examples from your own childhood to draw on that make things easier.
i didn't have that, so i struggled, especially in the beginning, not because it felt hard, but simply because i didn't know what to do. the mechanics are easy to learn, feeding, changing, sleep, etc, but beyond that i simply had no examples to draw on. but i was able to compensate that with continuously being aware that this is what i wanted. i chose this adventure, and i was not going to despair over making that choice, nor would i regret it.
but we were also lucky, and our kids were not fussy and slept well. they got plenty of breastfeeding because nobody told my wife when or how to stop and she didn't complain, so she stopped when the kids were ready on their own.
The mother and child’s health are likely a factor in this, surely? Depending on how the delivery went, there may be a period of recovery. Combined with disrupted sleep and newborn feeding, the combination can be rough.
Good point, they were all super easy births. They had high bilirubin levels, but I looked up that I could put blue light on them, and it cures it. So I brought a LED light strip and placed my kid next to a window.
We also had sleep shifts. Giving each of us 3 hours of solid sleep was like 2 REM cycles. Only needed to do ~2 per night and we were mostly normal.
> They sleep most the day, giving you an opportunity to sleep and cook.
I got some douchebag babies, because they were breastfeeding every 2-3 hours for a long time. Probably every 2 hours for the first few months, so that doesn’t allow for quality sleep cycles. It also takes a while to put them to sleep, so the total period of free time could be as little as 15 to 30 minutes.
The first one needed time to learn how to breastfeed (and the mom to learn also).
And also, physical recovery from tears in the flesh and other complications such as hemorrhoids and hormone fluctuations.
The nice thing about that is that you don't have to ask how you can help, you can just help. I knew a guy who would go to a grieving household and clean their shoes.
I think you'd have to be awfully closely associated with that household for that to work. As a widower I have to say that I really would not have wanted an outsider suddenly appearing and deciding what I needed help with when my wife died.
Perhaps it would work if there were very clear signs that the bereaved were unable to cope.
You even have to be careful with bringing meals. When we lost a family member and all kinds of food started showing up, it was very sweet of people. But it became just one more hassle to deal with at a time when we already had too much to deal with.
But "help" has to be what will actually help, otherwise it's not actually help. That is, help has to be what the receiver considers help, not what the giver considers help.
"Let me help you in the way I want to help, not in the way you actually need" is either short-sightedness or selfishness. But it's not actually helpful.
Yes, very common in Turkish culture. My dad passed away a month ago. Everyone who came over to offer condolences brought pastries, cakes, various home-made foods. And roasted chestnuts, which are sold by street vendors in Turkey in the winter.
I thought about why that is, and came to the same conclusion as you: when you are grieving you just need to be able to go through the motions, and not stressing about what foods to make is really helpful.
I might be a bit weird about this but… the chances of somebody making something that I want to eat is pretty small. I don’t like eating food from a non-commercial kitchen that I haven’t seen.
If you want to feed me, give me a DoorDash or Uber gift card.
That is unusual. I’ve encountered a couple people like this. They also refuse get-togethers in people’s homes and potlucks. One said he would be willing to come to a potluck if he could inspect everyone’s kitchens first; he wasn’t joking! It’s a blend of germaphobia and social distrust, I suppose.
That said, if someone was grieving and they couldn’t handle more than receiving delivered takeout, I’d happily send it, just as I’d accommodate another dietary preference when preparing a real meal.
It's true. And technically many of them can afford takeout when it's too hard. But there's something healing about someone, whether family or friends, actually doing the act of helping in this way. It's a sort of transfer of love from one heart into another, which heals the broken one. The more of a sacrifice it costs the one giving help, the more healing efficacy it seems to have, even if the amount is unknown to the person receiving help. It's almost magical.
The end of this article leaves me hanging. Did she manage to find the previously employed insurance lady so that she could thank her, or not? I need closure!
He saw a vast hall with long tables covered in the most magnificent foods. But the people sitting there were skeletal and wailing in agony. As the Rabbi looked closer, he saw that every person had wooden slats splinted to their arms, stretching from their shoulders to their wrists. Their arms were perfectly straight and stiff; they could pick up a spoon, but they could not bend their elbows to bring the food to their own mouths. They sat in front of a feast, starving in bitterness.
The Rabbi then visited Gan Eden (Heaven). To his surprise, he saw the exact same hall, the same tables, and the same magnificent food. Even more shocking, the people there also had wooden slats splinted to their arms, keeping them from bending their elbows. But here, the hall was filled with laughter and song. The people were well-fed and glowing. As the Rabbi watched, he saw a man fill his spoon and reach across the table, placing the food into the mouth of the man sitting opposite him. That man, in turn, filled his spoon and fed his friend.
The Rabbi returned to Hell and whispered to one of the starving men, "You do not have to starve! Reach across and feed your neighbor, and he will feed you." The man in Hell looked at him with spite and replied, "What? You expect me to feed that fool across from me? I would rather starve than give him the pleasure of a full belly!"
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