Hesped for Abba
Alisa
July 14, 2000
11 Tammuz 5760
When we were growing up, Ababa used to love to read to us, and tell us
stories. Often the stories were funny and absurd -- like the one about the
three little bears named Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, and Peter -- but he was
also determined to share his love of the world of letters, so there was
A.A. Milne, and Shalom Aleichem, and Roald Dahl, and Classic Fairy Tales,
too. And all through my life, I have remembered a very sweet book of
Israeli children's poems, for which he and I had always shared special
fondness. The poems are simple, charming vignettes of a child's world, and
I was drawn to reread them on the day he died.
I was struck, suddenly, by the poignancy of one poem in particular -- a
poem I had never before viewed as anything but a charming little nursery
rhyme. I'd like to share it with you today. It goes like this:
Bo ehlai parpar nechmad
Shev etzli al kaf ha'yad
Shev, tanuach, al tira
V'ta'uf b'chazara
Come to me, sweet butterfly
Sit here on the palm of my hand
Sit here, rest, don't be afraid
And then, fly back again
It's hard for all of us to imagine what life will be like without Abba, but
this poem seems to ask us to appreciate the special moment in our lives
that was our time with him. He came to us. He rested with us a while. He
was not afraid. We observed, for a moment, the complex grace and beauty of
his presence on our lives. We were fortunate beyond words. And now, he
has flown back again.
Adonai natan, Adonai lakach. Y'hee shem Adonai m'vorach.
God has given, God has taken away. Blessed be God's name.