Journey Through the Valley of the Shadow: A Reflection on Psalm 23

I  learned this morning of the tragic death of Devra Freelander - daughter of Rabbis Daniel Freelander and Elyse Frishman. She was struck by a vehicle as she rode her bicycle in Brooklyn. Devra was an extraordinarily gifted artist.  She was full of laughter, light and love. I have no words other than to reflect on how grief and love are intertwined. Our lives and those of dear friends intersect in ways both painful and beautiful. Their pain becomes our own as we try to fathom the depths of grief.  We walk together through the valley of the Shadow. 

Here is a poem I wrote in response to the news. 

For Danny,  Elyse and Devra z”l

גם כי אילך בגאי צלמוות

(Psalm 23)

Those who walk through the Valley of Shadows wear no shoes.

Their feet are cut and torn as they stumble through the darkness. 

With no time to pack a bag or say goodbye, they begin their journeys unprepared.

Some are dressed in finery: jewels gleaming like stars in the dim light.

Others are in pajamas, work clothes, prayer shawls or bathing suits.

Some clutch briefcases, papers, blankets or teddy bears.

And everyone wears their grief.

With each cautious, painful step, they move further into the abyss.

The chasm narrows.

Stretching out their fingers they trace the grooves carved by previous pilgrims

 - handholds hewn into the cold canyon walls.

Sometimes they march in silence.

Other times, singing hauntingly beautiful melodies, their voices echo to the very vaults of heaven.

The river that created this place does not flow from on high:

It was formed and filled by the tears of those whose bruised souls traversed the trail. 

No one walks alone here: 

Stumbling pilgrims are quickly caught and held aloft by those who travel beside them -

They are caressed and carried through the brambles and branches that, unexposed and hidden from sight, add to the chaos and confusion of the journey.

In time (for some) a light appears in the distance - piercing through the veil of darkness.

Hope - long buried, rises to the surface like a beacon

And with it, the weary marchers ascend to find a world that has been changed forever by their absence.

They return with pale faces and broken hearts.

But now, as experienced travelers, they will always have a suitcase packed and ready.

Rabbi Joe Black. 7/2/19 - Sivan 27, 5779