ANTICIPATION
I hate good-byes.
Whenever I have family members visiting, as the time of their departure approaches, I find my spirits plummeting. Even before the actual separation, the anticipatory pain is there. It’s almost a relief when the relative actually leaves; waving them off can be less difficult than imagining myself waving them off.
Sometimes it’s easier to live with a void than to picture in advance how much the void will ache.
It’s not only saying good-bye to visitors that hurts. Saying good-bye to any stage of life hurts, too, albeit sometimes more subliminally. The end of a season at camp can make us bawl. We may feel a pang at the end of any delightful interlude, such as a highly enjoyable vacation. But it’s not only the actual end that can elicit sighs or even tears. It’s the anticipation of the end as it draws near
Twilight makes me feel melancholy because I hate to see the light draining away from the world. Each passing second seems to be trying, and failing, to hold onto the day. Once it’s full dark, I’m okay with nighttime. It’s the encroaching darkness that lowers the spirits, more than the darkness itself.
The worst time, of course, is when Shabbos is drawing to an end. After the days-long buildup, that special time is slowly leaking away and there’s no way to stop it. No plug to halt the flow of time that will put an end to that holy, restful day and usher in another set of mundane weekdays.
Once the weekday comes, we deal with it. It’s saying good-bye to Shabbos that hurts. And the hurt starts even before the actual good-bye.
Because the expectation of losing the light can be more difficult than living in the dark.
Imagination in Overdrive
If we know that there’s something unpleasant looming on the horizon, our imaginations go into overdrive. Nervously expecting an upcoming painful experience can be debilitating enough to make the experience itself seem almost anti-climactic!
There’s a reason for this. In dreading the upcoming experience, you’ve pictured the disagreeableness in vivid detail. Maybe you’ve even written several mental scripts, in which every possible permutation of the unpleasant encounter played itself out across the stage of your mind. The actual experience, when it finally comes, doesn’t always live up to its advance billing. And even if it does, coping with reality can be easier than coping with what our fevered imaginations throw at us ahead of the event.
People in charge of performing interrogations know that the mere threat of pain and torture can be nearly as effective as the torture itself. The agony of fear that the subject’s imagination produces beforehand can be enough to induce him to spill everything he knows, without the need to inflict any actual pain.
Looking Forward
Then there’s the other side of the coin: looking forward to things. How our imaginations savor every aspect of what’s coming down the pike, when it’s something will make us happy.
Anyone who’s ever had a joyous occasion on their calendar knows how uplifting the waiting period can be. The same kind of anticipation that makes our hearts heavy in advance of a negative experience works in our favor when it’s a positive experience that’s impending. We picture the coming sweetness so fully that we can almost taste it. Our imagination paints every aspect of the upcoming experience in glowing colors.
Those of us who enjoy road trips know the truth of the saying that “getting there is half the fun.” Even if the destination itself is slated to be incredible, the drive there has a kind of beauty and satisfaction all its own. Your eyes encounter scenery they haven’t seen before. You may meet interesting people along the way. Even a minor mishap or two doesn’t come amiss if it’ll make a good story to tell over later.
Whatever the event in question may be, we should not discount the lead-up to it. Whether it’s a road trip or counting down the days to a simcha, we don’t have to wait for the actual event to start being happy. We can, and usually do, extract pleasure in the anticipation of upcoming pleasure. Just as we react with sadness or apprehension in advance of a negative event, such as a separation from someone or something that we love.
For forty-nine days, from Pesach to Shavuos, we count up the days to Matan Torah. We are fully aware of the significance of that day, and the treasure that was bestowed on us then. The Jews in the wilderness, however, had no idea what was coming. They’d seen miracles and witnessed glorious salvations, but the Revelation that lay ahead was shrouded in mystery. We can only imagine what they may have imagined during those fateful days…
Though we’re far down the road of history and subject to all the depredations of yeridas hadoros, we do have one thing in our favor: hindsight. We know, as that first generation of our nation did not, the nature of the amazing gift that Hakadosh Boruch Hu planned to give us on Shavuos. We know, as they could not, just what a life-giving elixir we would find in the Torah, and how faithfully our clinging to it would protect us down the millennia.
One could be forgiven for assuming that the days leading up to Matan Torah bear little weight. When compared to the glorious event itself, they may seem inconsequential at best and irrelevant at worst. But we’re meant to use those days to prepare ourselves for the big event. To elevate ourselves, so that we may be worthy of such an incomparable gift.
Similarly, we can use these hopefully final days of our long golus to prepare ourselves. To elevate ourselves. So that we can be deserving of the spiritual and material bounty that Hashem has promised us when the long-awaited geulah comes at last.
The waiting period is not yet over. But we can put our imaginations to work, picturing what lies ahead. A different kind of life. A different kind of world. One in which the Name of Hashem is known and revered everywhere. And where the Word that He transmitted at Har Sinai so many years ago is universally revered as well.
Meanwhile, as we count and wait and imagine… wishing you a beautiful Yom Tov!
