I've had a generally wonderful weekend, a chance to relax at home properly for the first time in too long, and time with friends and some new potentials opening up. And I was just catching up with some social media during a quieter moment Sunday afternoon and learned that my teacher R' Sheila Shulman had died at the weekend. She'd been seriously ill, and she wasn't far off 80, and after I'd seen several posts I realized that when people were talking about "saying goodbye" to her, they meant literally, not just being sad at the news of her death, but actually present, she was surrounded by her students and friends and colleagues, a substantial fraction of the people whose lives she changed. So I can say, blessed is Judge of truth, and it tastes less bitter than some of the times I have to say it. But I can't wholeheartedly believe in a good death, because the person is gone no matter at what age and in what circumstances.
( as much about me as about Sheila )Because of Sheila I didn't have to leave Judaism when I came out, or even really come into conflict with it. Because of her, and the people she encouraged to be rabbis when they weren't the obvious type, I didn't give up on Judaism as being simplistically comforting superstition or a club for "people like us". Because of her and her influence, I'm able to be open to joy from an unexpected place, and to come to those potentials from a place of spiritual integrity. It's traditional to wish when reporting a death,
may her soul be bound up in the bond of life
It seems to me that R' Shulman's soul, the things she dedicated herself to so wholeheartedly against all opposition, really is bound up in the life of the community.
My community, for all its flaws.