Why asking for help is a good deed

At Rosh Hashanah, how mitzvot also means saying yes to others

As I write this, I’m 3 hours away from leaving for the airport, suitcase still unpacked, shower needed, chores to do, and all the trivial things we do before leaving town that add up to an hour of time.

But, on this first day of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, I’m compelled to share a message from Rabbi Amy Morrison, our temple’s new rabbi. I live on Florida’s west coast, and miraculously avoided any water intrusion, wind damage, or power loss from Hurricane Helene. So many we know aren’t as lucky.

It’s overwhelming to bear witness to another’s devastation and loss and feel helpless. Still, I’ve helped where I can – a few donations, a dozen loads of laundry for friends, meals, securing a storage unit – it all seems so small.

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Knowing what it feels like to lose a home, I’m uniquely aware of what lies ahead for the thousands of people who must rebuild their lives. Our 2008 fire claimed the lives of our dogs Henry and Maggie. That was the biggest loss of all. It’s one that you don’t fully recover from but move through. It was the first time our family needed help from anyone. We were the people who donated to nonprofit organizations, our kids’ school, and our temple and church.

I always joined a meal train or toy drive if someone was sick, or others had experienced loss. Now we were the ones receiving meals, offers of a place to stay, toys for our kids, gift cards, and cash.

The grief that I wasn’t yet aware of was masked by the adrenaline needed to clean what we could, recover any photograph we could save, and shield our young children from the devastation of losing their home.

It was an attempt to return to normalcy as soon as possible, and with the help of many, including our contractor who made sure our new home was built on the same site in just 9 months, we inched our way to a new normal every day.

I wish I could tell everyone who has suffered a similar extreme loss that their new life is just around the corner, but it’s not. The only way to overcome loss and grief is to move through it, and to do so with the help of others.

As we picked up the pieces of our former home, we graciously accepted help. It was so necessary that it wasn’t hard. No one can navigate the aftermath of disaster along. Yet, our internal desire to be strong, stoic, and independent can keep our egos at the forefront when what we really need is to surrender to the moment and accept the buoying our friends, families, even strangers, want to provide.

I’m not Jewish, but I fell in love with and married a Jewish man. We chose to raise our children Jewish. Our family is not unique, as there are many interfaith families. Our children had the benefit of knowing another religion, as we took them to Catholic mass on some Sundays and holidays. When my son would present me with a lengthy list of what he wanted for Christmas, I joked, “You only get the benefit of Christmas because of me!”

While I chose to remain Catholic, but join my husband in raising Jordan and Samuel Jewish, I learned that I could remain steadfast in my faith while accepting parts of another. Over the last 32 years that I’ve attended High Holy Day services, shabbat services, and the bar and bat mitzvahs of our children, I’ve learned what it means to live a life of “tikkun olam.”

This Hebrew phrase, translated to “repair the world,” is at the core of Jewish teachings. Also instilled into Jewish learning and living is the act of mitzvot, a good deed. Our Temple hosts a year Mitzvah Day, where congregants old and young choose a project that touches every sector of the community.

We’ve made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for a nonprofit that addresses hunger. We’ve pulled invasive potato plants from our nature sanctuaries. We’ve collected clothes for people who need them. That also is not unique, but a reminder that mitzvah need not be reserved for one day.

And you need not be Jewish to perform a good deed. As overwhelming as the destruction across six states from Hurricane Helene, the outpouring of mitzvah from so many sources of generous people is life-affirming.

At last night’s erev Rosh Hashanah service, Rabbi Amy Morrison avoided talking about politics. She could’ve easily dedicated her sermon to the almost one-year war in Israel. Instead, she reminded the community in the sanctuary and those watching the livestream that it is also a mitzvah to say yes to accepting help.

This resonates right now, even if you aren’t Jewish. This core messages from Rabbi Morrison’s sermon appropriately acknowledged the immense loss for many because of Hurricane Helene, but it also imparted the significance of the mitzvah of saying yes to accepting help. We often think that offering the help IS the mitzvah, the good deed. But it’s important to remember that accepting help is also a mitzvah, if not even more meaningful.

There are many who for the first time in their lives have had to accept help. It’s not one of those “muscle memory” reflexes. It’s hard, awkward, and uncomfortable. While we all have the capacity to be helpers, we must remember that there are times in all our lives that we must accept help.

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There is value and connection in accepting another’s help. Many need it now, but all of us have or will need it (again) at some point.

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Happy New Year ~ May it be sweet for everyone.