At this time of Thanksgiving, I find myself reflecting upon the utter fragility of life’s greatest joys, and it’s greatest sorrows, too.  I find myself thinking of the many awesome experiences – sometimes joyous, sometimes tragic – that can slap us around and remind us of how little control we have over that which we value most.

I see this fragility most readily when I visit the hospital. My first stop will often be at a place such as the oncology unit, where I visit people looking at their own mortality for the very first time.  From there, I’ll go to the maternity floor, into brightly colored rooms with smiling, exhausted parents and cute little bundled babies who smell just the way babies should.  The cancer patients will often remain ill for a long time; the babies usually go home with their parents; and, whether joyous or tragic, there is a certain predictability to all of it. 

Sometimes, however, things don’t go the way we expect them to.  Then, whether joyous or tragic, there is little we can do but stand in awe of life’s unpredictable mysteries.

It can be terrible, of course.  Things can be going along great, it feels like we’re standing on top of the world, when suddenly, and with no warning whatsoever, all of our hard-earned, much-enjoyed happiness and satisfaction implodes with an earth-shattering boom that somehow only we can fully hear.  An illness. An accident. A betrayal.  Whatever the cause, even our greatest mountains of bliss can crumble so easily that we shudder to even think of it.

Yes, happiness is often transitory. Anything can happen, and sometimes it does.  So, we cherish what we treasure even more deeply.  When we send our kids to school in the morning, we know not what will happen to them that day, so we’re always sure to kiss them.  We kiss them because we love them, and we kiss them just in case….  We know that friendships can dissolve, leaving us lonely and bitter, so we tend to them with great care.  Stories of sudden heart attacks, rapidly spreading cancers, and thunder clap strokes terrify us, so we exercise daily and maintain low fat, low calorie, and low taste diets.

As love grows, so does our fear of losing it. We hate it that life is so unpredictable, and, really, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

But the fact that the future remains an eternal unknown isn’t always so horrible.  Obviously, just as the good can go bad in an instant, so too can the bad go good just as quickly.  Indeed, last night, Jews around the world began celebrating Chanukah, a holiday that reminds us of an ancient, divinely ordained change of fortune for the better. The legend is well known:  The Jews of ancient Israel rebelled against the Assyrians’ attempt to desecrate their Temple.  The Jews won that war, but found that the fighting had ravaged the Temple. So when they went to re-dedicate the Temple by lighting its eternal flame, they found only a single day’s worth of oil for fuel.  It was a dire situation.  Remarkably, miraculously, however, that single cruse of oil lasted an entire eight days – enough time to get a supply of new oil to keep the light burning.

Imagine the dismay, imagine the utter despair that the conquerors of that ancient Temple must have felt.  Here they had just triumphed against their foes with great valor, only to have their joy dashed by the pending darkness.  And imagine their astonishment when they saw that the pending darkness was not to be.  Evidently, just as suffering can come without warning, joy can arrive unexpectedly, as well.

During times of sadness, an uplifting melody can elevate our souls.  On days when we simply want to sneer at the world, someone can do something kind for us.  The darkness of a gloomy day can be shattered by a brilliant sun-break upon a majestic mountain that’s been there all along.  Not always, of course.  But sometimes – and often enough to give us hope.

Pain can be so fragile.  It can disappear in an instant.  Remember that when the gloom darkens. It can remind us of the possibility of new light shining soon, and thus bring hope.  We love it that life can be so unpredictable, and, really, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

As we Jews light candles against the darkness each night of Chanukah, we say these words:

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha’olam, she-asah nissim lavoteinu bayamim hameim lazman hazeh.  Blessed are you, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days and at this time, as well.

Life is so fragile.  Miracles abound everywhere and always.  May this weekend and all others be times of thanksgiving, indeed.