Beth Shalom
Oceanside Jewish Center

Mourning and Renewing Columbia's Legacy

Parshat Terumah
February 8, 2003  -  6 Adar Aleph 5763

    
Front, from left to right: Kalpana Chawla, William McCool, Rick Husband
Back, left to right: Ilan Ramon, Michael Anderson, Laurel Clark & David Brown

This past week was a dark and sad time not only for Americans, but for the entire world as we mourned the loss of seven special men and women on the Columbia shuttle. Last Shabbat, not long after we began services, we received word that the shuttle was missing. What should have been a time of great celebration turned into a day of collective sorrow. Like all of you, I responded with shock and anguish. I found myself speechless. What could I say to a sanctuary full of children?

I suspect that every child, at some point dreams of being an astronaut. I know I did. And yet at this moment we found ourselves deeply discouraged, wondering what the future would hold for space travel, how we could mourn the loss of these great men and women, and how we could assess their legacy. There were so many questions and so few answers.

The first temptation was to ask, "Why?" Of course, there's no answer to this question, at least not one that will satisfy us. Eventually scientist and engineers will have a pretty good sense of what went wrong in the final moments of Columbia's mission. And we're certainly aware that there's an element of danger every time human beings travel into space. But no explanation or rationalization can help us understand why families loose loved ones or why the world had to be robbed of seven great leaders.

In his book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, Rabbi Harold Kushner writes that when people who have suffered a loss ask, "Why" they're not really looking for an answer. Reason does not help at such a time. "Why" is not a question as much as it's a cry for help and a plea for reassurance. This week we turned to one another in search of solace. If we asked "Why," it is because we needed a shoulder to lean on and a sympathetic voice to reassure us.

Much has been written and said in an effort to come to terms with this loss. As a Jew, I turned to my tradition this week to try and understand what this tragedy might mean or how I should respond. There are times when life does not seem to make sense. And yet our tradition instructs us, even in moments of darkness, to recite a berachah. Just before a funeral or upon hearing bad news we say, "Baruch dayan emet," "Praised is the judge of truth." God is present even in the darkest and most difficult moments in our lives, if not to explain at least to share our sorrow.

But we question God at such times. There's a story in the Bible that seems especially appropriate in the face of this week's event. In the book of Samuel we read about the transportation of the Ark to Jerusalem shortly after David's conquest of the city. In this moment of great triumph, tragedy struck. As the ark was being moved to Jerusalem an ox pulling the cart stumbled and the ark began to topple over. Uzzah, in charge of moving the ark, lurched forward and grabbed the ark in an effort to steady it. He was immediately struck dead. We read, "The Lord was incensed because of Uzzah. And God stuck him down on the spot for his indiscretion and he died there before the ark of God."

Deeply troubled by this verse, the Rabbis wrestled with Uzzah's death. Why did he deserve to die? While some tried to discern "the indiscretion" that was responsible for his death, others claimed that Uzzah was basically a good person and that he was immediately rewarded with 'eternal life' for his efforts. Sometimes good intentions have disastrous results.

In the end, this episode is a mystery that so shook King David that he refused to move the ark for several months for fear of causing another disaster. It's interesting to note that the same story appears in the Book of Chronicles, the last book of the Bible, with a slight but important difference. We're told that Uzzah was stuck dead but nothing is said of "an indiscretion." There are two approaches to tragedy here: one in which disaster is seen a product of sin and another in which we acknowledge that sometimes bad things just happen. There does not have to been an indiscretion or a sin. The ark could not be touched; it was as simple as that. If you grab a frayed electric wire you will be electrocuted. And what of God's anger? Maybe God's anger was a product of His inability to prevent nature from taking its course.

In the end, however, David recognized that he could not remain paralyzed by sorrow and fear. After three months, "David brought up the Ark of God from the house of Obed-edom" amid great rejoicing. The ark's legacy was too important to Israel to be denied. This was the fulfillment of Israel's legacy and dream.

In the face of tragedy, it is hard to talk about Columbia's legacy. Should we be sending human beings into outer space? Is the cost of the space program really worth it? What purpose and meaning do these efforts have for our future? I'm not a scientist so I won't comment on the scientific importance of the Space Shuttle for our future. But I believe that there is another legacy that Columbia leaves us; a legacy deeply important for all humanity that we can't ignore.

Consider the men and women who were on the Columbia: six Americans and an Israeli. Seven people who were born on three different continents. They were seven human beings who were as different as can be. And yet they were a team, even a family. In fact the Colombia Seven carried with them seven different faith traditions:

Rick Husband belonged to a Charismatic church and openly gave witness to his faith in God. "I just want to live the life that glorifies you," He said.

Kalpana Chawla was born in Northern India and was a practicing Hindu who came from the Sikh heritage.

William McCool was a Roman Catholic and an African American.

Michael Anderson was a Baptist who sang in his church choir.

Laurel Clark was a Unitarian. She had a strong connection to her home town church were her brother teaches Sunday school.

David Brown was raised an Episcopalian and had a deep sense of wonder not only of the heavens but of the earth as well.

And Ilan Ramon: How proud we were to witness the first Israeli astronaut. And how proud we were at the interest Ilan expressed in bringing his heritage with him. Col. Ramon carried with him a small Torah scroll that survived the Holocaust, the Bible on microfiche, and a picture drawn by a holocaust child of a the earth from the vantage point of the moon. Although no one would have thought any less of him, Ilan asked to have kosher food for the flight and took the time from his busy schedule to acknowledge Shabbat. He recognized that he was more than an Israeli; he was a representative of the entire Jewish people.

Together these seven men and women were not just a team; they were a family. They did what they did not out of a sense of self promotion or ego but out of a belief that they were serving others. And whatever else they taught us, they were able to bear witness to our ability to overcome our differences in the interest of all humankind.

More than that, the Columbia Seven were not just people deeply committed to science and exploration but men and women of faith with a deep sense of wonder and joy in God's universe. It was that faith that inspired their curiosity. In an age when we're more likely to read about fanaticism on the front page of the newspaper than anything else, these special people showed the world that faith can inspire and bring us together. That faith is not blind but constantly curious; that we are but a small part of a vast universe. Theirs was a powerful example that what we share in common is far greater than the ideas or beliefs that divide us.

I'd like to end by saying that whether we realize it or not the exploration of space is a deeply spiritual pursuit. It grows out of our search for an understanding of our place in the Universe. From the very beginning of time men and women have looked up toward the heavens in search of God. And what we have discovered there is our own best self.

We owe a debt of gratitude to the Columbia Seven. I only hope that there legacy will live on as a source of peace and hope for all humankind.

Shabbat Shalom