When do we give up?
The High Holidays make me wonder when we are meant to accept defeat.
When should we give up?
This past weekend was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. It is a time of introspection and prayer. Tradition teaches that the events of the coming year are first conceived during the two days of Rosh Hashanah. It’s a heady and auspicious time.
While in synagogue, I had a few moments without my children to pray. I became emotional, taking stock of what I had accomplished in the past year, and also feeling frustrated and saddened about what had not taken place.
I thought, “Am I asking and is God just saying no? And if S/He is saying no, should I listen stoically and accept His/Her response?”
I thought about my four plus years of infertility. Each year on Rosh Hashanah, my chest would ache from asking God to bless my husband and me with children. When I returned empty handed the following year, I cried even harder. I didn’t understand why I was waiting, but it never occurred to me that God’s answer was “no.”
Deep down, I knew one day I would be a mother. This past weekend, I remembered the longing during the holidays; now, only a few years later, I stood grateful for a few quiet moments without my children asking for additional blessings. My gratitude is palpable.
And yet... my question wasn’t answered. Does there come a point – in certain situations – when we are supposed to gracefully accept defeat?
In a popular Jewish magazine, a rabbi wrote the following about challenges individuals face:
“As hard as we try to accept these [difficult] situations, we cannot help but think that they simply do not ‘make sense.’ Certainly, we must pursue appropriate [efforts and prayers], but do we actually have the inner emotional recognition that ‘This is [God], and therefore it is beyond my understanding?’”
(Rabbi Aaron Lopiansky, The Limits of Reason, Mishpacha magazine, September 13, 2023).
His question deepened my confusion. I believe it is essential to accept what the Universe (God) has given to us, but how are we to know when it is time to walk away from a particular dream?
What if I had given up on becoming a mother? The thought never occurred to me. It was so essential to the vision I had for myself, that I never imagined abandoning it. And I am grateful that it only took four years for me to see my dream fulfilled.
I shared these ideas with my husband who told me a story in response to my questions:
An ER doctor, on the way home from his shift, saw an injured pigeon. He was exhausted, and thought of leaving the pigeon even though neighborhood cats were circling it. In the end, his conscience won, and he brought the pigeon inside his apartment in a box.
Later that weekend, while back at the hospital, a 95-year-old patient came in. He had trouble breathing and a rash. The doctor knew immediately that the only choice was to intubate the gentleman. Perhaps these methods would extend his life by a few weeks, maybe months. The patient had no family or relatives. His point of contact was someone appointed by the government to make decisions for him. The doctor consulted with the government official about what he should do; had the man left any instructions about his end-of-life care?
The contact told him that he had no such instructions, only that the man desired to be cremated after he died. “It’s up to you,” the official told the doctor.
He weighed his options. At 95 years old, intubating him would prolong his life, but increase his suffering. The doctor sought to speak to the man, but he was not able to communicate. Ultimately, he decided not to intubate the man, and he died peacefully within a few hours.
During this time, the doctor’s roommates had been texting him about the pigeon, now at home in a box in their shared living room. The roommates feared germs or diseases, and they were not keen to care for it. Dejectedly, the doctor texted them back: “Do what you like,” and when he came home from his shift, he noticed an empty box near the dumpsters. The doctor poetically wrote that in both situations, he had decided to “let nature take its course.”
As I listened to the story, before I heard the ending, I was certain the doctor would choose to intubate the man. In my version, a few days later, a long-lost relative was found, the patient and next of kin had a jubilant reunion, and they were sent home to celebrate the holidays. Also in this optimistic retelling, the pigeon had a miraculous recovery and joined his other pigeon friends at the local fountain.
Frankly, I was devastated to hear that the patient had died. And I didn’t have high hopes for the pigeon.
Did the doctor give up? Or did he make a compassionate and correct choice?
When are we supposed to just let go?
I’ll leave you with one more story. I work with women in Afghanistan who are suffering from impossible tyranny since the Taliban returned to power in 2021. My team and I provide humanitarian aid, and we work to share their stories with the greater public, demanding action and accountability. One of the friends I’ve met through this work is Zakia, a mother living in Afghanistan. Zakia has a teenage daughter. Before the Taliban banned education for girls older than 12, my friend’s daughter attended high school, making excellent marks in science and math. She dreamed of becoming a doctor. Now, she is forced to stay at home, barred from working or studying. What are her prospects for the future? Zakia and I are in constant contact. She asks me about potential scholarships abroad for her daughter. She wonders if I can help fundraise for her education overseas. She asks me every time we are in touch. I think about endlessly.
I wonder, should Zakia give up? Should any of us?
Recently she wrote to me:
(translated from Persian using Google translate)
“Life is going on with all the problems
Whether we like it or not.
Sometimes it removes human problems and sometimes the beauties of human life make people hopeful for the future.
Like you, I struggle with problems and I never want to accept defeat.
Because that's what being a mother is.
If sometimes we lose in life, the sense of motherhood and our beloved children will not let us accept failure.
So we smile at life with all our strength and continue to raise good children for the society.”
I would love to hear what you think. Have you ever given up on a dream? Do you regret it? Was it the right choice? How do we know when it’s time to walk away?