The Road To The Cemetery

Today started off badly. But to understand the problem I have to supply some context.

Yesterday our rabbi sent out an e-mail offering us all the chance to participate, and perhaps facilitate a mitzvah. There was to be a funeral this morning of the sister of a former member of the synagogue and they weren't sure they'd have a minyan, so the opportunity was offered to us to help out. A graveside funeral was what had been proposed, signaling that there either weren't enough friends and family to warrant the use and cost of a funeral home or there wasn't a Jewish community of which she was a part – certainly not one that could furnish a minyan.

I wasn't familiar with the woman never having met her, and I wasn't close to her brother. I knew enough about who he was to greet him on the few occasions we met, but I never had a conversation with him. Following his death nine years ago, however, I attended services at his house, helping to provide the ten men whose presence was needed for family members to say kaddish.

I wanted to do the same for his sister even though I didn't know her. Especially if there was a chance that not enough men would attend her funeral, and I might be the tenth, giving them the opportunity to conduct a proper service.

Anyway that's the context, apart from the predictions of rainstorms for the following day. I put off making a decision about what I would do until this morning, deciding to reevaluate the situation when I could determine the weather situation for myself. It didn't matter that we had never met. There would be people who wanted to bid farewell in a proper and respectful manner, and I wanted to offer my help in accomplishing that aspiration.

This morning, when I awoke (4 AM as usual), it was pouring. There was no chance that I would go. By the time I left synagogue (7:30 AM), however, all that remained were mist and gray skies. It was cold but tolerable. So I decided to go. But I needed to get driving instructions from my wife – when she's in the car I have no trouble since she advises me along the way. She's better than a GPS. So when she got instructions from the internet, she told me that there was a less complicated way of getting to the cemetery, and she described it to me. It would take a little longer but would be easier for me. I was reasonably sure that I understood her and it made good sense. I need “easier” because I'm geographically challenged. Actually I'm incompetent, an idiot – but it's not socially acceptable to say it that way.

A problem remained however. I didn't know whose funeral I was attending. The rabbi hadn't given her name. So I e-mailed him and asked. He didn't know either. He had gotten a message that didn't include the name. He's new in our community and never met the family and, I assume, was sure that we'd know. Perhaps some did, but I didn't. I told him that I didn't think it would be productive of me to go if I didn't know where I was going. He asked me to wait while he tried to get more information and, a few minutes later, sent me a message with the woman's name and the location at which I could meet the others who were attending.

It was getting late by then. But I still had enough time, so I set out and I did so keeping in mind the easy way to get there. Weather conditions hadn't changed and I foresaw no difficulties. (That's proof of the facts that I'm incompetent and an idiot.)

Traffic was lighter than I expected and the first part of the trip went well. As I had been advised the road divided, and I took the branch that led to the route I wanted. So far so good. That, however, was where “good” ended. They were apparently working on improvements in the road and various arrow signs were around. And there was a fork that identified the branches in a way that didn't let me recognize the road I wanted. I'm not very good at choosing and a few minutes later I realized that I was on the wrong road. I was lost. I got off the road when I could but that was only after a while since entry and exit from the road were limited. I found a man and asked for help.

When I told him what road I wanted he seemed very confused. He told me I was nowhere near it and he didn't know how to get me there. So I told him that I had reached it by taking a branch of the first road I was on. That seemed to help. He offered information as to how to get back to that original road. Some of the information was with his words and some was with his hands. I ignored the hands and listened to the words which were complicated enough for me. The instructions involving a highway near where we were seemed simple enough and I followed them. A little later along the route however, when I tried to take a road he suggested – or at least what I thought he had suggested – it seemed to lead me farther away from where I wanted to go rather than nearer. And the mist had turned into drizzle. Weather reports told me it would get worse later in the day, but I wasn't sure when that would happen.

Long story short (as the cliché goes) I was lost – in all respects. I backtracked to a road with which I was familiar, and I gave up any plans to go to the funeral. Even if I had figured out a route, by that time I was late and the meeting place in the cemetery would no longer apply. So I went home. It took some time but I managed to figure it out.

I had tried and I had failed. Consistent with the saying, no good deed goes unpunished. The day had started off badly and it didn't change course. I may have been lost, but it knew where it was going and it laughed over all the jokes it had on me.

April 4, 2017