As I sit here writing this piece in Jerusalem, I’m enjoying a brief respite from the near-constant sounds of the new train station being built right outside my window. It must be break-time for the workers, but from morning to night, every day but Shabbos, my senses are being assailed by the bone-jarring and teeth-chattering sounds of heavy equipment engines, the pounding of drills on pavement and stone, and the incessant bass rumble of workmen doing their jobs. On top of that, the beeping of backing-up dump trucks and honking of cars and buses, adds to the cacophony which is currently the “Sound of the City.”
Trying to make the best of the noise, I rationalize that when it gets finished, the train station they are building will be worth the trouble. It will open smooth travel from the airport to the center of town, and be accompanied by all manner of wonderful shopping and other opportunities. Property values will go up and the smooth pedestrian walkways will be a boon, as opposed to the long circuitous routes I now need to take to get to places that were easy to go to before this all started.
Though at some point it will be wonderful, right now it isn’t easy. A friend whose office was in the work zone told me with great relief that he was moving to another building down the road where they weren’t digging up the streets and closing roads to traffic. For people who live here all the time, it’s disruptive and difficult. Again, the only way to get through it is to realize that this is the cost of progress, and to remind ourselves that in the end, it will have been worth the trouble.
It reminded me of a highway overpass bridge in Monsey that was crumbling. For a year or more, they closed traffic around it and made huge detours to facilitate replacing it. I avoided going to stores in that area, and felt bad for the people who lived there. When it was done and finally reopened, though, it was a relief to know the bridge was now safe and secure. In time, I forgot how frustrating it had been when the work was going on, and just enjoyed the fruits of those labors.
The correlation to life seemed so natural to me this morning, as I walked back from shul (synagogue), and paused to watch the hustle and bustle and racket of the construction in my very close proximity. In our lifetimes, we all go through some pretty challenging and jarring things. We get battered and bashed, and it seems like it’s never-ending. But guess what? If we had nice peace and quiet, nothing would ever get built. Especially not us.
If we sailed through life without being tested, we wouldn’t grow. If we didn’t have challenges and temptations surrounding us like walls we need to break through, we would never build the palaces of eternity we hope to erect, nor the character that comes from overcoming adversity. We know that there’s a long-game being played, and that if we just focus on the pain and discomfort of the now, there won’t be much of a later to talk about.
As I gaze out my window, I see men in hardhats walking along the roofs of buildings being raised, and cranes in multiple spots across the city. I’m not unique in the noise and inconvenience of the construction going on around me. We’re all on a mission of growth and we each have to take our own detours to get where we really hope to end up.
I also see derelict buildings where nobody has thought to make improvements in years. Rust and garbage build-up are visible, sticking out in stark contrast to the fresh stone facades going up right across the street from them. This, too, is a metaphor for life. Some people are content to go on about their daily lives without thinking about the future or making any improvements. While they think they’re stable, they don’t see the peeling paint or the crumbling of walls taking place over time, and won’t end up with the benefits they would have seen from going through construction, even if it was uncomfortable for a time.
The distress is temporary, and worth it for the long-term and eternal benefits, when the work is all done. Indeed, Yerushalayim is a city on the move, where something is always changing and improving. It reflects the nation it represents and with whom it is joined. As Jews, we are always a work in progress, able to fix, repair, and build, until the project is complete or runs out of time. When you are confronted with things that seem challenging or difficult, ask yourself what the end result will be, and if it isn’t worth the struggle for the beautiful final product. Odds are you’ll be more willing to deal with the noise now, knowing that in the end you’ll have something to enjoy and be proud of, and that it was worth all the hard work and effort.
By Rabbi Jonathan Gewirtz
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