Lost and Found: An Airplane and a Bar Mitzvah

By Laura Duhan Kaplan | March 17, 2014

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My husband and I are binge-watching
Lost
, a 2004-2010 TV series. An airplane crashes, leaving survivors stranded without rescue on a remote tropical island. The survivors bond as they face the island’s threats together. “Lost is the perfect blend of drama, action, and science fiction,” says my brother. By drama, he means character development. By action, he means shooting guns. By science fiction, he means writers weaving random impossible ideas into a plot.

Except, this week, Lost seems a bit less like fiction. Malaysia Airlines flight 370 has disappeared. We do not know if, where, and how the passengers are living. We can read in great detail about attempts to find them — and learn that no one really knows where to look.

This week’s terrible travel news is the flip side of Lost. Viewers of Lost know a great deal about the characters on the island. But we know nothing about the anxious family and friends waiting for news. Nothing about the airlines, governments or rescue crews as they search.

In real life, no one yet knows both sides of the missing jet’s story. But in my own mind, I cannot separate the facts from the fictional story. When I watch Lost, I imagine the untold stories of those who wait. As I read about the search for Malaysia flight 370, I worry about the passengers and crew; I pray for their well-being.

Imagine a story with only two sides, where no one can experience both sides, where anyone who sees one side cannot see the other. Imagine you see only one side. But when you look closely, everything flips around, and now you see only the other side.

V’nahafoch hu, as we say at Purim. It all turned over. Inside-out. Upside-down.

During Purim this year, I had a v’nahafoch hu experience.

You know the ongoing, polarizing debate about Jewish power. Do we, in North America and Israel, have enough power and security? Or are we always battling the beast of antisemitism with money and military strength? Two views, mutually exclusive. Normally, I see only the former.

From that perspective, I cannot stand the triumphalist tone of Megillat Esther. Deep down, I think, I am embarrassed to celebrate Jews winning political power. When history treats us well, we should be pleased with our efforts, providence and luck. But celebration of triumph over others, well, that’s in bad taste. That’s my gut feeling as a fourth-generation American Jew who grew up at ease with both her Ashkenazi ethnicity and American citizenship.

This past Shabbat morning, just a few hours before Purim, v’nahafoch hu—something turned over. A 65 year old man in our congregation, whom I have known for a decade as Mr. I-am-spiritual-but-not-religious, celebrated his bar mitzvah. Throughout the service, he held hands with his 94 year-old mother. Towards the end, he addressed the congregation. “I am the first person of my lineage not to have a bar mitzvah at age 13. I grew up in post-World War II Romania. Where we lived, it was not safe to express our Jewishness. But now, Hitler and his friends are mostly gone, and here I am, in Canada, celebrating my bar mitzvah at 65.” He smiled. All 150 witnesses cried. Except his mother: she laughed and cried at the same time. V’nahafoch hu.

That evening, I experienced the Megillah from the perspective of my Romanian friend. Yes, we are still here! With enough power to live without fear. With enough security to be Jewish, whatever that might mean. Like Mordehai and Esther in the Megillah, we triumphed. But not in their flashy fictional style. We moved forward in real ways, with trauma and heartbreak and a very slow recovery. This Shabbat, one man stepped forward into his sense of Jewish power. Not everyone is ready yet to follow him.

So much in life is hidden from us. Sometimes it takes 65 years, or 94 years, to find what we seek. Often we make the search extra-hard, letting binary thinking narrow our perception and insight. But if we look closely at the clues offered, everything can shift around, and maybe we can see multiple sides all at once.

May that happen to those who search for flight 370. I will pray for them, for the flight’s passengers, and for its crew.

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