My son, Layten, just had his bar mitzvah at the age of COVID-19. The congregation consisted of a total of 25 other people, socially distant. Normally there would have been more than two hundred people sitting in the synagogue at that time. Layten wore a mask while leading the services, reading the Torah and Haftorah, and giving a speech on the Torah service. The noisy reaction from the congregation came slightly to a whisper. He turned to me and said, “Every time we pass out, at most, other people don’t wear masks. It was because of them that my friends and family circle could not celebrate with me. The zoom just isn’t the same. Wearing a mask is not complicated and can help a lot. “
Your comment made me think more about the strength of masking, your message, your strength and the convenience you can give us all, and also made me think of my pleasure of dressing up in a mask at my pentagon service starting September 11. , 2001 at 10:50 p. m.
For five hours a day, I had to wear a fuel mask for myself because of the smell of the frame, fuel and poisonous dust in the air. For anyone who has worn a fuel mask for long periods of time, it is hot, confined and difficult to talk about. I never imagine it. I served everyone there. I understood that dressed in the fuel mask I was sending a unifying message: a team. A fight.
There are devout leaders who see masking as an attack on their devoted freedom. For many congregations, a large number of faithful who sing to God in a complete and transparent (un masked) voice is an act of holiness. The more they gather, the louder the voice. During my service in Iraq, I still had no option to restrict the number of other people and the length of service because battle space posed a risk to the faithful. The Marines were not wearing a mask, but they had full armor under the scorching sun for days and days.
As a representative of God and chaplain to all around me, it was my divine duty to restrict those who gathered for the facilities. My fellow chaplains and I have organized several small facilities. The Marines called me “my chaplain” because those little facilities allowed it. to spend non-public time with each user of the unit, regardless of their religion. Even though I was a rabbi, I supported everyone who served. The devout movement was private, intimate and its religion a moment of uncertainty.
Many Americans feel that dressing in a cloth mask around their mouths and noses is limited and suppresses their freedom to socialize. I sense it too. After all, staying 6 feet away with a mask makes it hard to perceive what other people are saying.
One of my colleagues in the chaplaincy was concerned about the initial invasion of Iraq and was asked to wear the entire mission-oriented protection apparatus used by the US Army Worker Corps. In a poisonous environment, such as a chemical, biological, radiological or nuclear attack. MOPP is a thick rubber suit that absolutely seals the wearer. Air can only enter or exit through a gap in the fuel mask. As if that wasn’t enough, there is a protective hood on the mask. The temperature in the suit may be correct. at 110 degrees Fahrenheit. It is speaking without a special device attached to the mask itself. Feeling limited while wearing a mask is real.
All Marines looked around knowing that their fellow Marines had their backs turned to them and that the MOPP suit would protect them from chemical attacks. They felt enough to focus on the bigger mission.
Petrow: Why does dressing in a mask to combat COVID-19 show hope for our future?
As a retired chaplain, officer, rabbi and father of the navy, I can tell the truth. This is what makes chaplains so valuable to the military. I can tell you what I told others: dressing in a mask makes all the difference. It’s the difference between going to school in user or not, seeing your friends or not, liking or not eating out, having a homework or not.
The Talmud says, “If you save a life, it’s like you’re saving a total world. “Each of us has a duty to save a life and see where this world leads. We have to be a hero to other Americans. In fact, we can be: a nation, a struggle, a mask.
Rabbi Brad Hoffman, a former Navy chaplain, retired from the army in 2018 after 35 years of service through the JWB Council of Jewish Chaplains, a flagship program of the JCC Association of North America.