Open book. Place it in front of you. Open your mouth. Vocalize the syllables. Is that all there is to praying? Somedays, some very early mornings especially, it definitely feels that way. How did it work before the Siddur, before the prayer book? Then, words came from the heart. Now, they can still come from the heart, but it often feels like I'm forcing them in.
Avraham, Sara, Yitchak, Rivka, Yaakov, Rachel, Leah… we speak your names everyday. We hold you up as our models of how to bring God close. But our forms are SO different than those of your day. Family? That's someone far away that I call on the phone. Sunset? I saw a beautiful picture in National Geographic. Fear? Don't forget to set the alarm. Silence? Sleep.
For you all, God was as real as my own mother. God spoke to you. God heard your cries. God tested you, pushed you to grow. And now, even with all our books, I've forgotten how to cry. With all our telecommunication technology, I've forgotten how to listen. With all the comforts of home, I don't push myself to the heights I dream of reaching… heck, I barely even let myself dream anymore.
How did that happen? I don't know. What I do know, is that there are days when the books open me up, when they speak to me: "God: The healer of broken hearts… Hey, remember how you felt the last time you were in love? Well, King David is telling you that God wants you to be in love again. Your creator wants to bring you together with the one who will be the ultimate healer of your heart."
"A blessing are you, the one who spoke and 'poof' there was the world!… God can relate to what you're going through. Even the INFINITE ONE knows the frustrations of using words to express feeling, using such limited forms to express such intense desire. And you can relate to God… when you step outside and see the genius of a honeycomb, when you smell honeysuckle, when you watch a mother and child, God created all that for you. Created with words to express a boundlessness of love."
"God of our forefathers. God of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov… you think that's it…. just those three. You nerd. If those three were the only forefathers, than why is it written 'God of our forefathers?' Well, Mister Smart E. Pants, it's written to remind you of all the other people in the chain. All the men, women, and children that you've known, that have taught you, that have struggled through challenges, leaving you the wiser for it… those are your forefathers. And someday you will be a part of that chain."
Thank God there are lots of good days, when the books aren't an end, but a means to open me up to what I already know. And thank God I live in a place where beauty has to be all but strapped down, lest it drown me in its flood. It's a beauty that abounds in subtlety, but once you're hip to it's groove, there's no denying it. As narrow as the day may feel at 6:30am, as the day widens and lengthens, it is filled with reminders. The sun breaking through the fog, the kids waiting for the bus, the surprise pancakes cooked by Aaron R., the phone call at just the right time, the ride into town that's going exactly where you needed to go, the satisfaction of understanding the flow of the Gemarra, a hug from a friend, a joke, a laugh, a cry.
Maybe this was more for me than for any of you readers out there, but something tells me I'm not alone in my struggles, nor in my joy. I bless all of us to always "call it as we see it." Embrace life when it's showing its splendor, and demand answers when confusion reigns. And either way, tell me about it. Tell the world about it. Remind me that I'm not alone in my struggle, remind me that I'm not the only nerd who likes to stick his nose in a flower and thank the lord. The Jewish people need a lot of reminding these days. The consequences of forgetting hurt us so deeply. So when you stick your nose in that flower, if you can, take a breath in that goes even deeper.