Time Keeps On Slippin'
I am allowing myself a few minutes of free writing, just between me and the www. Things are feeling good here at Camp Isabella Freedman, poo poo poo. It's a funny feeling (not ha ha) returning to a place that you know so well but have been away from for a long time - like reconnecting with a close friend. The reconnection happens fast because it was there all along.
My driver on the way up was a pleasure to talk with. He was articulate and spiritual and wise. Myron told me that in The Things That Matter Most, Cal Thomas writes that the mistake of the youth of the sixties was that they discarded American ancient landmarks. That resonated for me. Those who wish to make Judaism feel alive must be careful to appropriately respect ancient landmarks.
My friend Pesach sent out an email with an angle that worked for me about Birchat HaChama (the blessing recited once every 28 years when the sun is in the spot it was in when it was created). Something that happens once every 28 years can serve as a life marker. It is a chance to look back on the miracles that took us from where we were 28 years ago to where we are today. Birchat HaChama can shine light on our movement and the unique spot are at in our lives. It is a unique opportunity to be grateful.
I remember well where I was. Do you? I recited the blessing at sunrise with a large group of young men my age. It feels like a few minutes ago, which (I've come to realize) means the next time will feel like a few seconds from now. I pray that the sun revolves to the same place again, 28 years from now, it will spotlight a more evolved me.
"As this day has approached, I have been thinking about time.
After all, the last time this bracha was said
I was in 3rd grade.
The next time, I will be 65 and
the time after that, if G-d grants me long life, 93.
Some of you were not born
the last time this bracha was said.
Others, who are now grandparents,
were young parents trying to figure out parenthood.
Where will I be in 28 years? Who knows?
I will hold off on prognosticating. After all,
“Man plans and G-d laughs”.
So much has happened to me in the last 28 years
that no one could have predicted..."
(
- Rabbi Pesach Sommer
posted by rabbi neil fleischmann @ 11:06 PM
8 Comments:
I notice the poem doesn't mention those who know they won't be around for the next one. I guess it's too depressing a thought, but it's one that has occurred to me several times this week.
Guess I'll have to write it myself:
Tears
caught by a ray
sparkle.
He recites
the blessing
with fervor.
For the last time.
Thoughts
of a lifetime
crowd his mind.
Gosh, that's depressing.
Kishke, that's nice - well done. Pesach didn't write it as a poem but I broke it up that way.
Thank you. Have a good Yom Tov.
Kishke: I didn't find that depressing (your poem) but sensitive and real. We're all heading to that point, if not further, where we begin to wonder if "this is the last time I will _____" [fill in the blank] and deeply experience the poignancy of our finite lives. The challenge is how to move past grief for "last times" and continue to look forward, even if it is to our physical death.
Thanks, Anne. Even though I believe in a better, truer life after death and resurrection, thoughts of that nature sadden me. After all, this is what I know and love; I don't like imagining it ending. I probably should have said "sad" rather than "depressing."
Thank you. It makes me happy when there is thoughtful/real/profound dialogue within the comments of my blog.
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