Sunday, October 19, 2014

WONDER

This was an essay I had published in the Jewish magazine, TIKKUN about 10 years ago. It still holds up, I think.


One of my favorite biblical characters is Moses. He is my favorite because of his sense of wonder. Think about it: There he was, out in the desert taking care of his father-in-law's sheep. That's a lonely, boring job -- in a desert no less! Then he saw:

"a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush: and he looked and behold the bush burned with fire, but the bush was not consumed. And Moses said, "I will now turn aside, and see this great sight, why the bush is not burnt. And when God saw that Moses turned aside to see, God called to him out of the midst of the bush…"

Exodus 3.2

Now, whether you take that literally (which I don't,)or figuratively, Moses saw something so astounding, so out of the ordinary, so amazing that he turned aside to see it. And it was only then that God spoke to him. It was only when Moses was willing to stop his daily routine, stop following or leading the sheep, stop wandering in a la-di-da or driven sort of way, and turn toward to consider this sight before him that the essence of creation spoke to him.

I think about that burning bush almost every day at this time of the year. I look around at these trees with their bright oranges, yellows and reds. I see the sun slant light through the branches and to me, they look like burning bushes. They look awesome and beautiful and on fire although they are not consumed. Unfortunately, too often I'm rushing from here to there or there to here. So while I might take note of those trees, I don't "turn aside to see them" as often as I should. And what would I hear if I did turn aside and see these great sights?

I think trees talk to us. Of course, they don't use words. But with their beauty and their majesty they remind us of who and where we are in this world. So do birds and sky and ground. They speak to us, but we no longer have the patience to listen to them. Our inner ear has atrophied from lack of use. We fill ourselves up with so much human noise that we don't leave any room for nature sounds. Indigenous people always read the signs of nature around them. As did Buddha when he sat under a tree for 40 days and there became enlightened. Or Jesus when he said, "Consider the lilies of the field."

The philosopher Martin Buber, in his short but dense book, I-Thou, wrote that when we have a relationship with someone or something, it's a dialogue or an exchange. We face one another and connect. That's two way communication. The other doesn't have to be a person, it could be a tree, a rock or a bird. But that other is in relation to us so both are affected. When we are in an I-It relationship, says Buber, the other is just a thing, an object, nothing that touches our being. Unfortunately, too often we see the people around us as "its", as mere objects for our use. We see the trees, the grass and the stars as mere backdrops for our lives.

But when we stop and face them, when we turn aside from our own dramas, we can't help but be in awe of the creative power in front of us. It changes our perspective, our whole way of looking at life.

Last night everyone in my family was rushing around. Half of us were coming in and half of us were going out. My husband went out to his bridge game, my older son to a babysitting job, my little one to the TV and I to write this, correct papers AND read the newspaper. But when my older son came home, he took us all outside because Mercury and Jupiter were in an alignment that only happens every 7 years. We looked up at the sky and there they were. It was awesome! Like two stars, these two planets, so far away and seemingly on either side of us, were sitting side by side shining away. Reflected light beaming down on us from millions of miles away and only for now will they be in this place for us to see. We stood there huddled in the dark, little human beings. And I was very glad that despite all that I had to do, I had said like Moses, "I will now turn aside, and see this great sight." Did God speak to me? I think the energy force of creation -- which is what I call God -- speaks to me or any of us every time we turn aside to listen.

2 comments:

  1. Jane, thanks for the fire. And for reminding us all to step aside to see it.
    Funny coincidence (are there any?): my blog for the Huffington Post this week is titled "Where did my hammock time go?" The subject was prompted by my niece Suzy who was complaining about "no time."

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    Replies
    1. Oooh Millie! You should share with your niece and audiences this poem that Nancy gave me many years ago and which she recently shared in a speech in Prince Edward Island. (The author has an interesting backstory, though I forget it right now.) Here it is:

      LEISURE
      by
      William Henry Davies

      What is this life, if full of care,
      We have no time to stand and stare?

      No time to stand beneath the boughs
      And stare as long as sheep or cows.

      No time to see, in broad daylight
      Streams full of stars like skies at night.

      No time to see, when woods we pass,
      Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

      No time to turn at Beauty’s glance
      And watch her feet, how they can dance.

      No time to wait till her mouth can
      Enrich that smile her eyes began?

      A poor life this is, full of care
      We have no time to stop and stare.

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