REFLECTIONS ON REFLECTIONS

It is September.  Summer seems long ago.  If I were still at the beach or camping, would it still feel like summer?  The answer, I know, is no – even if my teacher's life was as lazy as in mid-summer, it wouldn’t be the same and I know it.  The crickets at night sound different.  The breeze feels less like a reprieve from the heat and more like a gentle message from the winter reminding me of what’s to come.  The trees haven’t changed yet.  They’re still green but it’s a different green then summer green.  It’s not new, tender green, it’s a green that’s been around for awhile, older, experienced.  Does it know that it will fade?  Does it know that soon it will change and die? The light is different too.  A duskier, huskier ripe heaviness of autumn light is beginning to slant and glow as it reflects off the trees and bushes. 

I think it’s the light that has changed the most and changes me.  I feel like a plant leaning towards the sun.  My body wants to soak up as much sun-energy as I can to use during the light starved days of winter.  In some real ways that’s what summer does for us: stores energy.  People often complain that teachers – and students – are lucky because we get to take the summer off.  We are.  What they may not realize is how much we really need that time to recharge our psychic batteries.  Recreation time allows us to re-create ourselves so that we have the energy we need during the school year.  By June we are depleted and need that time again.

Shabbat does that on a weekly basis.  From Friday evening to Saturday evening we have a period of rest: a time set aside during which one is not supposed to work, run errands, get distracted by everyday life.  It’s a time for spiritual re-creation, for reflection like a spiritual summer every 7 days.  And, interestingly enough, it’s marked off at the beginning and the end by light: the light of candles.

At this time of the year Jews will celebrate Rosh Hashanah, the birthday of the world.  It is a time set aside to celebrate the life force around us, to marvel and to reflect on the sweetness of life.  Just as the beginning of a new school year, when you are refreshed and rejuvenated is a good time to ponder on who we are and what is around us, so is Rosh HaShanah

A Hasidic rabbi, Nachman of Bratslau, wrote this following prayer in the late 1700’s:

Master of the universe, grant me the ability to be alone; may it be my custom to go outdoors each day among the trees and grass – among all living things – and there may I be alone and enter into prayer, to talk to the One to whom I belong.  May I express there everything in my heart, and may all the foliage of the field – all grass, trees and plants – awake at my coming, to send the powers of their life into the words of my prayer so that my prayer and speech are made whole through the life and spirit of all growing things, which are made as one by their transcendent Source.

Students often ask me what I think G-d is.  My answer is I don't know.  But I believe I see reflections of G-d every day in every way.  It is in these changes of the seasons and the changes in a person.  That life-energy force that transformed a one-celled water creature into my baby, then into a boy who became a thinking, shaving teenager, is an awesome power.  One day, hopefully, that transforming life force will change my son into a father and finally a shrinking old man with few teeth but many memories.  That changeable energy, that transforming life force that enlivens him is, to me, G-d. 

I used to run a nursery school and some of the things I miss about it are the seasonal projects.  In the fall children made artwork out of collected seedpods and leaves.  In the spring we had caterpillars that built cocoons then became butterflies.  We put fertilized eggs into incubators and watched them change each day until they emerged as cute fluffy chicks (and later became big smelly chickens!)  Those projects reminded us of the wonder-full power of transformation that I call G-d.

When I look at the trees I see G-d.  Roots spreading deep below the surface reaching tentacles down for nutrients that then get sucked up into the farthest highest branches. Leaves waving in the wind and at this time of the year glowing with the reflected light from the slanted sun.  In the winter new growth will begin when the light changes yet again and the sap flows.   These amazing energy exchanges are part of what I call G-d.

The science teacher tells me at the copy machine about a theory that we choose our spouses because their smell is different then our own to better ensure variety in our gene pool.  That to me is the work of G-d.  Particle-wave theory, muons or undersea crystalline structures, are also the handiwork of G-d.  Not because I don’t understand it – but because the more I do understand the intricacies of this world around us, the more in awe of it all I am.

When I think about Moses at a burning bush, the Buddha under a tree,
Jesus at a river, Muhammed in a cave, or Lao Tzu in the mountains, I do believe they have had an experience with that nature-force called G–d.  But I also believe it can happen to anyone of us who sits on the edge of the ocean at night and watches the moon and stars or a group of people who either through song and dance or calm quietude feel the spirit of G-d alight upon them.

G-d can be embodied in each one of us as well. In the Christian experience this creative force becomes personalized in the life and death of Jesus who by sharing human experience, sharing human pain and overcoming human death understands what we go through.  Hindus recognize the divine in each one of us by bowing and saying namaste.  Quakers see a divine light in each one of us.  And the Sufi mystic, Rumi, likened the divine in us to the breath through a flute.  They both make beautiful sound.

I believe G-d is in those moments – sometimes brief – when there is abundant love and kindness.  An old Jewish saying says that the Shekinah, the spirit of G-d is there when a husband and wife embrace.  I think it was there in those times that my mother had her arm around me and read to me, as it is when I have my arms around my children.  It is there when someone helps a stranger, or an orphan or anyone in need.

Does this make me a pantheist, one who sees G-d in everything?  Yes.  And furthermore, I believe in miracles, because the word miracle comes from the same root word as the word mirror does – the Latin word to wonder.  And as I see life’s creative energy reflected in everything in & around me, I do wonder and marvel.

I go to synagogue and I celebrate all of the Jewish holidays.  Both our sons had Bar Mitzvahs.  But for me, the vehicle of Judaism is just that.  It is a way – not the way.  It is a language with a grammar and a vocabulary I can use to communicate, but it’s not the only language.  And like any language, it has its limitations.  We use analogies or metaphors for speaking about G-d in Judaism.  But they are just metaphors and they aren’t the only ones that work and they don’t show the whole picture. 

As we start this new year, as we get into our year's busy schedules and the stresses of work, social lives, errands, responsibilities, set aside some time – each day and each week -- to get in touch with that creative energy force inside of you and outside of you.  Whether you do it alone or with others, through prayer or meditation, with music or with silence, at a communal place or in the woods, be in touch with that spirit.  Whether you call it nature, G-d, Shekinah, Jesus, the divine light, chakra energy, chi, Allah, the Force or simply love and goodness be in touch with that which makes life wondrously beautiful and creative.  Nurture it, share it, and be nurtured by it.  To be aware of and tapped into cosmic energy is like a light bulb using electricity.  If each one of us takes the time to be fed by and to feed the spark of creative energy inside of us, the potent force would be truly awesome.