“Did You See That?”

Recently, I was driving toward home after an evening meeting, winding my way through a quiet, residential neighborhood in Myers Park. I found myself on one of those streets where huge trees arch up over the roadway, on a winter night forming an ominous canopy of tentacled, leafless branches. As I rounded a curve on the darkened street, suddenly the full moon appeared in front of me, large and low in the sky, a brilliant disk softened by the hazy, night air. I was torn away from my rambling thoughts, saying to no one in particular, “Do you see that?!”

I often find myself so caught up in my busy days that, when I’m not actually doing something, I’m preoccupied with recent events or upcoming projects. A wise person often reminds me of the advantages of “being in the moment” - but I have to admit that I’m not terribly good at it. Yet I relish those instances when I’m pulled out of my frenetic inner world by a gift of simple beauty.

One of the things I loved about living in Seattle was that even the natives stop and stare at the mountains when they make an appearance. In a city surrounded by dramatic beauty, that beauty was never taken for granted by its residents. I still remember fondly those very early mornings heading downtown to work on the 6:00am bus, sleepily but eagerly anticipating the moment when we would ride over the top of the hill and first glimpse Mt. Ranier glowing pink in the sunrise.

But there are other things that also catch my attention. When I am out and about, I love to observe young children discovering the world around them. Things that most adults no longer notice are of monumental importance to a toddler - often to the dismay of a parent with a schedule and a destination. What could be more fascinating than water cascading from a fountain in the mall, or what must be the most unusual rock anyone has ever seen? Nothing in the world is ordinary. Indeed, even those things that we think of as routine or common are not ordinary.

One of the goals of Judaism is to sanctify what we might otherwise take for granted. Our tradition encourages us to say blessings whenever we eat, lest we forget that the raw materials of our food are a gift from God, and that there are many in this world who suffer from hunger. There is a blessing when we observe nature’s wonders: the ocean, the mountains, a rainbow. Many of us come through difficult situations and merely say, “Whew!” - while others are reminded of their mortality and thank God for the ability to have endured. In fact, I thought it odd, at first, when I asked an orthodox Jew, “How are you?” and received the response, “Thank God.” But it made me realize how casually we treat our own well-being when we simply say, “Fine.”

Young children share God’s insight: that the world is filled with wonder. When I make a visit to a member of our Temple family who is in the hospital, I am reminded that health is not something to be taken for granted. When I make a shiva call after a funeral, I am aware of the complexity of our relationships and the impact that a single person can have on so many. And when I am drawn out of the vortex of my own whirling thoughts by the sudden sight of the moon or the laughter of a child, I can’t help but ponder, What else did I miss today?

How much more vibrant and fulfilling the world around me will be when I can awaken with the prayer: Blessed are you, Creator of all, who has given me life, sustained me, and allowed me to reach another wondrous day!

B’shalom,
Andrew Bernard
Cantor