Holiness Everywhere

I’m often amazed and frustrated at how easy it is to get sucked in by the swirling minutia of life. Of course it doesn’t seem like minutia to us while we’re in the midst of it. The demands of work or school, office intrigue, family dramas, pressures and frustrations from illness, finances or a relentless schedule of commitments seem all too monumental to either ignore or diminish in importance. Even when we try to step back and gain a healthier perspective, these little tornadoes of life seem to chase after us and surround us.

That’s why I’m happy — or at least relieved — when something outside of my control breaks the manic cycle of life. Sometimes it’s a significant event: a major snowstorm that shuts down the city, a family crisis that demands full and immediate attention, or an unexpected success or accolade that causes me to stop and reflect. Oftentimes it is a small island of beauty that sneaks up on me unaware: encountering an object or landscape of unusual beauty, a kind and thoughtful word from a friend, or a meaningful encounter with another precious soul.

I’ve come to realize that trying to become consciously aware that holiness exists everywhere has become both a major theme and a major frustration in my life. Like Jacob, our self-absorbed ancestor, I can race through a day at a frenetic pace only to collapse into sleep without reflecting on the day’s sacred moments — or the missed sacred opportunities. Occasionally something snaps me out of my “reality” to exclaim in wonder: “Surely God is in this place and I did not know it.” And that’s when I stop for a moment and at least try to reflect on the amazing things I might have missed.

As time goes on, I become increasingly aware that today’s sacred moments can never be replaced. We are often surrounded by joy and wonder that we can barely see through life’s frenetic haze. We become preoccupied with the fog rather than the beauty hidden by the fog. Even in the midst of chaos, it is possible to be aware — and even enjoy — the sacred in the murky distance.

Seattle is known for gray and rain and fog. People often ask me how I could stand living without sunshine. When visitors look to the east or west or south on those cloudy days, they just see the dull rain. But for someone who lives there, looking east reveals the Cascade Mountains, west the Olympic Mountains, and south Mt. Ranier. A Seattle resident enjoys their beauty, even on the days when they are not visible to the naked eye. Those mountains are the magnificent landmarks that are “seen” even when they are hidden by the weather.

Too often we allow life’s cloudy weather to obscure the beauty surrounding us. It is easy to race through the present, telling ourselves that if we accomplish all we’ve set before us today, then tomorrow we can stop to enjoy the beauty. But experiencing the sacred is not like saving for retirement. The sacrifice we make today does not accumulate and earn interest for the future. It simply diminishes our lives — now and later on.

What’s more, it’s a hard habit to break. Closing our eyes to the sacred becomes the routine, only occasionally interrupted by a religious service, a vacation, or a family celebration. Traditional Judaism addresses this in several ways. Three times a day, one stops in prayer to acknowledge something greater than ourselves. And there are blessings to be said aloud for every encounter with the divine around us.

What can we do, as Reform Jews, to remind ourselves to pause, to experience the wonder of the divine, to give thanks for the sacred surrounding us? What can we build into our routine to help us recognize that there is, indeed, holiness everywhere?

L’shalom,
Andrew Bernard
Cantor