A story in the magazine Scientific American tells the miraculous tale of “Mr. Wright.” Mr. Wright was a believer. He believed completely that the new drug would work to cure the tumors that had invaded his body and evaded all available treatments. Too weak to even sit up in bed, he signed the participation agreement knowing the considerable chance the drug may not work at all. Within three days of his first dose, Mr. Wright was walking around the unit with shrunken tumors. Ten days later he was discharged from the hospital. The new drug had worked – or at least it worked for Mr. Wright. Other patients in the trial received no improvement at all as a result of the drug. Mr. Wright was a bit of a mystery – an unexplainable effect of an otherwise ineffective treatment.
Belief is powerful medicine. It is also a challenging concept for many progressive Jews raised to view the world primarily through the lens of science. Science provides a process, or so it claims, by which we can know the truth about something. Religion, however, rarely provides the straightforward path towards a ‘yes or no’ answer about the truth of something. By definition, religion accepts that there are some things in this world that are simply impossible to explain.
Or perhaps like the “magic” of Mr. Wright’s unexplainable medical recovery, there are some things in life that are not for us to understand. Their rationale is purposely beyond our comprehension. I like to think that this “beyond-ness” works to inspire us to keep seeking, keep searching. We may never find the answer but as Maimonides teaches, it is this seeking of explanation that draws us perhaps just a little bit further on the pathway towards the light of God. While our first instinct causes us to reach for the reason, these moments can perhaps remind us of the importance of letting go in those moments where logic is not meant to serve us. Not everything is meant to be in our comprehension.
So what do you belief today? What do you know in your heart is true even if the evidence of that truth defies comprehension? And may your truth guide you towards a new openness on the path of seeking, of searching, of drawing just a little bit closer towards an ultimate truth.
Gratitude
I read a story recently about the power of gratitude as taught by a humpback whale. The whale was stuck in a web of traps that caused her to struggle to stay afloat. A fisherman in the area radioed for help but by the time the rescue team arrived the only way to save her involved the rescuers diving into the water to untangle her. The risk of this proposition was tremendous as one slap of the whale’s tail could kill a rescuer.
The story recounts that the team worked for hours with knives to free the whale. When they finally untangled her, the divers said she swam in joyous circles before coming back to each diver and gently nudging each and every one of them. A personal thank you to the divers who had worked so hard to save her life.
When was the last time you really said thank you and meant it from the depth of your soul? The Jewish spiritual practice of mussar teaches that gratitude is the cultivation of hakarat hatov, an ability to “recognize the good” in our lives even when surrounded by life’s challenges. These good things in our life can be small things, like a great cup of coffee, or big things, like the blessing of a supportive family. When we cultivate this appreciation for the good, an attitude of gratitude, we set ourselves closer towards achieving a goal we truly desire – a happier life.
Rabbi Nachman of Breslov once wrote, “Gratitude rejoices with her sister joy, and is always ready to light a candle and have a party. Gratitude doesn’t much like the old cronies of boredom, despair and taking life for granted.” Take a moment today to recognize the good in your life. Be sure to thank those who might be responsible for that good. Then practice gratitude with joyous swimming in thanksgiving for being alive and for the amazing blessings of life.
Names
To know someone’s name is begin to know them. Marcia Falk writes in The Book of Blessings about the importance of naming, of the implicit holiness in the act. “With words and images, we name the world, name towards the Divine. Our tradition repeatedly tells us, the more we recount and name, the more we increase the presence of holiness in the world.”
It is a powerful, intimate act to use someone’s name. Our name is like music to us. When someone remembers your name, you feel recognized, seen by another person. When someone forgets your name, it can wound quite deeply.
The challenge of belonging to a large community often means it is simply impossible to know everyone. Faces may look familiar but in the rush of everyday life we cannot always recall the names of even those we want to know on a deeper level. Often the embarrassment of our own inability to remember causes us to walk away instead of opening up to an opportunity for a moment of connection, especially if the first few moments of that connection requires us to reveal our own vulnerability.
The reflective gift of Elul and the High Holy days creates a reminder that a willingness to be vulnerable, with ourselves and with others, can lead to deep moments of real relationship. Opening up to others, even with a simple apology for not remembering their name, moves us closer to the other person. The Zohar teaches that at the beginning of Elul we are achor el achor (“back to back”). Ideally by the end of Elul we are panim el panim, “face to face.” Perhaps when we commit again to know the names of those with whom we stand “face to face,” the holy presence of the face of God turns closer to us as well.
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