I give thanks before You, living and eternal King,
for You have returned within me my soul with compassion,
abundant is Your faithfulness.
(Morning prayer)
It is early morning, or is it night. Outside my window all is dark. A bird is calling, and the sound of a lone car passing may be heard, as the sound of blowing wind. If I look closely, the faint image of clouds may be discerned, soft gray on a sea of black, drifting by ever so slowly. The last time I saw them, they were of the color white, the color of purity, of serenity, of hope.
But now, darkness fills the sky. As the shadow which has accompanied us for so many months, a darkness of anguish and pain. From somewhere within, a voice is calling and refuses to be quieted.
“Hear my voice when I call, Lord;
be merciful to me and answer me…
Your face, Lord, I will seek.
Do not hide Your face from me…”
(Psalm 27:7-9)
It is early morning, all is dark. And yet, as I write these words, the blackness has become muted to a shade of deep gray. A lightening of the spirit accompanies the lightening of the skies. The call of a lone bird may be heard, insistently, persistently. Heralding the break of dawn. A reminder of the transience of the day, of the transience of the night.
And yet, there is permanence within the impermanence. A flame which flickers within, and refuses to be extinguished. The heart beats of hope, and will not be quieted. A whisper of courage, of life, of light which persists and will soon be strengthened.
“Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; therefore He will rise up to show you compassion…” (Isaiah 30:18)
Was it only yesterday that I was again in the garden. The garden of memories, of hopes and dreams, where birds sing, flowers bloom. Where the grass still grows as a bright carpet of green, its leaves sparkling with morning’s dew, or perhaps tears.
Roses are no longer seen climbing overhead, but some are still persistently growing at the edges of the garden of enchantment, their lovely pink petals strewn about my feet. Caught by a soft breeze, they gently drift up into the air, then settle back down around me. In the distance can be seen the radiant petals of an almond tree. Their pink profusion has replace the profusion of climbing pink roses. A reminder. Of the passing of the seasons, of the inevitability of the rhythm of nature, where one season follows the next. Another era of pinkness, of hope, of blossoming life, will inevitably follow the previous. An endless cycle of growth and rebirth, of serenity and loveliness.
But we, Man. We do not have that inevitability of simply blossoming into beauty. Our destiny is not inevitably stamped into our flowering. We have the freedom, the responsibility, to choose. We will not inevitably blossom into the rose, or the almond blossom flower…. or will we?
From somewhere deep within there is a call. Merging with the call of the bird in the dawning of the morn. A call to our destiny, a call to a higher potential. A call to fulfill the spark of the Divine which we can feel burning within our souls. We choose each morning, again. What will we choose, today?
The sky is brighter now. The dark sky has transformed into a lovely shade of light blue. High in the heavens the few remaining gray clouds are topped with a faint glow of whiteness, of purity, of hope.
We are now in the month of Nisan, the first month of spring. The month of rebirth, of reawakening. According to Rabbi Yehoshua, it is in the month of Nisan that the world was created (Rosh Hashanah 11a).
It is in this month that we were delivered from slavery in Egypt. The month in which the Divine Presence rested with Israel for the first time. “And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8)
May this month bring to us deliverance, once again.
It was just Parashat Vayikra. God called out to Moses, again. “He called out to Moses. God spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting…” (Leviticus 1:1)
And each of us, as we listen. Perhaps we too, can hear a call.
We, as Man, are partners to God in creation. In the shaping of our own destiny and that of our Nation. In adding our contribution, though small, to our world.
The call of the lone bird is patient, soothing. Lulling me back into the world of dreams, where the Heavenly realm and the Earthy reality are intertwined in beauty. Perhaps that is our challenge, today. We dream, we pray, we wait.
There is a soft glow now on the horizon. A soft pink light is shimmering at the point where Heaven touches Earth. The color of the almond blossoms of Nisan. May there be a different quality to our future, the renewal of serenity, of peace.
It is in the wilderness that Moses was told: “Speak to all the congregation of the people of Israel and say to them, You shall be Holy, for I the Lord your God am Holy.” (Leviticus 19:20)
We are challenged daily. Our blossoming tied to the blossoming of our spirit, to our thoughts, to the actions we choose. What would life be like, if we could walk each day on the path of holiness? As individuals, as a Nation. How would we walk? Would we fly?
Would calmness and a sense of Oneness be replacing the endless confusion and distress?
May our actions, our dreams, our prayers, be in alignment with our Divine destiny.
“Show me your ways, Lord,
teach me your paths
Guide me in your truth and teach me,
for You are God my Savior,
and my hope is in You all day long.”
(Psalm 25:4-5)
I look again. The sky is lighter now. Dark clouds are no longer in view, and a clear blue sky is in front of my eyes. The blueness of eternity, undefinable, present and yet transparent. A blank slate of the morning. It is our future which begins now, at the break of dawn.
The call of a lone bird may be heard, closer now. A few birds are winging past my window, free in their flight. Glorious in their freedom.
What will be written in the sky of today? What is our destiny? What is our fulfillment? What are we writing upon the blank sky of tomorrow?
The sound of a warplane above jars my reverie. I am called back to the reality of our life today in the Land of Promise. Once again, I feel the dagger of pain.
Silence settles again upon the morn. The song of a bird may be heard, his voice now joined by those of his companions.
What are they saying? My grandson is asking. Again. As he had asked once before, in a time of peace, so elusive now, and yet almost within reach.
Nishmat kol chai tevarech et Shimcha, I answer.
Dr. Devorah Ungaris an American-born scientist and musician who moved to Israel over 30 years ago.