Chinese legend relates that during the Han Dynasty [260BC-220 CE] Emperor Wu despaired at the death of his wife Lady Li. Growing more and more disconsolate with each passing day, his ministers called upon a Taoist magician who brought the inconsolable emperor into a darkened room and seated him before a screen. Placing a small flame behind the screen the magician seemingly was able to conjure up the image of Lady Li. The emperor was restored.
The Chinese have used shadow puppet theatre to tell ancient religious stories and myths. Shadow puppetry requires only three things - a translucent screen, a light source and a figure which can easily be moved across the screen with rods to 'tell' a story. The audience seated in front of the screen sees only the interplay of light and dark. The glow, intensity, urgency of the flame influences the puppet's size and shape. Although the story may be clear, it is only a story told by a shadow moving across a blank screen, propelled by fire.
Every Friday evening, at a time which is neither day nor night I bring in Shabbat with fire and along with that flame - which can be calm and statuesque or urgent and distracted - I welcome the unseen yet present Shabbat angels. I greet them, request their blessing, invite them to be seated. Although these angels are merely unseen shadows emboldened by the supernal light that I have brought into my home, they are the divine messengers which tell a story of wholeness, of peace and of God's presence.
Twenty five hours after their arrival, I bid them farewell with light and spices - strong light for discernment, spices to gladden the soul.
I welcome the flame which illuminates the story of these divine messengers who glide across the fragile screen that separates this world from the world to come. I welcome my weekly chance to dance with angels.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Monday, December 27, 2010
The First Prayer
..And God heard the boy's cry and God's angel called to Hagar - what is troubling you? God has heard the boy's call where he is.....get up, take the boy's hand in yours and go - for I will make him a great nation. [Gen 21: 17-18].
Imagine Ishmael - a strong, tall boy of 13, an expert at archery crying alone in the wilderness. Dismissed from his home by the mistress of the house his last moments were of his father's weeping as Abraham slowly packed provisions for the family of his that was not to be. Now it is Ishmael who is weeping alone in the wilderness emptied of food, water, home. Even his mother distances herself from him because she cannot bear to see die.
But his name is Ishmael and God will hear.
I believe that this is the bible's first recorded prayer. Consider the moment when the most spontaneous, unencumbered cry overtakes our souls and escapes. Physically convulsed, shattered into an emotional mosaic it would seem that only an angel of God can repair the cataclysm.
Ishmael does not use words and yet his name isa declaration of faith - God will hear. His despairing, frightened cry in the wilderness reaches God and the angel who foretold the birth of this child to Hagar re appears and tenderly suggests that she take the boy's hand and accompany him into the future.
Those who pray may assume that God listens. There are, however, times that we have have gone beyond pain, beyond reason, beyond even memory and feeling and we pray because there is nothing left to do. Having entered a suspended, dark, primal corner of psychic uncertainty and despair we cry out. Out of the depths I call to thee, says the psalmist.
And god will hear, take us gently by the hand and guide us into the future.
Imagine Ishmael - a strong, tall boy of 13, an expert at archery crying alone in the wilderness. Dismissed from his home by the mistress of the house his last moments were of his father's weeping as Abraham slowly packed provisions for the family of his that was not to be. Now it is Ishmael who is weeping alone in the wilderness emptied of food, water, home. Even his mother distances herself from him because she cannot bear to see die.
But his name is Ishmael and God will hear.
I believe that this is the bible's first recorded prayer. Consider the moment when the most spontaneous, unencumbered cry overtakes our souls and escapes. Physically convulsed, shattered into an emotional mosaic it would seem that only an angel of God can repair the cataclysm.
Ishmael does not use words and yet his name isa declaration of faith - God will hear. His despairing, frightened cry in the wilderness reaches God and the angel who foretold the birth of this child to Hagar re appears and tenderly suggests that she take the boy's hand and accompany him into the future.
Those who pray may assume that God listens. There are, however, times that we have have gone beyond pain, beyond reason, beyond even memory and feeling and we pray because there is nothing left to do. Having entered a suspended, dark, primal corner of psychic uncertainty and despair we cry out. Out of the depths I call to thee, says the psalmist.
And god will hear, take us gently by the hand and guide us into the future.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Prayer I
Structured prayer is not spiritually satisfying for me. I do not like referring to synagogue prayer as 'going to services.' My car needs service. My soul needs nurturing, care and love. I therefore wonder how, despite my resistance to relegating God time to my calendar between 10 a.m and 12:30 pm. on Saturdays I am blessed with unpredictable moments of palpable internal stillness. These uninvited moments of being displaces the impact of the endless, mechanical actions that I perform to arrive at synagogue -- waking, drinking coffee, reading the newspaper, dressing, gathering what I need -- a litany of utilitarian action verbs that have seemingly little to do with my relationship to God. And yet they do. Each awakening bears the precision and grace of a musical composition - at first slow and tentative - each movement finding its way into the whole, a complex fugue rich in harmony and texture.
There are no meaningless actions. There are only actions that I fail to discern their meaning. I regularly wake, drink, read, gather, dress, drive, arrive. And with each seamless transition from one action to the other to the next I bless the source of life who has opened my eyes, provided me with the strength to stand, to clothe myself, to make choices. My benign action verbs are cloaked by godliness. By the time I take my seat in shul I have opened myself up to a presence greater than myself, to a depth of meaning and being that I have barely begun to touch and to gratitude. Once I am wearing my tallit, I feel as if I have entered the heavenly assembly and imagine a radiant tallit of light and splendor hovering over the divine presense [Psalm 104] and I am still. For one timeless moment I feel the breadth and elegance of pure eternity and I am grateful.
There are no meaningless actions. There are only actions that I fail to discern their meaning. I regularly wake, drink, read, gather, dress, drive, arrive. And with each seamless transition from one action to the other to the next I bless the source of life who has opened my eyes, provided me with the strength to stand, to clothe myself, to make choices. My benign action verbs are cloaked by godliness. By the time I take my seat in shul I have opened myself up to a presence greater than myself, to a depth of meaning and being that I have barely begun to touch and to gratitude. Once I am wearing my tallit, I feel as if I have entered the heavenly assembly and imagine a radiant tallit of light and splendor hovering over the divine presense [Psalm 104] and I am still. For one timeless moment I feel the breadth and elegance of pure eternity and I am grateful.
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