Seven hours after the terrorist attack in Jerusalem outside the central bus station, I received an email from a Jerusalem-based colleague. He commented about being able to hear the bomb explode from two miles away, the walls and streets shaking from the 3 kilogram bomb hidden inside a suitcase that sat next to a phone booth. This rabbi reported that after the initial blast and the subsequent siren shrieks as medical and army personnel rushed to aid the victims, most people in Israel made calls to loved ones to check in, just to be sure everyone in the family is accounted for. Now seven hours later he commented that everything was back to normal, whatever that means today.
That phrase stuck with me overnight. Back to normal. Whatever that means. Each week—almost each day—something seemingly terrifying occurs that in and of itself seems tragic and disastrous, but when coupled with the other ongoing catastrophes in the world around us, it would seem as if Armageddon is wrapping its knuckles on humanity’s door. Wars throughout the world. Natural disasters. Crimes against people. Bickering and infighting amongst people and against their governments. There is drought and famine, flooding and death. One cannot pick up the newspaper or watch the news cycle without fearing what might happen next. And to miss the news means to fall behind on the latest calamities.
So what do we do? How can we take a collective breath, that sigh of relief or nervous laugh that comes from knowing it is too much, too overwhelming to even think about?
I think about blessings.
It might be cold outside, but I notice that the sun came up, and despite the undercurrent to the contrary, the world has lasted another day.
I see the robin with the red breast and know that Spring is here, another season developing from the one past, serving as a bridge to the summer.
I think back to the warm hamantaschen my B’nai Mitzvah seminar students tried to make last week (which came out as cookies! Thanks to Rebecca Lipschitz for trying to work with them!).
I hear the raucous banging of drums and cymbals and guitars and groggers trying to blot out Haman’s name at Megillah reading.
I think of birthdays celebrated this week.
And I think of the members of our shul hospitalized temporarily this week and now recuperating at home.
For each of these I offer a blessing. I thank God that I can be here today to celebrate life and the world in which we live. Perhaps that is not normal. But it gets me through today.
I don’t know what tomorrow brings, but I am grateful for today.
May we all see peace and happiness in the days ahead.
Shabbat Shalom.
