I suspect this Rosh HaShanah, Like all too many before, Will find me seated in shul, Bored. There have been those very Rare exceptions — a new place, A new hazzan, a new rabbi, a new Moment The rare, sometimes sad, exception. Mostly though long services, Arcane liturgy, the ups-and-downs, leave me Bored. Not completely, I should note, for if So, if always bored, I’d not show Up at all, not even for the illuminating Moment. I’ll go to shul, and settle in my seat And wait, hope, pray for some Little fragment to create a little wonder for a Moment. Perhaps a tune, or some quip, An aside, maybe even some else’s Gasp, awaiting a surprise, a moment’s Shock. My attention claimed in the moment; I’ll push aside the bored and recall My great privilege to simply be there and Here. On Rosh HaShanah morning, I’ll be in A room with some who pay attention, And others bored, and my thoughts Wandering And I’ll sing along; noting The miracle that we are all just There, and here, and in this Antique rite the bored are bonded To the past, and aching for the future: The new day, the new year, perhaps The promised new world: A world, finally, full of Wholeness of Being.
Happy New Year to you and yours. I hope this year you are inspired by the age-old tunes and melodies. Read the words. Find new meaning. Sing or hum along with the hazzan. Watch the people around you and see how they react. Most of all, take comfort from the congregation around you, all of whom come for some reason.
Happy New Year to you and yours. I hope this year you are inspired by the age-old tunes and melodies. Read the words. Find new meaning. Sing or hum along with the hazzan. Watch the people around you and see how they react. Most of all, take comfort from the congregation around you, all of whom come for some reason.