Lately, I’ve been thinking of God. I don’t think my five or ten daily minutes compensate for the micro-mini-milliseconds that the Ein Sof allows for me, Since the divine mathemathics are such that those micro-mini-milliseconds from the Ein Sof, are an eternity. With my five or ten minutes I guess I get the better of the deal. So while He, sorry, the pronoun is engrained, Spends the micro-mini Infinity Giving me some heed, I, admittedly frivolously, image Him attending different synagogues on various occasions. I think He’d come in a fashionable minute or two late To avoid attracting any extra attention, He’d not want to make an appearance — He did that already at Sinai, and once was enough — He’d sit in the rear quiet, humbly, And recite the prayers along with us, Modified: “Bless Am I Who gives wisdom and understanding to distinguish between day and night…” He’d recite aloud, as is customary, but in a low voice to avoid attracting any extra attention, if one would overhear the textual variant. He came to shul, after all, to hang out with His people. To check in to get a sense if his infinite mini-micro-millimoment is time-eternity properly spent, although for Him, never actually spent, another theological conundrum I’ll leave to those who better calculate. Perhaps He’d come on Shabbat to an Israeli casual shul in white polo, shorts and sandals on a hot summer day down on the plains. Or elsewhere befurred in a striemel to the hasidiche shteibel where everyone is standing shoulder to shoulder awaiting the Rebbe. Or an elegant shul on an elegant avenue in an elegant city in a bespoke suit with an absolutely divine cut and fabric. Or maybe jeans and a white shirt joyful on the beach. Or my shul, a sports coat and khakis, no tie, comfortable shoes, ready to chat in an undertone when the service drags. He’d stick around to hear the rabbi speak but diplomatically refrain from any comments. He gave the Torah, the rest is our task. After services conclude, He’d patiently wait in line for the Kiddush lunch, and complement the staff even if the hallah was a bit stale, or the food bland, or if in a Sephardi bet knesset, overly spicy. He’d chat with folks who seem out of place or discomforted or even on Shabbat discouraged. He Himself might even don that appearance, Since, as we know, we’ve made a hash of the world: We might assume He’s a bit disappointed in our overall performance. The clincher, of course: we’d never know if our buddy, or that stranger, or the guy who gave me a hard time couple of weeks ago, Was The Divine Infinite Utterly and Absolutely One in disguise. So in my five or ten minute reverie I recall a moment when I might have actually met The Divine Infinite Utterly And Absolutely One and didn’t know it. Oh, well, Lord, give me a break. You’re pretty good at disguises. I’ve already made a hash of it. If You come to shul this shabbat, May I ask that You straighten me out? Thanks.
really enjoyed your writing.
where is the Divine?
thanks
Suzanne