GRATEFUL FOR "WORDS"

I had a hard time praying this morning.After a sleepless night, I was tired and found it near impossible to enter into the realm of understanding and experiencing the morning service.Usually I make great efforts to transcend the words of prayer and touch on their inner meaning. This morning I felt a different impulse. This time I recited the words slowly and carefully, as if they were components of a sacred poem.This time I let the words themselves do the spiritual driving to a destination of holiness. I listened carefully to the sounds of syllables, to the words' cadences, to the rhyming, rhythm and meter arrangement of the words; I leisurely lounged in the language, immersed in flowing words of the Holy Tongue.
For some mysterious reason, the words were lovely, a form of music rushing through my mind.The words were more than mechanical intonations, magical in their intention. I had no illusion that mere recitation would somehow alter reality , vehicles of incantation that carry magical powers. Rather it was the melody of words, their inherent music and poetry, that captured my attentiveness on this morning of fatigue and restlessness.
I whispered: "Here are the words, God, do with them as You wish. I hope they please You.!"

GRATEFUL FOR SIMPLE FAITH

I saw her at the morning minyan ,dressed in black, almost invisible. Her morning greeting was close to inaudible. It was the week of mourning, the shiva period, and she attended services to recite kaddish, the mourner's special expression of praise amidst sorrow.
I noticed how her lips moved carefully but quietly, like Hannah of the Bible, immersed in her devotion to the careful recitation of each word, without the latitude taken by others of slurring over or omitting words in their haste to complete their prayers quickly.
She lagged behind the others whose timetables trounced the poetry of prayer, changing the prayer from words of elevation to wheels of acceleration.
I had the distinct impression that would God reveal Herself at that moment declaring -" I do not exist!"-she would pay Him no heed but continue uttering the holy words as if each one contained the entire universe within its tiny scope.
I stopped my prayer for a moment, and as I gazed upon this image of simple devotion I was overcome by a subtle yet forceful feeling of envy-such faith, such simplicity, such devotion.
There was no trace of cynicism, doubt, anger, or philosophical misgivings. She prayed with utter conviction,each word a magnet that drew in her heart and soul.
I, by contrast, prayed beset by compromise-questions, doubts, feelings of God's elusive presence if not total concealment. Words of the prayer book were meant to analyze, to interpret, to free associate with; before me sat a woman stooped over her prayer book , a giant of humble and simple faith. In spite of my envy, I was grateful for the momentary awareness of such authentic faith. At least it served as a reminder that such faith was deeply recessed in all of us; our challenge would be to invite it back to our souls.

GRATEFUL FOR "HEAVY TRAFFIC?"

This morning was no different from any other morning except that I joined the endless caravan of cars inching along Route 46 to cross the GWB into Manhattan. As we stopped and started a myriad of times, I imagined the quiet impatience and frustration of those undaunted spirits who do this every morning of every week ; I was thankful that I did not need to subject myself to this inevitability.
Yet, the slowness of movement afforded me the opportunity to have my breakfast in an unhurried and aware state of mind. I was able to slowly and intentionally pay attention to what I was eating and increase my gratitude for the delicious steel cut oatmeal mixed with strawberries and blueberries in my cup. I was not distracted to the point of not paying sufficient attention to the road or the cars in front of me;having breakfast was certainly less of a distraction than texting or speaking on a cell phone! The snail's pace flow of traffic allowed for a level of relaxed driving that only furthered my general sense of concentration on everything around me-the clear blue sky, the shining sun, the sharp greens of trees hanging over the road, and the delight of my breakfast meal.
Instead of agitation that often accompanies this situation of vehicular tie-ups, I knew that I would not be late to my destination and was able to derive much pleasure from this circumstance of being "stuck in traffic!" I had time that was held in abeyance, awaiting my inner input.There were no external options to entertain-I was alone with only a choice I could make within the recesses of my thinking and awareness.
I discovered a simple way to be grateful for what was and for nothing more.
We often find ourselves stuck in one place or another, by one circumstance or another. When there are no options ,what remains is our mind and our capacity to pay attention and be astonished by even a single strawberry in our cup of life.

GRATITUDE-SEEING THE WORLD AS ABUNDANT

My family has just celebrated my son's 27th birthday. It was modest and lovely, and satisfied his expectations.Needless to say, we were all grateful. Yet, curiously, I found it difficult to fully enter into the awareness of gratitude. It remained a cerebral consciousness rather than one deeply felt.
I wondered why.
After much thought and contemplation it occurred to me that perhaps our difficulty with feeling grateful has less to do with not having enough and more to do with having too much, and not being able to properly register or spiritually ingest the fullness and totality of all the gifts bestowed upon us.
When a birthday is celebrated we are thankful for the safe arrival of the celebrant to that moment in one's life. If we stop to analyze all the components that enter into that journey of safety and security, we cannot avoid being entirely overwhelmed. Each moment, each encounter, each exposure, each happenstance, the myriad moments of sunshine and rain, of winter and spring, of work and play, of conflict and cooperation, of regression and progress, of slipping and gaining a new foothold, of new insights and ideas, of feeling the unchanging love and support of family and friends. So much-and thus I begin to understand the words of our Sabbath morning prayer- "Could song fill our mouth as water fills the sea
could our lips utter praise as limitless as the sky,
could our eyes match the splendor of the sun
could we run with gentle grace as the swiftest deer...
Never could we fully state our gratitude..."

The spiritual challenge remains, on every birthday and special occasion and in fact on every day of our lives to pause and peer into the mystery and wonder of being alive and allowing our hearts to say thank you.
Thank you for the countless blessings in my son's 27 years of life.

GRATEFUL FOR MY "MINYAN BUDDIES"

It became evident to me this morning that I had omitted another important reason for gratitude associated with the "minyan." Usually, at the conclusion of the service, its members dash away to work or to other required destinations. Occasionally, a few linger.This morning I stayed behind and together with humorous and witty exchanges with some of my "buddies" I asked my professor "Buddy" for some suggestions regarding my work on a Passover Haggadah whose theme is that of gratefulness.In the course of our discussion I grew excited and re-energized: new and creative ideas filled the quiet of the early morning and i realized how grateful I am to have at my fingertips such a wealth of human knowledge, wisdom and creativity. How reassuring it was to know that in the event of some personal or professional challenge or difficulty, the "Minyan'" encompasses resources of such extraordinary value and assistance.
I thank my "buddies" for their interest, their support and their many wonderful suggestions.Indeed, it takes a "minyan" to raise not only a child but an adult as well.
We parted with the Yiddish words echoing in my ears: "a gebensched tog"-have a blessed day.
It certainly started off that way!

GRATEFUL FOR THE "MINYAN."

The rabbi of my local synagogue reached out for help with the daily morning minyan, the quorum of ten adult Jews necessary for the conduct of the full morning service and indispensable for reciting Kaddish, the prayer of praise recited by mourners during the bereavement period. I volunteered, fully understanding how crushing an emotional experience it can be for a mourner not to be able to recite the kaddish-the guilt, the disappointment, the feeling of not being able to show one's love and respect for a parent or other loved one.
Time and again the rabbi graciously expressed how grateful he was for my participation.
After having attended for several months, I now increasingly recognize my own sense of gratefulness to him, to the synagogue and especially to the loyal members of this special group of people who , rain or shine, blizzard or gentle breezes, arrive at the synagogue at 7:00 am each weekday morning.
Thankfully I am not a mourner. Why am I grateful?
I am grateful for the blessing of beginning my day surrounded by fellow Jews in prayer shawl and phylacteries-talis and tefillin, who share sacred words and rituals that help me greet the new day with faith and joy.
I am grateful for the new found friends, one of whom not only brings welcome laughter to my heart, but elicits warm nostalgia of a world gone by, the world of Yiddish and the yeshiva that I attended in my youth and challenges my mind with profound insights about Judaism, psychiatry and life in general.
I am grateful for the inspiration derived from the devotion of the minyan's mainstay who at almost 90 years of age never fails to energize its participants.
I am grateful for a connection to a microcosm of my people with whom to exchange concerns about Israel, America and the world.
I am grateful for those who somehow know all there is about local affairs and make this information available to all. A bit of friendly gossip is, after all ,harmless and quite entertaining.
I am grateful for the opportunity to give a little charity-zedakah, for a worthy cause as the puschke, the alms box , is passed around each day.
I am grateful for a setting and community that leaves me happier, less anxious and more hopeful after a brief half-hour of worship together.
I am grateful knowing as long as there is a minyan, I will never be alone.
Literally, the word minyan means "counting."I am grateful that no matter how insecure, inadequate or unworthy I may feel, there is a place where I count-the minyan.
V'al kulam-for all this, modim anachnu lach-We thank You.

GRATEFUL FOR SPRING IN NEW YORK

A picture is worth a thousand words-moreover, how can one describe in words the beauty of a flower or a tree? How do words capture the magnificence of a spring day in Manhattan?
Faced with this difficulty, I share with you several photographs of New York in spring in the hope that they will elicit some feeling of gratitude for being alive in the springtime in New York or any where else for that matter.