The primary indicator of Autumn’s arrival is all about the tree outside the Administrative entrance to our temple. It starts to turn colors – glorious colors! – at least 10 days before all the other trees. This is at least partly due to the halogen light that shines through the leafy boughs, speeding the transition.
As I walk towards the entrance, I see it, as if for the first time. And it’s always such a shock and surprise. It resonates with almost the same intensity as the first day of school, or when I sound the shofar. We’re here, for the first time – again.
For all the encounters of a lifetime and the new experiences that are often so exciting, there is something about the cycle of the year that I love. The cycles of life are reassuring: so definite, so clearly demarcated. To know something about what’s coming – the next holiday, the solstice, an anniversary – is solace for living in a world where we can know practically nothing else about the next day or even the next hour.
The regular rhythms of life keep us rooted. It’s one of the themes in Marc Chagall’s work. If we don’t have an anchor, we might float away!
The cycles of life are not just anchors. They actually provide opportunities to engage in the sacredness of life itself. Not just the big moments, like b’nai mitzvah or weddings, but moments like seeing the Fall foliage for the first time. Or the first time you pull out a sweater to wear. Or after your annual physical. Or carving your pumpkin.
The point is, we return to these moments again and again. As much as we may have changed over the past x years of our lives, these things stay the same; comfortable, familiar, blessed. By acknowledging them, paying attention to them, we give thanks for still being around to appreciate them.
In the Jewish tradition, there is the custom of reciting 100 blessings a day. For Jews who daven every day, this really isn’t so hard. In fact, the Aish.com website breaks it down mathematically. But for post-modern Jews, it’s a lot more challenging. The fact is that looking at the common things that cycle through our lives gives us opportunities to reflect, show gratitude, and then give thanks: for the miracle of our senses, the capacity to love, to age in health, to be cared for, for life itself.
The leaves are falling, and soon the trees will be bare. The winds will howl and winter will come: cold, snowy, slippery. And just as you begin to despair you will see a crocus, daring to show it’s tiny, fragile bud. And you will say, thank you; thank you for reminding me that the world continues to turn, the seasons change, and that I am blessed to be a witness.
Before Shabbat 