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Friday, January 30, 2015

A Parable




                                                            Ma’ayan Sands- A Parable
This offering was originally written as a final project for a class in Tefillah.  I don’t know why I was drawn to offer a home woven parable…about prayer, no less?!  What I realized is that I’m not sure it is possible to transmit a story about prayer.  Isn’t praying itself what we do when we can’t transmit our feelings in a story?  I don’t think my offering is a successful parable but I’m pretty sure that my quest for a parable about prayer IS itself, the parable about prayer.

 משל: (a parable) Once upon a time, not so long ago and not so far away, there lived a man.  He lived alone in a humble house in a small neighborhood outside of the city.  His house was surrounded by trees.  The air was constantly filled with the noise of birds calling to each other.   In the fall the woods became messy with fallen leaves.  But the man never noticed anything or anybody around him.  Near his house was a small, pond with fish swimming in it.  The stillness of the woods was annoying to him. The birds made too much noise and the silvery orange fish in the pond were too silent.  He never felt excited by the possibility of something unexpected happening.  His heart was never stirred.  He was numb to everything and everybody.  He never worried that something bad might happen. Nothing ever happened.  
     There was a synagogue in the neighboring town.  The rabbi was a kind man who was learned but not wise.  The man dutifully went to pray at the appointed time every day. He put on all of his prayer paraphernalia just as he had learned from his father and he never missed saying the appropriate blessings.  He praised God according to the words on the page, he asked for the needs of the community exactly as they were written in the prayer book and he sang of God’s greatness respectfully, saying the words as they were written with the rest of his community.  His heart was never stirred.  When he was blessed with an Aliyah he always gave an appropriate contribution to the shul.  On one particular Shabbat when he was given an Aliya he became aware of feelings unfamiliar to him.   He felt a twinge of excitement.  He was aware of his heart beating and he felt a twinge of excited anticipation.  His prayer also felt different as the time for his Aliya approached.  The man next to him was also given an Aliya.  When he glanced at his neighbor, that man glanced back.  Briefly, the man felt that he shared something with the other man.  They were somehow connected in a way that they hadn’t been before.  The man felt that he was part of something bigger than himself.
     As the next Shabbos approached, the man began to think about the feeling of excitement he had when he and the man next to him had glanced at each other.  He had liked it.  Maybe he would feel that connection again this Shabbat.  .  He wanted to observe a bit more of the world around him and decided to take a longer route than his usual direct walk to the shul.   His heart and mind felt more open and stimulated than they had before. As he approached the center of his town he saw a man staggering down the sidewalk.  As he watched the man tripped over the curb and fell into the street.   He had been holding a brown paper bag in his hand.  When he fell, the bottle inside broke and the liquid spilled across the sidewalk.  “He’s drunk” the man thought.  He felt distain until…two girls rushed from across the street and cried: “It’s Daddy! Please help!  He’s ill.”  The man felt an energy that was not familiar to him.  He and several others near him, rushed to the girls and their Dad lying on the ground.  The man crouched down near the man’s head.  He told him to lie still that help was coming.  The man looked into the eyes of the man lying on the ground-who looked back at him.  The man felt connected.  He felt grateful that he was able to help.  He looked around at the other people who had stopped doing what they were doing, took a detour from where they were going and were working together to help the fallen man and his daughters.  He looked back at the fallen man who seemed both afraid and also comforted by the caring of the man and the others.  The police took the fallen man to the hospital.  Our friend lingered.  He was aware of the power of the feelings that were flowing through him.  And he felt his heart stir. He had been able to help. He was part of a small community of people who cared enough to stop and help a stranger.  Our friend slowly stood up.  He looked around him.  His surroundings felt different from before.  There was a magical feeling in the air.  Without thinking about it, the man silently looked up and uttered thanks for having been in that place, at that time.  As the man walked toward his shul, he felt open; a small but significant part of a whole that was greater than all of them together. The “Aliya friend” came and sat next to him.  They exchanged a warm smile. That morning his experience of prayer was very different for him.  When he blessed and praised God his prayers come from a deep place within him.  He felt gratitude to God.  He stood a little taller and sang a little louder.  He felt embraced.
     The man walked home from shul that day through his woods.  As he entered them, he was aware of how alive his woods were.  He felt embraced by the energy of nature around him.  He heard the chirping birds who seemed to call out their desire to connect with each other, with the trees and… with the man.  He was available to them.  He took a few minutes to watch the fish.  He saw with his heart that they were not silent as he had thought, but engaged in a gentle conversation each one with the other. The man had been touched by Torah-a living Torah and it transformed him.  The eyes of another plus gratitude had exposed the spiritual resource door within our friend. The Divine had been awakened within him. Nothing was the same as it had been the day before. 

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