We All Fall Down

If ever there were a card identified as a wake-up call... 

One interesting thing about a shofar blast is that it has a multitude of meanings. It is said that a shofar sounded at Sinai when Torah was given to the Jewish People, and that a shofar will sound when the Messiah comes. It also reminds us of the destruction of the Holy Temple, and the judgment we will face all too soon.

The Tower, too, can warn us of impending doom, or remind us of what we have lost. And while it may not look that way, the Tower can also be the sign of positive change. Because even positive changes shake everything up. They turn our worlds upside down.

And Tower moments have a way of stripping us down like Elul, of showing us who we really are. That revelation, in and of itself, often feels like a Tower moment, a terrifying lightning-strike changing everything.

In the Psalm we read this month, which we've been working through in small pieces every day in this email, the author considers their relationship with God. 

The Psalm begins with faith and fearlessness. "God is on my side, why would I be afraid?" The Psalmist goes on to describe all of the things they are not afraid of, and to explain that they place their trust in God in their seeking of holiness, through action and meditation. 

But in today's verse, the Psalmist sounds very afraid, nearly panicked at the idea (where does it come from?) that God would turn away, despite the past, would leave someone alone with their pain. 

When we face cataclysmic shifts, when our worlds turn upside down, our stomach drops, and we begin to feel like we're falling from a great height, it's easy to feel abandoned, to feel alone. We lose sight, for a moment, of the horizon line, and we forget how it all connects.

What is real and what is not? When everything I know is changing, how can I trust anything? 

The Psalmist already knows the answer; they gave it to us a couple of verses ago.

In order to get through our Tower moments, we must put our trust not in a person or anthropomorphized deity, and certainly not in our own selves, but rather in the search for holiness.

I don't mean moral perfection. I mean the deep goodness that permeates creation, the spark of life, the connectedness of all things.

Perhaps we begin to feel abandoned when we stop recognizing it, when we stop looking, or when something clouds our vision and hides God’s face from us.

But we cannot be cast off.

In our Tower moments, God is there. Not the patriarchal God who reaches out a hand and changes our circumstances, who holds punishment and reward out like a carrot and a stick, who plays chess with the Universe.

The God that is there, present with us in our tumult and our despair, in the upheavals that threaten everything we love, or at least everything that we know, is the God that ispresence, is ONE.

Part and parcel with the Universe and then a little bit more on top of that. That holiness we are stretching for. The next advance, the next move toward wholeness, the call we are listening for.

And those things don’t go away in our sorrow or our fear; instead they get louder. Sometimes when we are grieving, they simply sound like static. But they’re there, waiting for us to TURN, to open, to pay attention, to seek them out.

This is our last email for the week, and I invite you to take some time today to explore your grief. Name what you are losing right now, what you've already lost. Acknowledge these cataclysmic shifts, and admit that they are damned hard, even if they're 'supposed' to be good changes. 

And notice, in the midst of all of this, that you are not alone. Perhaps this piece can be saved for Shabbat, which is meant to be a day of joy and connection.

You are held by the earth, infused with air in each breath, surrounded by light (and maybe warmth).

Your heart is beating, miraculously.

Your friends, your family, your housemates, your neighbors... all are connected, to you, and to one another (especially through you).

The lady bagging your groceries, the man begging for change, the nonbinary 10 year old passing you on the sidewalk.... They are all in this, too. Sharing the air, the earth, the light. Their lives affect yours and your life affects theirs. This moment is different for each of you because the other is in it.

You are surrounded by holiness, and it's waiting for you, whenever you're ready.

Shabbat Shalom, Beloved.

Selah