One of my favorite old stories is of the father who wanted to entertain his little daughter so he cut out a picture of the world from a newspaper and gave her the pieces to put together. “It's like a jigsaw puzzle,” he told her, and he figured it would keep her busy for a while so he could sit and read the rest of the paper.
But, in only a few moments, she proudly brought it to him all put together. “How did you get it together so quickly?” he asked. “Well,” said the little one, “on the other side of the picture of the world was a picture of a person. All I had to do was put the person together and the world took care of itself.”
I've been thinking about that story in recent weeks because the person is not together. Because it's not as easy to put the person together as we thought — because there is a deep brokenness, and that brokenness has exploded in violence and in rage and in terrible pain. The reality is that that brokenness and that violence, that rage, and that pain exist within each and every one of us.
There are those who would have us imagine that we can live in this world with just love. It's a wonderful image, except it's like living on this level of reality with just light and no shadow. It's like living on this level of reality just being able to inhale and never having to exhale, or having a heart that can expand and never has to contract.
On this level of reality, there is light and there is dark. There is love and there is hate. There is sweetness and there is bitterness. Our task is really not to deny one in favor of the other. Our task is to hold both in the arms of a greater compassion.
The Sabbath is a symbol of that wholeness in which both light and dark, up and down, soft and hard, pain and happiness can all be held as one. Shabbat is a vision of a world in which the violence doesn't have to express because it is met and it is acknowledged, it is shared and it is honored. We seek to affirm that wholeness in ourselves, that wholeness in each other, that wholeness in our world. Though it's a wholeness we do not yet see, we are among those who choose to affirm it, who choose to open to it, who choose even to celebrate it.
It's too soon for us to know the full impact of that which is unfolding. We are all touched, we are all involved. But if we are not ourselves to be part of the problem, we must dare a greater vision. We must open our hearts to the suffering, and we must open our hearts to the deep joy, and we must learn ourselves to treasure each moment we are given, to treasure each other, to celebrate ourselves as family and as friends and as community.
© 2001 Rabbi Ted Falcon, Ph.D. All rights reserved.
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