Dear TBT Friends,
It’s trivia time! Could you name the very first letter in the Torah? It’s a bet, the second letter of the Hebrew alef-bet. Take a look at this letter:
ב
The ancient sages wondered why the Torah begins with this particular letter. One answer: its shape, closed on all sides except for its forward-facing left (we read Hebrew from right to left), reminds us to focus on that which is in front of us. Have you ever heard that the windshield is larger than the rearview mirror for a reason? I think this is a similar idea.
This season is full of endings and new beginnings: graduations, weddings; leadership transitions. Summer is just around the corner. Perhaps we’ve begun a new professional role, or recently welcomed a new member of the family. Occasions like these fill our hearts with excitement and hope.
At the same time, we are deeply aware of the losses of the past two years: milestones postponed; family gatherings canceled; loved ones who are no longer with us. It is impossible to move into the future without carrying the weight of these losses. Judaism also values memory of life’s hardships. Remember how Moses, seeing the Israelites worshiping a golden calf, threw down the tablets of the ten commandments in anger? According to the Midrash, the Israelites carried those broken fragments in the Ark of the Covenant right underneath the second versions that Moses carved. The broken pieces from our past become part of us.
I would contend that it is precisely because of this imperative to remember, that our ancient teachers direct our attention to the present moment. “Im lo achshav, eimatai?” asks the great sage Hillel — If not now, when? We keep our eyes focused on where we are, now. We acknowledge unmet expectations and unrealized hopes. We may find it impossible (or unhelpful) to jettison these lived realities. But they don’t need to weigh us down; rather, they occupy their own little corner of our psyche, like the rearview mirror, in balance with all that lies ahead.
Shalom,
Rabbi Danny Moss