In our house, in the great room where we have our dinner
table, sit down and study table, the ‘everything’ or ‘all purpose’ space, there
is a light fixture with three lights and a ceiling fan attached. To turn on the lights, or the fan, you first
have to make sure that the ‘power’ switch is on, then you can turn on the
lights, turn on and adjust the fan. By
some quirk of wiring, if I turn off the lights and leave the ‘power’ switch on,
the lights will usually flicker. It
seems that some current still flows in the electrical veins, almost as though
the lights do not want to go out.
My quirky light fixture makes me think about tefillah/prayer
and Talmud Torah/Torah study and what happens when we are done with these
activities. When we close the Siddur, when
we close the book we are reading, do we stop thinking about what we
explored? Do we push it aside and move
back into our day, or does something from the prayer or the study still flicker
inside of us and give color and texture to the way we live out our day?
Ideally, I believe that something will stick with us, will
give us a way of seeing that is sharper than before we opened the books, and
opened our souls, even if we cannot point to one specific idea. It may simply be that we feel ‘opened up’ by
the possibility that there is something to learn, that there is
something out there that can challenge us to grow, to be a more sensitive and
thoughtful person today than we were yesterday.
Nighttime is only a shadow on the earth; the light of
creation still shines even though we cannot see it, it is ‘or zarua’, hidden
light that cannot be squelched by the shadow, a light that is shining all the
time from the sparks of holiness that are all around us, and inside of us. The prayers we say and the words we study are
like charcoal and wood for the fire that keep it burning, and the ‘oxygen’ of
God’s breath fans the flame.
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