Please bring me this day

ב׳׳ה

Please bring me this day

I want to live a moment
when I truly know You,
when all of me swims
in the depths of You,
when I’m no longer reaching
for I’m already held,
Your Love washing over me
’til I’m unable to make sound.

I want to breathe in Your breath
and push when You pull,
to walk in sync with
Your sacred steps,
to know there’s no moment
when We are not One,
when I cannot look and find You.

Please bring me this day, Gd,
as I’m praising Your name
and sanctifying this mortal life,
for in Your Wisdom You placed me
right here inside You
that I might let go of my self,
and thereby become
more able to love others,
who thru You are a part of my Self.

al-Rawdah mosque

ב׳׳ה

al-Rawdah mosque (internet screenshot)

It’s been more than a week and I can’t stop thinking about al-Rawdah mosque in northern Sinai . . .

. . . about the hundreds of Sufi who died when they went to pray.

. . . about the unimaginable grief being experienced by that entire community (where undoubtedly everyone knew someone who died).

. . . about the fact that they were killed because religious extremists labeled them “heretics.”

A heretic is a person who maintains an opinion or doctrine at variance with the orthodox or accepted religious doctrine.

By that definition, I’m a heretic.

I’m a Jewish mystic . . . a Kabbalist, a neo-Hasid . . . who has many opinions at variance with orthodox doctrine . . . but who nonetheless is very attached to Gd and Torah.

And maybe that’s why the deaths of those praying Sufi have stuck with me — because I see myself in them and them in me. They held views different from the fundamentalists who killed them, but they were very attached to Gd and Quran.

A few days ago, after I prayed and thought about those who had died, I wrote this poem about Rabi’a al-Adawiyya, a Sufi Saint who lived more than a thousand years ago and whose writings never fail to open my heart to the Infinite Ocean of Love that is the Gd we share:

Rabi’a and me
Rabi’a al-Adawiyya, they’d allege, was a heretic like me. She a Sufi, me a Kabbalist, a distinction irrelevant to Thee. She’d “burn down Heaven and put out the fires of Hell” for there’s only this moment, so we better live it well. Look past the dogma to see the real Truth. Surrender to the Infinite and therein find proof. Swim in the Love that sets souls free, and share it with others, Rabi’a al-Adawiyya and me.

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May we each, in our own ways, find moments of connection with those who may appear different from us, so that speedily and soon our world might know greater peace between all peoples, jen

The Road to Damascus

ב׳׳ה

The Road to Damascus

The Road to Damascus passed my way. The Light was blinding, and I fell down to pray. But the vision I had was different from Saul, as for me there was no voice at all. Instead I could see that we are all Inside, connected by a web from which we can’t hide, and inside this web with me and you, are Jesus, Mohammed, and Buddha too. For Gd’s plan is bigger than one religion or people, so when your call comes –be it from minaret or steeple– kneel yourself down and take a few moments to pray, thank Gd for multiple paths to help us find our way, because part of the message to Saul was in the message to me — Don’t persecute others for how they find Thee!

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For those who don’t know the story of Saul, a devout Jew who persecuted early Christians, the text is available here.

May this be a week of peace between religions and peoples, jen

this great eternal day

ב׳׳ה

this great eternal day

I live for those moments when I truly know You, when my spirit dances to Your Song, the Song being sung by heavenly hosts, as even the tiniest of crickets chirps along. Hearing the Song, I can see the Unity, the Force ebbs and flows but it never goes away, connecting all life, one to another, here inside You, this great eternal day…

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enjoy the day!! jen

Boat of Eternity

ב׳׳ה


Boat of Eternity
I close my eyes and
there I find You —
my Passion, my Spirit, my Song.
You carry me through,
one day to the next,
Boat of Eternity gently slipping along.
Some days there are big waves,
other days rocky shores,
but I’ve learned to just hold fast to You,
for then, come what may,
I can be Dancing,
I can laugh at the wind and the rain,
knowing there’s no love
as unfailing as Your Love,
and after my death,
We’ll still have infinite days.

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shabbat shalom to all, jen

sacred communion

ב׳׳ה

sacred communion
When I open my soul
and allow my eyes to truly see,
nothing in this world is not You.
The sunrise, the mosquito,
the joy, and the heartache,
all of it leads back to You.
I can embrace without judgment,
I can love without doubting,
in eternal moments of sacred communion,
when You look at You
through eyes that are mine,
and feel my rapture at Your brief reunion.

“What do you see?”

ב׳׳ה

Yesterday, my five-year-old son asked if I would play with him. When I said yes, he put his forehead against mine, we looked into one another’s nearly-singular cyclops eye, and then, holding my head in his hands, he backed his face away and said, “What do you see?”

I had no idea where this game was going, so I said, “my monkey?,” which is what I call him when he climbs all over me.

“Nope!,” he said, putting his forehead against mine. We laughed together and then, just as before, he pulled away asking, “What do you see?”

I guessed “a chicken!” because sometimes I call him “chicken pants” . . . for some reason I no longer remember.

He said, “Nope!,” and the game continued just the same as I guessed a number of animals, fruits, and vegetables, all of which were, to his amusement, wrong.

Finally, I said, “Can you help me out a little?” He said, “Sure! You ask me this time!” So we looked at each other’s cyclops eye, and as he pulled his head away I asked, “What do you see?”

And he said, “Myself!”

We hugged, and I said, “Yes, son, you see yourself in me, and I see myself in you too.”

What a blessed moment of connection it is when we see ourselves in another — whether parents and children who share physical features, or any two people who see their personality, philosophy, or life experiences reflected in another — because those moments of connection can, if we choose to let them, be entrances to moments of wonder about the Infinite One . . . who connects us all to one another.

shavua tov, jen