Wednesday, August 09, 2006
God provides.
That's the message I got today. A lot of people have heard my stories of continual "luckiness" that I seem to survive on, but "luck" is only a term of convenience. At some point I made a decision that my life was not random bits of coincidence strung together.
Today we celebrated Tu B'Av, the Jewish Valentine's Day. It's making a popular resurgence, and a group of HUC students organized Tu B'Av-o-grams at 5NIS a piece, delivered right to your valenti--I mean, your friend. It reminded me of unpleasant elementary school memories but I bought a bunch, hoping that if I made such a gesture I would inevitably get one in return. A small voice in the back of my head pointed out that rarely do I get what I'm expecting, and that I should send a Tu B'Av-o-gram out of the goodness of my Tu B'Av-o-heart.
And just like that, I received exactly one bag of candy with a paper heart attached from a fellow student, one who's in my class but I haven't hung out with very much. And I admit, seeing the stacks of hearts attached to some of my friends bags reinforced this idea that I feel like I'm in a sea of strangers. And not that I don't appreciate that one sweet gesture, but the demon of comparison reared his head. I spend at least 6 hours out of every day with these people; did only 1 person in 60 feel I'm worth five shekels? (That's about $1.05, FYI.)
And so did my day go from pretty good to an aching disappointment that I couldn't seem to shrug off. Anna and I did a little shopping around our apartment, and had a nice dinner, but I felt the weight of uselessness around my neck like the proverbial albatross.
We left after dinner for a torah study at school, and in Zion Square we ran into a friend of mine. He walked right up to me and gave me a big hug and said, "Thank you so much for the Tu B'Av-o-gram. It really meant a lot to me." We chatted for a minute, then continued on our way to school. We stopped to buy a few items and then wandered on towards campus. As we approached the black gate, a crowd of students walks up. As a cantorial student, I have keys to many of the doors and gates that are usually locked after 5pm, so my well-timed arrival saved eight students a five minute walk around the building. They all cheered my name as I walked up and thanked me for just being who I am: a cantorial student with a key to the gate.
And suddenly I felt better. Here I was mopey about being invisible and unliked, and God provides not one but two situations where people were honestly happy to see me and not ashamed to say thank you. It turned my whole day around, and both episodes couldn't have lasted more than five minutes together.
This is why I'm in cantorial school, why I moved Anna and myself halfway around the world. Because every day I see proof, in my heart undeniable proof that there exists a God who wants me to be happy for no reason that I can discern, and mostly just asks that I be a good person in return. Sounds like a fair deal to me.
That's the message I got today. A lot of people have heard my stories of continual "luckiness" that I seem to survive on, but "luck" is only a term of convenience. At some point I made a decision that my life was not random bits of coincidence strung together.
Today we celebrated Tu B'Av, the Jewish Valentine's Day. It's making a popular resurgence, and a group of HUC students organized Tu B'Av-o-grams at 5NIS a piece, delivered right to your valenti--I mean, your friend. It reminded me of unpleasant elementary school memories but I bought a bunch, hoping that if I made such a gesture I would inevitably get one in return. A small voice in the back of my head pointed out that rarely do I get what I'm expecting, and that I should send a Tu B'Av-o-gram out of the goodness of my Tu B'Av-o-heart.
And just like that, I received exactly one bag of candy with a paper heart attached from a fellow student, one who's in my class but I haven't hung out with very much. And I admit, seeing the stacks of hearts attached to some of my friends bags reinforced this idea that I feel like I'm in a sea of strangers. And not that I don't appreciate that one sweet gesture, but the demon of comparison reared his head. I spend at least 6 hours out of every day with these people; did only 1 person in 60 feel I'm worth five shekels? (That's about $1.05, FYI.)
And so did my day go from pretty good to an aching disappointment that I couldn't seem to shrug off. Anna and I did a little shopping around our apartment, and had a nice dinner, but I felt the weight of uselessness around my neck like the proverbial albatross.
We left after dinner for a torah study at school, and in Zion Square we ran into a friend of mine. He walked right up to me and gave me a big hug and said, "Thank you so much for the Tu B'Av-o-gram. It really meant a lot to me." We chatted for a minute, then continued on our way to school. We stopped to buy a few items and then wandered on towards campus. As we approached the black gate, a crowd of students walks up. As a cantorial student, I have keys to many of the doors and gates that are usually locked after 5pm, so my well-timed arrival saved eight students a five minute walk around the building. They all cheered my name as I walked up and thanked me for just being who I am: a cantorial student with a key to the gate.
And suddenly I felt better. Here I was mopey about being invisible and unliked, and God provides not one but two situations where people were honestly happy to see me and not ashamed to say thank you. It turned my whole day around, and both episodes couldn't have lasted more than five minutes together.
This is why I'm in cantorial school, why I moved Anna and myself halfway around the world. Because every day I see proof, in my heart undeniable proof that there exists a God who wants me to be happy for no reason that I can discern, and mostly just asks that I be a good person in return. Sounds like a fair deal to me.
