The check tire light came on my car's dashboard yesterday. Nonetheless,
I drove to and from Temple Shalom of Newton twice,
about 2 hours of driving, nearly 50 miles.
Perhaps I'd run over a nail,
perhaps it was finally time for new tires,
clearly, at least one tire was deflated...
But I ignored the light.
Only in the midst of Shabbat services
did I realize the metaphor of what it illuminated -
a message for all of us in these times.
I imagine it was trying to tell me, to tell us:
Stop. Pay attention.
You have been punctured, your are tired, you are deflated.
Stop. Pay attention.
We have been punctured, we are tired, we are deflated.
After a few weeks of watching loved ones and us suffer from the Supreme Court decisions, the Highland Park Shooting, we had Covid, errant neighborhood fireworks terrifying Joey, an abundance of fun but exhausting travel:
Stop, Jen.
You have been punctured, you are tired, you are deflated.
Punctured. Tired. Exhausted. Deflated.
And then in the warm up of Kabbalat Shabbat,
I realized what it meant.
Stop, Jen. Pay attention. Breathe.
Oh yes. Hello, Shabbat.
Stop. Stop working. Stop shlepping. Breathe.
Refill. Re-Soul.
Off the cuff, I offered a version of this Kavana during Shabbat services;
a congregant, Barry, came up to me after:
"I carry an air pump in my car. Want me to check your tires?"
And as I came out from services,
he was there checking my car and refilling the tires for me.
Stop. Pay attention.
We have been punctured, we are tired, we are exhausted, we are deflated.
Refill. Re-Soul.
But in community.
Let us - the punctured, the deflated -
nevertheless find the strength
to stop, to breathe, to refill, to Re-Soul -
the tired hearts of one another.
Shabbat Shalom.
Coming to you live from my favorite place to spend Shabbat - the Wellesley Toyota Quiet Room.