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Throughout the pandemic, one of the hardest things to deal with seems to be the passage of time. Weeks and months have blurred together causing us to seek out and hang on to fixed signposts along the way to tell us not where we are but when we are. The rhythm of time is something we need. How many times have we gotten done with a day and said “Thank God I can start again tomorrow.” (or next week, or next month)? During these blurry times, it’s hard to get that mental sense of reset or reboot.

Last week we began once again our annual reading of Torah. The Torah ends at such a dramatic moment-Moses standing atop Mount Nebo addressing the Israelites who will cross into the Promised Land after 40 years of traversing the desert with all the trials and tribulations it brought. His charge is long and impassioned and the culmination of his leadership; the narrative of the prior three books of the Torah. His sermon finally ends at the end of Deuteronomy and he dies.

And then, we magically get a reboot. We go back to Genesis. Our annual rhythm begins not with an impassioned sermon, but with a blank slate, and all the potential of humanity embedded into the creation of the universe.

During this time, I find myself leaning into the creation story more than usual. What will this beginning look like and how can I draw strength from it? How can my spirit, not unlike our biblical ancestors’, root me and help me to look forward into the unknown? We now begin again that familiar story of self-discovery, enslavement, freedom and actualization. And despite it or because of it all, every year we make it to the Promised Land. Not without bumps and bruises, but we do. Let that be our source of strength. Let that be our source of hope.

Shabbat Shalom,

Beth