The Winter of our Hearts

Let’s face it January is dull.

Once you slip past the noise and commotion of New Years, it is a let –down.  Most of the trees have long been drained of their foliage.  They stand stark, like a lonely vigil on front lawns gallantly facing the unrelenting shuddering cold.  Like the few adventurous souls that dare to venture out into the street, they shiver against the battering torrents of wind.

This season is hard on the eyes.  What can possibility catch our attention?  The brown withered grass?  The lifeless forms that are frozen on to stems that once harbored myriad colors and blossoms?  Now all are shades of brown and gray.  Visually the world becomes a blur.  Subconsciously we try to ignore winter’s darkness.

Quite a few years ago I led a group of USY’ers (United Synagogue Youth members) from New York to California and back.  During that summer we stopped at the Grand Canyon.  We arrived at night and told our charges to get a full and early night as we had a surprise the next morning.  True to word, at 4 AM I began knocking on doors to awaken our sleepy crew.  Shuffling along, eyes minimally open, the weary pilgrims trudged toward a precipice that overlooked the canyon.  Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the sun crept up to illumine faces full of wonder and awe.  As the group gathered momentum in the Shacharit service there was a glow from another source, not only the sun.

It is wondrous to witness what God’s hand has wrought.  Every now and again, we are jarred from complacency by an act of utter wonder.  On those occasions, awe enters into the deepest recesses of our soul and the wonder becomes palpable.

If there is such a thing as a “religious season” it would be spring. At that time, we observe the most obvious forces of God’s gift to us.  The wonder of nature renewed is testimony to the endless cycles set into motion by the Holy One, Blessed be He.  But what of winter?  Appreciating the Lord’s work is far easier watching the sun rise over the Grand Canyon that sitting in the chilly stillness of January.

Soon will come a little-known holiday, Tevet 21.  On this date in 1690 the community of Ancona, Italy was shaken to its foundations, a wholly unexpected  earthquake.  Miraculously the Jewish community survived unscathed.  To give thanks for having been spared, the Jewish residents of Ancona declared Tevet 21 to be celebrated as new Purim.  Each successive year the members of that community come to the synagogue to say prayers of thanksgiving for their lives.

As the sun sets markedly earlier these days and while the daylight hours are cold and harsh, the lessons of our forbears moves us to pause and listen.  The cycle of nature has not ceased.  The wind will still blow.  The rain continues to fall.  We have been maintained among the living.  God’s Presence has not left us.

“Blessed are You, Lord God, King of the universe, source of all creation.”