Time is like a river; it flows and when we stop for a moment to contemplate it the water has already rushed by and has been replaced by other waters. The movement is unstoppable. We cannot hold onto time except in our minds.
Events of the past stand like immobile staves ensconced in the reaches of our memory. They are frozen on the landscape of personal history.
Our holy days are sacred because they endow time with a familiarity that warms us. Each time Passover comes we find ourselves nostalgic, evoking memories of years gone by.
High Holy Days, Hanukkah, the rotation of the ever-cycling year brings comfort in the face of an aging body and family.
When they come we open our doors and beckon them, “Welcome, old friend. I have missed you. Come in.”
No comments:
Post a Comment