In Hukkat, this past week's parasha, Moshe, Aaron, and Elazar, Aaron's son, are commanded by God to ascend a mountain, transfer Aaron's holy vestments to Elazar, and wait for Aaron to die. What did they talk about at that moment, wondered the rabbi in her d'var Torah? Had Aaron already spoken to his son about the responsibilities of the high priesthood, or were his words clouded by rushed tears and and regret as he awaited the hand of God? We have the gift, the rabbi reminded us, of a day set apart each week during which to have these kinds of conversations. We don't need to cram them in when time is short. On Shabbat we can replace words that fill up time with ones that define it, and mute the noise of work and worry to listen instead for sounds of nature and sky, and sing along.
All this got me thinking about this blog, and why I didn't write for a few weeks. As if crippled by the proverbial stumbling block, I just couldn't get words out of my fingers and on to the screen. The few that did manage to squeeze through were portentious and heavy. I was tripping over my own feet; life, even the good parts, just gets too crowded sometimes. But like Shabbat, this blog is here to assure that my words don't pile up like a big traffic jam and block the message instead of delivering it. Especially since I'm going to Israel three days from now (!!!), I realized I needed to start writing again or my brain might possibly explode.
More later--I'm off to a silent meditation walk in the park on this glorious, sunny day. Then back to work (cramming can also be a good thing; if I get all my projects done now, I can ponder holy words rather than websites for the next two weeks), and then, I hope, to write some more.