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Dec. 3rd, 2013 12:25 pmThis morning I got a flat on the way to work. We found a little shard of metal in the tire when we pulled it off. So that was fun. The annoying part was that I had another tire with some shallow slashes on the sidewall and I had been planning to take it in to be checked out when I had the time, but was driving on it for the moment since it was working. And of course that was not the tire that died, so I ended up replacing two tires. And getting the oil changed, while I was at it.
I think my father, who is more superstitious/more open to seeing God's hand, would say that the flat tire, in a safe circumstance where it could easily be replaced, was perhaps Hashem's way of pushing me to take care of the other maintenance, which might otherwise have led to me having a dangerous blowout or other much less manageable car situation. And I suspect he would claim that the timing of this seeming misfortune was connected to my making a point to light the chanukiah last night despite coming in very late, and staying awake watching until the candles had all burned out.
I'm not so willing to envision God's hand like that. Not because I don't believe it is present, but because I don't believe I am smart enough, wise enough, perceptive enough to see it that clearly in a chain of events. In place of my father's neat sequence of events, I have to substitute sheer betach- trust that God's hand is looking out for me, even when it seems like I've been given a setback, and even when I can't easily point to a mechanical act of devotion I performed to deserve it. It is a lonelier kind of faith, my way, though I don't know if it is necessarily a more difficult kind of faith.
Faith, in general, I think, is more difficult than non-believers give it credit for being. Faith isn't just a matter of believing something you can't prove, something you can't see. Faith is believing something even when you face something that tests your faith. That is deeper than mere delusion, I believe. I think my father's kind of faith is just as difficult to summon, even if it rewards you with a neatness and a sense that there is a discernible order amid the chaos.
But I am stuck with my own path through the wilderness, and even though I suggested that my faith is perhaps lonelier than my father's, less littered with evidence of God's presence in my life, I do have signposts of my ineffable (I-Thou) communion with Hashem. And above all of them is the Torah, which suffuses my life with its living light.
Happy Chanukah to everyone!
I think my father, who is more superstitious/more open to seeing God's hand, would say that the flat tire, in a safe circumstance where it could easily be replaced, was perhaps Hashem's way of pushing me to take care of the other maintenance, which might otherwise have led to me having a dangerous blowout or other much less manageable car situation. And I suspect he would claim that the timing of this seeming misfortune was connected to my making a point to light the chanukiah last night despite coming in very late, and staying awake watching until the candles had all burned out.
I'm not so willing to envision God's hand like that. Not because I don't believe it is present, but because I don't believe I am smart enough, wise enough, perceptive enough to see it that clearly in a chain of events. In place of my father's neat sequence of events, I have to substitute sheer betach- trust that God's hand is looking out for me, even when it seems like I've been given a setback, and even when I can't easily point to a mechanical act of devotion I performed to deserve it. It is a lonelier kind of faith, my way, though I don't know if it is necessarily a more difficult kind of faith.
Faith, in general, I think, is more difficult than non-believers give it credit for being. Faith isn't just a matter of believing something you can't prove, something you can't see. Faith is believing something even when you face something that tests your faith. That is deeper than mere delusion, I believe. I think my father's kind of faith is just as difficult to summon, even if it rewards you with a neatness and a sense that there is a discernible order amid the chaos.
But I am stuck with my own path through the wilderness, and even though I suggested that my faith is perhaps lonelier than my father's, less littered with evidence of God's presence in my life, I do have signposts of my ineffable (I-Thou) communion with Hashem. And above all of them is the Torah, which suffuses my life with its living light.
Happy Chanukah to everyone!
