Kavvanah: The Accidental Reset and the Elul Moment

A curious thing happened to me a few nights ago.  I was re-installing some software on my computer, and my media player program suddenly decided that we were back in 2010.  After syncing (I know, that looks funny; do you prefer "synching"?) my mp3 device, I noticed that all of the podcasts were two years old.  I had what you might call an "Elul moment": Where am I?  What year is this?  Am I the same person I was two years ago?  Have I been replaying the same material for all of this time?

After some technical tinkering, I was able to convince my gadget that it was now 2012 (or maybe the end of 5772), and all was right again.  But lingering from the sudden bout of reflection was a kind of gratitude, a reassuring acknowledgment that in fact, no!  I am not who I was two years ago.  I have two more years of growth and change in my internal personnel files.

We grow incrementally, such that we often do not notice the ways in which we have changed.  But that is what the month of Elul is for -- reflection, evaluation, inventory.  How have you changed since last Elul?  Is it for the better?  If not, what can you do about it?


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson

My Laptop Doesn't Love Me Back! - Thursday Kavvanah, 1/26/2012

In anticipation of today's e-waste collection by the Town of North Hempstead, Judy and I decided late last night to clear out our old laptops.  So we fired 'em up to delete important items, and after a while they were ready to go.  Judy closed her erstwhile machine for the last time and sighed wistfully as she said goodbye.


How ironic, thought I.  Many of us communicate more with our devices than we do with each other, and so it makes sense for us to feel a sense of loss when an aging computer is put out to pasture.


But these are only tools; they are no more capable of loving or being loved than a hammer or an electric drill.  They (usually) do what we tell them to do, no more or less.  


By contrast, the bonds that we make with people are much more complicated and much deeper.  And all the more so with God; the modern Jewish philosopher Martin Buber describes the relationship with God as being the most intimate, the only partner upon which we place no conditions.


We will not be sitting shiv'ah (the seven day Jewish mourning period) for our discarded computers.  But as I reconsider my relationships with my current devices, I am grateful for the people in my life, and all the more so with the Unconditional.  We read three times a day in the Ashrei prayer:


קָרוב ה' לְכָל קרְאָיו. לְכל אֲשֶׁר יִקְרָאֻהוּ בֶאֱמֶת
Qarov Adonai lekhol qore'av, lekhol asher yiqra'uhu be'emet
God is near to all who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him with integrity. (Psalm 145:18)


However it is that God can be described as being near, I am fairly certain that God is nearer to me than my laptop.




~
Rabbi Seth Adelson