Friday, September 19, 2014

Say Thank You



24 Elul, Friday, September 19



When the Limestone group returns to Boston, we have made it our tradition to share Shabbat dinner together. This is always made possible by those we left behind: loving spouses, former Limestone participants, and other family members who did not join us on the trip. They prepare the repast and welcome us as we emerge from our cars after the long day’s journey home.

Like the First Creation, it’s a fitting end to a week of labor.

The rituals of the Shabbat meal give us an anchor and ease our transition back into home life. We share stories with those who did not participate and we swap our own perspectives on what we did, saw and heard over the course of the week. In the end, no matter what challenges we faced, what hurdles we overcame, what emotions we navigated, Shabbat feels good.

The great Jewish thinker Maimonides (Rambam – Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, 12th century Spain), taught:
If we contemplate the world around us, it will lead us to praise and to gratitude, and to awe at our place in the universe.

While this may sound a bit mystical, Rambam was one of the greatest rationalists in Jewish philosophical history. Either way, it suits the experience of returning home from a gratifying week. For the work we have accomplished, we are grateful. For the relationships we have strengthened, we are grateful. For the growth we have observed in our children and ourselves, we are grateful. For the peace and natural beauty we have glimpsed, we are grateful. For all the comforts and pleasures in our homes, we are grateful.

Rabbi Jonathan Slater, who has taught me mindfulness, share this thought at our summer retreat:
“It is completely unlikely that we are here. Say thank you.”

None of these blessings were earned, deserved, produced or controlled by any of us. We certainly had a hand in them, as partners with God. Yet it is completely unlikely that we are here. Even if I don’t know who I’m addressing, what else can I do but say thank you?

It doesn’t take a trip to Northern Maine to know this. Each one of us can access that sense of improbability that leads to appreciation. When we awaken in the morning, the first Jewish prayers speak of gratitude. Before we’ve even stepped out of the bedroom, we can acknowledge that being alive is a gift. Opening our eyes to see is a gift. Standing up on our own two feet is a gift. Having clothes to wear is a gift. Say thank you.


Modeh ani lefanecha, ruach chai vekayam, shehechezarta bi nishmati bechemlah, rabbah emunatecha.
I am deeply grateful in Your Presence, Source of all that lives and exists, for You renew my soul each morning in great love and faithfulness. 
These are the very first words to say upon awakening. Wake up and notice: How good it is to be alive!

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