The first time I really experienced God. I mean really experienced God. I was at Camp Ramah in the Poconos in the summer of 1982. I was eight years old, just entering fourth grade. Our age-group was woken up by our counselors in the middle of the night and brought out into the forest surrounding our bunks. In the darkened sky above us, a sea of stars twinkled brightly. We were told to be on the lookout for shooting stars, and, as we walked, all our heads were pointed above us. While I never actually saw a shooting star, I felt the majesty of the moment. I especially remember the moment we entered back into the campgrounds, as the sun was just beginning its rise overhead, a large meteor disintegrated in a fiery ball over the camp’s lake. The beauty and the terror of that experience opened me to the possibility of universes beyond our own, and of an unnamed force that connected us all.
Reading this week’s Torah portion, Vayeshev, where a young Joseph stares out into the night sky and pictures stars bowing down to him, made me think all the way back to that moment. After all, what else could stars bowing be than shooting stars? Pampered by his father Jacob, Joseph doesn’t see the holiness in this moment. It will take him many years, the darkness in the pit his brothers throw him into, the despair of an Egyptian prison, and the alienation from his immediate family, to finally experience God.
The story of Joseph always coincides with Hanukkah, a holiday where light pierces the December darkness, illuminating God’s presence in the world. During this bleak time of year, particularly in Buffalo, we all need a little pick-me-up. We are warmed by the stories of our ancestors and the holiness that surrounds us every moment of every day.
As I learned as an 8-year-old, there are moments in life that take your breath away. For these we offer a bracha, or blessing. As we learn in the Talmud: “for shooting stars, earthquakes, thunder, storms and lightning, say, Blessed are God, whose strength and might fill the world” (Berakhot 54a).
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Alex