Clare always comes into town right when I need her–right when we need each other. We usually spend the couple of hours we have together sitting side by side, or across from each other talking–sharing all that has happened since we last met.
Today we were both feeling in waves–both unsure of our next steps. Both recent college graduates lost in translation, we sat there. I first met Clare in 9th grade. I found her to be extremely talented, gentle, and warm. Clare has this earthly ability to understand, feel, and eventually heal me. It’s the softness of her voice. The way her eyes are focused on me as I choke, cry, and laugh through sentences. She’s the easiest person to be honest with. The easiest person to hold on to.
As she sat across from me today, sharing her own achievements and turbulences I was in complete awe. I was experiencing the same feelings I feel at my synagogue. The same sense of calm and peace I feel when I’m around Rabbi Susan and Rabbi Randy. The beautiful flow of intense, pure love I feel just as I walk through the doors of CRC. And as she kept talking I realized that I felt God. I saw him in the way she giggled at my sarcasm. When she nodded her head as I cried. I saw him in the way she talked. Felt him in her breaths. Saw him in the twinkle of her eyes. It was the first time experiencing something so magical–something filled with so much light outside of a place of worship.
Recently, my 14 year old brother shook my world unexpectedly. I was picking him up from his cello lessons one Thursday afternoon, when he asked, “Tari, do you believe in God?” It was a question he had asked me many times before, but this time it was different. I struggled to find an answer. “Well,” I finally said. “I don’t know.” He then went to explain, like he always did, why he didn’t believe. Said that science made more sense to him overall. I agreed, because it did. It still does, except lately I’ve been feeling something bigger than myself, bigger than you, dear reader, bigger than all of us.
I can’t sit here and honestly tell you that I am a firm believer in God. It’s something I’m still discovering–a road yet to be traveled. But, I can say that I see God in nature. I see God in my sisters smile, and in my brothers humor. I see God in my clients–in all their sufferings and joys. But most of all, I’ve started catching glimpses of God in myself.
One of my favorite Yiddish words, “bashert” is generally a mystery when it comes to meanings. I think it means destiny or soulmate. Soulmates happen when one of life’s little meaningful coincidences are placed along your path. The late Elie Wiesel once said, “In Jewish history there are no coincidences.” The older I get, the more I realize the worth of his words. The seemingly random events that are a part of our lifestyle begin to form in purposeful ways when we view them from a divine perspective. Rabbi Benjamin Blech says, “coincidence is but God’s way of choosing to remain anonymous.”
As Clare and I said goodbye this morning tears started flowing from my face.
“It’s been a pleasure,” I said.
“It’s always a pleasure, Tari.” She responded.