Rabbi Kedar's blog

Fear and Hope

Inside the human heart is fear.

There is also hope.

The two wrestle constantly, like Jacob and his God.

Sometimes one prevails. Sometimes the other.

The struggle is sometimes silent, other times loud.

But it is constant - fear, hope, fear, hope.

Flashes of light and shadow twirling inside us all the time.

It is so much easier when there is love.

When love is in your life

It becomes the context for it all.

Love is the measure of a life well lived,

It is the beacon of possibility.

When I Am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, "Stay awhile."

The light flows from their branches.

We say that God sustains the world with grace. The Hebrew word for "sustain," m'chakel, has as its root "vessel." The image is beautiful. Our entire world is a beautifully constructed vessel overflowing with God's grace. So, too, should you imagine that your heart is a vessel filled with love and grace. Surround yourself with people who sustain that image as you venture on.

Rabbi Karyn D. Kedar, God Whispers: Stories of the Soul, Lessons of the Heart

We don't usually think of gentleness as a source of power. Yet there's nothing as powerful as true gentleness. Such sensitivity requires that we really tune into others.

Gentleness means we are not harsh, hard, or forceful, especially when dealing in areas which are particularly sensitive or where the other person is vulnerable. Every one of us has areas of their lives that they are sensitive about, where hurts or wounds have left tender reminders or tough scars. If we are gentle, these are respected. We allow and ensure time and space for healing of these wounds.

Eye Mask

In this dark I rest,

unready for the light which dawns

day after day,

eager to be shared.

Black silk, shelter me.

I need more of the night

before I open eyes and heart

to illumination. I must still

grow in the dark like a root

not ready, not ready at all.

By Denise Levertov

Czeslaw Milosz, A Book of Luminous Things