Joy to the world? Let's start with you.
“Be still. The quieter you become, the more you can hear.”
I’m going to go out on a limb and say that my family’s synagogue has the best rabbi in the world. Literally. I realize there are people who would argue this, but I’ve never seen her speak or had an interaction with her where I didn’t take away some nugget of wisdom. When I started drafting this I had a different idea of what I wanted to say, but Sunday morning as I sat with my eldest at the t'fillah service at our synagogue, I looked around and saw photos of all of the kidnapped Israelis that had been hung on the wall, some with a heart affixed to them right side up, some with a heart upside down. I promise I’m not going to delve into politics or foreign policy or anything like that (not today, at least), so please keep hanging in with me. But let me tell you, sitting there with my arm around my daughter, surrounded by images of people separated from their families, facing unknown, possibly catastrophic circumstances, many of them children themselves…I don’t know that I can even articulate what I felt, but oh boy, did a weight settle in my heart.
Tonight is the first night of Hanukkah, a holiday I’ve been celebrating for the ten years I’ve been married. Despite this and despite raising Jewish children, I never knew until recently what Hanukkah actually is. I’m significantly oversimplifying here, and the actual history is fascinating and well worth the time to read up on, especially given the state of the world, but essentially it boils down to this: it is a holiday the Jewish people created in order to say to themselves and the world we are proud of who we are, as we are.
We’re also smack in the middle of the Christmas season, a holiday I’ve been celebrating with great enthusiasm for my whole life. At this same service on Sunday, a kid asked Rabbi how the two are similar, and isn’t Hanukkah just the Jewish version of Christmas? Spoiler: NO, but they do share something of significance in common, and that is the congregation around light, the belief in the healing power of it, and the belief that we can and should be each others' light in the darkness.
Here’s the thing…“every day brings with it the possibility of miracles” (Rabbi nugget #497). It's a sentiment that sounds far-fetched or woo woo or whimsical or stupidly optimistic to some. But I love the inherent hopefulness, the underlying assumption that the world—and most of the people in it—are fundamentally good. And that sometimes you’ll get a little boost from an unexpected source. Whether you believe in God or the Universe or something else or nothing is really irrelevant to this mental journey you’re following me on (sorry, Rabbi). The point is that while tragedies and accidents and sadness come from nowhere, with no warning, so, too, do good things. Hopeful things. Amazing things.
But I think it's much harder to see and feel those good things—the miracles, the light in the darkness, if you will—when we’re under water. Because remember, miracles aren’t always big. Sometimes they’re as small as the sound of my daughters’ genuine, delighted laughter, or the taste of a warm brownie, or my husband slinging his arm across me in his sleep. It’s easy to lose sight of the fact that miracles happen all around us every single day, in ways that are so small they're easy to miss. The beauty of everyday life is miraculous.
But it can also be stressful, with jobs and families and ambition and disappointment and caregiving and laundry and having to plan approximately nine million dinners in your child’s tenure in your home and the insults of the mundane (see dinners) and the traumas of things like war and severe illness and hunger. So given this, how, exactly, is one supposed to be able to look around and see the miracles hiding in plain sight? How can you break free from all of the things weighing you down to be able to see the little beacons of light all around you?
By taking a breath. By choosing to step out of the hustle. By—if you’re a parent—realizing that you’re not just creating a magical Hanukkah or Christmas (or or or) for your child, you’re creating it for yourself, too. By finding the things that make your soul feel at peace and doing more of that. By going a step further and finding the things that bring you joy and doing more of that. By recognizing that what lives inside you is what you’ll put out into the world.
And I’m not talking about huge things here, folks. I’m talking about things you may already be doing and taking for granted. For instance, I love to shower. I know a lot of people don’t, and I’m not arguing that the basic act of cleaning your body is self-care. But personally, I love a shower. I love the heat of the water when it's cold out and cool of the water when it's hot out, I love the sound it makes, I love the smells, I love the solitude. And I can’t always stop to appreciate what a shower does for my soul, but I try to, when I can. The same goes for getting enough sleep. Because is it self-care in the most basic sense? Yes. Technically. But it enables me to be the best version of myself for the people I care about, and also for me. And that’s what I’m encouraging you to do, too, with whatever the equivalent is in your life.
Nothing—and I mean nothing—makes me more content than reading a book in front of the sparkling Christmas tree with a cup of tea and soft music playing and a seasonal candle perfuming the air around me, my children sleeping peacefully above me. My heart feels so calm, so content, so full, that it’s impossible not to feel genuinely happy. To feel myself ease in a way that enables me to see the miracles everywhere I look. I deserve this—to truly enjoy my life. And so do you. So I wonder what you have in your life that gives you that feeling?
We have to be selfish to able to be selfless. The only path to a more peaceful world is to start from a place of love. Love for others, yes, but love for yourself, too. Because “we put peace into the world through love” (Rabbi again).
We put peace into the world through love.
If you celebrate Hanukkah, stop and really watch the flicker of the flame on the menorah tonight. If you celebrate Christmas, take in the sparkling lights of your Christmas tree. If you don’t celebrate either, step outside and look at the moon, and take a deep breath.
Because we put peace into the world through love.
Recommendations Roundup
Click on the cover of any for which you’d like to read my short review.
Parting Shot
I wish you the peace that comes from living the life you want for yourself, the hope that comes from seeing your own potential, and the joy that comes from stepping back and feeling gratitude for it all. Go forth, my friends. I wish you well.
Love,
Sarah
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