- Posted by Elaine Zecher
- On June 21, 2019
- 0 Comments
Welcome to Shabbat Awakenings, a weekly reflection as we make our way toward Shabbat.
Just like that, spring turned into summer today, a miraculous, religious, spiritual moment in the circle of the year. In its honor, I offer this poem by Walt Whitman for whom we celebrated his bicentenary on May 31st.
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge
of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with anyone I love, or sleep in the bed
at night with anyone I love,
Or sit at the table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honeybees busy around the hive
of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining
so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread
with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim-the rocks-the motion of the waves
-the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
Let’s celebrate Shabbat, and wish Rabbi Soffer a fond farewell on his final Qabbalat Shabbat as rabbi at Temple Israel of Boston, tonight at 6:00 p.m. If you are unable to join us, live stream HERE. Saturday morning, we gather for Torah study at 9:00 a.m. with a short Shabbat service and Torah reading followed by a lively discussion.