Shana Tova

I confess to nodding off during the Erev Rosh Hashanah service last night. But only after I listened to the following poem and remembered how much I love it every time our rabbi Danny reads it.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

The first service of the High Holy Days is always a transition, as we settle into the space in the cavernous Methodist church, our home away from home because it can accommodate three times as many people as Temple Micah. These services are the equivalent of Christmas and Easter for Christians, when everyone makes an appearance.

After my last two years as head of the High Holy Days for Temple Micah, last night was almost relaxing. Well maybe just a little too relaxing as I nodded off during the sermon.