The new year, among other things, is a time of repentance. And this is part of the soul searching that marks the new year, but it is also a very strange sort of occupation that raises curiosity and wonder. I remember so well, as a child, looking at an old man with a long white beard sitting in the corner of the synagogue, and pounding his chest in prayer, and wondering, what sort of unbecoming act or crime had the man done for which he was now repenting. As I grew older, and became a serious student, I asked my comrades and my teachers about this, and got all sorts of answers, and learned from my own experience as well, but I could say that this search for the other man's sin remains an open question in my mind.
We say in Hebrew, the reward for a good act is the opportunity to do another good act. This is my third post on the subject of the new year. The first one I didn't post at all. Because it was so sad and wretched, concerned as it was with what had gone on for the last year, and with a sort of emotional accounting regarding the year that had gone by, that in the end, I felt that it was too personal, and wouldn't help anyone else if I did post it. And might even make someone unhappy… And so I wrote the second post. And after writing that post, I went for a walk.
When I go for a walk by myself, I do some of my most serious thinking, and soul searching, and remembering. I have the sort of experiences, that I used to have only when I was taking a shower. Standing there, under the shower, with nothing much to do except an occasional soaping, I used to find inspiration. I used to find solutions to some of the hardest problems. It still happens in the shower, but now I also have those experiences when I'm taking a walk.
Well it was up the hill through the residential area, and then to the main Blvd, and past the Videomat and the supermarket to the first big intersection. Slowly I was getting lost in thought. And then, I was already on the way back, thinking to take the high road in that top neighborhood, when I hear music coming from one of those little commercial plazas along the Blvd. It was on the other side of the street. So I took my time, and patiently waited till there was no speeding car coming in my direction; crossed one side of the road to the island, and then went through the same process till I got to the other side of the boulevard, and there I found a whole lot of middle aged and elder people sitting around in comfortable chairs in the plaza, and listening to a Chassid talking to them in Russian, which is a language I don't understand, to my regret. But one of the musicians noticed me and said hi man, how's it going… without our knowing one another, so I sat down next to him and asked him how long it'd be till the music would start up again. He said, 'have no idea', man, 'I suppose he has to keep going till it comes outa him. But then after a while, the talking guy took a break and we had music again.
The music was just wonderful. It was a little more emotional than I would normally choose to hear, but it had a way of climbing into those high areas, those peaks where the air gets thin, and you have to breathe with the proper intention. There was a redheaded electric violinist, a trombone, and a keyboard, and the violin was leading. At first, I thought, what a strange thing to present the public with right before the New Year… After all, this is the time for repentance, and this was just intense sensory pleasure, as we all listened to the beautiful sounds wafting across the courtyard. But then I started thinking that it was more than just a little right for my own repentance. After all, wasn't it agreed that one of the good deeds that a Jew was supposed to work on was being happy? And it has been some time since I've been happy, truly happy with life itself, and with the little piece of it that I got as a gift from my creator. So I directed myself to this thought and found myself going up, up and higher and higher. By the time the musicians stopped playing, the music was still playing in my head.
And then another bearded man got up and started telling the audience about the advantages of going to the synagogue on a holiday. This time I was able to follow because he was talking in Yiddish, the language of my youth. I wouldn't say I agreed with every word, and I wouldn't say that I needed to hear that particular input… but it was okay, and it didn't get on my nerves before they gave the okay to the musicians to go back to scratching us behind the ears. Ah that was fine.
And a great new year to all of you too.
Anyone wishing to respond is welcome to write me at humpict@017.net.il
All are welcome to see my photography at:
http://www.humanpicture.net/
