I discuss this idea in greater detail in my most recent podcast episode, entitled “Did I See It?”. You can hear the podcast at wrestlinganddreaming.podbean.com or other sources for podcasts. 

Last week, I fulfilled a long-time ambition. 

Or did I?

I was watching the news on Thursday evening when I heard that the Northern Lights would be visible all over Michigan. I was so excited as I have wanted to see the Lights for my entire life and never had been in the position to see them. 

This was my chance. 

So, I got into my car at 10 p.m. and drove to a road near my house where I knew I could see the northern sky. 

I pulled the car over. It was dark and somewhat desolate. 

I got out and looked up. 

I saw something: a streak or two of lighter color, not unlike a cloud, varying the appearance of the sky. 

There it was. But, was this the best I could hope for? I was disappointed. 

Then, I remembered what I had learned from others. You had to look through your cell phone camera to really see the lights.

So, I held my cell phone and took a picture. It immediately went to “night mode” and held the aperture open a few seconds. Then it clicked.

And I saw the most glorious sight: the brilliant colors of the Northern Lights filled the sky. 

Here is the picture. Enjoy it. But please continue reading after you admire the photo.

I was thrilled. I immediately texted the picture to my wife, Ellen, and was absolutely giddy. 

I then started to say the proper blessing for any astronomical phenomenon involving light: Blessed be God who performs the acts of creation.

But I suddenly stopped before I said the second word of the blessing.

I looked again at the sky without the aid of the camera and my joy was tempered quite a bit. There was still that grey streak and nothing more. 

And I began to think. Had I really seen the Northern Lights?

I know that those further north, perhaps those in a darker place, saw colors with the naked eye. But I had not. All that I had done was to take a picture and that picture, as beautiful as it was, was like dozens of others I have seen. I know the colors were actually there and that it was the limitations of my human eyes which prevented me from seeing them. But I had not seen them. My camera saw them. 

So, seeing the Northern Lights is still on that list of experiences I want to have in my life. I want to see them with my eyes, not the camera’s.

And this made me think about how many times we settle for indirect experiences rather than truly experiencing something wonderful for ourselves.

Sometimes that is inevitable. I will never fly into space, so I’m satisfied seeing pictures of the marvelous round ball of the earth. I will never skydive (I guarantee you) so I will have to marvel at the experience through someone’s hand-held camera as they fly through the sky. I can’t travel back in time to before I was born so I have to be satisfied seeing YouTube videos of the 1946 World Series (which the Red Sox lost by the way).

But there are so many other experiences which I am so grateful for having done.  

Seeing Saturn’s rings through a telescope (but with my eyes) was breathtaking in a way that a picture could never be. Hiking in the Sinai Desert and through Zion National Park were unforgettable and could never be matched by a video travelog. 

And, on another level, walking with or sitting and comforting dogs waiting for adoption at our local Humane Society I could be a part of their work means so much more than just the very important act of writing a check.  (We should do both for the causes we support.)

This difference between two types of experiences is critical in so many areas of life including one which I have been thinking about quite a bit for the last few years. 

I don’t at all denigrate those who by necessity attend synagogue services online while sitting at home. It is a great benefit of technology that this can be done and that those who are homebound, ill or far from home can participate in the familiar ritual. Having experienced it myself when weather prevented us from attending a family simcha, I am tremendously grateful for this advancement. 

But, for those who can attend in person, I can’t urge you enough to go beyond the experience which was so vital over COVID and come to shul. It is such a completely different experience when you are sitting in and with the congregation. It is the difference between actively experiencing something beautiful and meaningful as opposed to seeing it only through a picture. As beautiful as the picture can be, it can’t match experiencing it directly. 

This year, may we find more ways to do things with our own hands and see things with our own eyes. 

It happened again yesterday. 

Once again, former President Trump asserted that Jews who vote against him “ought to have their heads examined” because, of course, in his opinion, he is the best US President in regards to Israel.

Once again, as I did in 2017,  https://robdobrusin.com/an-open-letter-to-president-trump/ I would like to respond:

Mr. Trump, as important as Israel is to me, and Israel certainly is in my heart especially this year, my vote for president will be based on the candidates’ stands on many issues, including, to name just a few: economic policy, concern for the environment and addressing climate change, access to abortion and reproductive rights in general, our role in international alliances and the need to confront in serious and meaningful ways the tragedy of gun violence which takes so many lives and affects the psyche of every child in school in this country.

In addition, in this election, we also must consider if we wish to support a candidate who forcefully and openly urged his vice president to undermine the constitution and who encouraged a mob of supporters to march to the capitol with strength to prevent the transfer of power to the winner of the presidential election. To me, that is a “no-brainer”.

And, as a Jew, it doesn’t take much thought for me to oppose anyone who has any connection whatsoever with “Project 2025” which poses a threat to so many of the principles which we hold dear in this nation of freedom for all.

Those domestic issues are critical to me as an American.

Regarding Israel, you might be surprised to hear that, as a lover of Israel, I found Vice President Harris’ statements during her speech at the Democratic National Convention to be right on target. Support of Israel does not mean ignoring the legitimate rights of Palestinians, closing our ears to the cries of children in Gaza or giving a green light to anything Israel’s government wishes to do. 

As are so many, I am appalled by the statements and actions of some members of Israel’s cabinet and stand with so many Israelis who oppose in the strongest terms Prime Minister Netanyahu for his conduct of the war in Gaza and his failure to accept a ceasefire agreement which could bring the hostages home. 

The bottom line is that I resent being lectured to as what Israel should mean to me as a Jew and therefore, for whom I should vote.  

And, most importantly, be assured, Mr. Trump, that I am a loyal American and should not be treated as a “one issue voter” whose loyalty to Israel supersedes my commitment to this country.

I will vote for the candidate who is most fit to be President of this nation and one who more closely reflects my values and priorities.

I am proud to support Vice President Harris.

I have just recorded my podcast episode for this week. Before I gave a d’var Torah for this week’s Torah portion of Shoftim, I made these comments:

We all are still reeling from the horrible news of the discovery of the bodies of the 6 murdered hostages in a tunnel in Gaza this weekend. It has just been another step in a nightmare which began October 7 for the people of Israel and the Jewish people

The issues are still the same: the absolute moral depravity of Hamas that conducted these horrendous terrorist attacks on October 7 and held these hostages and now murdered so many of them. It is just unthinkable and unthinkable  that anyone could support or praise these actions any place in the world.

We also think though, about the missed opportunities to perhaps have brought an end to this part of the nightmare in the return of the hostages through negotiations. It doesn’t seem that either side was prepared to make the compromises necessary to bring an end to the fighting, even if only temporarily, a return of the hostages and some relief to the terrible suffering which is taking place in Gaza.

We also have to consider that terrible suffering and realize that even as the root cause is the actions of Hamas towards their own people, still we have to recognize the fact that the pain and the horror among the innocent people in Gaza, especially the children and now subject, if nothing else after all that they have suffered, facing the prospect of an epidemic of polio and that should lead us to ask: how can we not be crying for them and how can we not have them enter into our thoughts about what Israel should do in the future?

This has been a terrible nightmare over the past ten, eleven months and all of us should be wrestling with all of the issues, seeking a way in which in this part of the world which has seen so much death, and so much terror and so much horror, that all people can somehow come out of this and give hope to children in Gaza, in Israel, for a better future.

It is so sad and so heartbreaking. 

I invite you to listen to the entire podcast which will be posted on Thursday. You can hear it at wrestlinganddreaming.podbean.com on Thursday morning.

As I have often written on my website, I love political campaigns and, of course, I have been paying very close attention to the current Presidential race. So, I was eagerly awaiting Vice President Harris’ decision on a running mate. 

         I was a bit surprised yesterday that she picked Governor Tim Walz. He was a late entrant into what is now referred to as the “veepstakes” and I really didn’t know too much about him. I had my own “favorite”- Senator Mark Kelly- but watching Governor Walz speaking yesterday and reading several accounts of the selection process, it certainly seems like more than a reasonable choice. Apparently, he and Vice President Harris “clicked” in ways that the other candidates did not, and his values and experience made him a logical choice. 

         Whether or not one supports Vice President Harris’ candidacy (full disclosure: I do), I think she deserves the respect to assume she made the decision because she thinks Tim Walz was best qualified to be her running mate. 

         I am furious at those who claim that her decision not to select Governor Shapiro of Pennsylvania was because he is Jewish. Those who are making this claim are merely attempting to use an accusation of anti-Semitism to harm her candidacy. 

         To be blunt, I am tired of hearing President Trump alert Jews to anti-Semitism when it benefits him and tired of him telling Jews that we must vote in a particular way. This “act” was horrendous when he started to use it in his first campaign, and it is no less horrendous now. It is manipulative, disingenuous and mean spirited and is, in its own patronizing way, anti-Semitic in that it assumes Jews aren’t smart enough to make our own decisions about for whom to vote.

         There is enough anti-Semitism in this country without worsening the situation by claiming that what was a pragmatic political decision was proof of a candidate (or party’s) hatred of Jews. 

         And it’s time for non-Jewish public figures to stop telling Jews how to act as Jews.  

For those who did not see my Facebook post of early today, here is what I wrote in appreciation of a man whom I have deeply admired and respected for decades. I think this says it all from my perspective.

Thank you, President Biden for all you have done for this country over so many years and for what you did today. You have always been a “mentsch”, a man acting with caring, dignity and grace with the best interests of our country as your guide and you showed that again today. I wish you health and strength in the years ahead.

         In the introduction to my book, The Long Way Around: Stories and Sermons from a Life’s Journey, I wrote about meeting my future wife, Ellen: “While I don’t generally believe that God micromanages our lives, I make an exception in this one case. I thank God each day for bringing me to Ann Arbor and leading me to an apartment around the corner from the house Ellen had bought a year before.”

         Do I really believe this? Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. But all that I know is that my life changed when I came to Ann Arbor and met Ellen and the fact that we lived so close to each other made it easier for us to spend time together and that eventually led to a wonderful married life. Why not give God some credit? 

         Despite the obvious and multiple theological dilemmas that such a perspective brings, those of us who believe in God are likely to say at some point in our lives: “This was God’s doing”. When recovering from a terrible illness, avoiding an automobile accident at the last moment or even, perhaps, winning the lottery, people will credit God with saving them or drastically improving their lives. It might be inconsistent with what we usually believe but we say it nonetheless.

         So, I don’t have any problem with former President Donald Trump saying that God saved him from being killed by a would-be assassin’s bullet. I have never been in such a situation but, if, God forbid, I were, I might very well react the same way. He is entitled to say it and he should not be criticized for believing it. 

         Yes, there are the many theological dilemmas this perspective presents. Among the questions that arise are: Where was God’s hand to prevent Corey Comperatore from losing his life while protecting his family? And, can we legitimately practice what Rabbi Harold Kushner, zichrono livracha, called “Theological Gerrymandering” thanking God for the good in our lives but avoiding blaming God for the bad?”

         These and other dilemmas arise from the idea that: “God saved me” but we are entitled to be inconsistent with our theology if it helps us get through life. I learned a long time ago as a rabbi, not to get into a theological discussion with someone who is crediting God with bringing them a blessing. 

         But there is one deep concern which I can’t let go of when I hear the former president say what he said. 

         It is horribly dangerous when a person looks at an experience as proving God’s hand in their life and then reasons that God did this because they were deserving and that God, by this act of salvation, is signifying divine approval of their past actions and future plans. This transforms a personal theological position which could be life-enhancing and turns it into a self-aggrandizing sense of being chosen by God to pursue a particular path. 

  Whether or not the former President Trump feels this way is unclear although some of his statements seem to move in that direction. But it is absolutely clear that many of his supporters, including well known public figures, have taken that step and have publicly proclaimed that this proves that he is God’s chosen to lead this nation. 

That is so deeply disturbing and dangerous. We are electing a president, not a Messiah. Even before the assassination attempt, there were those felt that the former president was in some way chosen by God. That he survived the terrible event which took place last Saturday evening is now fuel for those who are anointing him as more than just a human being and this scares me and ought to scare all of us, regardless of political affiliation.

We are all entitled to our theology and to believe what brings our life meaning. But, regarding this particular theological perspective, it is too easy to make the leap from “God saved my life” to viewing ourselves or allowing others to view us as deserving of such special divine treatment. That is a very dangerous leap of faith.

         The news of the death of Willie Mays certainly resonated with baseball fans, especially those of a certain age. Mays was, without question, one of the greatest- if not the greatest- baseball player of all time and the announcement of his death brought long time baseball fans sweet memories of being a fan during the 1960s and early 1970s.

         It certainly did that for me and it also brought back a personal memory that I only have because I have a tendency to hold onto some items from my childhood in the spirit of nostalgia. I knew that those items would come in handy one day.

         So, shortly after hearing the news, I went down to our basement and, knowing exactly where to look, I found this short school report that I had written in 1965 when I was in fifth grade that I have kept for almost 60 years.     

         I read the report and I have to say that the writing was pretty good (I assume my father edited it a bit before I turned it in as he usually did.) and I learned some things I had long since forgotten. 

         I wrote: “Most of Willie’s childhood was spent in his Aunt Sarah’s house in Fairfield, Alabama. While theirs was not a rich family, it was not poverty-stricken as many Negro (sic) families were in the South.” 

         I also noted that: ‘The San Francisco club [at that time the New York Giants] sent two scouts to the Barons’ headquarters to sign a first basemen named Perry. Instead, they returned to New York with an incredible kid named Willie Mays”. 

         There is, of course, so much more to the story of Willie Mays’ becoming a major leaguer, not the least of which is the fact that the Red Sox were seriously interested in signing him. But racism or at least the racist reputation of the Red Sox, the last team to include a black player on their roster, sadly undermined that possibility.

         So, I can only dream of what it might have been like to cheer for a Red Sox team with Carl Yastrzemski in left and Willie Mays playing centerfield at Fenway Park. I can only imagine that I would not have had to wait until 1967 to see the Red Sox play in the World Series. 

         But that brings up another thought about being a baseball fan in the 1960s. I rarely saw Willie Mays play.

         This was a time long before interleague play and cable tv offering the opportunity to watch games seemingly around the clock. (As I write this, a Wednesday afternoon game between the Padres and the Phillies is in the background). We can now watch highlights of all games online. Back then, in the “good old days”, we were limited to watching the Red Sox local telecasts on weekends and the NBC Game of the Week on Saturday afternoon.. 

         So, I only got the chance to see Willie Mays (and Henry Aaron, Roberto Clemente, Ernie Banks, Bob Gibson and so many more) when the Game of the Week featured their teams or during the All-Star Game or the World Series.

         The limited menu of games to watch made it more special when we did have the rare opportunity to see games from Forbes Field or Connie Mack Stadium or Crosley Field. It might also explain why so many of us remember being glued to the TV for the All-Star Game and the World Series. Of course, it helped that those games were played during the day. Don’t get me started on the horrendous starting time for these games. Except during the years the Red Sox have been in the Series, I don’t think I’ve stayed up to see the end of more than a few World Series games in many years.

         So, my report on Willie Mays was based on research of one kind or another. The truth is that I probably had only seen him play a handful of times before I wrote that report. 

         I began this piece by writing about Willie Mays and wrote these last paragraphs about myself. But I won’t apologize. That is what baseball memories do for us- they make us think about who we were and what our life was like in distant simpler times.

But the story is really about the player. Willie Mays was, without a doubt, a great ambassador for baseball. His exceptional play on the field highlighted by 660 home runs and a .301 lifetime batting average and outstanding fielding (including what was perhaps the greatest catch in baseball history during the 1954 World Series) earn him the right to be called the best of all time. 

         However, the story doesn’t end there. Willie Mays’ class, his dignity and his understanding of what it meant to be in the public eye are as important, if not more important, to his reputation. He was not only a great baseball player. He was a great man and he was an inspiration to so many. I feel so privileged that I got to see him play- even if rarely- and more importantly, thank him for all he did to keep baseball meaningful for generations. 

This is the only elementary school report that I held onto for all of those years. Sure, it’s because it’s about baseball but also because it’s about a man who deserves life-long respect.

         I hope that future of generations of baseball fans will remember who he was as a player and as a man and that some of today’s and future generation’s stars will inspire the kind of admiration and respect that are being justifiably shown to the memory of the Say-Hey Kid. 

         His memory will always be for a blessing. 

         This Shabbat, we begin the reading of the book of Bemidbar, the book of Numbers. 

         Bemidbar has always been my favorite book of the Torah for two reasons. The first reason is because the book is so eclectic. Bemidbar contains intriguing narratives, fascinating rituals and legal material that are intertwined throughout the book. 

         But the second reason that I love the book is because it is about one of my favorite pastimes: traveling. The word bemidbar actually means “in the wilderness” and that aptly describes this book which details so many of the experiences our ancestors had as they travelled through the wilderness on their way to the promised land. The book ends with a detailed itinerary of the many stops which led the Hebrews to the border of Canaan. 

         That last section of Bemidbar always leads me to think about the itinerary of my own life and how important it is for all of us to note the places we have been in our lives. What places are important to us and what have learned in the places we have been? What places are so “sacred” in our lives that we consider traveling to that place as a “pilgrimage”?

         When I think of places of pilgrimage in my life, I naturally first think of traveling to Israel. I have been to Israel 13 times and each time I return, I feel that sense of anticipation and excitement as would be appropriate for a sacred place. 

         Israel is a sacred place for me as it is for so many. A trip to Israel is a spiritual journey and one which allows us to connect on so many levels with our Jewish history, tradition and culture. 

         But Israel is not the only sacred place in my life.

         Each year, I make a trip back to Boston, my hometown. The most important reason for this trip is to visit the cemeteries in different parts of the Boston area where my parents, grandparents, great grandparents and one of my great great grandmothers are buried. 

But, the cemeteries are only a part of the journey. My visit is a pilgrimage in many ways. I have a certain route I like to follow: driving on roads we took when I was a kid even if it makes the route to the cemeteries longer. I always include stops at restaurants or stores where I can eat some of the foods I ate while growing up and at places along the shore where I pull my car over to take a deep breath of the ocean air which brings back so many memories. 

         We all have sacred places in our lives and while we yearn to return, we sometimes take an indirect route to get there. 

         This week, I visited another place which has become sacred to me.

         My wife, Ellen, and I just returned from spending a week visiting national parks in Utah. I had made that trip with our son two years ago and absolutely fell in love with the scenery around Zion and Bryce Canyon and I wanted to return and to share it with Ellen. 

         We began at Zion which is absolutely gorgeous, hiking through the trails and marveling at the scenery. 

         And then we moved on to Bryce Canyon.

         When I visited the last time, I felt that Bryce Canyon was the most remarkable place I had ever seen in my life. I was spiritually moved by the experience (see my post from June 2022 on this website) and I eagerly anticipated the opportunity to return. 

         We entered the park towards evening and pulled into the parking lot at an area called Sunset Point. Bryce Canyon National Park is unique in that the road to enter the park is unremarkable and one pulls into one of the parking lots near the entrance without any hint at the view which is to come. 

         We parked the car and began to walk the short walkway up to the observation point. As we walked, I suddenly found myself slowing down. I realized that I needed the time to mentally and spiritually prepare for the moment of seeing the canyon again. I thought about how I planned for this trip for more than a year and all of the anticipation that I felt before returning. I kept my head down not wanting to see the view before I was ready.

         Just before reaching the point of seeing the canyon, I stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. And, only then, did I allow myself to lift my eyes and see this astounding sight. 

         It was every bit as astounding as I remembered it. I felt the same sense of humility as I looked at the giant hoodoos, the rock towers and formations which make can make one feel so small and yet help us to realize once again with awe the beauty of the world which God has created.

         If you’ve been to Bryce, I’m sure you can relate to this. If you haven’t, think about a place that you love, that you find meaningful and uplifting when you return to it. Perhaps you have also had this feeling of the need to take some extra time before experiencing that place again and the joy and sense of the sacred you feel when you enter. 

         It is without question that, for a Jew, a visit to Jerusalem and the Western wall is a pilgrimage like none other. But it is also true that for all of us, there are sacred places throughout our world, places which move us, places which elevate or humble us, places we seek to return to and, when we do, which we approach with a sense of awe and wondrous anticipation.

         I found one of those places at Bryce Canyon. I don’t know if I will ever return to that sacred place. But, if I do, I’m sure I will make the walk from the car last a long time to spiritually prepare for what I am about to see. 

         That is the nature of a pilgrimage. The preparation is an essential part of the journey. 

         And with that we begin the reading of the book of Bemidbar and follow along as our ancestors take the last slow steps before the end of a long journey. 

                                    

In our lives and in our home, we are enamored with animals. My wife, Ellen, and I volunteer at the Humane Society of Huron Valley. I am a volunteer zoo educator at the Toledo (Ohio) Zoo. Our living and dining rooms are full of animal figurines of different sizes and materials that we have collected from our trips and found in small town stores.

But all of these are secondary to the relationships that we have built with the living animals who have shared our home with us. 

And now, for the first time in 23 years, we do not have an animal friend living with us. 

Sadly, a few days before Pesach, we had to say goodbye to our beloved dog, Sami. Sami was 16 years old and obviously in significant discomfort. At first, we had planned to have her undergo an examination under anesthesia to determine what might be the cause of her pain but, as you will read, we realized that was not the best course of action. 

Sami was the third Dobrusin dog. Our first dog, Silky, was actually my “step-dog” as Ellen had adopted her shortly before we met. Silky was a Chocolate Lab-German Short Hair Pointer mix and she was so smart and so loyal. She adapted herself first to my presence and then, with her loving heart, watched as our family grew and she took on the role of protecting our two kids whom she loved. 

After Silky’s death in 2001, we were dog-less for a few months. We knew we would be adopting another rescue, but we weren’t prepared for the sudden decision to bring the beautiful and sweet yellow lab, Benny, into our home. 

I saw Benny during a trip I took to the Humane Society “just to look at dogs”. But, when I saw him, I knew immediately that he was the yellow lab we were thinking we would like to adopt, and he came home a week later. 

Benny was such a gentleman. He just wanted to be a dog. Unlike with Silky, we could leave any food or anything out and he wouldn’t touch it. He remained in the other room while we ate, not asking for any “human food”. He never tried, as Silky had done successfully almost every night, to climb up onto our bed to sleep. Benny was so well behaved and so calm that he loved to go to the local hospice where he was a therapy dog and cheered so many saddened hearts. 

After Benny’s death, we were unsure whether we would adopt another dog. But then, our daughter saw a picture of a dog on a local shelter website, and we liked what we saw. The people from the shelter brought her to our house and she jumped up on the old chair that Benny used to sit on, heaved a great sigh, and closed her eyes. That was all it took. 

Sami was such a wonderful companion for the 13 years she was with us. She grew up from a goofy, clumsy young dog who could slide off the bed with her legs behind her at a 180-degree angle to a mature and later senior dog who was so settled and so comfortable. 

There is a beautiful statement in Pirke Avot, Ethics of the Fathers, which teaches that Shammai taught that a person should greet everyone he or she meets bisayvar paneem yafot,with a cheerful disposition. Sami was the epitome of Shammai’s statement. 

She really didn’t like other dogs, but Sami immediately loved every person she met. She would walk with me down the street with a big smile and it grew bigger when someone would stop and ask to say hi to her. People would always stop me and tell me how happy she looked, and her smile was infectious. 

While she didn’t have dog friends, she made friends throughout the neighborhood. My daily walk would take her by Trader Joe’s where many of the staff knew her and to the lovely pet store (a shout out to the great people at The Pet Emporium) where she would get her treats every day. She had a great friend in one of the other stores and always looked for the mail carrier who gave her such good scratches. 

But, when the walk was over and home was in sight, Sami always raced to get inside and jump back on her sofa. She knew how safe home was for her and she couldn’t wait to get back to the warmth and security of the house. 

Sami started to slow down noticeably a few months ago and as time went along, her smile started to dim. She didn’t pay as much attention to people who came to the house and did not always want to walk. There were some other concerning symptoms which I won’t go into here, but we were watching her very closely. 

We brought her to the vet and arranged for an exploratory procedure which would take place a week after our visit. But, a few days before the planned procedure, I was walking her, and she just did not look right. I looked at her to see what was wrong and she looked back at me and right then, I knew what she was telling me. Ellen was watching from the window and we both, almost simultaneously, came to the same conclusion. 

That evening, after we had called the vet to make an appointment for the next morning, Sami was laying quietly on the sofa. For the past few days, she had been reluctant to have anyone sitting too close to her. But, this night was different. She suddenly did something she hadn’t done in weeks, turning over on her back and looking for a tummy rub. We are sure she understood and was saying thank you. 

The house is not the same. We keep expecting to see Sami looking out the front window waiting for us to get back home. We keep thinking that we her gentle snoring at the end of the bed. We must remind ourselves that we don’t have to account for her two or three daily walks in planning our schedule. 

We love you Sami and we miss you so dearly. We know that your spirit, like those of Silky and Benny, our four cats, Lewy, Jimmy, Ozzie and Spot, and the many rats that our daughter adopted as pets, fills our home with so much more presence than the animal figurines that we can still see. They are all still with us.

Their memory is for a blessing for all they brought to our lives. 

Please also listen to the episode entitled A Special Tribute on my podcast at wrestlinganddreaming.podbean.com 

         Yes, I saw it. And so did millions of others. And, I assume, not one of them came away disappointed. In fact, I would say that most of those came away with a life-long memory which changed them, even in a small way. 

         I am referring to last week’s solar eclipse whose path of totality spread over much of the central United States and within an easy drive of tens of millions. 

         We saw the eclipse at Bowling Green State University along with a crowd of more than 5,000. The event at the football stadium was wonderful with demonstrations, explanations, games and music but all fell into the background as the main event approached. And, at the moment of totality, the crowd burst into applause and then immediately quieted as people took in this awesome moment. 

         I am very much an “armchair” astronomer in the sense that I love to seek out astronomical phenomena and have had the privilege to see meteor showers, transits of the sun, the planets and distant galaxies through telescopes and just the beauty of a nighttime sky away from any light pollution. But, this event, a total solar eclipse was the most remarkable of all. 

         While I wouldn’t compare the personal impact of the eclipse to the moment of the birth of my children, there was a similar piece to each of them. When the “big moment” came, it was overwhelming and almost too much to take in. But it is a moment I will never forget.

         I knew the eclipse was coming and I knew what to expect with it. But, nonetheless I was astounded- or perhaps relived- that it came right on the moment when it was expected and lasted just as long as was expected. The combination of the dependable and predictable cycles of the universe and the wisdom with which human beings can know and understand how those cycles will work to the smallest fraction of a second is undeniable proof to me of a universe which has been created by God purposefully and deliberately. 

         And it is further proof that one of the most meaningful ways we can worship our creator is by respecting and appreciating with wonder not only the majestic moments such as a solar eclipse but also the simple miracles of life which surround us every day. 

         A solar eclipse can only happen on a new moon, when we can not see any of the moon’s surface because all of the light of the sun is directed at the back or “dark” side of the moon. If the moon’s orbit were perfectly coordinated with the plane of the earth, we would have a solar eclipse every lunar cycle, almost every month, but we do not because, in fact, the orbits do not line up perfectly due to the tilt of the earth and the course of the orbit. 

         Similarly, were those orbits completely coordinated, we would have a lunar eclipse every month. But, of course, we do not and, weather permitting, we are in fact treated to the sight of the full moon every lunar cycle as the light of the sun is reflected onto the moon as it is closely, but not perfectly, aligned with the earth.

         Next Monday evening, we will look up to the sky and see the full moon as we gather for the Pesach Seder. 

         It is the same sight we saw 7 months ago when we sat in the Sukkah on the first night of Sukkot. It is a reminder that our ancestors found great meaning in gathering by the light of the full moon and it is a chance for us to consider how we ourselves and the world has changed since we sat in the sukkah. 

         So much has changed for the worse in so many ways. But the one thing that has not changed is the way the natural world operates and provides for opportunities for wonder and for hope. 

         Seeing the full moon should also remind us that this was the same full moon our ancestors saw as they ate from the Pesach sacrifice preparing to leave Egypt. As we sit at the Seder, we are on a spiritual level, experiencing that same eternal night celebrating the Exodus as if we were part of that journey and taking with us the lessons learned and making them part of our lives as we seek to repair this broken world. 

         One of the most fascinating aspects of the solar eclipse is that the relationship between the size of the moon and the sun and their relative distance from earth is such that, from our perspective, the much smaller moon covers the much larger sun completely, leaving enough room on the edges for us to see the glorious corona around the sun. 

It is ironic that the magnificent moment of the moon’s impact on our lives through the solar eclipse comes at the time that the moon is the darkest and not noticeable in the sky. Perhaps this is a lesson to us to look for the positive and life-enhancing moments that come about in the least expected places. It is a lesson as well to know that our lives are not affected only by obvious, powerful aspects of our world but by the subtle and simple miracles that surround us always. 

Hag Sameach for a meaningful, wondrous Pesach.