“I close my eyes
Only for a moment, and the moment’s gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song,
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind” (Kansas)
I am in the garden. As in a dream, I watch the passing of the clouds, listen to the singing of the birds. The branches of the trees above are swaying, dark green against an even darkening sky. Perhaps it will rain soon. Perhaps I should go inside. I am enchanted by the increasing wildness, the feel of the wind on my cheeks. At my feet the autumn leaves are swirling, brown and orange dancing against a canvas of green. I feel a wet touch on my cheek. Is it a raindrop? Or the teardrop of an angel? “Good for the garden”, my father would say. As the sky blackens in an ominous fashion. As clouds transform from pearly white to a threatening dark gray.
But I do not leave. I sit and watch.
And so. What is the rain, what is the wind, what is our life? Is todays rain a prelude to tomorrows gloom or tomorrow’s sunshine.
In the morning, will we awaken to find that all has been washed away, the rain but a foretelling of barren emptiness. Or will the grass be greener, the walk swept clean by the rain’s fresh shower, will sun sparkle through the hazy mist?
Soon it will be Parshat Bo. The nation of Israel will be liberated from Egypt. From bondage to freedom. The view widens, all is now possible. We are free. Free to dream, free to wander. Free to plan the future for ourselves and the generations to come. We are now in control of our own fate, our own destiny.
Or are we? For the first sight which greets the nation of Israel upon liberation is a desert. In front of our eyes lies a barren wilderness. What was seen, what was in immediate view? Possibilities or emptiness? A wide range of opportunities, or a lack of anything at all? An as yet unwritten canvas of hopes, dreams, possibilities, or a blank canvas of nothingness?
In the peaceful emptiness of the desert, an infinite vastness of time, an unknown vastness of space, will stretch out before us.
As in the hopelessness of the time of slavery from which we are about to depart, night will blend into day, day will merge into night, in the vague but palpable knowledge of time’s eternal nature. Mirroring the vast emptiness of space in which we will soon find ourselves.
The first instruction given to the nation of Israel before departing the land of Egypt was to create a calendar.
“The Lord spoke to Moses and to Aaron in the land of Egypt, saying, This month shall be to you the head of the months; to you it shall be the first of the months of the year…” (Exodus 12: 1-2)
The first instruction in preparation for freedom was to structure time. According to the moon. According to life’s season’s. According to the natural rhythm of life, which we are reminded of nightly, just by looking upward.
Each night, we will see the the status of the moon. A beacon of white shining brightly against the dark nothingness of desert’s blackness. Each night we will be reminded of the passage of time, of the preciousness of life.
We are asked now to take responsibility for our time, for our lives as free individuals, as a free nation.
As the ordering of time was the first instruction given to our nation before entering freedom, it was also one of the first acts of Creation itself.
It was on the first day of Creation, that time itself was created. As order was created from chaos. As the waters separated from the earth, light was separated from darkness. One day delineated from the next, the finiteness of time created from the Infinte.
“…and He separated the light from the darkness. God called the light ‘day’ and the darkness he called ‘night’. And there was evening, and there was morning - the first day” (Genesis 1:4-6)
Perhaps it is the separation of the finite from the infinite which gave time itself meaning, purpose, sanctity. Each day, each moment, blessed in its uniqueness. The word ‘kedusha’ (holiness) in Hebrew means ‘to set aside’, ‘to separate’. Perhaps it was by structuring time that time became sacred.
The first instructions given to Israel before entering the path of freedom, continued with instructions to make time holy.
“And this day shall be for you for as a memorial, and you shall celebrate it as a festival for the Lord; throughout your generations you shall celebrate it as an everlasting statute…And on the first day there shall be a holy convocation, and on the seventh day you shall have a holy convocation…” (Exodus12:14-16) We were asked to consecrate time. As our holy days are separated from the everyday, to remind us of the preciousness of time, of life.
We are asked to fill each day with meaning. To fill our time with meaning. Though we know our time on earth is finite, and but a speck in the vastness of Time. Our lives but a finite drop in the infinite ocean of timelessness of the universe.
But what of our individual lives? What if meaning is uncertain, the direction of our time adrift? What then?
There is a flower, the “Daylily”. It is said to blossom for but one day, blooming in colorful glory before it returns to being a stalk. Surrounded by its companions, the other grasslike leaves. It is told, that each year a profusion of flowering blooms will appear, budding from the many surrounding stalks. Each in its own splendid uniqueness, at its own time.
There is another plant, the “Titan arum”. There are those who have seen it, and those who claim to have seen it. It is said to blossom but once, for just one day, every few years. A potential. A dream and a legend.
“A man’s origin is from dust and his destiny is back to dust…He is likened to…a fading flower…a blowing wind, flying dust, and a fleeting dream” (Unetaneh Tokef, prayer). In the very transience of our life lies the beauty, the magic.
Sometimes, in the very timelessness of our day we will discover the sanctity of time. In our freedom to choose, in our freedom to grasp the preciousness of the moment. Within each of us lies a dream, a beginning. As we each add the essence of our being to the creation of the future.
The story of Exodus from Egypt will be told from one generation to the next. So that we will remember, we are a link in the chain of our heritage. “In every generation each individual is bound to regard himself as if he had gone personally forth from Egypt.” (the Passover Haggadah)
We are a link in an eternal chain. A part of a Divine unfolding which stretches forth from now to eternity. Our future began yesterday and continues today.
“Today is the first day of the rest of your life” (Charles Dederich). Our lives sanctified by the holiness of the lives that touch ours. We are each merely a fleeting moment, a lovely dream, dust in the wind. The very wind which carries pollen from one plant to the next. Where will the dust settle?
Dr. Devorah Ungar is an American-born scientist and musician.who moved to Israel 30 years ago.
