There is something comforting about the training schedules that many runners follow to prepare for a race. While some might be physically exhausting, they demand nothing of you other than running, a physical behavior. I know that I have to run hill repeats tonight. There is nothing that says that I have to enjoy it.
Looking at me externally, one might get a sense that I take my religion seriously. I generally make an effort to follow the laws, at least the physical ones. The emotional ones are another matter. Take the holiday of Purim. I gave food to friends and gave as much money as I could to the poor. The obligation to be happy? That was another matter.
I tried. I really did. I even tried dressing up in costume for a while, something I have rarely done, at least consciously. It didn’t feel real. Feeling self conscious, I went back to my regular clothes, still trying to be happy, or at the very least feel happy. I tried intellectualizing it, thinking about the good that G-d has done, both generally as well as to me personally. That led me to once again realize that the distance from head to heart is mush further than any race I have run.
Towards the end of the day we joined up with another family for the festive meal. There, at least for a while, I found a measure of happiness. The husband, who is both a scholar and one of the most kindhearted and genuine people I know, showed without trying, what real happiness is about. I’d love to tell you just how, but it’s not something I can put into words. His father, the kind of man who I wonder whether our generation can ever produce, regaled us with stories from a bygone era. The discussions around the table alternated between deep and meaningful, and light yet joyous. I even felt a sense of connection in being with our oldest son, something that has not been easy recently.
I’d love to say that I learned something that day that has changed things for me. At the very least, how the past two days have been more joyous than usual. I can’t. Nonetheless, I am not giving up. I felt something real the other day, something I want to make part of my life.
Showing posts with label Purim. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Purim. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Remove the Mask
To many children, and increasingly, many adults, dressing up in costumes is the focal point of the (upcoming) holiday of Purim. There is a certain irony in this as there is no obvious connection between the holiday and wearing a disguise. Still, if we are willing to think a little creatively, there is a much to learn from this practice.
A friend of mine recently pointed out that I have a tendency to intellectualize things. He suggested that rather than letting myself feel things, I transfer my feelings into ideas. I realized the truth of his words when I read something I recently wrote. I wrote it because I felt pained by a particular event. Yet in reading what I wrote the pain was hardly there. There were some challenging points. I, however, was missing in the words.
You might recall that I missed my goal in the NYC marathon by only four seconds. There are many ways I could explain this, but the biggest reason was that I refused to run with some discomfort. I settled into a comfortable pace, a costume if you will, to avoid confronting the pain. Unwilling to feel the pain, I sacrificed the opportunity to achieve.
The Jews during the time of the Purim story were not unified. This almost led to their downfall. It was only through Queen Esther’s efforts to unify them, that they were saved. Three of the main practices of Purim; the feast, sending gifts of food to friends and giving gifts to the poor, revolve around unity. Joining up with others is difficult. There is the risk of rejection, as well as the chance that your differences might divide you. There is a tendency we have to “dress up” to cover up our differences. On Purim, we wear the costumes so that we can easily come together. Ultimately, we must come out from behind the masks and risk being ourselves. It is uncomfortable to feel pain. It feels awkward to put yourself out there, without trying to protect yourself. It is far more uncomfortable and awkward to lose yourself, to become the costume. Taking off the mask can be tough. Leaving it on is not an option.
A friend of mine recently pointed out that I have a tendency to intellectualize things. He suggested that rather than letting myself feel things, I transfer my feelings into ideas. I realized the truth of his words when I read something I recently wrote. I wrote it because I felt pained by a particular event. Yet in reading what I wrote the pain was hardly there. There were some challenging points. I, however, was missing in the words.
You might recall that I missed my goal in the NYC marathon by only four seconds. There are many ways I could explain this, but the biggest reason was that I refused to run with some discomfort. I settled into a comfortable pace, a costume if you will, to avoid confronting the pain. Unwilling to feel the pain, I sacrificed the opportunity to achieve.
The Jews during the time of the Purim story were not unified. This almost led to their downfall. It was only through Queen Esther’s efforts to unify them, that they were saved. Three of the main practices of Purim; the feast, sending gifts of food to friends and giving gifts to the poor, revolve around unity. Joining up with others is difficult. There is the risk of rejection, as well as the chance that your differences might divide you. There is a tendency we have to “dress up” to cover up our differences. On Purim, we wear the costumes so that we can easily come together. Ultimately, we must come out from behind the masks and risk being ourselves. It is uncomfortable to feel pain. It feels awkward to put yourself out there, without trying to protect yourself. It is far more uncomfortable and awkward to lose yourself, to become the costume. Taking off the mask can be tough. Leaving it on is not an option.
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