Rabbi Menachem Creditor
What was it that held back a feeling of impending liberation this year?
Was it the real events occurring on the global political arena? The
insistent existential question of the necessity of particular form,
given the urgency of a universe-in-need? The impossibility of
balancing these demands alongside 'normal', everyday concerns?
These questions might fit (with some hermeneutical fidgeting) into
the categories of 'wise child', 'wicked child', and
'unable-to-ask-child.'. But what if it's much simpler than that?
Perhaps the less obvious explanation is the most obvious possibility.
That instead of 'figuring it out' via intellectual exploration,
activist rebellion, or even profound silence, the best thing to do,
once in a while, is to be honest. Simple. Something like 'there's
something happening, and I'm not sure about my trajectory at the
moment. Hmm...'. ('Cottleston Pie' was Pooh's way of saying this, I
This allows for more space, for some respite from engagement. And
it's not a conscious-rejection of community, a hermit-like delving, or
even attuned silence. It's much simpler. It's waiting for a breath
of fresh air, for whatever comes next.
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