Lately, I’ve been thinking
of God.
I don’t think my
five or ten daily
minutes
compensate for
the micro-mini-milliseconds
that the Ein Sof allows
for me,
Since the divine mathemathics
are such that
those micro-mini-milliseconds
from the Ein Sof,
are an eternity.
With my five or ten minutes
I guess I get the
better of the deal.
So while He,
sorry, the pronoun is engrained,
Spends the micro-mini
Infinity
Giving me some heed,
I, admittedly frivolously,
image Him attending
different synagogues
on various occasions.
I think He’d come in
a fashionable
minute or two
late
To avoid attracting
any extra attention,
He’d not want to make
an appearance —
He did that already
at Sinai, and
once was enough —
He’d sit in the rear
quiet, humbly,
And recite the prayers
along with us,
Modified:
“Bless Am I Who gives
wisdom and understanding
to distinguish between
day and night…”
He’d recite aloud,
as is customary,
but in a low voice
to avoid attracting
any extra attention,
if one would overhear
the textual variant.
He came to shul, after all,
to hang out with His
people.
To check in
to get a sense if
his infinite
mini-micro-millimoment
is time-eternity
properly spent,
although for Him, never
actually spent,
another theological
conundrum I’ll leave
to those who better
calculate.
Perhaps He’d come on Shabbat
to an Israeli casual shul
in white polo, shorts and sandals
on a hot summer day
down on the plains.
Or elsewhere befurred in a striemel
to the hasidiche shteibel
where everyone is standing
shoulder to shoulder
awaiting the Rebbe.
Or an elegant shul
on an elegant avenue
in an elegant city
in a bespoke suit
with an absolutely
divine cut and fabric.
Or maybe jeans and a white shirt
joyful on the beach.
Or my shul, a sports coat and
khakis, no tie,
comfortable shoes,
ready to chat
in an undertone
when the service drags.
He’d stick around to hear
the rabbi speak
but diplomatically refrain
from any comments.
He gave the Torah,
the rest is our task.
After services conclude, He’d
patiently wait in line for
the Kiddush lunch, and
complement the staff
even if the hallah was
a bit stale,
or the food bland, or
if in a Sephardi bet knesset,
overly spicy.
He’d chat with folks who
seem out of place
or discomforted
or even on Shabbat
discouraged.
He Himself might even
don that appearance,
Since, as we know, we’ve
made a hash of
the world:
We might
assume
He’s a bit disappointed
in our overall performance.
The clincher, of course:
we’d never know if
our buddy, or that
stranger, or the guy
who gave me a hard time
couple of weeks ago,
Was The Divine Infinite
Utterly and Absolutely
One
in disguise.
So in my five or ten
minute reverie
I recall a moment
when
I might have actually
met
The Divine Infinite Utterly
And Absolutely One
and didn’t know it.
Oh, well, Lord, give me a
break.
You’re pretty good
at disguises.
I’ve already made a hash
of it.
If You come to shul
this shabbat,
May I ask that You
straighten me out?
Thanks. Looking forward
to seeing You.
May 15, 2025
18th Iyyar
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