Essayist David Whyte tells the story of sharing a glass of wine with a monk of his acquaintance:
"Tell me about exhaustion," I said.
He looked at me with an acute, searching, compassionate ferocity for the briefest of moments, as if trying to sum up the entirety of the situation and without mission a beat, as if he had been waiting all along, to say a life-changing thing to me. He said, in the form of both a question and an assertion:
"You know that the antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest?"
"The antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest," I repeated woodenly, as if I might exhaust myself completely before I reached the end of the sentence. "What is it, then?""The antidote to exhaustion is wholeheartedness." (from "Crossing the Unknown Sea" by David Whyte -- publisher unknown.)
Wholeheartedness is a wonderful feeling, doing whatever one does with commitment, with belief in the rightness of the task. It's how I like to work. Whether the task in front of me is large or small, emotionally freighted or routine, I like to believe that it is what I should be doing in that moment, that it is somehow, in the scheme of things, important. Even if I'm xeroxing or vacuuming the shul rug, I draw energy from feeling like what I am doing builds community, teaches Torah, addresses a need, increases happiness. I hope we all feel that way about whatever we do during the day, like it contributes something to the world that needs giving.
Lately I have found myself ruminating about the importance of what I do, what we do together. I'm not exhausted, but I'm not totally clear these days about the wholeness of my heart either. I have wondered at times what we are adding to the world and to each other. Is love increasing? Spiritual depth and connection? Justice? Wisdom? Beauty? What is the fruit of our Jewish community? What is the fruit of my own work these past almost fifteen years?
Sometimes the answers seem completely clear and crisp to me. At other times they are not. Sometimes I lose sight of the big picture in the details. Since this is a time when I find myself wondering and ruminating, asking, "Does this matter?" I thought I would just ask the people whose answers I would most like to hear.
They say you should never ask a question unless you are ready to hear the answer. I think I am ready to hear the answers. So I am asking you: what does our Jewish community mean to you? What are its fruits in your life? How has MCJC mattered to you and your family over the years? Have there been moments when our Jewish community or Jewish tradition has really made a difference for you? How would your life be different if there were no Jewish life here?
I'm asking in a personal way, not a programmatic way. This isn't a survey. This is one soul asking another soul about the meaning of her work in the world. If your soul feels inclined to respond to mine, I would be curious, a bit nervous and mostly very grateful for whatever you would share. I think you know how to find me: mholub@mcn.org or P.O. Box 97, Albion CA 95410.
I do wonder what I am about to hear!
© 2003 Rabbi Margaret Holub
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Updated 09/09/2004 (rge)