“Everything has its own time, and there is a season for everything under the sky” —Ecclesiastes 3:1
“As long as the days of the earth endure,
seedtime and harvest,
cold and heat,
summer and winter,
day and night shall not cease”
—Genesis 8:22
Judaism is a religion in time.
sunrise, sunset,
creation, revelation.
Everything turns on the sun and the moon.
There is sanctity in these cycles,
this logic that dictates
our coming in, and our going out,
evening and morning, ritual and rite,
making order out of chaos.
Shabbat is an island in time,
unbroken, whole, sublime.
While we hold Shabbat sacred,
setting it apart,
we are not absolved from
mending this world.
We mark the new moon at Rosh Hodesh,
our calendar a gateway to divine cycles
and seasons of joy and sorrow,
the moon our compass.
Sky and earth and ocean,
Shavuot, Sukkot, Pesakh.
While the sky-gate is open,
we honor the Torah,
studying all night,
searching for the keys
to the gate of heaven.
Waving the lulav east, west,
north, south, we say a prayer
for the earth’s harvest,
seeking the blessing of abundance.
Every year we are reborn
when the Sea of Reeds parts,
a season of renewal and freedom,
we sing Shirat HaYam,
our song of crossing.
Like reciting the modeh ani,
we give gratitude for our souls returned,
from darkness to light.
The sea is tied to time
and we count the Omer at night,
marking the passage
from Pesakh back to Shavuot,
reminding us that every day
of our lives is consequential.
We make time holy.
Every moment counts.
