Fire

I am trying to take note of my first thought of the day. This morning, I woke thinking, "The fireman does not just look for the house number. He looks for the fire."  At first, the words felt foreboding, but then I started thinking about passion and its need to be kindled.  

  

Last week I sat around a fairly small table with a group of elders I am just now getting to know. I think we have finally found a schedule that works for both the community and myself, and our comfort level is growing.  After some time in conversation, I asked if they would like to share communion.  One woman quietly replied, "Well, if it would not be too much trouble..."  Another responded, "Only if it would be okay. I am Catholic."  I assured them that it would certainly be a blessing, not a burden, and encouraged them to remember that we are all God's children.   

   

I then set the table and began the story of Jesus gathering his disciples for that last Passover meal. Just then, another resident walked up and asked if he could join us.  We all responded with our own version of  "Yes, of course!"  He pointed to a chair just behind us and said, "I will just sit over here." That meant he would not be at the table, but just off to the side.  However, we all had already begun to make room by shifting our chairs and some walkers, and asked him to please join us at the table.   

 

At first, he was a little reluctant, but I tried to encourage him by saying, "This is what people of faith do. We make room for one another."  I almost used the word Christian, but decided not to because I had never met him. Sure enough, he told he was Jewish. I learned his daughter still regularly takes him to the synagogue where she is very active.  I sensed his pride in her.  "I think you have left her a beautiful faith legacy, and she is now sharing that legacy with others." He looked happy.     

 

We all then began talking about our faith traditions, and how they intersect. It really was a beautiful conversation, full of pauses as we each remembered our experiences and tried to put into words our beliefs and values. I think each of us, whether man or woman, Jewish, Catholic, Protestant, or one who is struggling with it all, realized we have much in common. Eventually, I did resume the story of Jesus gathering the disciples on that Passover night. It felt to me to be a really tender time of communion and presence.  Our Jewish friend did not take communion, but we shook hands and wished one another God's peace.  He thanked me for inviting him in. However, the invitation never comes from me. The source is much deeper than that. 

 

Letting go. Making room. Finding common ground. Expressing gratitude.  I pray these practices will always be what fuels my faith in God who holds us all.  

     

   

I will travel the path of connection, for You have expanded my heart. 

Psalm 119:32

Rabbi Yael Levy