“Right now, hey / It’s your tomorrow
Right now / Come on, it’s everything
Right now / Catch that magic moment
And do it right here and now / It means everything”
I never thought I would include lyrics from Van Halen in my writing. But why not? One can find sage-like advice in unexpected places.
I have been receiving morning emails from My Jewish Learning for quite some time. Each one has three or four articles. I usually will read at least one. Sometimes, I encounter a pure gem. Such was the piece on the Shehechiyanu blessing. (Shehechiyanu*: “who has given us life.”)
[the tree of life, Shehechiyanu, “who has given us life”]
We are told by Rabbi Shefa Gold it is “said whenever we realize the miracle of the present moment. Traditionally, it is recited when we do something for the first time that year.” For example, lighting Hanukkah candles (which my wife Banu and I began doing in 2013, which just happened to be right after Hamas invaded Israel.) It might be at the beginning of a Jewish holiday. Or perhaps, a Christian holiday!
She continues, “In truth, however, each day is a momentous arrival. Our whole existence has led us to every single moment—the culmination of our lives so far, which we are privileged to experience in the fullness of now. God, that miraculous force of grace unfolding, has brought us home. In encountering and honoring that force of homecoming, we turn and receive the gift of life.”
I know we’re not the only ones to do this, but Banu and I often reflect on all the twists and turns that have led us to this present moment. Of all the possible timelines, the current one has been destined to form the creatures we currently are. Though, is “destined” the right word? Theologians and philosophers have debated that for millennia. Whatever the case, with every moment, new timelines emerge.
Here is the text of the prayer:
“Baruch Ata Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Haolam, shehechiyanu, v’kiy’manu, v’higianu lazman hazeh.” And in English:
“Blessed are You Eternal Spirit who has given us life, sustained us and allowed us to arrive in this moment.” (note: Melech Haolam has traditionally been translated as “King of the Universe”)
Rabbi Gold offers as encouragement, “If we are truly present, we could say the Shehechiyanu in every moment, because every moment is new and truly unprecedented. Unfortunately, we often get distracted or complacent, and we habitually miss the miracle that is right in front of us…
“When we say this blessing, we expand to receive the gift of life. We are reminded to take nothing for granted and to allow ourselves to be surprised.”
What a truly awesome gift—the ability to be surprised! It certainly runs counter to our jadedness, our sophistication, our “meh.” Surprise can transform the grayness of life (or at best, the sepia-toned) and reveal every subatomic particle in rainbow majesty.
Okay, you might say, hold onto your horses! Gray (and sepia) are part of our existence on this third stone from the sun.
Dipping into the abundance of scriptural images, we can cry with the psalmist, “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. / I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold” (69:1-2a). And we can heed the words of Jesus, who says of God, “he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous” (Matthew 5:45b).
Such is life.
Still, if “such is life,” so is the painful reality of missed opportunities. To again quote the prudent musings of Van Halen: “And do it right here and now. It means everything.” Missing the moment can lead to one of the most agonizing feelings, that of regret. What could have been?
We can blow the chance to approach “that” girl and let it slip away forever. Oh, the torment! (Thank the Lord, that ultimately never happened to me.)
Scripture has images of those who never had a chance for a do-over. Matthew 25 has the parable of the ten virgins, waiting at night for the return of the bridegroom. The foolish ones have not brought extra oil for their lamps. When he returns, they aren’t there. They’re off buying more oil, and by the time they get back from their late-night shopping, the door is closed. There is no reentry. The moment has passed.
On the night which we now call Maundy Thursday, Peter misses the mark three times (Luke 22:54-62). At the charcoal fire, he denies knowing Jesus. The cock crows. He weeps bitterly. The opportunity to stand by his Lord has passed. Nevertheless, at another charcoal fire (John 21:15-19), Jesus gives him three more times to say, “I love you.”
Peter is blessed with the chance for a do-over. The moment is not returned, but it is reimagined.
How many times have we wasted a golden moment, and yet by some crazy circuitous route, it has reemerged in an unexpected way? We might easily feel we don’t deserve a second (or third or fourth) chance.
And yet beyond all hope, we find ourselves uttering the Shehechiyanu, or words to that effect!
Our Lord is the Lord of broken timelines—and of timelines resurrected.