Old Books

They used to sit on a shelf when I was a kid. Primarily in Hebrew, with English on the sidebar, still in the old dust jackets.

I found them again, stacked on a shelf in a trailer that my father was unloading before we sold his property. I was helping him sort through and burn some items, donate others, and I found these.

What else could I do? I bargained for them. I had always wanted them for my own, anyway, and he knew it. We settled on $25 for the lot. When it came time to pay up, he gave me a smile and a sideways glance and simply said, "You can have them. If you can get some use out of them..."

And that's how I got the full edition of the Mishnah that is currently perched on my bookshelf.

Handing things down. That's how we do things here on Earth. We hand down introspection, values, tradition, and a boatload of bad habits.

But then again, this is the entire purpose of the thing, to learn what it takes to break the bad habits that we learn from our forefathers.

On the way to work this morning, I saw a hospital bed perched next to an open window facing the road, with a person lying on it. I felt sadness and compassion for the person, unknown, situation also unknown. It's been a lovely day today, but they will only experience it from behind the window.

I could take this in two directions. I could suggest that by not actively reading and studying the literature I currently possess, they are merely "looking out the window" at me, never getting the chance to express the knowledge and wisdom that they contain, all the while sitting there at my very fingertips.

I could also venture that learning the little nuggets of wisdom without applying them in a real world setting, is still watching the world go by with my fingers permanently jammed into the very grain of the windowsill.

Neither are useful. Neither are where I want to be.

Recently, I found a program that could prove very useful to me, and in turn, to others that have felt isolated from who and what they are, folks that are lying off to the side, or stuck behind the window as the world of their own heritage parades by. Those of us that have said the following, "I am Jewish, but..." or the even more horrid, " I used to be Jewish, but..."

To say that I have been nervous about publicly stating my intentions to my beautiful wife would be putting it mildly. But right when I think everything will go to hell like it always does, she throws a curve into it that instantly makes me feel much better.

Today, it was a question about whether we were going to strictly celebrate Jewish holidays or not. I hadn't even mentioned the idea, and she brought up that Passover was this week. I had decided that I didn't want to go through forcing the family into a lot of immediate changes, and could pretty much introduce them throughout the year.

Frankly, it's been amazing how much better life has been just by introducing Shabbat into the household. I never realized before that how little we actually rested. Before, it was work, work, work until I was sick. But you need that rest to gather your thoughts, who you are, and what you're all about. Plus, we spend that time truly focused on each other, and that is great.

I know how much she loves the Christmas holidays. For me, I could take it or leave it. But I am Jewish, she is not (technically). Why strip the very things that bring joy?

The fact was that she brought it up to begin with, as in something we were in together and committed to. That blew me away.

Somehow, we went from being inside, behind the window, to finally being out there, on a new experience where the rules are there, but are designed for understanding instead of fighting over or restricting us.

Sometimes, it's more than just old books.