Ki Tisa: Don’t Lose Yourself 2024

Plaut p. 593

Source Sheet by Yair Robinson

There’s an apocryphal story related by the therapist Salvador Minuchin about a meeting between two family therapists in which the one, who feels more comfortable when he’s close to people, would take a step closer to the other, who would withdraw two steps, to be followed by the first with three steps forward, to again be followed by the second’s retreat. By the end of their chat they had gone around the room three times. Reportedly, their chat was about appropriate distances among people.

What is the appropriate distance? We see here Moses trying to close the gap between himself and God, longing for closeness, longing for intimacy, for connection–something we all seek and desire. He says, “Let me behold your kavod” –translated as presence, glory, honor, back. And God agrees, saying “I will let all my tuvi, my goodness, my wholeness, my completeness, pass before you, and proclaim my name and show my grace and compassion, but you cannot see My face.”  God’s face? Moses didn’t ask to see God’s face–why does God respond that way? Because God understands what Moses doesn’t–that there are healthy, necessary limits to intimacy and closeness. That one shouldn’t lose one’s self in a relationship but rather find one’s own integrity, one’s own self. God reminds Moses–and us–that we are meant to be differentiated, complete, and individual selves.

These days you hear people describe themselves as empaths, people who somehow know what someone else is feeling or experiencing. And there are always those who seem to think that their lived experience should dictate what others think and feel–that they somehow know best. But Levinas reminds us that we cannot ever truly know another’s burdens–that there are limits to our knowledge of the other. And we certainly can’t change the people around us. But we can maintain our own selves, and in doing so truly see the people around us, see their tov, their goodness, acknowledge them, do what we can to support them. In this way, rather than chasing each other around the room, may we respond to one another with compassion and grace. Amen.

The Cricket in The window-box

Two people are walking down the street in the big city, and there was noise everywhere. There were trucks rumbling by, cab drivers honking their horns, people talking on their cell phones, bicycle messengers blowing their whistles. Abruptly, one of the two turned to her friend and said, “did you hear that?”

“hear what?” asked the friend.

“the cricket.” Said the one.

“A cricket? How could you hear a cricket? You’ve got to be kidding! There’s no way with all this noise that you heard a cricket.”

“Let’s look” she said, and went to the window box nearest them, and sure enough, there was a cricket.

“How did you hear that?” asked the friend, incredulous.

“oh it’s easy. Watch this.” And with that she took out a quarter, threw it into the air and watched it land on the sidewalk. With the plunk of the quarter hitting the sidewalk, all the trucks, the cabbies, the horns, the talking, the whistling all stopped as they looked to see where the coin had fallen.”

“you see” she said, “it all depends on what you’re listening for.”

What are we listening for? What are we looking for? When we quiet ourselves, may we listen for God’s voice in our lives, so we can serve God and our communities better.