There's no such thing as ownership, for anyone but God. We read in Leviticus 25:23: 'The land must not be sold permanently, for the land is Mine [God's]; you are but strangers residing with Me.' Take a moment and think about your home, your car, your jewelry, your clothing, even your food, and ask yourself if you - generally speaking - consider these things to be yours, or if you're ok with the idea that you don't own any of them. My guess is, you'd like to show God some credit card receipts and mortgage statements, and ask (respectfully) whose signature appears on all those dotted lines...
Nevertheless, this is a prominent theme throughout the Bible. When we see ourselves as owners, we feel rooted, settled... and complacent. We take possessions for granted, and we feel entitled to all that we have. We look at people around us who DON'T have, and we feel no sympathy, because we obviously worked harder than those lazy bums! If they
didn't want to go without, they should have made wiser choices in life. And so the Torah reminds us - again, and again, and again - that our assumptions simply ain't true. We have all been incredibly lucky to get where we are today, and we should ALL feel incredible gratitude for each and every moment of happiness we get to experience. One strategy that the Biblical author employs to try to convey that message is to remind you that you own nothing. It could all disappear in the blink of an eye, if, God forbid, disaster should strike or luck should change. We don't LIKE to think of ourselves as strangers and squatters in our own lives, but permanence is truly an illusion. And as unpleasant as it is to be reminded of it, we sometimes NEED that reminder, because it teaches us to be grateful and appreciative. Better to learn that the easy way than the hard way...
It is indeed difficult to think of our possessions and homes as fleeting, but it is all the more unthinkable to consider this same concept regarding the people in our lives. And yet, they too are not immune. There is an incredibly heart-breaking rabbinic story about the famous rabbi, Rabbi Meir, and his equally famous
and learned wife, Beruriah. On one particularly fateful Shabbat, both their sons died while Rabbi Meir was away. When he returned, and Beruriah revealed to him what had happened, she spoke about the need to return two precious gems to their original owner. They had merely been left with the devastated couple for a short while, for safekeeping. I don't like this story, and I don't want to accept this reality... but I must. We don't get to decide how long we live, or long our lives will be graced by the beautiful people around us; we can only make the most of the precious moments that we have, and give thanks constantly for the moments and the memories.
This weekend we celebrate Mother's Day. And inevitably, you know someone who will say 'I love my mother EVERY day, why do I need one special day to say so???' And the answer is that every reminder helps. Every opportunity to stop, to acknowledge blessings, and to give thanks,
is good. It's hard to be grateful all the time; we take a lot for granted. But when an opportunity comes along to truly FEEL that gratitude? Take it. I hope this blog post hasn't come across as depressing; that wasn't my intention at all. We don't like to be reminded that we're all really just tenants and outsiders, but we NEED this wake up call to make us more sensitive to new people in our community, to those who don't always fit in, to those less fortunate around us; to EVERYONE. We need the reminder, even if it's uncomfortable, even if it's tough to accept. And if you hear that message - and I hope that you do - it will make you more grateful. And then you'll hug someone this weekend and tell them how great they are. And it will all be worth it.
Photos in this blog post:
1. CC image courtesy of Noblestrawberry on Wikimedia Commons
2. CC image courtesy of Leixure on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image courtesy of The Mighty Tim Inconnu on Wikimedia Commons
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