Breathe In, Breathe Out: Reflections on Kohelet
#kohelet #ecclesiastes #sukkot #sukkah #kingsolomon #shlomo #holidayofourjoy #joy #wistful #hevel #vapor #mist
Well, here we stand, plunk in the midst of the eight-day Sukkot holiday, whose nickname (I can never say this enough) is the holiday of our joy. During this special, wondrous holiday where we dwell in booths (unless they are destroyed by a nor'easter) for a week, we take a break from the regularly scheduled weekly parsha and read Torah readings specifically set for this holiday. There is a longstanding Ashkenazi tradition of reading one of the Five Megillot, called the book of Ecclesiastes, or Kohelet .
Kohelet is traditionally attributed to an elderly King Solomon, looking back upon his life and wondering about the meaning of life. (Even in Tanach we have people who spend time reflecting on their pasts!) He wonders whether possessing great wealth was worth it. What of possessions? Nothing in his long and eventful life is spared as we read through the book, where phrases are repeated again and again. "All is hevel" (vapor or mist), "There is nothing new under the sun" and "who knows?" There is a touch of bitterness and even regret in the writer's voice, but it is balanced with a tinge of hope and an appreciation of joy.
When reading Kohelet it is as though we are sitting beside an elderly king and listening as he recounts his eventful life. Although he concentrates on the "hevel,"he allows us, those sitting by his side, to also sense that joy. Perhaps this is why we read Kohelet on the Shabbat of this Holiday of our Joy. As we sit in our sukkah (if the s'chach is still up) and we view the stars above us, we can imagine King Solomon as he circles through his sorrows and joys.
Moadim L'simcha,
Leann
She can't begin to count how many dish towels have been folded
and how many dark washes have been dropped into the washing machine.
So many times she has boiled water for pasta
or tucked leftovers into the refrigerator.
She writes while sitting on the basement steps;
surrounded by dustballs.
How many socks have been paired and how many discarded?
How many times has the table been set and then cleared again?
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
She sits unaware that a solitary spider peers down from above.
How many lullabies have been lovingly sung
and how many dirty diapers changed?
How many times has the trash been emptied,
only to fill up again?
How many stories have been read,
dropping into another place and time?
One story ends and another begins.
Different places, different times.
The spider begins to weave,
she never seems to tire.
When the web breaks, she starts once again.
Breathe in
Breathe out.
How many times has she put the key in the ignition
and started down the street?
How many red lights has she idled at
just waiting to make a left turn?
How many trips to the supermarket?
How many bottles of milk?
How many things she meant to do,
but then never found the right day,
the right time.
The spider spins her web.
She never looks back
Forward she spins.
The woman looks around.
She has thought enough and chores await.
She rises, never noticing the spider above her.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
קהלת
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