I just spent some time in Central Europe and I was dazzled by how much I relied on my Google Maps app to orient myself. My anthropology degree reminded me of the Guugu Yimithirr people, who are so attuned to the cardinal directions that they won’t say “look behind you” but rather “look southwest.” Meanwhile, I am only able to figure out where I am by walking several feet in one direction until I see if my little blue dot is moving in the correct direction. For what it’s worth, I would estimate my moving in the wrong direction as a 75% occurrence.
As Jews, we are a moving people. Very little in our tradition focuses on being still and stagnant. Instead, we are a people of roaming and wandering. I would argue that the most consistent aspect of our faith is the ceaseless searching.
The never-endingness first struck me in a Torah study offered by one of my Rabbis several years ago from parashat Vayetze. The passage in question is Genesis 28: 12:
He [Jacob] had a dream; a stairway was set on the ground and its top reached to the sky, and messengers of God were going up and down on it.
My rabbi discussed that the Hebrew could describe a ladder that was actually moving ground-ward, but not actually making contact with the ground.
I think this is often my Judaism. My Judaism is an ever-approaching-but-never-quite-arriving type of faith. My Judaism is that of an immature people, striving, trying, fumbling, but ceaselessly moving towards. My faith often aligns with the fools wandering around the desert aimlessly, towards a poorly defined endpoint.
I think this could explain why peace is the ultimate desire for the Jewish people. Joy and thrill are amazing, but for a people who have restlessly wandered their whole existence, rest and peace sounds mighty nice.
I, for one, identify with the tired, wandering, restless narrative of our tradition.
Thinking back, I realize that my first true adult role model was Jenna Elfman’s character Anna Riley in the 2000 film classic Keeping the Faith. She is a no-nonsense, high powered business woman. I offer this ridiculous quote so you can understand her psyche. She is defending her workaholic nature stating,
I work harder than God. If He had hired me, He would have made the world by Thursday.
This was my role model! She was busy and important and beautiful and found the love of her life by the end of the movie. What’s not to envy?
Signing up for this life of busyness and productivity was more than I was ready or even capable of. The desperate effort to level up that defined my 20s and early 30s began to crumble at some point. Long ago, before the era of quiet quitting and boundaries, I read this important article in the NYT Opinion page https://archive.nytimes.com/opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/06/30/the-busy-trap/
The sentence that haunts me to this day is that,
Busyness serves as a kind of existential reassurance, a hedge against emptiness; obviously your life cannot possibly be silly or trivial or meaningless if you are so busy, completely booked, in demand every hour of the day.
Detoxing from constant busyness is painful and strange and not universally admired. The accolades I received for getting published or making big advancements in my career are absent in the face of my new accomplishments. What are these new accomplishments? Here’s a brief list:
- I used my PTO
- I slept a full 8 hours
- I got bored
- I’ve read some really silly books
- I turned my phone on “Do Not Disturb” just for fun
As a reform Jew, I am lucky that my community and its leaders intentionally make space for stillness and peace. The very structure of creation requires rest. Our seven day week reflects the divine right to rest. Stillness seems antithetical to my naive understanding of Judaism, but it is actually just as critical as the efforting.
I think it’s short sighted to view rest and ease as lacking direction. Even the most prolific explorers pause to pull out their compass or consult their map. Rather the rest is all about making the direction meaningful and intentional. It is easy to walk in circles, but it is not helpful. Sometimes I think we pursue movement simply because it feels like we’re progressing.
Relentless movement without direction is just a path to exhaustion. This is separate from the gentle curious ambling that serves our imagination. We all benefit from intentionally directionless time. But the urgent pursuit of a ground we may not find is actually a trap.
May we all find some time to pause and recalibrate. Our journeys will be less exhausting, our paths will be clearer, and we retain space to wander gently.
Onward.
And You Shall Love 