As a rabbi and Jewish professional, I am involved in a lot of talk about how we keep our synagogues and community alive, and in the greater religious world, how can religious communities remain relevant when our houses of worship are closed, when we cannot even hold a hand, provide last rites and confessionals, and be fully present for lifecycle events from birth to death. I have taught classes, prayed, attended meetings, learned, and counselled couples about weddings and circumcision. I have cried with friends and family over Zoom at funerals and shivas. I have done my best. It is not enough, but it is what I, and my colleagues can do right now.
There's a wonderful story about a town without a watchmaker. Slowly, slowly, over many years, the town's clocks and watches shifted out of time, until not a one was correct. One day the news spread that a watchmaker was going to be passing through. Excited, the townspeople gathered in the city square to present watches and clocks to the watchmaker. One by one each person approached and reverently handed her/his watch or clock to the artisan. He pronounced its fate, good or not. All those who devotedly kept up the practice of winding watches and clocks regardless of whether they were keeping proper time would have their watches fixed. The watches and clocks of those who believed there was no point to winding while the watches weren't working properly had frozen gears and workings beyond help.
We're not keeping proper time. We're out of sync. Our rituals feel somehow off, shifted out of time. But we keep winding our watches. We keep moving and doing. We connect in any way we can. And when the time comes to open our doors, when the time comes to meet again, to pray in person, to connect without masks or walls, if we have devotedly wound our watches, no matter how off we were, our fate will be positive, and we will rebound and come out of this strong and resilient.
