by Reb Gutman Locks at Mystical Paths
He’s Russian. Obviously he’s a Jew, or I would not have put tefillin on him. He most likely never put them on before, at least that’s the way he acted when I brought him over. I really don’t know anything about the guy. Or, do I?
Take a closer look at the picture. Do you see that little drop of something on the bottom of his eyeglass? It’s a tear. When we cry we seem so much more alike.
He’s a Jew who has lived his fifty or sixty-some years doing pretty much what all of us have done: trying to make a living, looking for a peaceful place to live, raising a family. Not much more than that. But is this really so? Is this all that we are doing here?
Aren’t we all on a journey? Isn’t there something inside of us that says, “All this, the entire world and all my troubles are really just for now. They are so important to me now, but I know that they are going to end some day. Aren’t they? And I don’t know when that will be. Isn’t there Someone greater than all this?” That’s when we look up, and that’s when the tears begin to flow.
We are all on a journey, a journey that goes on and on, way beyond our temporary lives here. When we go on a journey we pack our bags. But for this journey, only our deeds are going to come with us. And we are all packing our bags every day, whether we realize it or not.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
// 3/19/2009 //