May 21, 2012

Behold, A Prayer

-Trisha Arlin

 

 

I.  Behold

 

In Torah, God shows the future in our dreams to whomever God thinks appropriate

 

And then God sends wise interpreters to us so we can tell them our dreams and they will tell us the messages that God has sent us.

 

And, once and only when explained, the dreams come true.

 

Hinei!   which means, Behold, that’s the word used in Torah to introduce such a dream.

 

Which is definitely not that thing that happens every night that you forget in the morning before you’ve brushed your teeth, but something important, something you must announce.

 

So here I go.  I had a dream.  Hinei.

 

 

 

II. Behold, Torah dreams.

 

So Joseph dreamed of wheat sheaves that bowed to him and the aging Wrestler understood and interpreted

 

Thus he gave his annoying son a striped coat,

 

So the dreams came true and the story commenced

 

And when Joseph saw his brothers again, they were hungry and he was a lord.

 

And they bowed down to him and he understood, and forgave because it was basherte, And no need to be bitter.

  

Thus they hugged and they ate and they cried.

 

So thank you, Jacob.

 

Because without interpretation, a prophecy is wasted.

 

III.  Then behold, science dreams.

 

While we sleep our brains show us random pictures  of what we had seen that day or what we can imagine, based on what our brains already knew because what else is there?

 

And our brain imposes order on the random and constructs a story

 

And we call that a dream.

 

Chalom is the Hebrew word for dream, which sounds like chalon, is the word for window.  Possibly no relation (I must ask the rabbi) but to my English-speaking ears, this establishes connection.

 

So perhaps a dream is prophecy or neurology or a window to one’s psyche, I dunno.

 

But our therapists interpret our dreams so we’ll understand our inner motivations.

 

Once analyzed, a dream gives insight.

 

So Danke Schoen, Freud.

 

Because without explanation, an image is wasted

 

IV.  Behold, Rebbe Hannina says

 

Human versions of God’s vast intent are as unripened fruit.

   

Filled with potential, perceived completely only by God.

 

He says that the unripened fruit of prophecy is a dream.

 

Which is kind of cool.

 

So I speculate, the unripened fruit of truth is the story.

 

We tell tales with beginnings middles and ends around our seder table, for instance.

 

Then we bite into sweet charoses and pretend it is mortar for bitter bricks

 

Because it fits the narrative.

 

So thanks, all you Jews,

 

Because without an audience, a maggid is wasted.

 

V.  Behold, Moses dreams

 

Of a story of escape from bondage, bad guys, and a hero or two.

 

And after much pain and death, and a mad dash across the Sea of Reeds, there’s much rejoicing.

 

Quickly interrupted by hunger and miracles and rules and revelation.

 

And even though the rest of us

 

Often find ourselves in the desert, or tied up on the metaphorical railroad tracks

 

Pay the rent    I can’t pay the rent

 

Not even dreaming of rescue, making bricks without straw

 

No aspirations, no hope, no prophecies, no future

  

Then comes Moshe, I’ll pay the rent

 

So Todah rabah, Shmot.

 

Because without complications, a happy ending is wasted.

 

 

 

VI.  Behold, five old rabbis pull an all-nighter.

 

Reclining but not sleeping

 

Discussing the unripened fruit of Exodus.

 

Awake but always dreaming of questions asked over and over again.

 

Why on this night?  And we children try to please them:

 

The grind who asks what they want him to ask and the wise-ass who won’t.

 

The sweet one, leaning against his mother, wants to know, why does anyone have to die?

 

And the littlest one at the kid’s table, stares at the drops of wine-blood on his plate and thinks, huh?

 

And the rabbis ask questions of each other and each one has a different answer.

 

But no matter how much they disagree, it always ends with the Shema.

 

So thanks, kids.

 

Because without questions, a long night is wasted.

 

VII. Behold, throwing dreams

 

Hannah invented personal prayer.

 

In private rebellion, she dared to speak her heart

 

And then fling it out to God.

 

And she wasn’t worried about High Priests or their approval,

 

Because her need was too great.

 

And God heard.  Because God does.

 

Hineini, not Hinei.

 

So I pray and dream and listen for the presence of God in ambient sound

 

And hope to interpret the dream properly so that it will come true, if it should,

 

And be part of a much larger story.

 

So we can all forgive and not be bitter

 

And hug and eat and cry and change the world

 

As did our illustrious uncle, Joseph of Egypt.

 

So thanks, Grace Paley, who more or less said,

 

“Without action, hope is wasted.”

 

 

 

VIII.  So anyway,  behold behold behold!

 

Behold, my dream.

 

Sorry it took so long to get here, I wish it I’d arrived at it sooner

 

I really really do.  But I got here as fast as I could.

 

So this is it, Hinei,

 

I dream of interpretation and analysis

 

Of neurons and freedom and food, of argument and doubt.

 

Of unripened fruit and leadership and complicated stories that get better each time you tell them.

 

I dream of Is and Was and Will Be

 

In the vast undifferentiated Ein Sof,  timeless and gender free,  One-ness.

 

I dream that we are kind to each other whenever possible.

 

And I dream of windows and connection and history.

 

I dream of the time and opportunity to study for all who wish to learn.

 

I dream of receiving wisdom from all who have to share.

 

And, Thank God,

 

Of a world where no books are unread

 

And nothing and no one is wasted.

 

IX.  And behold, at last, my actual dream

 

That I had the night before the first day of Drisha classes last September:

 

HINEI!  I am at Drisha, wandering the hallway and then I realize, I’m on a sort of scavenger hunt with the other students, we’re going from clue to clue.

 

It is very difficult but very exciting and at last, I find all the clues and I find my hidden treasure,

 

It is a message, written on a big piece of white oaktag, in calligraphy

 

One huge Hebrew letter,

 

Pei.

 

Mouth?

  

What else?

 

All other interpreters are welcome.

 

Blessed Was•Is•Will Be, Breath of Eternity, that creates holy separation between waking and sleeping, thank you.  Amen.