The God of Small Things

I don’t remember the details of the plot of the book but I can quickly identify its spine on my bookshelf and I will never forget the title: The God of Small Things. It’s not a Jewish book, but the first novel of Indian writer Arundhati Roy. It’s been over 25 years since I read it but the title comes back to me time and time again almost as a mantra. It’s no surprise that I find myself thinking about the God of small things when the big things in the world feel so awry.

Last Friday, I arrived at Kabbalat Shabbat desperate for refuge after a very difficult week—with a sense of overwhelm and anxiety for what lies ahead for us in this country. As the tefillah began, I found myself noticing a little tension leave my body. I became more enveloped by the voices in the room and—amidst a lot of dismay and tiredness—some small element of joy peaked in. It wasn’t because anything on the outside had changed, it was because I was able to plug in to something on the inside and feel the embrace and strength and longing of community: the God of small things.

Sunday, I officiated at the unveiling of Len Sugin, the beloved husband of Barbara. Three generations of their family have been members of BJ over a couple of decades. Len was a regular at my Tuesday lunchtime class for over 20 years. As we stood by his grave and his family shared reflections about him, I was so moved to witness the love and the gratitude that abounded. He was the guy who would always bring clementines to his granddaughter’s cross country meets. He was the one who always had an opinion, but wouldn’t offer it unless asked. He was the protector—and even without his physical presence, one granddaughter spoke of feeling protected by him in this past year. In my class, he was always focused on the simple meaning of the text. He, unlike me, wasn’t as inspired by the rabbis’ imaginations and I loved him for that. Sometimes gruff but always kind and generous. It was in the small stuff, the day to day, the consistency, that he showed up. Divinity in small things.

Monday night we held a post-election Zoom for the teens. Rabbi Deena and our new teen coordinator Eric Golovan and I were there, and just a handful of teens showed. As we spoke about what we were feeling, two of the teens spoke about the power of their BJ teen trip to Arizona and its impact on them. They felt particularly connected to the issue of refugee and immigrant rights in America and had a lot of fear about what will happen under the new administration. It was very moving to have them articulate the power of meeting migrants and how their dreams of a better life impacted them as well. There is power in one small story of a human being created in God’s image to change our vision for the world.

Then one teen, Ari Berman, showed us that to channel his nervous energy he’s learned to do paper origami. He said, “I want to be someone who creates during these days rather than destroys.” One small statement, that is a guide for resilience, love, and compassion in these uncertain times.

Tuesday, there was an interfaith night of prayer and reflection at the Church of St. Paul and St. Andrew. It wasn’t a big event, but it was pure and simple. Candles were lit all around, shedding light in the darkness. Prayers from different faith leaders were offered. Here is what I shared. Dr. Serene Jones, the President of Union Theological Seminary shared that last Wednesday, a day she would have preferred to stay in bed, she was awakened by drums in the courtyard of the seminary. Soon, a tambourine and then a guitar was added to the mix, and she was beckoned by the call of the music and singing. For 12 hours straight, students and faculty sang songs of justice and love; and the song that they kept returning to was none other than Bob Marley’s “One Love.” Dr. Jones isn’t a singer, but as she told the story in the sanctuary at SPSA, all of a sudden, a quiet chorus began to emerge singing: “One love, one heart; Let’s get together and feel all right.”

There may not always be a clear path to “feel all right” in these uncertain times. And yet, for all the big problems of existence, in the day to day of living, there is God in the small things—the spark of love, the power of resilience, the human connection, the feeling that there can be joy even when things are hard, and that we are not alone in it all.

As is declared in the first book of Kings in the story of Elijah:

וְהִנֵּה יְהֹוָה עֹבֵר וְרוּחַ גְּדוֹלָה וְחָזָק מְפָרֵק הָרִים וּמְשַׁבֵּר סְלָעִים לִפְנֵי יְהֹוָה לֹא בָרוּחַ יְהֹוָה וְאַחַר הָרוּחַ רַעַשׁ לֹא בָרַעַשׁ יְהֹוָה׃וְאַחַר הָרַעַשׁ אֵשׁ לֹא בָאֵשׁ יְהֹוָה וְאַחַר הָאֵשׁ קוֹל דְּמָמָה דַקָּה׃

And lo, God passed by. There was a great and mighty wind, splitting mountains and shattering rocks by God’s power; but God was not in the wind. After the wind—an earthquake; but God was not in the earthquake.After the earthquake—fire; but God was not in the fire. And after the fire—a still soft voice

I Kings 19:11-12.

Amidst all the literal and figurative fires and earthquakes that we are experiencing, may we be attentive to that still small voice, the God of small things.