Last night, in spirituality group, we talked about God. The group is not very diverse so there was a lot of agreement. But I think so much is mystery and I like it that way. It used to be that I thought religion had all the answers, but then God was very small and easily boxed in. Not so. I don't understand the nature of God anymore, a being who loves us dearly but doesn't reach down and rescue us. Why do we ever expect it? Didn't those people in the hospitals and nursing homes, abandoned when the waters rose, deserve it more than anyone? They were the anawim, the little ones God loves so. No, we are the hands and feet, fleshing out God's desire that all be loved and rescued. Etty Hillesum once wrote in her journal that she realized that God wasn't going to reach down and help the Jews in 1939. So she told God that she would help God. And that concept, that God isn't helping us, but that we need to help God, has shaped my thoughts for three years now. I'm still musing on that one. Mystery.

Never cut loose from your longings.
~ Amos Oz