The Moon & The Stars
In yesterday’s Come Sunday, I invited you to think of times when you experienced awe.
So I’m wondering what your thoughts are. What gave you a moment of awe? Psychologist Dacher Keltner writes. “Awe makes us curious rather than judgmental. It makes us collaborative. It makes us humble, sharing and altruistic. It quiets the ego so that you’re not thinking about yourself as much.” Keltner also names what he calls “The Eight Wonders of Life” which invoke awe:
- Moral beauty: Witnessing extraordinary kindness, courage, strength, or people overcoming great obstacles.
- Nature: Experiencing vast landscapes, towering trees, animals, or natural elements.
- Collective effervescence (collective movement): Feeling deep unity and shared rhythm with groups through dance, sports, or concerts.
- Music: Being moved by a favorite song, a live concert, or harmonious sounds.
- Visual design: Feeling stirred by human art, architecture, and creative structures like sculptures or vast buildings.
- Spirituality and religion: Encountering the sacred, mystical, or divine through meditation or faith.
- Life and death: Reflecting on the profound cycle of existence, from childbirth and new life to aging and loss.
- Epiphanies (big ideas): Having sudden intellectual breakthroughs, scientific realizations, or deep insights into life’s truths.
This is also the point of the Tikkun Olam story and our scriptures today.
They invite us to consider nature and all its beauty, but also the mystical nature of the universe. Consider what you know about the moon. As we have been to it, we know that it cannot easily sustain life on it.
Our scripture reminds us that the Jewish feast days are based on the lunar calendar, as is our Easter. We know the effect of the moon on the tides, and if you’ve ever been in the ER on a full moon, you know how much it affects people. Teachers can also attest to the effect of a full moon on the children.
This being said, have you ever taken time to look for the moon – to notice the different colors it can be or the size of it. The ancient people were just in awe of these things. They did not know what we do about the atmosphere. And the stars – they did not have the light pollution we have – so they could see so much more of them.
As the psalmist wrote, “I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” – 121:1-2. They knew that sometimes you had to look higher and further to see the works of God.
And at the root of the Tikkun Olam story is the idea that God broke God’s self to create the world and we are called to be healing the world by recognizing the sacredness of all.
But we want a world that is predictable and ordered. We don’t like chaos, even though it is through chaos that everything was made. But we want control to prevent the chaos which we perceive as evil. When in reality, by resisting the chaos, we also limit our vulnerability. And by limiting our vulnerability, we also limit our joy.
Do you know what to do if a riptide takes you? Surrender – surrender and let it take its course and it will bring you back to the shore. So right now, I invite you to risk a bit of vulnerability with me and take off your shoes to feel the floor.
The energy of creation – of the earth – can come through the flooring. So give yourself some time to become grounded and listen to a story about awe. Imagine being at the beach. Imagine the feel of the cool, damp sand under your feet. See in your mind’s eye, the ocean with the tide coming roaring in and then quietly leaving again. Ahead of you on the beach, where the water has just been, is a toddler with very unsteady legs and a wet, sagging diaper, looking at the ocean, waiting for it to come back. The child’s parent is sitting some distance away, watching but trying not to interfere with the child’s experience.
As the next wave comes, the child runs towards the water but only deep enough to be above their knees. From the child’s perspective, these small waves are big things. The child knows they are with something VERY BIG. He turns and walks out of the water while it disappears back from where it came. And then he turns and runs again as if to meet the next wave. Notice how the child is feeling.
Finally, the child flings their arms out and shouts at the ocean; an unintelligible but eloquent speech to the water, to the gulls, to the sand, to the world. Can you feel the nature of his awe? Can you join child in their pleasure? Can you live as wholehearted as the child?
