I’ve been running most of my life to catch up with myself. Whether it’s paying bills, putting away laundry or finishing a story, I run through the day picking up the remains of all I haven’t done.

This is not a habit I’ve developed as an adult; it’s a tendency I’ve had since I was a little girl. The first time I noticed it was in third grade, on a crisp autumn afternoon as I was walking home from school. I dropped my black composition notebook on the sidewalk and bent down to pick it up.

I picked up the notebook and brushed it off, the entire process taking no more than a few seconds. Then, as if moved by an invisible force, I did something I had never done before. I ran ahead, ten or fifteen steps, to the place where I imagined I would have been, should have been, if I hadn’t dropped my book. It was a purely spontaneous, unpremeditated response to the fact that I had stopped moving. Without thinking, I ran to catch up with myself.

I am reminded of this incident as I look around and see my family, friends, and neighbors running to catch up with the lives they would have had, should have had, if the economic losses of the past year hadn’t hit them so hard. It is as if we are all sorting through a pile of “what if’s” in order to make decisions now about things that only a year ago seemed so much easier to decide. Can we afford to send our daughter to a private college? Will there be sufficient funds to pay the mortgage let alone buy a new car or take a family vacation? Should I look for a second job?

In my struggle to find a healthy response to these very real pressures, I turn to the wisdom of Jewish thinking to guide me. And while there are no simple answers to allay my questions and fears about the future, Judaism provides a very real compass by which to guide my steps. That compass comes in the form of two words which can empower us with hope and enable us to make a difference even in the most difficult of times. Tikkun olam, which in Hebrew means “repairing the world,” is the Jewish mandate that can help us reclaim our spiritual equilibrium in these turbulent waters.

Throughout the Torah and the Talmud we are taught that we have an obligation to act with love, compassion and justice towards others. We are commanded to “do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with God.” (Micah 6:8) We are obligated to provide for the stranger, the widow and the orphan; we must love our neighbors as ourselves and avoid doing to others what is hateful to us.

Our Jewish mission is to engage as God’s partner in making this world better – not just for ourselves and our children but for all of humanity, for all time. It is through deeds of loving kindness and acts of compassion and justice that we evolve into better people and better Jews. Tikkun olam helps me make sense of a world in which I often feel confused or overwhelmed by the events in history, whether these events happen in New York, Israel, Baghdad or my own living room. It empowers me with the faith and belief that the choices I make and the things I do can and will make a difference. And while I may not be able to bring about world peace or restore the crashing Stock Market, I can help restore dignity to those in need of food, shelter or medical attention by giving of my time and resources to the many worthy organizations that serve these interests

I do not know what the future holds in store for any of us but what I do know for certain is that if we commit to making the world a better place, through efforts great and small, all of us will be the richer for it. It is a daunting task to be sure but as Rabbi Tarfon said: “It is not your obligation to complete the task of perfecting the world, but neither are you free to desist from doing all you can.”

The number 40 in the Jewish tradition holds a unique spot in our history and our psyche. The flood during Noah’s time lasted for 40 days. Moses went up to the mountain to receive the Torah and spoke with God for 40 days and 40 nights. The Hebrew people wandered in the desert for 40 years prior to reaching the land of Israel. The legal status of an embryo changes from “fluid” to “potential life” after the fortieth day. We are forbidden to study the Kabbalah or engage in Jewish metaphysics until we have reached the age of 40.

I am not a superstitious person. In fact, I am downright skeptical about things like palm readers, tarot cards and Ouija boards. Yet I can’t help but think that it was more than just coincidence that my own life-altering experience occurred during the month that I celebrated my fortieth birthday.

It had been a banner year for me. My law practice was booming, my two young children were thriving, and my husband and I celebrated our tenth anniversary – still very much in love. “If only I could stop the clock right now,” I thought, recalling the many times I had heard my father say those words to me when I was little.

Then I got sick; I mean really sick. Things escalated from bad to worse as I lay delirious in bed, my fever inching above 105. It didn’t help that it was New Year’s weekend, when even the most dedicated med-school resident was nowhere to be found. I don’t remember much about that time, thankfully, except for the memory of my family hovering over me and my children asking my husband if I would die. It took several days of my husband’s persistence until we finally realized that I was having an allergic reaction to an antibiotic that I was taking. Weeks of steroids later, I re-entered life with a puffy face and a renewed awareness of how precious each day truly is.

What happened during those few bleak days, however, is what I have come to view as my own personal wake-up call from God. Because during that time something happened inside of me and I soon realized that, like it or not, there was no going back. Four months later, while I was eating breakfast with my husband, I told him about my epiphany.

“I’m thinking of closing my law practice to study Judaism,” I said as I stirred milk into my coffee.

“And I’m thinking of growing my hair out and becoming a rock star,” he crooned.

“No, I mean it. I had this revelation when I was sick. I realized that I don’t want to wake up on the other side of 50 without having taken the risk of going after what I truly believe I am meant to do. I want to study, learn and teach Judaism.”

Several hundred conversations later, I embarked on a journey that has changed my life for the better in ways too numerous to count. I worked hard, studied hard and learned from some of the finest Jewish teachers from Tucson to Jerusalem. I had no idea when I began this journey 13 years ago where it would lead, but I had faith that whatever the outcome, I would be a better person for having made the effort.

I look back on what happened in my fortieth year as more than mere coincidence. There was a reason I got sick, although I certainly didn’t understand it at the time. Whether it happened because of an infection, a faulty medical diagnosis or Divine intervention, it opened the doors of my heart to help me understand something important about my life.

Each of us will encounter difficulties in our lifetime, from financial struggles and failed relationships to personal tragedies and crises of faith. But it is how we respond to what happens to us that determines who we become as we live out our lives. We alone can decide if we will let our experiences become catalysts for personal growth or stumbling blocks to our development. The true mystery lies in whether we will be able to hear that inner voice when it speaks to us about our life and the choices we have made. And when we do hear it, whether we will have the courage to follow it when it requires us to change.

Jewish tradition teaches that although everything is anticipated by God, each one of us is the author of our own actions, accountable for our choices. Sometimes it is hard to explain – to ourselves and to others – why we act the way we do. But in moments of personal enlightenment, a spark of the Divine can be seen. The Talmudic rabbis said it beautifully when they wrote: “All is foreseen, but freedom of choice is given; and the world is judged with goodness, and all is in accordance with the works.”

( Pirkei Avot 3:15)

Sharing Stories and Life Lessons

I never knew I would become a writer. After 14 years of enjoying a successful law career, I thought my professional life  was pretty well set.  But in 1994, I had a serious illness which changed my life and gave me the courage to listen to that still, small voice within  - a voice which told me that there was something more I was meant to do with my life than negotiate real estate transactions and business  deals.

Now, 15 years later, I can happily say that I am a “recovering” attorney, who has found deep satisfaction, meaning and joy in the work I do as  a writer, teacher and public speaker.

So many of us search for meaning in our lives.  Look  in any bookstore and you will find hundreds of books telling you  how to find your  “true bliss”  or authentic purpose in life. Books may help us, friends can guide us, spiritual practices can give us ways to quiet the mind and elevate the soul. But I think its much simpler than most of us realize. That if we take a step back and distance ourselves from the chaos of everyday life, that deep down, there are truths that we know about ourselves that only we can hear, if we have the courage to listen.

But enough philosophizing! I don’t really speak “blog” yet but look forward to sharing stories, life lessons, questions and concerns with you in the coming months.

Blessings,

Amy