Rabbi Ben David
This summer I read Lost City of the Monkey God by Douglas Preston, which tells of a mission to uncover a previously unexplored section of the Honduran rainforest. It was long believed that there once existed a village deep in the jungle, occupied by a curious and cultic people, a robust infrastructure, and well-defined hierarchy. Preston, a writer for National Geographic, alongside a team of archeologists, historians, and photographers ultimately succeed in finding the mysterious place. They were bowled over by its grandeur and beauty.
Preston had me thinking about empty places. During COVID so many spaces remained uninhabited: schools, office buildings, and national parks. Nature started to overtake otherwise developed land. Wild animals wandered empty city streets in packs.
Among the places that remained empty throughout the quarantine were our synagogues. Classrooms sat quiet. Offices were silent. Sanctuaries were illuminated only by the glimmer of an Eternal Light.
We prayed from home. We saw our clergy virtually. In time we remembered that God can be found anywhere, even in the glow of Zoom, or a quiet walk with our kids. Like those early Israelites who, from distant shores, longed to return to their Homeland, we could only dream of our familiar and comforting sanctuaries. When we finally return to those beloved pews, we will do so with an even deeper appreciation for a benevolent God above and within, and greater love of those precious spaces that warm the heart.
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