Recently, I heard a religious woman describe how she has more of a collective consciousness than secular people, that for secular people it’s “every man for himself,” or at most for his family. As an example, she said that if she wants to cross a street on Shabbat and a car is just coming, she won’t step off the curb until the car passes, so as not to cause them to brake and speed up again, increasing the offense of driving on Shabbat, out of concern for his soul.*
And I thought, how interesting, I’m just the same. Only instead of faith in God and following His commandments, for me it‘s from the sense that I’m part of the whole of life, and I want to do as much good and as little harm as possible. I also wait until the car passes before I start crossing, not just on Saturday, because braking and accelerating burns more fuel than just driving. When I walk outside, I’ll avoid crushing a line of ants, and I’ll aim to step on sand or stone instead of small plants. It does me good to hear that the recognition that we’re part of something bigger, that we have an obligation to it, even in the smallest details, exists.
When it comes to big things, it’s clear how widespread the concept of being part of a whole is here, and how important it is for us. But we tend to forget about it in everyday life and in the small details. For example, I notice that since 7.10 I have become a much more patient driver – whether someone cuts me off or stops in the middle of the road for no apparent reason, I think, “Who knows what they went through and what they’re dealing with.” It’s good to be reminded that this consciousness is thriving, even in the small details, even when I don’t agree with its application. I usually don’t, so it does me good to be reminded how pure the motive is.
Of course, it shouldn’t be surprising that we have something in common. After all, I‘m also religious in my own sense, devoted to the great life-force, the eternal mother Goddess, expressed in the abundance that is felt so deeply now – in the fresh foliage that adorns the land, in the calls of the birds, in the blue or cloudy sky. I am part of the same indigenous animist religious sensibility that sees all creatures as partners in the journey. And it doesn’t leave. Ever. As the Jewish prayer goes, “when you sit in your house and when you walk on the road and when you lie down and when you get up.” Or as I once wrote in a song, “I am a part of all life. In my pain and in my pleasure, in my sorrow, in my joy.” This sense is so present, especially now in these wet, green, fresh winter months, in spite of everything.
In spite of everything.
*The woman was Emily Amrousi, on the Friday morning radio show, “Emily and the Professor,” which I find helps me understand the mindset of the more right-wing public that I don’t generally get to hear.