Chol HaMoed Pesach 5772

The Torah is a sacred story that flows like a river through the year.  Week by week, the narrative is unbroken.  At key moments, however, it is put on pause.  Holy days, such as Passover, have a special reading associated with them in place of the weekly portion.  Instead of continuing with the master story, we pause and remind ourselves of the rules of observance of the festival at hand.  And so it is this week.

Human beings tell stories about ourselves, too.  Stories help us understand ourselves, and explain ourselves to others.  Many of us have a master narrative, a story that describes how we came to be and why we are the ways we are.  (“Well, you see, I grew up poor…”  “My father was a very demanding, and I’ve been rebelling ever since…”  “No matter how hard I try, I’m never lucky in love.”)  Personal master narratives help us understand ourselves in the world.

But a personal master narrative can also be confining.  It can stop us from seeing other options, experiencing other ways of being.  So it’s also important to be able to tell a different story about ourselves, too, at least from time to time.  (“I’m always very responsible, but every once in a while I throw caution to the wind…”  “I’m a vegetarian, but tonight I’m going to eat a steak.”  “I’m never lucky in love, but this time is going to be different.”)  It’s unburdening to have an alternative story to tell about yourself, to know that we are allowed more than one story.

The Torah is a story that lives within us and through us.  Ancient though it is, it is also surprising, because sometimes it has a new tale to tell.