My grandmother’s journey to America at the beginning of the twentieth century reflected the typical immigrant experience. She was a little girl tossed into a mix of unintelligible languages, the smell of sea-sickness, the fear of contagious disease. She was surrounded by orphans and stowaways and screaming babies. Some travelers were so filled with despair, they threw themselves off the boat.
After arriving in this country, people scattered in different directions. Not every immigrant was a success story. My Nana Evelyn’s father struggled. “He never found himself in America” was how she put it. Her father appeared happiest when studying Torah and attending synagogue. Despite the pogroms and poverty they left behind, he often reflected back upon “simpler times” in Russia: a walk through the village where every face was a familiar one, the ease of common language, the robust taste of Russian rye bread. “There was God in those things,” he sighed. One night at dinner, a cousin disagreed with him about where God’s presence could be found. Finding God was serious business, the cousin argued. The only way to obtain the slightest spiritual growth was through constant prayer and worship. Life’s simple moments meant little.
My grandmother overheard the disagreement and sadness overwhelmed her. If the cousin was correct, then how could a poor, little immigrant girl — so inadequate and unworthy — develop any connection with God? When her father asked why she was so glum, Nana Evelyn replied: “I will never know God.”
The next day, my great-grandfather took Nana Evelyn for a walk on the beach, and they stopped by the water’s edge. The waves lap-lapped up to the shore. My great-grandfather asked: “Do you know what that sound is? It’s God talking to us. You need to listen.” He went on to explain that while study and communal worship were essential, sometimes you just have to take a breath and let God in.
Nana Evelyn always looked back at this experience with great fondness. Not only was it one of the few times her father singled her out for special attention, but she gained a new understanding of how she could connect with God and feel His presence. For the rest of her life, Nana Evelyn had a saying when anyone complained about feeling spiritually adrift:
“Take a breath and let God in.”
I think many of us can relate to my grandmother and her confusion about how to enter a relationship with God. And why shouldn’t we be confused? The concept of God is perplexing: God is One, yet God can be discovered in and amongst many things. Our relationship with God is individual and personal, yet we are all connected to each other through God. God is eternal but can be discovered in a single, fleeting moment. God is non-physical but exists in the surrounding natural world. God is omnipotent, yet we are God’s “partner.”
Of course, some people have no trouble finding God’s presence. A triumphant professional athlete gloats: “I have the best teammates. And God was on our side!” A proud shopper happily sighs: “I got the last rotisserie chicken at the butcher’s! God was looking out for me today!” The soccer mom boasts her son aced his college boards: “I just know God helped David with those tests!”
Okay. So, God likes sports and chickens and number two pencils. But what about the rest of us?
Some people wonder if the reason we don’t feel God’s presence is because we aren’t cool enough to be inducted into the “God Club.” Like my grandmother, we believe ourselves inadequate and unworthy. For others, life is a game of Hide and Seek, and God avoids us on purpose. “Come out, God,” we wheedle. “Come out, come out wherever you are!” Certain people take a more aggressive approach. Finding God’s presence is like playing a game of dodge ball. We grip that round, red ball, breathe in the rubbery smell that never seems to leave our fingers and move side to side with the agility of a boxer. “Alright God,” we warn. “No more fooling around now. This time, we are going to get you!” Then there are those who try to track God down with the zeal and craftiness of a private detective. They put up a mental poster that reads: “If you have seen God, dial 1-800-DESPERATE.”
But as Nana Evelyn learned that day on the beach, experiencing God’s presence does not have to be a huge “ah ha!” moment. It can be a kind of simple joy as when we slide our feet into an exceptionally comfortable pair of slippers. Maybe finding God is about having the confidence to let go and remember we should not be so intent upon the chase that God’s love and joy becomes nothing more than a side issue.
“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with your heart.” Jeremiah 29:13
Nana Evelyn’s Jewish faith was important to her. She attended synagogue and sang the Shema with the gusto of a Pavarotti. She also understood that far from avoiding us, God seeks us out as we seek Him and often makes His presence known in everyday moments.
Nana Evelyn’s father never stopped struggling in America. He was grateful for his wife’s determination to hold the family together and ashamed of his own failure to adapt. Remorse and melancholy often made him a distant figure to his children. But Nana Evelyn never forgot the moment he reached out and shared a gift of wisdom amid the whisper of waves.
This article was published in The Jewish Advocate on September 2, 2016.
