For years, I was frustrated by my own lack of connection to God. It was frustrating precisely because I was actually fairly sure of my beliefs – at least, as much as an observant Jew raised by a philosopher and a lawyer could be sure of anything. I determined at a fairly young age that belief in God made more sense to me than its alternatives, and more specifically, that the Orthodox Judaism in which I was raised made the most sense as my future path as well. I had questions, but was confident enough; I believed.
But I was frustrated by the gap between the intellectual and the spiritual. I knew, intellectually, but I didn’t know, really know, in the depths of my being. I challenged myself even in moments of alleged inspiration: Is this real? Am I really connecting to God, and feeling His presence? Do I like singing these Jewish songs because of God or because of the music? Does my awe of nature count as awe of God, if it is only my brain that draws the connection between Him and the natural world which I believe, intellectually, He created? How can I build a true, deep, emotional awareness of God in my life, and how will I even recognize it if it happens?
At some point, I brushed off these questions by labeling myself “intellectually spiritual.” I believed in the value of spirituality, but had trouble feeling it myself; my innermost inclinations went more towards ideas and what made sense than towards what I felt. I probably figured that if I could name these tendencies, I could be okay with them. I didn’t need to connect spiritually like I imagined others did, or assess whether feelings of spiritual connection were “real,” as long as I could place myself, my religious life and my religious choices, in an understandable framework.
Maybe it wasn’t that I was too intellectually oriented to connect; maybe I was simply afraid.
More recently, however, I began to wonder if all that angst – all that lack of connection – was a cover. Maybe it wasn’t that I was too intellectually oriented to connect; maybe I was simply afraid.
The realization hit when I was pregnant with my fourth child. (Why then, and not with the first three? Good question.) If one is looking for an inspirational point of spiritual connection with God, carrying another human being inside you as His partner in creation of a life has a lot of potential. I was blown away by every fetal movement, every ultrasound, every sound of my baby’s heartbeat in the doctor’s office. There were times I felt so overwhelmed by the miraculous nature of what was going on in my body that it seemed no one else could possibly understand it like I did. I found myself saying things like “no, really, it’s a miracle! I know everyone says childbirth is miraculous, but it really is!”
And “miracle” implies God’s hand, right? So in the throes of those moments of deep connection to the miraculous, did I embrace the sense of God’s presence in my life and uterus, finally at peace with my ability to “be” spiritual?
Nope. I recoiled.
I couldn’t take it. For years, I’d longed for God to feel “real,” and finally I realized the problem was that the feelings were too real, too powerful. Overwhelmed, I would immediately shut down all thoughts of the awesomeness of my baby’s existence and go about my routine day. I longed for those moments of pure awe, and I dreaded and ran from them.
At some point during that pregnancy, I was struck by the memory of a dream that had haunted me for a long time but which I’d almost forgotten. I don’t remember anything about the dream except one moment: I heard God speak my name. Nothing else, just “Sarah.” And I was terrified. Not that He would hurt me; not what Jewish scholars call yirat ha’onesh, fear of punishment. In that dream, and anytime I thought of it, I was just plain terrified by the imagined experience of hearing the Divine; yirat haromemut, fear (awe) of His exaltedness.
Looking back at that moment in that dream, I realized my brain was trying to process what it might mean to truly connect to God, and perhaps the real reason I felt blocked from it. The prophet Jeremiah described the experience of prophecy – the ultimate connection to God – as “fire… like a hammer smashing a rock” (23:29); my dream, perhaps, was a subconscious attempt to understand that feeling. Maybe my dream was telling me the real reason I couldn’t achieve spiritual connection in my life was that on some level, I was putting up walls. Maybe I knew, subconsciously, that I couldn’t even handle a spark of such an experience in real life; I could barely take it in a dream. It was too real for real life.
The Hebrew month of Elul that leads up to the Jewish New Year can be read as an acronym for the words “Ani l’dodi v’dodi li” – “I am to my beloved, and my beloved is to me.” These beautiful words come from Song of Songs 6:3, part of a powerful love poem often understood as a metaphor for the relationship between God and His people, and they are understood as expressing the idealized connection we aim for at this time of year.
But in the previous chapter of Song of Songs we find a scene that portrays separation and missed opportunities. The woman is in bed when she hears a knock at the door; her beloved is there, but she is too tired to get up and get dressed to answer it… until she finally does, and he’s already gone.
Sometimes we are too lazy to acknowledge God’s knock, and sometimes, maybe, we are actually too scared. Maybe, deep down, the woman in Song of Songs fears the intensity of her feelings for her beloved, and has to gather not just energy but courage in order to face him.
It takes courage to acknowledge the reality of those moments when God shows up and knocks at our door. That knock may come in the form of a baby's kick or a beautiful sunrise. It could be while using the bathroom and being suddenly struck by the complexity of our biology. It could be a Torah verse or an insight that hits us on an inexplicably deep level. It could be on a day when everything works out so neatly that we can't help but feel we've caught a glimpse of order in the universe. What a blessing that He keeps knocking, offering us the opportunity not just in the month of Elul but in all those moments, big and little, throughout our lives.
Our challenge is to open the door and say, like the prophets of old did despite their terror, “Hineni: I am here” – as, I know, You are too.
(7) jay, September 5, 2020 12:08 AM
Thank you
for your essay that speaks to me.
(6) Anonymous, August 24, 2020 5:53 AM
Afraid of Greater Obligation?
Really honest and thought-provoking article. It made me wonder if my fear of connecting too deeply to G-D was because if I did, I'd feel a much greater sense of obligation to serve Him. Less connection, in a sense, gave me more emotional leeway to be less observant. Does this ring true for anyone else?
(5) Susan, August 23, 2020 1:29 PM
I did like the article
I also bought up in a very orthodox family . I did and do believe in God . But in my d age less and less . Of course I’m kosher very much with the food . But yes I picking up the phone in Sabbath . I really don’t think God care about small little things . And if yes why? Is it matters? About dead is there a after life ? And do we have a memory about this life ?
(4) Choose the light, August 21, 2020 6:02 PM
The light choose the light th good light
(3) Anonymous, August 20, 2020 9:25 PM
Connecting with God
Sarah I have so enjoyed reading your quest for intimacy with God this morning. Thank you. You describe aspects with which i strongly identify. It was the picture that drew me in; and yes, all within His divine and loving timing. 'Behold, I’m standing at the door, knocking. If your heart is open to hear My voice and you open the door within, I will come in to you and feast with you, and you will feast with Me.'
(2) Tzippy Leichter, August 20, 2020 8:01 PM
Very beautiful and poignant
Sarah, I really enjoyed reading this. I think many of us have experienced a transition as get older, away from a more intellectual relationship with Hashem and Torah, to a feeling of wanting a connection and a more experiential closeness to Hashem. Even the rational Rambam quotes passukim in Shir hashirim to explain the feeling of lovesickness and complete enrapture in how we should experience our connection with Hashem. As 40 is the age of bina, now we are starting to concretize all that we have learned in Torah and actually build it into something real and lasting, namely take the Torah and use it to bring us close to Hashem. As the rambam writes, the fear and awe that we experience when thinking about Hashem should then bring us to ultimate level of ahava. I also agree with the other comment that this is a process and the point is probably never to get there completely, but to keep striving for this connection to Hashem. AND to embrace those moments when we do feel connected as much as we can. I am so glad that all of your learning is bringing you to this point... great is learning that it brings one to action :)
Sarah, August 23, 2020 4:59 PM
Thank you!
So special to look in here and see a comment from an old friend! I think the process as been going on a long time, definitely at least since you and I stayed up late debating learning and action. :)
(1) Anonymous, August 18, 2020 3:47 PM
"How awesome is this place, and I didn't know it" Still an open question.
I responded to the longing in this article. Especially at this age in my life I feel this strongly too.
"How awesome is this place, and I didn't know it" came to mind when I decided to write a comment. Believing in God, where does this come from? I remember thinking when I was very young, that if I lost my connection with God that would be the end of me, but even so what does one do with this awareness? I keep 'reaching' inward over and over again, and the effort gives me peace every time I 'work hard' at getting back to this place of Peace. Maybe the constant longing, like Sarah has as well in her own way, is what it is about, not the end result, if there is such a thing at all. I think not.
Nevermind all the mistakes I make on the 'way.' How does one love God? How to go about it? How to ask? May be the longing intensifies through the years.......... I am quite sure there are many people who respond to this writing in their own way and also don't know where 'to go with this longing and awareness'.....
Dvirah, August 22, 2020 6:48 PM
Learn Torah
The Torah is given to us for just this reason: that we should know how to love the Creator. May you be blessed with learning!