So this is how it goes on a dark day. with the roof down for all to see, and the world a whirling dervish sulking at the moon. Small talk at the table. The slur of discontent. And a frown botoxed away, by vanity alone. Coveting. Feeling the small spite of denial. All these things baying for attention, burdening you down.
The Yetzer Rah, where once it called to Adam, in the guise of a serpent tempting him towards the tree of good and evil, now sits too easily within. Where once it was from outside of ourselves that confusion came, now in the admixture of right and wrong it resides as close as our skin.
Instead. It is that small voice of reason, our conscience that calls from the outside now, begging to be heard. The voice of the ego is so loud in us, it all but drowns out the sigh of the soul. Goodness and mercy.
I mean this much less dramatically.
It is the New Year.
Rosh Hashana. How lucky we are to be reminded, and to honour this revolution, not with a drunken countdown but with a careful, measured prayer...