Hazards Exist That Are Not Marked
by Rabbi Yoshi Zweiback
I was in Colorado last week. Whenever I’m in the mountains, I think about the words of the Prophet Isaiah: “Holy, holy, holy is the Eternal! The whole world is filled with God’s glory!”
Traces of God’s presence are everywhere. But, for me, it’s simply easier to recognize those traces in the Sierras or the Rockies: the white snow; the crisp, clean air; the smell of pine trees… I feel more connected to nature and to God.
Last Tuesday was a powder day – almost a foot of fresh snow in which to play, slide, and fall. I met up with some old friends who took me to parts of the mountain I’d never seen before. I was filled with gratitude for the beauty of the place, for friendship, and for the gift of good health which enabled me to explore some of the mountain’s more challenging terrain. And then I saw a warning sign above one of the trails that stopped me in my tracks: “Hazards Exist That Are Not Marked.”
I stood for a moment staring at the sign. At first I thought, do we really need the warning? Do we really need to be reminded that there are dangers that we cannot see – and not just on steep mountain trails but, also, in life? Surely, we know this. We hear the news of a friend recently diagnosed with breast cancer. We experience a financial setback. A beloved family member is suffering from depression. We know that there are unmarked hazards all around.
Here’s the thing: our challenge is to find the strength to go down the mountain knowing that there are unmarked hazards. Not in a reckless, foolish way but in a courageous, hopeful way. We should be careful, to be sure, but we can’t let those hazards prevent us from living lives of meaning, purpose, and joy. Indeed, there are unmarked hazards but, still, the powder calls us, beckoning us to slide, to ride, to play.
If we were to let life’s unmarked hazards paralyze us, would we ever fall in love, marry, or bring children into the world? Would we take a chance on a big idea or the pursuit of a dream? Would we risk anything to help another, to lend a hand, to save a life?
There really are dangers all around. There are hazards that we’d be best to avoid. We are living at a time that feels, to many of us, more uncertain than ever before. And yet – and yet – life is for living and love gives life meaning and powder is for skiing so I went down that chute, the one with unmarked hazards. I wasn’t being foolish – I’ve been skiing my whole life and I had the right gear and friends who could help me if something were to go wrong.
And it was glorious, holy even.
The next day, I returned to Los Angeles, to different types of unmarked challenges at work, at home, in life. I learned about a congregant who is battling cancer and about the passing of a good friend’s mother.
And, nevertheless, even so, I gave thanks for the gift of life, of love, and of this messy, complicated, beautiful world:
“The whole earth – hazards and all – is filled with God’s glory!”
Shavua tov – may it be a week of goodness and meaning for us all.
Yoshi
