Dear Congregation Beth Israel members and friends,

Passover was early this year on the secular calendar. I was a bit worried that I would miss one of my favorite seasonal experiences of the spring: opening the door for Elijah the Prophet at our second night community seder, and being serenaded by spring peepers. But even though the holiday was early, the little frogs obliged and sang to us.

The ducks who live in the neighborhood have reappeared, too. They showed up for choir practice one recent Sunday, wandering outside the little low windows in our sanctuary, pecking at the glass from time to time, and quacking at us. We don’t see them all winter long (I assume they’re in a coop staying warm) but I’m glad they’re back.

These signs of spring delight me. So does the willow tree behind our sanctuary, whose draping branches blaze first yellow and then, the shift almost imperceptible until it happens, chartreuse baby green. And the maple in front of my condo, currently sporting tiny crumpled red puffs that will magically unfold into leaves like twig-borne solar sails.

I’ve got solar sails on my mind because I’ve been watching the current Artemis mission in all the ways I can. Space travel inspires me deeply. (I used to want to be an astronaut!) I’m inspired by human beings working together, especially across our differences, to build and make and learn things together that we couldn’t, alone.

I think I’ve also been paying extra attention to astronauts – and to the beauty of the season – because the news continues to be difficult to bear. These are two of my current practices for spiritual renewal (or at least greater equilibrium) – gazing out at the cosmos, and grounding myself in the details of nature in the right here / right now.

Life in space is dangerous. Everyone has to be their best. Collaboration is a necessity. Astronauts know in their bones the Talmudic maxim kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh – “All [of us] are responsible for one another.” (In the original idiom, it’s about Yisrael, e.g. the Children of Israel, e.g. us. In today’s world, I think it’s true about everyone.)

On our precious planet we’re all responsible for each other, or at least, I would argue that in an ideal world we should be. Toxins don’t respect boundaries or borders. Supply chains interconnect us around the globe. What happens to people over there impacts us over here. Seen from space, it’s obvious that we are all connected.

If we were traveling in space in a long-term way – perhaps searching for the “Promised Land” of another habitable planet – we’d know we needed to take care of our ship, re-use and repair everything we could, and figure out how to put our differences aside in order to coexist in harmony. That’s what I wish for us on “spaceship earth,” too.

And, recognizing that we live in a uniquely beautiful corner of this planet, I wish for us to find every joy we can in where we are. Come walk the Al & Frances Small Memorial Meditation Labyrinth: if the neighborhood ducks are around, they won’t mind. And maybe the spring peepers will sing you their temporary, and precious, seasonal song.

Blessings to all,

— Rabbi Rachel