Holy Sparks
Four years ago, our car was attacked by a grizzly bear in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. Don’t worry, none of us were in the car at the time!
What happened was we left a small bag of sugar in the compartment between the two front seats. Bears have an unbelievable sense of smell, and since one of the windows was left partially open, a bear was able to force his way into the car, consume the sugar, and do some damage to our car in the process, including jamming the car door lock mechanism badly enough that we needed to hire a locksmith so that we could get back into the car.
Now finding a locksmith in rural Tennessee isn’t easy, but eventually we were successful and after several hours he showed up at our cabin. My son answered our cabin door and told us in the other room that "a guy with a Russian accent is here for you." It turns out the accent wasn't a Russian one because as soon as he saw us, lo and behold, he broke out into a fluent Hebrew. Who'da thunk it—an Israeli in rural Tennessee!
Who knows? Perhaps the whole incident (the entire vacation!?) was divinely orchestrated to connect an Israeli living in the boondocks with some sense of Jewish connection, pride and identity...
There is a Kabbalistic concept called nitzotzos, "holy sparks." The idea is that when the Holy Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed, sparks of holy energy flew throughout the world, and wherever they landed, they became embedded and "trapped" in that space. The only way to "release" them is for a Jewish person to say a prayer or perform a mitzvah at that location. When the final spark has been "gathered in," this will usher in the redemption. Whenever I travel to far-flung places, places that are off the beaten Jewish path, I am sensitive to this concept and am on the lookout for opportunities to release these trapped sparks.
This week we went with the kids to Hocking Hills for a few days. We rented a cabin through Airbnb down in Logan, Ohio and on the way to our cabin I marveled at how rural the neighborhood was. It's amazing how life in most of Ohio is so clearly different from our Jewish suburbia in Cuyahoga County. We even spotted a Confederate flag flying in a nearby home!
I was confident that no Jew had ever spent the night in this exact part of town, and I was genuinely excited to have the opportunity to release the trapped sparks in the 43138 zip code. Imagine our surprise when we got to our cabin, unpacked, and our 13-year old son noticed a kippah tucked under the couch. Apparently another Jewish family had recently stayed there and left their kippah there as a way of informing me not to even bother messing with the sparks.
The most enjoyable part of the vacation for me was how quiet and relaxing everything was down there. With limited cell phone reception and winding country roads, you can hear the birds and crickets and see the stars shining brightly in the sky. In the morning, I went to the woods behind the cabin and looked for a comfortable place to say my prayers. I didn't have to hike far to find the perfect spot. It literally looked like it was all set and waiting for me. It was the base of a fallen tree, with a large groove in the trunk, perfect for me to sit upon (it was even cushioned with a soft layer of moss) right next to a small tree that made for a perfect lectern stand. I enjoyed a meditative prayer service surrounded by nature all around me. When I recited the verse in the prayers about the trees in the forest singing God's harmony, I felt very moved. I almost felt like the Kabbalists of old, going out into the forest to commune with God through nature.
My final encounter with another person before we left Hocking Hills was in the parking lot of Old Man's Cave, a popular hiking area. I was making the kids sandwiches out of the back of our van for the trip back home, when a father and son walked right by me speaking Hebrew to each other. I had a short conversation with them in Hebrew, offered them a sandwich, and we wished each other well. It was a connecting, fraternal Jewish moment. After these two distinct experiences, both when I finished praying in the woods and when I connected with a fellow member of the tribe, I felt spiritually elevated, and experienced a sense of confidence that I had the merit to elevate some of those divine sparks as well!
By the way, if you know anyone who lost a size 4, black velvet Keter kippah, I might be able to help.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Koval
