Shabbat Recap — The Ironic Parsha, or A Nation of Larks

I swear, the rav sometimes targets his “insights” directly at me; or at least it feels that way. A previous time I was at shul, he spent the whole “insight” geeking about language. This time, for Parashat Vayera, which talks about Isaac’s birth and the Binding of Isaac (Akedah). Twice in this parsha, the text repeats that Abraham (a far more Godly person than I will ever be, surely) got up early in the morning

…which is precisely the thing I haven’t been able to do with any regularity since being laid off. Nice one, HaShem. Point taken. Ouch.

Unfortunately, I am by nature what chronobiologists call “an extreme owl.” Morning people are “larks.”

Abraham must have been a lark, but I am, alas, not. Judaism seems to prefer larks to owls, although the scholar who stays up all night studying Torah and esoterica is a stock figure in Hasidic stories.

After motzei, I discussed the parsha with a friend, and she said, “What about the people who stay up half the night to do the stuff other people don’t do? Where are the owl mitzvahs?” I concur. Where are the owl mitzvot?

The Canadian National Pastime, Mezeg Ha’avir

So while walking up from the bus stop to the shul (I always make a point of walking a ways up, bad idea this time) I was basically praying someone else would appear so I wouldn’t have to slink in by myself. The street was absolutely empty as far as I could see, and then suddenly, about four other people I know appeared. Wonderful!

Unfortunately, the weather was grim — the digital thermometer on the variety store near the shul said 6C, but it was lying its little electronic face off, I think. It was really cold, raining anywhere from a good stiff Scotch mist to a fairly heavy drizzle, and very windy. I wore this rather voluminous pleated skirt I got from a friend (traded it for a bias cut striped skirt that looked better on her than it did on me, and vice versa with the pleated skirt — I haven’t swapped clothes with friends since I was a teenager! Ah, nostalgia!). Unfortunately, the fact that it was voluminous meant that the wind was able to get at my legs very easily, and I was only wearing tall socks. I really should have put leggings on under my skirt! I was freezing for several hours after I got home, even accounting for eating a big bowl of hot soup, drinking a little l’chaim of amaretto, and curling up under the covers and a polar fleece blanket with the cats. Brr! I guess legging season is upon us again. Bah.

I feel ever so much better with myself for having made it to shul sof sof (finally)! I genuinely like going, but waking up is difficult. I think it would be easier if I lived closer, but that can’t happen until and unless I get another job here in town, b’ezrat HaShem…


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