Considering that time is relative to the viewpoint of the subject, my days are starting to fall into the previously camp defined time of miraculously packed full hours that disappear in a second. I look into the amount of pages highlighted, translated, commented, questioned in my Tanach. I review the pages of notes from my 27 classes, glance at the insightful books I have checked off. My binders fill up and my pens forget their ink. The buzz of the city welcomes me on my walks to town and I ponder the amount of times I my feet have led me down this path of familiarity. The halachic observances I have strengthened happily fit my freckled body as my lips murmur inspired ideas about the unity of klal Israel. I hike Nachal Og, breathing in the history of each step and proudly exhale with a teary eye my gratitude for being created in such a century. My mediation on that cliff reflects that tefillah for focus, and look right over there- that’s my art, my letters, my lists of philosophical questions, my knitting needles snuggling into my realm of religiosity.
Time seems incongruous with rational definitions because time lies in the journey of the experience. Judaism has a tough time differentiating time. Yeah, we got down the zmanim for tefillah, the lunar calender, the candle lighting times, and the allotted matzah baking limits – but we truly fail at the functionality of moving on past certain times. The spiritual realm can’t yet grapple with time and since we are physical and yet spiritual, we too suffer the consequence of expanding past the confines of time.
A holiday rolls around. Life is transformed. An ancient ruin welcomes new guests. A land promised thousands of years ago identifies new battles. A student of a great rebbe passes down the masora with renewed curiosity.
In history books, it’s clear that as events pass us, the specific details fade and the dramatic emphasis dilutes into the ponds of memory. In contrary, the fiery dedication to end our exile and redeem ourselves pulsates through the Jewish people as if the destruction took place the day before yesterday.
It’s no wonder that the month of Adar actually exits as an incredibly joyful month. Time might have been divinely created, but our leader left its constraints up to us. We hold the ability of actualizing the past in our present lives and simultaneously live the dream for the future. We are handed gifts and opportunities with the hope that we actualize our potential. By silencing time as a restraint, we liberate our journey into a mindful state and thus traditions are held to a promise and our cry for redemption becomes a personal revival. By living with emphasis on the moments, the ideals of the whole nation, and the seriousness of impacting our surroundings, we are able to define time.