Interesting essay about being Jewish

The person who wrote this essay wishes to remain anonymous, I felt that the essay rocked and although it is a little serious for my site, many of you have expressed a liking to the fact that I do put up serious stuff once in a while. I encourage anyone who may have something to share to send it in to me and I may be able to put it up. As always funny and controversial stuff is most appreciated. Enjoy!!!

In the same way that our most exacting name for G-d is nothing more than the constant sounds we breath, G-d is ever present, yet can go entirely unnoticed. The question is not is there a G-d to be seen, but rather, how can I see G-d? I know G-d is continuously around me, both literally and figuratively. However, it becomes my choice of when I chose to see G-d. In order to relate to G-d, in order to see G-d, I must wear my G-d glasses, which enable me to see beyond the obvious and into what actually is.

My G-d glasses are old and ancient. They have been worn for thousands of years before me. I have no doubt that they began as a perfect set of lenses with which G-d could be readily seen. A perfect prescription with which to see the a perfect ‘being’. Yet as time passed, and my glasses were handed down, some owners scratched them, some tried to polish away their scratches, and some chose to simply not wear them. They have been handed to me, with the original perfection prescription still detectable through the chips and scratches. And when I put them on, I too, can see that perfection, the divine. But the scratches and the chips are also apparent, and the choice now becomes mine. Do I wear my glasses as they are, do I try to polish them, or do I simply leave them to be?

I have tried to wear them as they were. To pretend that the perfect glasses sat on my nose, viewing the perfect world. But sadly, neither the glasses nor the world they viewed are perfect. So I have begun to polish them, to correct them, to adjust them to my own vision. The tint in the lenses remains the same as my ancestors glasses, but I have begun to repair the scratches and imperfections so that when I put them on, they allow me to see the most of G-d that I can.

I am no master artisan, who can precisely remove all the imperfections. Rather, when I labor away at removing one mark, I am in its place leave another. This is the constant struggle with which I live my life. There are times when life would become easier, and perhaps even more palatable if I could just remove the glasses from my face. But having had that infinitesimal small glimpse at the divine, I understand why my ancestors chose the fate of being able to not only see, but forced to wrestle with the images before them.

My rasion d’etre is to bring into my periphery this image of divine nature. It embodies every overtone and detail of my existence: In essence, my glasses determine how I relate to the world, and in turn, how that world chooses to relate to me. By seeing the world as hidden holiness, I can no longer see commands and imperatives, but rather urgent necessities – portals to adjust the contrast, the brightness and the intensity of the colors. This ability to fine tune my vision comes via mitzvot and halacha. I believe that while certain elements remain universal and unchanging, there are other aspects that deserve, and indeed require, re-examination. Since our own vision changes over time, so too must the prescription in the G-d glasses be available for subtle yet meaningful and significant change.

As I continue to on my journey, I discover that the more I enable myself to see G-d, the more I become a part of the picture instead of part of the viewing audience. My quest is to see the divine, and in turn be seen as a reflection of it.