At the beginning of all our morning services, we recite a series of blessings. These blessings respond to our growing conscious and sensory awareness as we awaken. We bless G-d Who made us free, for example, when we realize that we are free to “seize the day”. We bless G-d Who allows the blind to see, when we open our eyes, and so forth.
One of the blessings seems somewhat removed from our experience. “Blessed be G-d Who fixes the land over the waters.” (The wording reflects the ancient biblical mythological understanding that the world is composed of dry land fixed above subterranean waters.)This blessiong doesn’t seem to be about anything so simple as opening our eyes or stretching our bodies when we get out of bed. But it is still profoundly important. It is a blessing we say when we become aware that there is a stable order in the world. In the world of science fiction, it’s not that way. One thing morphs into another. Substances have no firm and predictable chemical composition. Worlds come and go as if through a revolving door. Time moves forward, backward, or not at all.
It’s exciting, to be sure, but maddening. Thank G-d, we don’t have to live like that.
Most of the time.
Once, I experienced an earthquake. It was a very minor earthquake, so minor that many people around me didn’t notice it at all. It only lasted a few seconds. But I felt it quite acutely. A wave of nausea swept over me. Momentarily, I lost my balance. Because the Earth…..moved.
It’s not supposed to do that.
My feeling was similar to that of people in the Midwest who survive a tornado but are shell-shocked by the damage and carnage around them. The cynic among us might say, “Hey, you were living in Oklahoma in May. What did you think would happen?” But however much our rational mind can recognize the possibility of disaster, it does not compare to the visceral impact the real catastrophe has on us. We simply can’t cope.
Imagine living every day waiting for the earthquake or the tornado (or the forest fire, plague, tsunami, etc., etc.) to strike. We would go meshuga. Instead, we can admit that G-d’s gift of a sense of normalcy is a divine gift, indeed, and well worthy of a blessing.