Sermons

I am not a crafter. I can’t make cute little things out of stuff lying around my house. I am excellent at tossing items into the trash or recycling bin. It would not dawn on me to save toilet paper rolls, paper towel rolls, egg cartons, or any similar items because I will later make something. I remember being in awe of EJ Cohen, who during COVID, came to our home and sat on our fenced-in-porch with Liba making flowers out large plastic cups. I thought to myself, “Does this come naturally to people? How do you get that gene?”

I’ve never really spent any time on Etsy, other than when I am searching for a quote and Google sends me to Etsy because it has located a poster or painting with the words I am seeking. I don’t really even understand how the site works.

Recently, I learned about Tedoo. It’s a social-commerce app and community platform for crafters, makers, and do-it-yourself enthusiast to connect, socialize, and shop for handmade goods, and to sell their own creations, free of fees. By contrast, Etsy is primarily an e-commerce platform focused on selling handmade and vintage goods, with a traditional fee structure that includes listing and transaction costs. Etsy offers robust storefront customization and a larger established marketplace but at a cost. It wasn’t a surprise for me to learn that Tedoo is an Israeli-based company.

Why am I bringing up Tedoo and Etsy? Because a week ago, I came across this story.

My neighbor painted fake quilts on her fence and now our entire street looks like an art gallery. I’m not exaggerating. I walked outside yesterday morning to get my mail and literally stopped dead in my tracks because I thought someone had hung actual quilts on Linda’s fence overnight. Like, full-size, grandmother-level quilts just … hanging there in perfect rows.

But they’re painted. On aluminum panels. This woman spent God knows how long hand-painting what looks like a museum exhibit of quilt patterns, and now my boring suburban street looks like we’re all living in some kind of folk-art commune.

The craziest part? I’ve lived next to Linda for eight years and I had no idea she could even draw a stick figure, let alone create these masterpieces. She’s always been the quiet neighbor who waves politely and keeps her grass perfectly trimmed, but apparently, she’s been harboring some serious artistic genius this whole time.
So obviously I had to go knock on her door and be like “Linda, what the heck? When did you become Picasso?”

It turns out that she’s been taking painting classes online for the past year after her husband died. She started with basic still life, like flowers, landscapes. But then she found a quilting group on the Tedoo app where people share vintage quilt patterns, and she became obsessed. Like, staying-up-until-3-am-studying-geometric-designs obsessed.

“I wanted to honor my grandmother’s quilts,” she tells me, getting all teary-eyed. “But I can’t quilt to save my life. Threading a needle is impossible for me. So, I figured, why not paint them?”

She spent three months researching traditional patterns, ordering special outdoor paints from crafters on Tedoo, and measuring everything down to the millimeter so that the proportions would be perfect. Each panel took her about two weeks to complete because she’s apparently a perfectionist who redid entire sections if a single triangle was slightly off.

But here’s where it gets really good – now everyone on our street is asking her to paint their fences. The woman across the street wants butterfly patterns. The family with the corner house is asking about sports themes for their teenage son. Linda accidentally started a neighborhood art revolution.

She already has a waiting list of twelve people, and she hasn’t even officially opened her Tedoo store yet. I just ordered a painted quilt online for my back gate. Nothing fancy, just a simple star pattern in blues and whites. But honestly, I mainly want an excuse to watch Linda work because the woman paints with the same precision most people reserve for brain surgery.

Thanks, Linda. You’re the best neighbor, ever.

For me, the beauty in this story is how Linda, the storyteller, and their neighbors all came to find meaning in the ordinary or the mundane.

Finding meaning in the mundane has been a part of Judaism for over 2000 years. Our ancient Rabbis taught that we are to say 100 blessings each day. Many of those blessings can be said as a part of our various worship services, but that won’t get you to 100. So the Rabbis added others, and these blessings came to be a substitute for sacrifices after the destruction of the Second Temple.

The Rabbis gave many examples of what we can or should bless; everything, they emphasized, everything, can contain a spark of holiness. These blessings include:
Blessings upon waking: For opening one’s eyes, for putting one’s feet on the ground, for standing up, for going to the bathroom, for other body parts working correctly, and for washing one’s hands. For getting dressed; even blessings for putting on various items of clothing.

Blessings before and after eating and drinking: Over different types of food, such as bread, fruit, vegetables, grains, and breads made from something other than wheat, as well as drinks, like wine. We are encouraged to say a blessing when we eat something for the first time in a new season, like peaches or cherries at the start of the summer.

Blessings for observing nature: For seeing natural phenomena like the sunrise, a rainbow, lightning, a mountain, a blossoming tree, or the sea or ocean. Also, for hearing thunder. There is even a blessing for encountering significant natural beauty for the first time in 30 days. 

Blessings for experiencing good news: For any good news – a positive doctor’s report, admission to a particular school, going on a date, or anything else that’s good news. 

Blessings for encountering a friend: When seeing a friend you have not seen for over a year, the suggested blessing is to thank God for resurrecting the dead.

Blessings for life events:  For significant life events, such as getting engaged, building a new house, getting a new job, getting a driver’s license, starting menopause, or acquiring new possessions.

Blessings for other occasions: For wearing new clothes, smelling pleasant aromas, seeing the head of state, encountering diverse people, and reaching other personal milestones. 

This is not an exhaustive list. Our Rabbis truly saw all ordinary and mundane moments as opportunities to say a blessing.

Why?

The first reason is to foster a deep sense of gratitude and appreciation for the world. For those who are believers, it is also to recognize God’s hand in all aspects of life, including the most mundane. 

The second reason is to develop spiritual awareness of the world around us and the gifts we receive. Again, for those who believe in God, it is also to strengthen a connection to God.

The third reason is to train one’s mind to be present and fully aware, transforming daily routines into moments of spiritual reflection and awe. 

There are specific blessing formulations. But more important, is to say the blessing that is in your heart.

Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, known as the Kotzker Rebbe, was a Chassid who lived in Poland during the 18th and 19th centuries. One of his most famous sayings was, “Where is God? Wherever you let God in.”

About this quote, it is said:

Experiencing God can feel like an impossibility. Mundane life can feel like it is flying by, and we may spend our lives looking for a spark of the divine in vain. Where is God in the endless list of tasks that rush by us? In the repeated conversations with our families and colleagues? Or in the tired television shows that lull us to sleep at night? The Kotzker Rebbe’s insight is that we should not be waiting for God to find us, we must go out and find God – even in these mundane places. It is by shifting our mindset that we allow God to be a presence when we prepare the same foods (again and again) and feel gratitude that we can feed ourselves well, when we mow the grass and ponder how it miraculously sprouts toward the sun, when we take the opportunity of a tired conversation to emotionally open up and really connect with another person.

Despite the ancient Rabbis’ recommendations of when to say various blessings, we each have to figure out what matters to us. Author Edward Reid observes, “We can … center our attention on seemingly insignificant moments (or what seem trivial to others) in the grand scheme of life, such as sharing dinner with our family, sitting on a bench watching people – just being still, listening to a rainstorm while washing dishes, or taking our dog for a walk – or whatever we choose. Concentrating on a particular moment and infusing it with significance can make it truly special.

“Moreover,” he adds, “by consistently transforming the mundane into the memorable, one’s perspective can dramatically shift. By investing value in these moments, we create a mental vault to store them away. These moments may not endure indefinitely — possibly indicating productivity as our minds are filled with numerous good memories — or they just might. Regardless, we can transform each moment, even the most mundane, into something profound by prioritizing and appreciating that moment.”

Let me suggest another reason to focus on the mundane: It’s a way to more deeply connect with other people.

Not too long ago, I was having dinner with a friend. She recently returned to grad school and was going into great detail about something fairly mundane – her professor’s accent. She was having a great deal of trouble placing it. It sounded French, sort of. It sounded a bit British, too. I wondered how an accent could simultaneously sound French and British. I became as intrigued by her professor’s origins as my friend was. I was listening to every word and jumping at various points in the conversation. Did she say where she was from? Does the syllabus? What about the college’s webpages about its faculty? Couldn’t you just ask her? 

My friend’s story reminded me of a time decades ago when I met a couple. The man was from France and had a very French sounding accent. His wife’s accent was harder to place. I imagined that she was from an exotic far off place I only dreamed of visiting. I finally had to ask her about where she grew up. “Me?” she asked, “I am from Vichitaw. It is in Kansas.”

I shared my story with my friend, which led us to share more stories about encountering accents, as well as when people encountered our accents. I told her about a time that I was in Scotland, and the resident of a castle invited my friend and me in for tea. When we responded, she asked, hopefully, “Are you Canadians?” “No,” we said, “Americans.” Despite being diminished in her eyes, she poured pot after pot of tea, fed us sandwiches and scones, and entertained us with tales of growing up in the castle, her father a descendant from royalty.

I learned a lot about my friend that evening – why she was back in graduate school at age 45, what she was studying, her past travels, her ear for languages, how her classes were going, and her favorite professor. I gained so much information from her story about her professor’s accent that I felt more connected with her than I had been before our dinner.

Sharing the mundane details of our lives is how we grow to understand each other and what is important to us. I love reading the genre called creative non-fiction, where people very often share what seem to be the unimportant events of their lives. How they react to those events, what they learn about themselves and others, and how they integrate those experiences into their lives often lead them to their next steps and life choices. 

Sharing these details also and connecting more deeply to another person allows us to create a sense of community. And while we might not be consciously thinking about creating community or deepening our relationships when we tell someone about a movie we recently saw or a meal we had a few weeks ago, these are the moments that ultimately matter the most.

For many people, the sacred and the mundane are the ends of two poles that will never meet. Our experiences are one or the other, but certainly not both. Beat poet Alan Watts, however, said, “the mundane and the sacred are one and the same.” Dr. Tal Ben-Shahar, a native Israeli who taught at Harvard University, specializes in “positive psychology.” According to his research, even the most mundane and insignificant of tasks can be turned into something meaningful if they are consciously infused with greater meaning, such as when one connects them to values and [sacred living].

A daily chore may not have meaning in-and-of-itself, but if it is put into the perspective of broader values, the chore becomes greater than the sum of its parts. Of course, to achieve this state of mind, one must make the mundane tasks personally, spiritually, and/or communally significant.

And although this may seem like a modern idea, it is as ancient as Judaism itself. The Torah commentator Rashi explains: the mundane is not spiritual by default, rather the mundane can become spiritual by choice.“ Rabbi Jonathan Sacks added, “Spirituality is engraved in all our souls. The beauty of Jewish Spirituality is that you don’t need to climb a mountain or enter an ashram to find the Divine Presence. And what could be closer than the [mundane] aspects of life, namely … how we exist as individuals, and how we coexist with those around us.”

Finding meaning in the mundane is essential for our peace of mind. In these times in which we live, so much is hard. Rather than yearning for the highs, let’s elevate the ordinary so as to experience a life that matters even in the mundane moments. 

I close with these words, whose author I could not identify:

I may drift off
at random moments
upon seeing poetry
in a serendipitous
seemingly miraculous
landmark occurrence
if I’m lucky enough
to notice it
but it’s the muse
of the mundane
the poetically banal
that speaks to me
in a clearer voice
it tells of the hair
that clogs the shower
the washing left out
forgotten on the line
in yet another downpour
of two dogs
keeping me company
while I work
it is here
     forever here
that the truest
moments of beauty
will be found

May this be our purpose. Shanah tovah.