Dear all,
The kids and I went on a quick adventure last weekend—flying up to San Francisco and back to see their cousin in a community theater musical.
On the plane, I sat in the middle seat.
Between them.
Their elbows claimed the armrests without apology. Their legs leaned against mine. Their shoulders pressed against me as if squeezing me were the most natural thing in the world.
I contorted myself, searching for space
And then I stopped.
I took a breath and realized: this is the space.
This—being crowded, needed, leaned on—is not an inconvenience. It’s a moment in time.
Someday, there will be no elbows fighting for armrests.
Someday, there will be empty seats where they once pressed in close.
Someday, I will wish I could feel this again—just for a moment.
Kohelet teaches: “There is no moment that does not have its hour, and no hour that does not have its moment.” Every moment carries something that cannot be repeated. Once it passes, it is gone.
So the question isn’t how to hold onto a moment.
It’s whether we notice it while we’re in it.
What would change this week if you paused—just long enough—to recognize: am I experiencing one of those moments? How can I capture it before it is gone?
With love and Shalom,
Rabbi Zachary R. Shapiro
