Lots of my kid's friends, too. All gathered to witness this grandkid's soloing in carrying out rituals of the religion of his forebears ... carried out on the designated sabbath -- it, itself, observed in very traditional form and, indeed, the form I knew as a child. Prayers and eating and singing and more prayers and more of everything else. It continues to fascinate how quickly customs can change. Even when M and I moved to Pennsylvania, a mere 40 years ago, there were Blue Laws that kept the majority of commercial establishments closed one day each week, a day designated for rest and maybe contemplation and prayer. Not such a long time, 40 years, and, yet, days, nowadays, are without distinction, except, perhaps, that people seem to do different kinds of shopping on the weekend days than on the secular days of whatever religion they practice. Sabbath is a thing of the past, except in certain small groups. I suppose I miss that specialness of a day without too much commotion, though the rituals, themselves, seemed betimes unrestful. Sitting in quiet meditation, I remembered what one 19th C. commentary had said about sabbath ... that for 6 days each week we pretend to be (as Freddy Mercury of Queen would have it) "Masters of the Universe" ... creators ... but on one day, each week, we admit that we are creations ... like the snail and the roo and the snapping turtle that appeared in one of my weekend dreams.
As to Family and my fears of the quotidian kerfuffles that could arise ... There were no bites ... hardly a nibble.
Blessed is the God
who sustained us among the living,
kept us standing and
helped us reach this day.
Playing in the Last Quarters has been and continues to be a gas! Bring it on!
Bring lots of it on!
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