At the center of our worship stands a cry. The cry itself is beyond worship, almost beyond words. All of our prayers, the ordered literary creation of our best rabbinic minds, serve as mere accompaniment to this cry. They prepare us for it, lead us up to the appropriate moment, coax the cry forth from deep within us, and then gently guide us back from it.
Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where Nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike. This natural beauty-hunger is made manifest in the window-sill gardens of the poor, though perhaps only a geranium slip in a broken cup, as well as in the carefully tended rose and lily gardens of the rich, the thousands of spacious city parks and botanical gardens, and in our magnificent National parks… no holier temple has ever been consecrated by the heart…
At 10:00 this morning, Jerusalem time, a siren was sounded throughout the land. For two minutes the heartbeat of the country quickened as the pace slowed to a standstill. Children stopped their lessons and stood in silence by their desks. Traffic on every street and highway stopped as people got out of their cars and stood in silence. This scene went on throughout Israel .
Ness Tziyona, September 21, 1941
Playing with Three Strings
Yitzhak Perlman
Walks the stage with braces on both legs.
On two crutches.
Takes his seat, unhinges the clasps on his legs,
Tucking on leg back, extending the other,