The blessings of an imperfect world

RABBI James Rosenberg gives thanks, modeh ani lifanecha, for the soft morning light that awakens him, for the warmth of the sun, for the sunflower faces and for the death of the night.

He offers fervent gratitude for movement and for life – and even for the hunger-prompted screams of the swooping gulls. He finds expressive, memorable words for the feelings most human beings can only experience and wondrous, metaphoric ways of saying the commonplace. He translates a marvelous world into memorable words.

Imagine now a perfect world, undiminished, unthreatening, uncorrupted, unchanged. Imagine that this world is enveloped by an eternally blue sky with but a few aesthetically distributed wisps of clouds. A sun unwavering, everlastingly warming, promising eternal light. Imagine the many oceans bereft of storms, the waves gentle and manageable, the seas friendly and safe. Imagine the verdant forests, eternally green, each tree at the height and breadth of its majesty. The muted sounds of the meadows and dales are the voices of serenity, a congenial symphony made up of gentle breezes, the spirited songs of birds and the rustle of leaves.

Imagine a world so perfect that the sun is eternally at high noon, the ambient temperature neither scorching nor chill, the brook abundant with clear water despite an absence of rain, an Eden to surpass all Edens.

Imagine this world at its full and resplendent maturity. The flowers are fully formed and at their best; the insects – now fully matured as moths and butterflies – flitter amongst the pollen-laden blossoms, adding bits of innocent color to the tranquil landscape. Nowhere is there want, struggle or conflict.

But in a perfect world such as this there is no chance for personal growth, no opportunity for creating things that the world has not previously beheld, no anticipation, no opportunity to err, to reflect, to feel remorse and then to atone, perhaps even to learn. No opportunity to live a finite life filled with achievements and failures, and then consciously to retire thus allowing others to try.

Oh, Creator of all, architect of the sunrises and sunsets, protect us from such a perfect world; you who have given us life, have now bestowed upon us the greatest gift of all gifts; the gift of change; and with change has allowed our entrance into this world – sometimes bountiful, sometimes unforgiving – a spring filled with the promise of opportunity; a summer sometimes brash, sometimes swaggering; then the autumn winds hinting of senescence and finally the mortal chill of winter; birth, struggle and death. And for this abundance we give thanks to You.