Did he have a big white beard?

Sometimes we're focussing on the wrong details. Sometimes we just need to tune in.

On Yom Kippur, Judaism's most holy of days, when we abstain from everything except praying, being in community and reflecting, there are some things that just still need to be done, like taking the dog for a walk. So in the afternoon, we set off to our usual park down the road. I live in Leeds, UK, and feel incredibly privileged and lucky that our local park is Roundhay Park; one of the largest urban parks in the world and a site of beauty and wonder in any weather, at any time of day. I was grateful for the fresh air, but also aware that, having not eaten since the previous day, I should choose a route that wasn't too taxing. We meandered along the paths, staying near the top end of the park which includes amongst other things an ancient woodland, and lake complete with its own island.

My dog Bamba was great company; keeping pace with my laboured efforts and allowing my mind to wander around the existential themes of Yom Kippur. Along the upper lake, up ahead, there was a man standing still on the path. He held his binoculars to his eyes and was looking at the tops of the trees on the island. As I neared, I thought I shouldn't disturb him, but he dropped his gaze and started walking in my direction. "Seen anything good today?" I asked. "No, not yet." He replied. "I saw a kingfisher in those bushes last spring," I said. I was quietly very proud of myself for having such twitcher knowledge. "Oh yes," he said, "the family are still there; I saw them earlier in the week." He said without much fanfare. "Really?!?!?" I said, amazed. I had no idea they were still there, having walked past at least a few times a week and never having a sighting since that rare glimpse in April. "Oh yes, he replied, chortling a little. We said our goodbyes and we walked away from each other. He called out over his shoulder, "You just need to tune in".

I tuned around, filled with awe and gratitude that such a profound statement was uttered to me, that resonated so strongly for me, on this holiest day in the Jewish calendar, when I was doing the most un-Jewish thing that day, it was as if it struck me in the face. We just need to tune in.

That could have been the end of this story and blog. It certainly was the story I recounted to my family as soon as I returned home. But in true Jewish tradition, there are layers of storytelling and meaning, the words are alive and inspire their own textured layers of meaning as they are recounted.

A few days later, my husband took Bamba for a walk in the park. When he came home, he said excitedly to me, "I think I saw your birdwatcher guy! Did he have a big white beard?"

I was really annoyed. I had no idea if he had a big white beard or not. That was NOT the point of my Yom Kippur angel in Roundhay Park story. How did he not see that? How did he take away from my story the bit that was absolutely not the point of it all?

I paused, turned towards him, then started laughing and thanked him.

For in that moment, I realised that it was the perfect new layer to the story. Perhaps we have been too focussed all this time looking for a man with a big white beard sitting on a cloud. We have been so focussed on believing or not believing in him, that we've forgotten to tune in to what is around us but only rarely visible. We could spend our lives walking past the Divine, quietly existing and creating moments of beauty for us to witness and feel uplifted from, if only we just tuned in.