The rustling quiets in the sanctuary and there is a moment of anticipation before the voices rise together. Do we pause to read the spaces in the makzor as well as the words, to sigh as well as to sing? All our longing in this season leans to our hopes for wholeness, for closeness to people and to God. May we all be sealed for another year of strength.

I’ve always been awed by the story of the Akedah, the binding of Isaac. How can we hope to emulate Abraham’s faith as he heeded God’s direction to sacrifice his son? I think sometimes faith is a day-to-day decision. There are challenges and choices every day. We pray for a peek at the completed puzzle, but we can only hold one or two small pieces. We pray for the strength to be present to answer God’s call.

I’ve been trying to prepare my mind and my soul for the High Holy Days. Toward that end, I’ve been using the Internet, taking two courses on-line and reading other articles and sermons offered on numerous sites. I find I have trouble concentrating. One course, from the Jewish Theological Seminary of America on “Teshuvah as Worship,” has been particularly difficult, with complicated texts. It has caused me to examine my thoughts on the nature of “sin,” and on the healing that must take place so I can come before God on the Day of Judgment.

My 22 year old daughter moved home for several weeks this summer. It was an interesting contrast to the last time she lived at home, the summer after graduating from high school. Our relationship has flourished since that time. Now that she is back in her own apartment, I really miss having her around.

The young David was sent to play his music to soothe King Saul. What maladies had befallen the ruler? Since January I have been struggling with my own demons. Depression is a state that can paralyze. I find myself wondering what to do next, how to continue to put one foot before the other and move ahead. And I struggle to find words that will continue to sing my soul to God. What once came so easily, poured into me, has slowed to a trickle that requires all my concentration and effort. I know that this will eventually resolve, but for now, I am caught.

It was a shehecheyanu moment: Senator Joseph Lieberman was speaking for the first time as the Democratic nominee for Vice President of the United States. His first words “Dear friends, I am so full of gratitude at this moment. I ask you to allow me to let the spirit move me as it does to remember the words from Chronicles, which are to give thanks to God, to give thanks to God and declare his name and make his acts known to the people, to be glad of spirit, to sing to God and to make music to God and most of all, to give glory and gratitude to God from whom all blessings truly do flow. Dear Lord, maker of all miracles, I thank you for bringing me to this extraordinary moment in my life.”

The subject line on the email read “Hope.” I opened the short missive to read “My 13 year old son has been diagnosed with osteosarcoma of the humerus. My heart is heavy. I look for a psalm for me and my son.”

One of the great blessings of my life is how people react to my writing. Did I expect this kind of response? Secretly, I hoped to become known for my work. I delighted in sharing it with my teacher, my rabbi, my cantor and my classmates. When I first began writing psalms, it was almost a compulsion: the words would pour forth, almost effortlessly. Now people write to me, or sometimes telephone, telling me that a certain psalm has affected them, has touched a place that wanted solace.

Do you remember when TWA flight 800 exploded into the ocean? Four years ago this week, that disaster coincided with my own as I faced the beginning of a summer of crisis, hospitalization and recovery. I remember looking at the news reports, seeing the faces of three little girls who had been on their way to France. It was as if I, too, was falling into water. But I, alone, escaped.

It happened before at Camp David. Can if happen again? We all are watching, listening as Chairman Arafat and Prime Minister Barak sit together and try to bring about peace for their people. I don’t presume to understand all the implications. I see the frustration of trying to negotiate vast change. Jerusalem is at the center of the frustrations. It is central to the souls of so many. Can it be compartmentalized so that it serves them all? What is best for all? A city at peace.