This morning, as I was leaving the synagogue after morning Minyan, I looked to the eastern sky to see a beautiful rosy sunrise, patches of blue sky contrasting with a layer of clouds lit up in the most remarkable colors.
Eraj, one of the other regulars, was getting in his car. “Look at that!” I said, pointing east.
Wordlessly, Eraj smiled and pointed west. I turned to look...
...only to see a brilliant rainbow, a complete unbroken 180-degree arch stretching from horizon to horizon. It was jaw-droppingly magnificent.
Appropriate, too, for this morning we read the narrative of Creation. Next week will come the chapter having to do with Noah (my Bar Mitzvah parasha), a story in which the rainbow features prominently.
Never have I more regretted not having my camera with me. I rushed home to get it, but, alas, by the time I reached our neighborhood, the rainbow was gone, replaced by a layer of grey mist. I was left with only the memory of a fleeting moment of beauty.
Kirsten Namskau may have said it best:
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away.”