“Why do you pray?" he asked me, after a moment.
Why did I pray? A strange question. Why did I live? Why did
I breathe?
"I don't know why," I said, even more disturbed
and ill at ease. "I don't know why."
After that day I saw him often. He explained to me with
great insistence that every question possessed a power that did not lie in the
answer. "Man raises himself toward God by the questions he asks Him,"
he was fond of repeating. "That is the true dialogue. Man questions God
and God answers. But we don't understand His answers. We can't understand them.
Because they come from the depths of the soul, and they stay there until death.
You will find the true answers, Eliezer, only within yourself!"
"And why do you pray, Moshe?" I asked him. "I
pray to the God within me that He will give me the strength to ask Him the
right questions.”
Elie
Wiesel, Night
__________________________________________________________
I ask a lot of questions
A lot
Of
Questions
I am not sure they are the right questions
I am not sure I hear the answers
Or perhaps I hear them, and simply don’t understand
That is just the way life is
Why do bad things happen?
Why do leaders lie (when they don’t have to)?
Why are we so addicted to power?
How can people justify their mistreatment of the vulnerable
Why can’t I be the person I want?
Where or where is love?
I wish I knew the right questions
I wish I could find that inner place
Where the answers live
For in those questions
And in those answers
In that dialog with the Sacred
I will find
Myself
I will find
Love
I will find
God
And perhaps I will finally know
How to be in this world
As a sacred
child
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