God’s voice

Shemah Yisrael Adonai Elohanu, Adonai Echad. Even when I was little, these words were more than a string of syllables; they were sacred and special.  I would close my eyes whenever they were uttered and listen carefully for the deep, booming voice of God. (Being a Lion King fanatic, I imagined that God had a voice much like that of James Earl Jones). I would listen and listen for the voice, but I never heard it. I started to wonder if God ever came to services or if, like me, He liked to hide out in the bathroom and blow soap bubbles during the boring parts. It made me kind of sad that I couldn’t hear Him. I began to wonder if He didn’t like the way I sang. Maybe that was why He never joined in. What if He wasn’t a he? Had I been listening for the wrong voice?

One day, I stopped listening for Mufasa, and started listening for any other voice that might stick out. But none did. All I heard was just the sound of my congregation. Then one day, sitting in the sanctuary, I realized, that the reason I couldn’t hear the voice of God was because there was no one voice to hear. We all had a part of God in ourselves and we all shared His voice. It was a spectacular feeling, realizing just how close I was to God.

Since then the Shemah has become my safety blanket – not to be confused with my actual blanket, Quilty. It is a remarkable source of comfort. When I went parasailing for the first time, it was there to keep me from blowing away. When I drove to work in a thunderstorm, it kept me from panicking. When I first arrived at college, it kept me company on the way to my dorm. This past week, it kept me from spontaneously combusting under the pressure of midterms. Now, whenever I feel, glad, sad, alone, or excited, free, trapped, thrilled or chilled, I whisper the magic words and tap into the heavenly voice within myself.