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PLAYING OUR ROLES
B.S.D.
Rabbi David Aaron
Excerpt from "Seeing G-d"
 I once read a book about an author who decides to introduce himself to his character. His character is sitting in a bar, enjoying himself, when all of a sudden the author walks into the
bar and looks at him with an expression of familiarity. The character says,
"Do I know you, buddy?"
"Do you know me? Of course you know me."
"No, I don't know you," the character says, rebuffing him. So the author takes out of his pocket a pen and says, "I wrote you."
"What do you mean you wrote me?"
"I wrote you. I wrote you sitting in this bar. I wrote you holding this martini. I'm your author."
And the character jumps up and runs out of the bar. He can't deal with it. He runs away until he's sure he's lost that nut. Then he sits down under a tree, feeling relieved. Sure enough, the author, waving his pen, comes running up to him. The whole story is about a character running away from his author. Most of us, unfortunately are like Vonnegut's character-utterly abashed at the idea that we are not self-existent. Most of us think that we are the writer, producer and director of the show.
When you develop an eye for Divine mastery and magnificence, you look at life's unfolding scenes, and you see a director. You look at gazelles leaping, and you see a choreographer. You look at trees or at flowers and you see an artist; every creation is a masterpiece, reflecting its Master.
That's what the psalms of King David are all about. All the psalms were inspired by the lens of netzah and hod. King David looked at the wonders of nature and at the tumultuous events of his own life, and he saw a symphony with Hashem as the conductor. He heard a concert. Many of his psalms begin with the words, "A song to the Chief Musician by David." Of course, as mentioned earlier, netzah shares the root in Hebrew with "orchestra conductor" or "chief musician" if you prefer. Hashem is the chief musician, and all of his creation-the people, the roses, the leopards-are his notes which He is playing. And they all fit together in a great, harmonious symphony.
We all think we're playing solos. In truth, we're all part of one symphony. Most of the time, we are totally unaware of how our lives impact indirectly on the lives of everybody else. You go home happy that you landed that great new job, totally unaware that the person who didn't get it will now undergo a major life transition. You design one of a dozen rings for a jewelry chain totally unaware that one of them will be just exactly what one man had been looking for thirty years to give his wife. We are all enlisted, whether we knew it or not, into the legions of Hashem. We are all musicians in Hashem's orchestra, dancers in Hashem's chorus line, players on Hashem's team, actors in Hashem's drama. All with a mission, all with a role, all with a part. The only difference is some of us see it, live it, breath it, and are in a constant state of marvel and wonder, and others are in denial, preferring to live in chaos.
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