Recently, during a discussion with Scott about the dynamics of youth sports organizations, I realized something surprising.
As we talked about the microcosm that is youth sports and how it reflects the large complexities of our world, I found myself sighing deeply and confessing, “I hate the real world.” Scott’s response, laced with his cynical humor, echoed in my thoughts: “Of course you do—you’re a small-town girl.” In that lighthearted exchange, amidst a few bars of “Don’t Stop Believing,” I paused to reflect on what it truly means to navigate the relationship of reality and hope.
The notion of hating the “real” world can seem like an obvious sentiment. After all, our reality is rife with challenges—violence, war, famine, oppression, houselessness, poverty—the list seems endless. I realized that my aversion to the “real” world was not rooted in its inherent flaws, but rather in its stark contrast to the places where I find myself inspired by the inherent hope that people have that things can be better.
In my professional endeavors, hope often materializes in the form of individuals or couples taking the risk of seeking to find more workable behaviors to current issues. They come because what has worked in the past—their status quo—no longer serves them. Witnessing their willingness to confront what is and bravery to try something new, fills me with a profound sense of hope for the future we can collectively create.
In a similar way, I feel that same sense of hope and inspiration when our TBT community gathers together. In recent weeks, while attending services and celebrating Havdalah and Happy Hour at the home of TBT members I felt the palpable presence of hope enveloping us. In our community that hope feels different because I am aware that in those moments, we have already achieved a reality where things are better. I often feel it like a cocoon wrapped around me—shielding me from the frustrations and disappointments of other moments.
It is these instances, where the “real” world falls back just a bit, that I am aware there exists an opportunity. This realization struck me more forcefully than I expected. I didn’t realize the hope, the faith I have in a different, more fulfilling future. My wish for all of us is that while we experience the complexities and difficulties that the “real” world offers, we find the willingness to show up to that realness and the bravery to do something to make it different in whatever way your life allows.
Somewhat selfishly, I will end with a wish that you join me at our Passover Seder on Saturday, April 27. Please join me and help me build that cocoon. Come escape the “realness” of the world. I hope to see you there.
L’shalom,
Cere